And the people looked on the Ozymandias of Downing Street, and heard his decrees. They gathered in the taverns, imbibed the magic potion, and submitted their votive offerings. For Ozymandias must have his pleasure dome in the Xanadu of Whitehall, and his curtains, and his lampshades, and his bath taps .... But what price did Ozymandias put on himself ? And who was the highest bidder ? And who bought him ? And who blushed at this most grisly of assignations ? For truly there can be no higher purpose than to keep Ozymandias in the style to which he has become accustomed, a marvellous being who has passed from entertainer to heroic leader without any intervening phase. And, lo! he has washed his hands, no doubt with the assistance of one of Mr. Dyson's marvellously efficacious machines, a person to whom we are all truly indebted (and, surely, in more senses than one).
(With apologies to Percy Bysshe Shelley, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and Michael Foot: speech delivered in the House of Commons, March 28th 1979.