Old, Mad, Blind, Despised: Surely Not Gordon?

And just to cast a longer, historical view on the current putrescent condition of the British body politic, here is Shelley's poem:

ENGLAND IN 1819

An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king,--
Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who flow
Through public scorn, mud from a muddy spring,--
Rulers who neither see, nor feel, nor know,
But leech-like to their fainting country cling,
Till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow,--
A people starved and stabbed in the untilled field,--
An army which liberticide and prey
Makes as a two-edged sword to all who wield,--
Golden and sanguine laws which tempt and slay;
Religion Christless, Godless, a book sealed,--
A Senate--Time's worst statute unrepealed,--
Are graves from which a glorious Phantom may
Burst to illumine our tempestuous day.

It's not kings and princes these days, but Prime Ministers and their ministerial cohorts. Ring any bells?