Toady

Ode to a Toady

In the tea‑room’s hushed politeness,
He slides in with a obsequious grin,
A fawning shadow of the boss,
His honour measured in biscuits thin.

He ladles praise like thickened gravy,
Each compliment a sugary sponge,
While others sip their bitter brew,
He sweetens every word with a tong.

His behaviour is a careful programme,
A choreography of nod and sigh,
He realises that to climb the ladder,
One must first learn the art of sycophancy.

When the manager declares a new policy,
He’s the first to cry, “Jolly good show!”
Yet underneath the cheerful veneer,
Lies a quiet hope: to be noticed, to glow.

So here’s to the toady, that eager fellow,
Who trades his spine for a slice of cake,
May his cup of tea stay ever‑warm,
And his flattery never ever break.

(All praise given in good British taste.)