Dear John, We ladies say,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         We all think you should stay                                                                                                                              In Jerrabomberra,                                                                                                                                               Your home, close to Canberra.                                                                                                                  You got the job! Okay.
Problem was your fore play! 
Planning - now that's an art,
More than a fling or fart.
Giovanni, it's plain to see,
Your flawed candidacy                                                                                                                                                   Can't compare to the best.
Applicants like Jenny West;
There's a good woman who 
Could do a job on you!
Still, Oz prisons do serve pork, 
Not like in today's New York.                                                                                                                                                                                               

NOTES: This pome is for John Barilaro who asked, “All I did was apply for a job. What did I do wrong? I got offered a job and I accepted a job.” I wondered about that too. I see Ronnie Salt on Twitter explained his recent shenanigans brilliantly! Her commentaries, and Wikipedia give a much fuller account of his life and ‘career’ during when he seems to have imagined himself as a great Lothario and ‘did a job‘ on many women. Thanks to Ronnie, though, it’s all very clear what he did wrong in taking that job from Jenny West. So I think I’ll try to post the sort of Dear John letter which one or other of his ill-done-by ‘amores’ or victims might like. Most of us wimmin know that a ‘Dear John’ letter is a very determined “Goodbye!” and to that I wanted to add a bit of bite, not spite so much as revenge. Then I discovered that neither pork nor bacon are served in New York prisons! Now, I don’t think John would like it if the FBI detained him over there! No ‘pork bariling’ allowed!