Our subject is an idiot
A feckless simpleton
A jabbering moron
A pugnacious snollygoster

He holds the most outlandish of beliefs
And outrageous of standards
And yet, despite these apparent failures

He is perfect

Our subject is a complicated matter
A pretentious hobbledehoy
A soft-headed lickspittle
An irascible mumpsimus

He takes every chance that he gets
And he gives every chance that he takes
And yet, despite these apparent failures

He is perfect

Some may wonder who our subject is
He is interpretable, although at the same time unidentifiable
Our subject may not be even be human
It’s up to your imagination

Everyone still wonders who our subject is
These traits I mentioned they may not even show
An anonymous pillock they will remain
Well, I guess our subject

We will never know