The final frontier

There once was a loony who stood in
A bucket of rancid rice pudding,
No one really knew why
(Though to find out, they'd die!)
So they guessed that he'd just put his foot in
It.

There was a young lass of Dorset
With interpretations she used to force it
It was so contrived
No matter how hard she strived
She couldn't fit the text in her corset.

There's no one quite like Thatcher
And I'm sure you will agree
There's no one who can match her
Except for Bill Pertwee.

        to be continued

(I'm too tired to write anything (un)helpful in here.)

THE FINAL FRONTIER = {a pointy-eared face with a third ear between its eyes}

? Neither.