Fatberg
I am a fatberg through and through,
Capricious, snout-fair, blonde:
I’m thick with grease, and peddle you
Pure lies. Do not respond:
I’m clogging up the nation’s gizzard,
A sillytonian, piggy wizard.
I am a fatberg, made of pudge
And silting up your sewers:
A rouker filled with stodge and fudge,
And I tell you this, dear viewers –
I am a rouzy-bouzy chap,
And full of most melodious crap.
I am a fatberg. Reams of gunk
Have poured across my tongue –
I’m full of fresh, quacksalver spunk,
Of hard and off-white dung –
Believe it when I shift my lips,
And out the fatberg fibber tips.
I am a fatberg. See my girth,
And watch me peacockize:
There isn’t anyone on Earth
So blithe when telling lies.
Accept my Latin quips for free,
And drown inside my sea of ghee.
Click here for a Guardian article
Click here for a Standard article
Click here for a Mirror article