There was a bald man named Nadhim
Whose wallet was full to the brim.
It wasn’t enough
He craved more of the stuff
But his taxes were looking quite grim.
“I know of a place in Gibraltar”
He uttered with never a falter.
He hoarded his cash
In a big hidden stash
As he bowed down at capital’s altar.
The taxman, he came and said “Oi!
I think that I know of your ploy!
You owe us a lot
So fork out what you’ve got –
We know that you’ve been a bad boy!”
Zahawi, he said he’d lacked care
But of wrongs he was quite unaware.
“I’m rich, with connections
So stop your objections.”
He opened his purse and said “There!”
So Zahawi will doubtless go free.
He’s posh and important you see.
The things that he does
Are permitted because
He is different to you and to me.
[important Tory Nadhim Zahawi plays fast and loose with his tax and there's nothing you or anyone else can do about it, OK?]
