Oh Silvio

I trust Silvio Berlusconi.
He's got that skeezy grin,
the puffy eyes those guys
with scarred up faces use
to feel like Joe Pesci
as they squint and suck in
the flab above their dicks.
Whenever he tweaks the hem
of some snub nosed trick's
skirt in parliament I laugh
at all the fuss thrown up,
wondering when it'll hit them
Silly's willy don't perform.
He's served boneless pork
for decades, and with half
a brain its plain to see
no-one with half a horn
would leer so unconvincingly
at every woman in the room,
crack those jokes, split a grin
sweating such desparation.

Here's a neat equation.
Take a flailing ego, subtract libido
and there you have: a wacko.
He's just an egomaniacal dork
skewered on the power fork,
and all the "outrage" he creates
only further separates
the loud mouthed global player
from the middle-aged bedwetter.
I'm for Silvio Berlusconi
because he's a loser, like me.