Written by Rob Barratt
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Tags: Poetry

Tuesday, 29 January 2013

image for I'm A Celebrity Chef...Get Me Out Of Here. I'm a celebrity chef. Get me out of here

The nation's food fans all gasped in amazement
There were queues for miles all along the pavement

The day that the feted celebrity chefs
Met a fate at the fete that was much worse than death

Although the sous chefs were usually expedient
They had miscalculated, run out of ingredients

And so as not to inconvenience the fans
It was decided to fill all the woks and the pans

With the flesh of a pair of food connoisseurs
Who were famous for waffle and fancy hors d'oevres

When some people who didn't like programmes on food
Had cornered the chefs, both ungratefully rude

They stripped off their clean stripy chefs uniforms
And the chefs wished they'd never, just never been born

The word spread like wildfire - tweets, texts and email
And the crowds came to watch, like at old Bodmin Jail

The abattoir men did their job, clean and neat
And the over-fed chefs now lay dead at their feet

The cleavers and knives, well they all glinted bright
And the sous chefs all felt that it didn't seem right

And the sous chefs all knew chefs who'd sue all the sous chefs
Like the BBC2 chefs and the world-famous Roux chefs
And some Cordon Blue chefs, and they'd all live to rue chefs
But who gave a shite?

The blood wasn't wasted and just as it clotted
They made French boudin noir, which was seasoned and potted

The crowd feasted on steaks from chef rumps and chef thighs
And the offal was flambéed and made into pies

The roasted chef shoulders took hours to cook
But the staff used a recipe from a famous chef's book

This was kind of ironic as the audience knew
That the author was now in a bit of a stew

Chef fingers were distributed but there were just twenty
So they grilled all the toes and then there were plenty

Health and safety was followed as at all of these things
So prior to cooking they removed the chefs' rings

The sweetbreads, of course, were the must-have entreé
They were sautéed in vinegar and fresh crème brulée

By this time the Devon and Cornwall Police
Had arrived to keep order and maintain the peace

The policemen and women didn't know what to say
There was no public disorder or kind of affray

So they just had themselves a bit of a talk
And followed the aroma of what smelt like pork

They considered what action would need to be taken
As they chewed on their sandwiches that tasted like bacon.

Chef burgers were popular and were eaten with relish
Though the queues had been long and the waiting was hellish

By now most people had had their main course
In doner kebabs or with sweet and sour sauce

The bones and the entrails were boiled up for stock
But nobody was sent to the nick or the dock

And they all wandered home feeling quite satiated
In fact some folks were flatulent and a little inflated

And later that night as they watched "News at Ten"
No one was surprised or incredulous when

The presenter announced that it was now feared
That two TV celebrities had just ... disappeared

But nobody said nothing or did anything to spoil it
And the soft and hard evidence was flushed down the toilet

And the people were happy and slept well in their beds
With two fewer food programmes to befuddle their heads

The day that the feted celebrity chefs
Met a fate at the fete that was much worse than death

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

If you fancy trying your hand at comedy spoof news writing, click here to join!
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