On Honeygate

Religion’s not the sole unrighteousness
In your philosophy, we’ve learned of late:
Caught in the act (high-minded, humourless)
Hightailing hot goods to an airport gate –
A jar, specifically, of sandwich spread –
Reports relay your patented contempt,
Determining the art of protest’s dead.
Did you expect to be declared exempt
At once, on turning up, from rules in place?
We laugh because your notion customs might,
Kafir, favour you simply for your face
Isn’t far wrong. That onlookers make light
Now of your trouble’s just, if jibe-filled. Honey,
Say what you like – the world’ll say it’s funny.