The Purposeful Leak

In the corridors of power, where whispers grow tall,

A bureaucrat grins, as he drafts his next call.

Not to ministers, nor the press with a claim,

But a nameless email, oh, let’s play the game.

 

A file is attached, all murky and neat,

Stamped "CONFIDENTIAL". A delicious deceit.

A finger hovers, a click, a send,

And now we wait… for the world to bend.

 

Oh, watch them scramble, the papers delight,

"A SECRET PLAN! EXPOSED TONIGHT!"

On breakfast TV, the anchors proclaim,

"Government in turmoil? Who takes the blame?"

 

The tabloids froth, the broadsheets moan,

Experts are summoned to mutter and groan.

"Is this real?" a skeptic inquires,

While Twitter erupts in digital fires.

 

But hush now, listen, hear that low hum?

The gears are turning, the masses are numb.

If they cheer, then forward we go,

If they jeer, well… it wasn’t so!

 

It’s a clever old trick, a bureaucrat’s art,

A leak with a purpose, a well-placed dart.

In days of old, it was slipped with a tease,

Left in a briefcase at Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese.

 

There in the pub, over whiskey and gin,

A civil servant would smuggle it in.

A nod to a journalist, a well-timed cough,

And just like that… the whispers take off.

 

Yet here we are, in the digital age,

Where leaks aren't slipped, but crafted with rage.

From keyboards to cameras, the script is the same,

"A scandal, a crisis! Who takes the blame?"

 

But fear not, dear reader, don’t wring your hands,

This chaos is crafted… it's all in the plans.

The leak is a test, a balloon in the sky,

To see if the public will cheer or will cry.

 

And if it lands poorly, well here’s the trick,

"A falsehood! A hoax! A rogue little click!"

A minister chuckles, "That wasn’t from me!"

And the whole thing vanishes… like mist on the sea.

 

So raise a glass to the art of the leak,

To secrets that whisper, to scandals that speak.

For power’s a game, and truth is but smoke,

A punchline well-hidden, a long-running joke.