(To the tune of O Christmas Tree – a.k.a. The Red Flag if you prefer)

Gav Williamson, Gav Williamson, 

came all the way from Scarborough

In 2010, elected then,  

MP for Southern Staffordshire

He trod with care, he made no slip, 

rose without trace to be chief whip 

His colleagues used to quake in fear,

scared by his pet tarantula

Gav Williamson, Gav Williamson, 

despite apparent somnolence

Much toadying round Theresa May, 

was trusted next to run defence

But blabbed and gave the game away, 

Leaking stuff about Huawei

So he was sacked and once again, 

no longer seen near number ten

But then there came that fateful day, 

the sacking of Theresa May

Enter a certain chunky guy,

no stranger to the instant lie

Those three word mantras he would weave,

and soon enough Gav was reprieved

A minister once again he’d be,

with his own desk in the DfE

And so he thought, “My time is nigh, 

just watch me make those teachers cry

I’m from up north and they will see,

the likes of them don’t worry me

I’ll shuffle up and move and shake, 

I’ll wield my sword and heads will break

Like Russians trembling when I say, 

just all shut up and go away!”

But then the world spun all around,

Reality turned upside down

And all the people shook with dread, 

as Covid had begun to spread

The PM said “Don’t be upset, 

we’ll send this virus packing yet”

He tried to sound so purposeful,

(as usual he was spouting bull)

So when it came to closing schools, 

Gav flipped and dallied like a fool

At first he said “There is no need,

it isn’t wise to go at speed”

For ministers, the likes of he, 

there never was much clarity

Preferring to stand still and gloat,

While schools all tried to stay afloat

And when it came to exam time,

he said “It’s bound to be all fine

I’ve got an algorithm neat,

and things will work out like a treat”

But Gavin got his fingers burned,

for next we had the great U-turn

Yet far too late most certainly,

To please the universities

For they were somewhat less than thrilled,

As places were already filled

“Who is this bungler?” they exclaimed,

“It’s surely him that is to blame”

But Gavin boldly stumbled forth,

He showed not even scant remorse

Just like Frank Spencer on TV,

He blundered on quite merrily

So in December, here’s the thing,

There’s no clear guidance forthcoming

The days are dark, the weather cold,

And who knows what the future holds

Schools were instructed to get by,

With safety measures DIY 

Contempt patently undisguised,

Whilst teachers’ health is jeopardised

To frontline workers raise a toast

For they are those we need the most

Let’s force rewards to come their way

Instead of yet more frozen pay

Let’s all rise up and make a din

Confronting all the lies and spin,

And in our unions take a stand 

so they are forced to comprehend