The Battenberg Song

(for a cake-loving birthday boy)

Oh, a Chelsea bun’s not my kind of fun
and even Swiss roll just leaves me cold.
There’s only one cake named after a place
that I want to shove right into my face…

Battenberg! Yes, that’s the fellow,
pastel pink and golden yellow,
like a sunrise on my tongue –
let me gobble every crumb
of its two-tone sponge, and apricot jam
holding that coating of marzipan
wrapped around as a delicate crust,
with some sugar, lightly dusted.
I really feel there’s nothing nicer
than to cut myself a slice – or two!
Don’t think I’m being greedy –
it’s the Battenberg, calling me.
The perfect companion for a cuppa,
it’s guaranteed to cheer you up –
try peeling the marzipan – don’t make a mess!
Slice it finely for a game of cake chess –
and if that’s too hard, well, you can cut those
slices in half and play dominoes –
or chop a whole cake into logs, and then ya
can have a go at Battenberg Jenga!
Yes, it’s the cake that keeps on giving –
hollow one out, so that I can live in
a tiny, shiny, Battenberg palace –
just like something out of Alice
in Wonderland!
Don’t you understand?
Maybe it’s just me –
my Battenberg and I need some privacy…

Battenberg 012

Straight Outta Home Counties

You say life’s filled you with justified anger,
but I ain’t buying you acting all gangsta.
Somehow I’m just distrusting your enunciation –
‘cos when you speak, it’s pure Received Pronunciation.
Rapping ’bout your baby momma, and your bros –
bet yo momma gets you ready meals, straight from Waitrose!
I’m quick to diss this cultural misappropriation –
what’s wrong with the rhymes of your own native nation?
Try some English idioms, me old china –
like Professor Elemental, or the Gentleman Rhymer.
Maybe broaden your vocabulary, just a bit –
every other word doesn’t need to be ‘shit’.
So you think you’re 50 Cent – OK, I understand,
but this is Britain – and you’re more like Poundland.
I’m not impressed by the way you let the mic fall –
sorry, but you’re about as black as Jack Whitehall.
Pose all you want, but when you open your mouth, it’s
clear you’re a wannabe – straight outta home counties.