I want a new nose for the Royal wedding says ex-coke addict Tara Palmer-Tomkinson
NB: with thanks to my hero, Andrew Marvell, master of the tetrameter
It is a mess for all to too see
Your ruined nasal cavity
Your hope the tragedy
Of plastic surgery
Barely knowing where you were
You giggled in Frank Skinner's chair
Blinded by your need
You thought he was Mike Reid
You fled the paps from bar to bar
And flashed your thighs leaving your car
But your exotic pose
Was outshone by your nose
Too much charlie hoovered up it
Floppy like a finger puppet –
The septum burned away
From your five grams a day
To enjoy a flower's scent
Is a kind of sacrament
But your organ of smell
Is trashed; it's gone to hell
Like Westbrook, the celebrity
There is a hole where yours should be
You're pictured in Hello
A casualty of snow
2 comments:
Ah this did make me chuckle in a dark way...superb
Thanks Sarah, I'm loving dipping into that Stepen Fry book. It's so usefel
Post a Comment