untitled22
there’s this thing recently
of tv chefs declaring good
food is all about good
ingredients well i’ll be
damned if only i paid a tv
subscription i’d be hamstrung
happy that i was getting my
money’s worth thanks to them
it’s no more trips to iceland
and turkey dinosaurs for tea
instead i’ll be somewhere
like the new forest looking
for a fine young venison
or at least in sainsbury’s
with a new found confidence
for leeks who am i kidding
i’m not the kind of poet
who wears cardigans and
talks about themselves in
between poems or who likes
the kind of phlegm you can
build sandcastles on i just
took a wrong turn whilst
reading john ashbery realised
the french surrealists have
kind of gone the way of tv
chefs if i was an all-girls
school pe teacher it would
just be rope climbing rope
climbing rope climbing i
left this voicemail about
this party where i was talking
to the kind of guy who talks
about tweeting ‘i’m at a party
and everyone’s giving me that
i’m so jealous of your twitter
account look’ and i just wanted
to say i got drunk recently
and tweeted ‘every time i see
imagination i read invagination’
but i was like ‘can't even hold
a door open for a girl without
her glaring at your boner’
and then the milly dowler
family were like 'we paid too
high a price' and what do i say
to that i just try to string
it all together add a dash of
colander maybe some homegrown
parsley who’s watching anyway