'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

Chorus

Ping ping merrily I’m high

Career to pot, how quirky

Richard Bacon, hot potato

Roasting, then cold turkey.