His suits are sharp, he works at night
A hint of stubble, shadowed eyes
His website is in black and white
To cross him would be most unwise
He hunts wild animal for sport
Antlered creatures in a wood
His car is the high-octane sort
He’d suck the tailpipe if he could
The papers love his bad-boy looks
The craggy fissures of his face
He is the alpha of the cooks
See his keen blade unzip a plaice
His bounty from the blood and dark
A home in leafy Holland Park
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