Today’s statement by the First Minister to the effect that Welsh ministers will not be puppets over Brexit somehow inexplicably reminded me of some lines from a poem by the late Harri Webb:
“…but if you ignore him he’ll squawk and squawk
and fly into a fearful rage
and rattle the bars of his pretty cage
but he won’t get out, he’ll never try it,
and a cloth on the cage will keep him quiet…”
Other than squawking, just what does the First Minister propose to do? From 1959, when Harri wrote the poem, until 2016, little seems to have changed for Welsh Labour.