One Christmas morning I went to a friend.
Now, meeting her’s always a pleasure,
But then she offered me Baileys –
And she pours with a generous measure…
She poured me a large one – then a second –
And then an enormous third!
But I felt just fine, till I toddled home
To do battle with – The Bird.
I wrapped up the turkey in tinfoil –
But found that it just wouldn’t fit!
It was slightly too big for my oven,
So I clumsily hacked off a bit.
Then into the oven the turkey went,
Though later, a thought occurred –
I’d forgotten to put the foil back on!
So I had to re-wrap the bird.
It took me a while (my befuddled mind!)
Then “Something smells funny” I thought.
In fact, there was no roast turkey smell –
I’d not turned on the oven at all!
Well, I took the turkey out – again! –
To wait for the oven to heat.
(Like some turkey hokey-cokey –
That’s no way to treat your meat.)
Now, what else had I forgotten?
Oh, yes – the chunk that I’d mangled.
I wrapped that in foil, and I wedged it in
At quite a precarious angle.
By now I felt totally knackered,
And you won’t be surprised to hear
That, due to my booze-induced delays,
Christmas dinner was late that year.
So, on a Christmas morning,
Wine may be fine, for a toast –
But never have Baileys for breakfast
When you’ve got a turkey to roast!
Welcome to my kitchen,
I’ve just finished cooking tea.
Now, before you reach for condiments,
Can you do one thing for me?
I may not be a master chef
But I’m sure I’m not the worst
So please, for once, I beg of you –
Just taste the damn thing first!
You can drown your meal in vinegar
(I’ve balsamic or malt),
Inundate your plate with gravy,
Sprinkle it with salt,
Pile it up with pickle,
Grind pepper till you sneeze,
Dollop on some salad cream
Or maybe mayonnaise.
You can dab it with Tabasco,
Slather it with butter,
Cover it with ketchup,
Smother it with mustard,
Add any of your sauces
(Lea and Perrins, soy, HP),
I really don’t mind what you use –
Just taste it first – for me?
Needn’t lead to Frankenstein.
In fact, there is one project
I’m sure would be worth trying.
If they’ve perfected cloning sheep,
The logical next step
Is cloning something everybody wants –
Like Johnny Depp!
To get more women into science,
This research would be key.
Imagine, enough Depp for all,
For you – and you – and me!
And it’s not just for the ladies
For, whatever your persuasion,
You must admit those cheekbones
Hold a certain fascination
Ignore those who scream, “Ethics!
It’s against all natural laws!”
Funding can (and must) be found
For such a worthy cause.
This world would be more beautiful
With Depps spread far and wide,
And we might start a brand new category
when it comes to the Nobel Prize.
Don’t tell me that I’m fat,
then give me recipes for cake.
Don’t tell me which celebrities
I ought to emulate.
Don’t tell me to wear make-up
that gives a ‘natural’ look.
Don’t tell me that I have to read
another chick-lit book.
Don’t tell me ‘be unique’,
then show me this year’s ‘must have’ style.
Don’t tell me about STDs,
then ‘How to drive men wild!’
I’m sick of these mixed messages –
men wouldn’t stand for it.
So, goodbye, women’s magazines –
I won’t miss you one bit.
My patchwork heart (oh, how it bled!)
mended now – I sewed up each shred,
with stitches so small,
you can’t see them at all
but, please – don’t pull too hard on the thread.
In to work from nine until one,
Back home to get the housework done,
Then battling through another school run –
The ladies who don’t have time for lunch.
Life’s not as imagined when you were young –
Caring for children, and caring for mum.
“Maybe I should have been a nun,
Not a lady who doesn’t have time for lunch!”
Never stand still, yet still getting plump,
Watching your single friends have fun,
Wondering when your turn will come.
Ladies, please – treat yourself to lunch!