tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-234515362011-11-09T10:27:15.502ZOffbeat contemporary verse inspired by figures from the world of pop music.Rnoreply@blogger.comBlogger451100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-49167665156504624792009-03-08T11:50:00.015Z2011-01-11T20:38:50.617Z

Starlight shines from limousinesOn the streets of Monte CarloBut I'd prefer a cup of teaIn a caff with Gary Barlow.He'd draw inspiration fromThe drabness of the venueAnd weave sweet melodies aroundThe items on the menu.Spreading sounds of happinessAround the greasy spoon.He may be a chub-a-lubBut he sure can write a tune.I could take him back to mineTo feast on milk and cookies.Watching pirate

Rnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-26331658268952337302008-05-19T11:26:00.000Z2008-05-25T10:12:39.702Z

[In which cockney geezer actor Ray Winstone recalls a chance encounter with loopy songstress Amy Winehouse.] To The Ivy for lunchWith Quentin TarantinoWe rap about politicalSubtext in The Beano.The red and black menacePosed by Dennis and Minnie,While Lord Snooty fought his fateAs capitalist ninny.When all of a suddenThis bird stumbled in,Climbed on a tableAnd started to sing,She had beehive

Rnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1143293149220453932007-09-18T18:02:00.000Z2007-11-19T21:17:52.387Z

[After losing his much-publicized chart battle with Kanye West, cuddly rapper 50 Cent books himself a spot on a cable shopping channel to earn back some dollar and female attention.]That's right, my name is 50 CentI'm the baddest rapper Since MC Hammer.I come from the hard-knock streetsWith the scars to prove it.I'm doing this infomercialTo score some candy, So keep your credit card handyFor a

Rnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-26964268097210398702007-03-23T13:40:00.001Z2008-07-16T10:32:29.635Z

[With apologies to Mika, this Grace Kelly pastiche addresses the self-righteous daytime ITV talk show host.]Do I offend you?Do I repulse you with my worthless life?Am I too lazy?Is it my baby?Have I been sleeping with my brother's wife?I could be loathsomeI could be dole scumI could be father to a wayward child.Why don't you like me?Why do you slight me,Jeremy Kyle?Your show's on after Lorraine

Rnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-90890922505515472612007-02-28T13:42:00.000Z2007-07-02T19:52:39.406Z

[Inspired by Queen guitarist Brian May's long-standing passion for blogging and annoyance at MySpace, this poem imagines him refusing to be hounded off the web.]Vicious gangs of cyber-bullies,Happy-slapping virtual hoodies,Lurking in the HTMLTo make my online heaven hell.They laugh at me on MySpaceBut they'd never do it to my face.And I choose to ignore themOn the Queen discussion forum.They made

Rnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-55052143186976706912007-02-08T13:37:00.000Z2007-06-18T20:57:24.139Z

[Inspired by the rumour - now sadly denied - that Morrissey was to write the UK's entry to this year's Eurovision Song Contest, here's imagining the type of song he might have performed.]Luxembourg, so much to answer for.Did you save faceWhen you withdrew your placeAnd the Irish conquered in '94?I hope you're singing nowOh I do hope you're singing now.As you sneer down your noseAt the glittery

Rnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-5612290920542244942007-02-05T13:30:00.000Z2007-06-18T20:58:43.199Z

[A heartfelt poetic tribute to pint-sized international treasure Miss Minogue.] Why can't everybody beAs sweet and nice as Kylie?Even when she's tired and illShe still stays pert and smiley.Love rat boyfriends come and goBut Kylie's never bitter;She steadies herself with a feathery hatAnd hides her tears with glitter.An Antipodean angelWearing tiny Gucci wings.Whole stadiums reverberateIn rapture

Rnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-9459212660522572892007-01-31T13:15:00.001Z2008-10-03T06:37:56.152Z

[Inspired by this story about a possible romance between rap mogul megastar (P) Diddy and model-turned-actress Sienna Miller.]"Sienna, my dear," said Diddy one night,"Come with me back to your room.I'll shower you there with Cristal champagne,And douse you with trendy perfume.We can sit and watch DVD boxsets.I've got Friends seasons 1 to 4.After Chandler and Monica get it on,We'll burn effigies

Rnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-35531249759584118382006-11-03T19:07:00.002Z2011-01-11T20:43:48.635Z

[In which Irish crooner Ronan Keating is faced with spirited opposition when he considers covering a Lionel Richie song for his next single.]Visions of Lionel RichieHolding a gun to my head.Snarling: "I've heard your records, bub,And believe me, you're best off dead.You've ruined too many pop classicsBy some of my dearest friends.If life is a rollercoaster, toots,This is where your ride ends.""

Rnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-43068385781605177462006-10-30T11:18:00.000Z2007-10-10T11:42:09.059Z

[A poem in which folk-pop sensation Sandi Thom contemplates being a proper punk rocker and some other things too]I wish I was a punk rocker,With safety pins through my nose.A pink mohican on my headAnd rubber bondage clothes.I'd earn the wrath of Teddy BoysAs I shopped along the Kings Road.Then pogo to the 100 Club.To gob on The Ramones.I wish I was a piece of cheese,Just waiting in a trap.For a

Rnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-83206926359786780362006-10-11T10:15:00.000Z2007-04-05T10:52:48.757Z

[In which Paris Hilton, glued back together and reanimated after her previous adventure, makes herself useful for once]So I'm sharing a baked potatoWith a North Korean dictator.Sent by the CIA to conveyTop secret security data.When they told me to meet with Kim,I pictured a lady tall and thin.Instead here I am with a toad-like man:All glasses and oily skin."I know why you're here, Miss Hilton,"He

Rnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-82320400995242467482006-10-03T10:02:00.000Z2007-04-08T10:39:19.205Z

[To celebrate the release of Sting's new classical opus Songs From The Labyrinth, Mick Jagger recounts a twisted tale of musical corruption.] Sting and Paul McCartney came knocking on my door.They said we've got an offer, Mick, you simply can't ignore.We're going to stage a concert, under guise of charity.Then run off with the profits and a huge appearance fee.This sounded like a top idea; I told

Rnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-49947534997582496122006-09-28T13:36:00.000Z2007-08-05T12:27:11.741Z

[A poem in which Janet Jackson contemplates the best way to promote her new album, 20 Y.O., in the face of post-Nipplegate indifference.]Searching for a different angle,Or maybe three like a scalene triangle;Trying to avoid another scandalTo get my career back on track.I'd posed in every known position,Flashed my breast in a live transmission.I needed an evil mathematicianTo calculate a chart

Rnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-26033492323364565762006-09-26T10:23:00.000Z2007-04-05T10:52:48.762Z

[A poem inspired by this story about British TV comedy presenter Russell Brand seducing 'rock chick' Courtney Love]"Roll up, roll up, you gullible swines,"Said the ragged Dickensian fop.With his face like a rot-ridden spider plant,I could see no incentive to stop."Excuse me," he grinned, as I tried to slip by,"But aren't you the girl out of Hole?"Then spouted a pun on this fact so filthyI felt

Rnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1155842446877375732006-08-18T13:28:00.001Z2009-11-19T08:04:18.819Z

[A poem imagining the domestic life of RnB's premier couple, in the form of a duet between Mr Z and Ms Knowles] Beyoncé?Jay-Z.Put the kettle onIt won't fit me.I'd like coffee please, not tea,And I want it served sexily.Far be it from me to get crazy at the ladyWho has one of the world's finest booties.But while enjoying success in your transparent dress,You've neglected your household duties.A

Rnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1155287866641767192006-08-11T17:29:00.000Z2007-09-18T14:46:26.463Z

[A dog-themed tribute poem to the Primal Scream front man and legendary caner. Buy the latest Scream album here.] Bobby Gillespie said with a pant:"There's life in this old dog yet."So we slipped a collar around his neckAnd led him straight off to the vet.The surgeon withdrew a sample of bloodThen said to me: "now listen son,I don't know what you've been feeding this poochBut it hasn't been

Rnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1154862119512437142006-08-06T18:55:00.003Z2011-01-11T20:45:30.526Z

[A love poem for the fake popstar-cum-Celebrity Big Brother winner and Ordinary Boys singer in honour of their forthcoming nuptials]Chantelle said to Preston:"Does my brain look big in this?"As he fixed the last bolt in her neckAnd sealed it with a kiss."You look lovely babe," he told her,"You could almost pass for real.Now lets go and make a millionOn our OK! wedding deal.Will you take this

Rnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1153558352350891902006-07-28T20:39:00.000Z2007-04-05T13:23:03.665Z

