Satirical verse: Christmas 2019

Copyright © Anna Nolan, 2019

 

Christmas is approaching, so

Our mode is go, go, go!

We must buy a lot of stuff

To ensure we have enough

 

Of the lovely festive fare

That imbues our feast with flair.

First, we have to make a list

To make sure that nothing’s missed.

 

Nothing must be left to chance,

So we’re in a Yuletide trance

Mobilising our grey matter:

Number one is shellfish platter,

 

Then comes lobster (must be dressed) –

Thermidor’s by far the best –

We will serve it with cheese crust

(Adding brandy is a must).

 

Crab and avocado spheres

Always raise the wildest cheers,

And we will, without a fluster,

Purchase salmon with gold lustre;

 

As for tasty Christmas snacks,

You can’t beat ricotta stacks,

Chocolate bark, pork sausage rolls,

Christmas crack and brandy balls.

 

Now come mains: we’ll get the bird –

Fifty-pounder is preferred;

If we source a smaller one,

We will still not be outdone

 

‘Cos we’ll also buy a goose

(Serving it with pumpkin mousse);

Better still: a three-bird roast

Will upstage (yay!) every host,

 

Which is why we’ll source a duck,

Common Pochard (with some luck);

We might also get a grouse:

There’s no scrimping in our house!

 

Then there’s meats: a wild boar joint

Always, always makes a point,

Venison does go down well

With our type of clientele,

 

So does veal and British beef

(Roast the latter with bay leaf);

For our Fred, it’s Herdwick lamb;

We must also get some ham.

 

So as not to face rebuffing,

We’ll make sage & onion stuffing

And avoid a frightful tarnish

Having twenty types of garnish.

 

Now come sweets: our Christmas pud

Always puts us in the mood,

So does panna cotta jelly

(It was even on the telly).

 

Our festive stollen slices

Will be filled with various spices,

While our passion fruit dessert

Won’t have equals, we assert.

 

As for Christmas Rainbow Cake,

It’s not all that hard to make,

Nor are port-and-rum mice pies:

Baking ninety would be wise.

 

One would have to be a nutter

Not to relish brandy butter:

Extra-thick, it’s always yummy,

Satisfying every tummy,

 

Whereas brandy pouring cream

Is a treat that is supreme;

Twenty pints might just suffice:

To run out would not be nice.

 

It is more than just a hunch:

We’ll require Christmas punch,

Eggnog, sangria, party fizz

(They help oil our Christmas quiz);

 

Krug champagne is always cool:

We must source it for this Yule,

Also gin, port, rum and whisky

(Though they make our Fred quite frisky).

 

It is hoped that, come what may,

This will last till Boxing Day.

What is more, we’ve had a ball

With a treat to top them all,

 

Which did whet our appetite.

What was it? A plebiscite!

Yes, we’ve had, dear girls and boys,

An election – joy of joys!

 

Satirical verse: Honourable

This verse satirises the recent car-crash interview given by Prince Andrew, in which he attempted to justify his friendship with a convicted sex offender Jeffery Epstein. The interview attracted widespread incredulity and ridicule – and with good reason.

Copyright © Anna Nolan, 2019

 

Cripes, what an imponderable

That one oh-so honourable

Should be subject of such panning;

This is not what one’d been planning.

 

One is simply flabbergasted

To have been put down, lambasted;

Where’s the nation’s gratitude

For one’s famous aptitude?

 

You must feel, deep down within:

One can’t stay at Premier Inn –

A mansion is what one does need

(One must be mindful of one’s breed).

 

It may be full of household staff,

But one would never make a gaffe

Of giving them a fleeting glance;

They were all naked? Quite by chance!

 

Maybe Jeff was “unbecoming”,

But one never saw it coming;

To one, he was just a chum,

And one never has been dumb,

 

Neither has one been a drip,

Always showing leadership:

One is, clearly, quite aware

How to ditch a billionaire.

 

One’s weekends are spent a-shooting,

Why should this now need refuting?

And one’s vivid recollection

Is of showing no affection.

 

Woking does a decent pizza,

But it’s not exactly Ritz – a?

And so one remembers well

All the details – can’t you tell?

 

One had let one’s side, um, down,

But they really went to town –

British media (damn the lot):

They are like a juggernaut.

It’s a most horrific whammy,

But a ride with one’s own mammy

Might just soften them a tad,

After all, one’s not a cad:

 

Au contraire: one’s virtue – pure;

And to think one must endure

Such appalling balderdash

And give up a birthday bash!

 

How did it all go so awry?

One has to face the FBI;

It is as bad as it can get,

And one can’t even break a sweat!