Letter fro,m the Beeb
Adressed to me by name
Should I grasp the chance
Should I strive for fame
Hello Fellow Food Mauler
Come and join the Eliite
Bring a clean pinnie and
Come looking clean and neat.
To Great British Dinners where
I really pissed off the host
No matter what they asked for
I served ‘em Beans on toast
My entree toast and marmite
With just a smear of Marge
With the bread sliced in two
So it wasn’t all too large.
I served treacle on toast
For my simple sweet
A glass of iced water
Made my offering complete
My menu got ‘em baffled
They didn’t know what to do
It was only by a whisker
They didn’t let me through
I should have been more daring
And enhanced the main course
Offering choice of Dark Soy,
Tomato, or Heinz brown sauce
Come cooking on the Tele where
If you told ‘em all it was good
They’d eat fried Elephant dung
Served on a bit of wormy wood
