(Described as perhaps the Island’s sole surviving native thinker, Ealish is writing a verse epic: The Will of Tynwald. A Child’s Guide to Manx Politics. She lives in Bride, breeds Salukis and rides Suzukis)
Who’s the fellow that’s never alone –
courted and flattered, well fed and sleek?
Why, he’s the Minister’s brother in law:
he is a power behind the throne.
But what does he do, what is he for –
nodding and grinning, nothing to say?
Drops a few words in the Minister’s ear –
birds of a feather – need I say more?
Does money change hands, oiling the wheels,
fixer and grifter, those back room boys?
I wouldn’t say that, we’re honest folk here:
in a family way, he just does deals.
Is he above and beyond the law?
A scandal, a sin, a crying shame!
No, he’s decent enough, and what is more,
Triple A rated by Standard & Poor,
Nod and a wink, a word to the wise,
under the counter and underhand?
It’s sensitive stuff, you must understand:
ask no questions and you’ll hear no lies.
So no charisma, but knows the score,
hits the ground running, gets up to speed?
I wouldn’t say that, he’s no ball of fire,
yet steady enough, feet on the floor.
So truth will out, a bit of a bore:
He’s nothing to look at, beige and grey.
Yes, he’s very like his brother in law,
the Minister, as I said before.