Friday, 3 January 2014

'Ping ping merrily I’m high', Nigella Lawson's Christmas poem

I've never been rich or stupid enough to consider microwaving my mind completely. Like Nigella however, there’s a couple of periods in my life when I've used dangerous drugs, namely tobacco and alcohol – my teenage years, then from the 1970s to the present.

Thanks to the readers who have pointed out that Nigella has morphed into the late Michael Jackson recently.

Nigella Lawson's Christmas poem

Got a great rich catch
Means justify the ends
Charlie in my snatch
I simper at the lens
As I stir a chowder
I marvel at the blends
Add a little powder
A recipe for friends

A domestic Goddess
My children I shall feed
Horny in my bodice
Serving joints of weed
Stuffing without flour
Privilege my creed
Rolled-up notes, power
Satisfy my need

I‘m a famous writer
Spread out many lines
My nose's long, whiter
Pinnochio, snow-blind
Sales by the shitload
To my Charlie binds
Off to the shops we go
Buying all we find

Ping ping merrily I’m high
Career to pot, how quirky
Richard Bacon, hot potato
Roasting, then cold turkey.

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