Hop on COP15, or Horton Hears a Hedging

[daibhidc]

The following was written and recited by Marcus Brigstocke on The Now Show. It's a work of genius, and I hope you enjoy it:

The delegates came, and the delegates sat,
And they talked, and they talked, til their bums all went flat.
Then a delegate said, of the country he knew,
"We must do something quick, but just what should we do?"
So they sat again, thinking, and there they stayed seated,
Thinking and thinking "The planet's been heated."

"I think", said a delegate, there from Peru.
"That we all must agree on some things we could do.
"Like reducing emissions, at least CO2."
So they nodded and noted, then vetoed and voted,
And one of them stood up and suddenly quoted,
"It's the science you see, that's the thing that must guide us,
"When the leaders all get here, they're certain to chide us."

So they sat again, thinking about what to think,
Then decided to ponder what colour of ink,
To use on the paper, when they'd all agreed,
To be selfless, not Greedy McGreedy McGreed.

"But how do we choose just what colour to use?"
Said a delegate there, who'd been having a snooze,
"We need clear, binding targets, definitive action,
"We must all agree clearly, without more distraction!"
So they sat again, thinking of targets for ink,
But the ink in their thinking had started to stink,
And they started to think that the ink was a kink,
In the thinking about real things they should think.

"If the climate needs mending then this is our chance,"
Said the nuclear delegate sent their by France.
"We need to agree on one thing to agree on,
"Something we all want a fixed guarantee on."

"Yes," said another who thought this made sense,
"Some value for carbon in dollars or pence."
But the mention of money, and thoughts of expense,
Had stifled the progress, and things became tense.

The fellow from China, with a smile on his face,
Said "Who put the carbon there in the first place?"
"Wasn't us", said the US, then Europe did too,

Then a silence descended and no words were spoken,
Till a delegate stood up, voice nervous and broken,
"Is there nothing upon which we all can decide?
"'Cos on Wednesday my chicken layed eggs that were fried."

"We all like a sing-song," said the bloke from Down Under,
But then the great hall was all shouting and thunder.
Policemen had entered, and were wearing protesters,
Who they'd beaten and flattened like blooded sou'westers.
The police had decided to downplay this crime,
With "prevention detention" and beatings in rhyme.
The greenies who'd shouted and asked for decision,
Were now being battered with lethal precision.
All sick on inaction and fed up of waiting,
All tired of the endless debate implicating,
They'd risen up, grating, berating and hating,
So the police had commenced the related abating.

Ban Ki-Moon put his head in another man's lap,
And was last heard muttering something like "Crap!"
But the chap next to him said "It's more like it's poo."
So the great hall debated, not what they should do,
But how to decide between crap, cack and poo.
"It is poo," "It is cack," "It is crap," "We agree!"
Which was written and labelled as Document 3.

"I think, if we all find one thing we agree on,
"Then maybe Brazil might be left with a tree on."
So they sat again, thinking of trees in Brazil,
And of glaciers which had retreated uphill,
And they thought of the poor folks, whose homes were in flood,
(But less of the protestors covered in blood),
They pondered the species so nearly extinct.
"It's as if," they all thought, "that these things might be linked."

"We need a solution, we need action please,"
Said a lady who'd come from the sinking Maldives.
The others all nodded, and said it was fact,
That the time must be now, not to talk but to act.

Then Obama arrived and said most rhetorical,
"Action is action and not metaphorical."
"Wow," they all thought, "He must mean allagorical."
"I love it when Barack gets all oratorical."
"But the problem I have is that Congress won't pass it."
"Bugger," said Ban Ki, then "Sorry", then "Arse it."

Then Brown said "I've got it, now how does this strike you?
"It's simpler when voters already dislike you."
He suggested the EU should lead from the front,
So the Mail and the Telegraph called him something very unpleasant indeed.

So the delegates stared at the text with red marks on,
Ignoring the gales of laughter from Clarkson.
No-one was satisfied, nobody won,
Except the morons convinced it was really the sun.
And they blew it, and wasted the greatest of chances,
Instead they all frolicked in diplomat dances,
And decided decisively right there and then,
That the best way to solve it's to meet up again,
And decide on a future that's greener and greater,

Not with action right now,
But with something else, later.