[Imagining the theme tune to hotly-anticipated summer movie Snakes on a Plane, as sung by Thom Yorke of Radiohead to the melody of Street Spirit (Fade Out). For more SoaP-inspired songs, see here.] Putrid serpentBeneath an aisle seat.Slithering poisonAt 30,000 feet.Seeking unsuspecting handsIn which to sink its evil fangs.Breach the cockpitThe pilot sprawled there dead.Boa constrictorWrapped

Rnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1153417738852215572006-07-21T09:35:00.001Z2008-04-06T15:53:27.620Z

[An affectionate pastiche of hot new British singing sensation Lily Allen. She's a sassy lady whose songs are gravy]I saw you walking through Brixton Market,Carrying a pig in a rolled up carpet.You were with some girl I hadn't seen before,She seemed a few steps up from your usual whore.I was on my bike so I didn't stopBut as you went in a smoking accessories shopThe hog in the rug stared me in

Rnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1151819072325773332006-07-06T17:40:00.002Z2011-01-11T20:45:00.734Z

[Former teen queen actress-cum-popstar Lindsay Lohan recounts a tale of artistic woe and spiritual triumph] The Daily Show's always making outThat George Bush isn't cleverBut I've got bigger fish to frySo I'm like yeah, whatever.See something happened recentlyThat really messed my head.Scum sprayed graffiti on my houseAnd this is what it said:'What's the point of Lindsay Lohan?What does she have

Rnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1151656274158283272006-06-30T07:59:00.000Z2007-04-05T10:52:48.825Z

[Inspired by a story from Popbitch about Christina Aguilera forbidding eye contact from journalists during interviews] Of all American songstressesThey say there is none fairerThan the little dame with the massive voiceNamed Christina Aguilera.So imagine my delightWhen I was offered the chance to grill herAbout any subject of my choiceProvided I brought a mirror.I pondered on this odd requestAs

Rnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1151020469467561942006-06-22T23:19:00.000Z2007-10-27T08:37:29.190Z

[Intrigued by Justin Timberlake's imminent return with his sexy new single SexyBack and equally sexy new album FutureSex/LoveSounds, this poem guesses the kind of lyrics we'll be hearing from the sexed-up superstar] Girl you're like my coffee,So hot and strong and sweetI'm gonna lay you downA special morning treat.Don't need no milk'Cause you got cream enough for two.Love's on the menuAnd I'm

Rnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1150271266662271422006-06-14T06:59:00.001Z2008-12-02T20:42:52.883Z

[Tired of groupies and drugs, Guns n' Roses frontman Axl Rose finds true love and a square meal in a school canteen]"Axl," she saidAs she rolled off the bed,"Last night was like seventh heaven.But I've got to goBecause as well you knowI'm due into work by eleven."I gave her a kissThis apron-clad missAnd dug out some bus fare to lend her.Then bid my farewellTo the cooking fat smellOf my sweet

Rnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1149103891322339102006-06-09T19:27:00.000Z2007-06-26T18:48:34.883Z

[In which heiress with the leastess Paris Hilton is punished severely for her unspeakable crimes against humanity]And so Paris Hilton was sent to the chair Bemoaning the fact she had nothing to wear.The guards had shaved off all her lovely blonde hairBut worse was the cruel fate awaiting her there.Instead of employing electrical meansTo fry this annoying society queen,They'd torture her with

Rnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1147203527293095642006-05-29T19:04:00.001Z2008-03-03T12:50:38.240Z

[Inspired by this story about Madonna worrying that she's a bad mother.]There are times when I look at my mother and thinkMaybe she's too old to be wearing pink.And though she is famous and pretty I knowIt's not cool to expose your cameltoe.I can sense the embarrassment of both my dadsWhen again she gets her tits out for the lads.If you've got 'em then flaunt 'em or so they sayBut there comes a

Rnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1148030151106218222006-05-25T18:17:00.001Z2008-07-11T07:14:06.570Z

[Bono is pressurised to choose between his beloved Mozilla Firefox and the new Internet Explorer 7 web browser, much like other people are currently doing here and here and here]"People," says Bono, "come gather around.Admire the sheen of my nice leather trousers.War is upon us and we must decideThe better of two mighty web browsers.See Firefox, she's a lady my friends,Smooth and sexy, with

Rnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1148542705591040032006-05-24T18:39:00.000Z2007-04-05T10:54:15.595Z

[As a real popstar poet, Britney Spears certainly doesn't need me to write a bizarre confessional poem on her behalf. But here's one anyway]Last night I dreamt of Debbie Gibson againLike a warning from out of the blue."All glory is fleeting," she said with a snarlThen beat me to death with a shoe.In another recurring nightmare,I'm back on the Mickey Mouse Club.Christina and Justin dance naked

Rnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1148396848999343342006-05-16T18:00:00.000Z2007-10-11T21:20:44.813Z

[Behind the scenes of the business that keeps Rod Stewart in leggy lovelies. Normal service will be resumed soon.]Last year I got a part-time jobI was broke and obliged to do it.Working in a hi-tech factory,Churning out wives for Rod StewartAll long blonde hair and legs designedTo travel down for miles.Ample breasts and perfect teethFixed into perma-smiles.Sometimes he'd turn up unannouncedTo

Rnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1147766535519614062006-05-05T15:00:00.000Z2007-04-29T09:32:37.818Z

[In which Robbie Williams is attacked by a vengeful gang of small blue men. Or maybe it's just his conscience talking?]So I'm basking by the pool of my L.A. home,Enjoying the wonder of being aloneBut tempted to give in and pick up the phoneAnd call for a dog to come bury my bone.When all of a sudden I'm under attackAs two tiny creatures jump onto my backAnd squeak "Now we've got you, you arrogant

Rnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1146002714585546522006-04-25T21:40:00.000Z2007-04-05T10:56:20.920Z

[A respectful parody of British rapper Mike Skinner aka The Streets. Contains authentic bad language]Squeaking through the room like a vampire batIn high-heeled shoes and a funny hatI said to the barman who the fuck's that?Oh it must be the bird from Fleetwood Mac.Well we'd had a few drinks but we wasn't pissed.More chimps on the pull than gorillas in the mist.And though finding some talent was

Rnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1145011267429591162006-04-14T09:18:00.000Z2007-04-05T10:55:13.866Z

[God knows which dark recess of my mind this came from but it's a bit rude. But then so is Prince...] "He seems nice," my grandma saidWhen Prince had left the house"Perfect manners, lovely smileAnd quiet as a mouse.Tell him to pop round againHe's welcome any time.There are several new positionsThat I'm curious to try.""Whatever would the neighbours say"I asked her with a grin."If they knew his

Rnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1144466159595812652006-04-13T20:40:00.000Z2007-04-29T08:39:57.727Z

[Not a very nice sentiment admittedly, but enough's enough]Remember mad Russian Rasputin?They had to poison, drown and shoot him.Of course these things don't happen nowUnder President Vladimir Putin.But if such executionsShould resume, then I insistThat old Sir Paul McCartneyBe the first name on the list.It's true the man is talentedAnd has written some classic songs.But he threatens to tarnish

Rnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1144416300943277242006-04-07T12:48:00.000Z2007-10-20T08:50:01.838Z

[Romancing Ms Abdul, the radiant singer, dancer, choreographer and American Idol judge] I think that I might like to spend the night with Paula Abdul, 'Cause however badly I performed, she'd say that it was cool.She'd praise my spirit and tell me I had made the bed my own.And I reckon she has tons of groovy pills stashed round her home.I think that I would take her to a movie and then dinnerAnd

Rnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1144078564916264092006-04-06T22:56:00.000Z2007-04-05T10:56:44.333Z

[A fictional transcript of Noel Gallagher's first foray into the exciting world of podcasting, on behalf of his Big Brother label.]Hello world and welcomeTo our first exclusive podcast.As usual in the race to setThe trends it seems we've come last.But now we've overcomeInitial doubts and techno fearsTo make this feast of funAnd crazy content for your ears.Let me start by slaggingDamon Albarn off

Rnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1146167485457020512006-04-06T15:33:00.000Z2007-04-05T11:18:09.419Z

[Inspired by the recent dubious attempt to contact John Lennon in a TV seance]"Speak to me Kurt," the medium said.But the signal was as flat as Keira Knightley.I guess it's hard to talk when you don't have a head.Not to mention looking rather unsightly.So she moved on, to Jim MorrisonWho we thought would be good for a laugh.But no-one replied with a lizard-based song.I suppose he was stuck in the

Rnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1141561241660452962006-03-29T11:12:00.000Z2007-04-05T10:56:44.345Z

[An imagined note of support from a 14-year old girl to the troubled Babyshambles front man Pete Doherty.] Dear Pete, I saw you on the evening newsWhat have you been taking now?You need to knock this thing on the headAnd I think I know the way how.Instead of caning that smack and crackAnd getting yourself in a stateFix on a king-size Snickers BarOr crumble it up with a Flake.Chocolate is cheaper

Rnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1143539682521723252006-03-28T23:54:00.000Z2007-08-01T07:41:40.515Z

[Poor Jack coerced by his wayward sister into committing the ultimate internet crime.]Dear Mom and Dad and Aimee,I hope that you are wellI'm writing you this letterWhile locked in my tiny cellThis place the court has sent meIs so frightening and smellyAnd I didn't even do itIt was Kelly!She crept into my room one nightWhile hiding from the mediaDrew a knife and forced meTo deface WikipediaAdding

Rnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1143586281405198462006-03-28T13:39:00.000Z2007-08-24T11:45:16.747Z

[Reflecting on the darker side of James Blunt 's meteoric rise to fame from a future perspective.]Looking back it seems so obviousAs all the signs were there.Sat there stripping on a glacierWith long dark greasy hair.Singing love songs like 'You're Beautiful'To some elusive girl.When deep down all he sought to doWas subjugate the world.Well we all bought Back to BedlamThinking what a fresh new

Rnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1143707277480613582006-03-27T08:19:00.000Z2007-03-31T13:54:17.570Z

[What if Jimi Hendrix arrived in England in April 2006 rather than September 1966? Written to the tune of Purple Haze]Touched down at Heathrow about half-past eight.White collar man wouldn't let me through the gate.Next thing I know two cats are searching me.Like I was a voodoo threat to national security.Took a ride to some hip producer's home.Making sure to avoid the congestion charge zone.I

Rnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1149362771421692972006-03-26T19:14:00.002Z2008-08-29T07:22:40.565Z

[This bee-inspired poem/song recently turned up at a jumble sale in Crawley, allegedly written by Robert Smith of The Cure*]Today I spent an hour or threeStaring at a picture of a beeIt made me feel so happy inside.Yellow black and furryMaking lots of honeyWith no need to worry or hide.I'd like to spend my hoursRooting around in pretty flowersThen flying home to service my queen.Oh what a mighty

Rnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1142934847654528662006-03-21T09:34:00.000Z2007-04-05T13:20:13.870Z

[A batch of sonnets dedicated to the demanding diva otherwise known as Mimi.]Mariah Carey,To what shall I compare thee?Perhaps a restaurant in the swanky park of town?Or liquid nitrogen poured inside a clown?A creamy stain upon a rented wedding gown?Mariah Carey,Your ambition doesn't scare me.You deserve to spin forever like a top.Can you get me some bananas from the shop?Plus a paper and a can

Rnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1142382260565487032006-03-19T10:37:00.000Z2008-07-24T06:47:41.228Z

[Supposing that behind that clean-cut image, the Irish crooners aren't such nice boys after all.] Louis Walsh frownedAs his boys tossed aroundThe head of Sienna Miller.He sighed: "Guys, I knowYou don't dig BohoBut that wasn't a reason to kill her.Now we'll all faceA public disgraceFrom the pigs of Primrose HillThese murder spreesHave really got to cease -Can't you do something else for a thrill?"

Rnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1142005077015054492006-03-10T15:35:00.000Z2007-06-07T06:51:02.042Z

[Imagining what might happen if Madonna Queen of Pop popped round for the afternoon.]A rich old lady came to teaHer face was full of apathyI asked her if she fancied meBut she was barely listening.It seems her husband lets her downHe doesn't dig her disco sound.He makes her pay for every roundWhile his career is fizzling.She said so sorry to be rudeBut she could not abide our food.I asked to see

Rnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1141830356103110812006-03-08T14:55:00.000Z2007-04-05T11:21:33.975Z

[A purely hypothetical face-off between Kelly Clarkson and Carrie Underwood, the lovely winners of American Idol seasons 1 and 4.]"Excuse me, is anyone sat here?" asked Kelly.Laughed Carrie, "well no-one but you." "There's a yogurt in my pocket I'm dying to share.So I sure hope that you like tofu.""I hope it's not poisoned," said Carrie unsurely,And emptied a spoon down her throat."Of course not,

Rnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1141630453034289082006-03-06T07:05:00.000Z2007-04-05T11:18:56.196Z

[Inspired by the ubiquity of the enchanting singer-songstress Katie Melua.]The first time Katie appeared to me,She was old and draped in blue."My child," she croaked, "I have walked this EarthSince 1892.Can you lift the curse that forbids my restFor my time long ago passed me by?""Don't think so," I said, and she nodded her head."Oh well, it was worth a try."Three years disappeared and to tell

Rnoreply@blogger.com0