tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-234515362026-02-22T20:21:09.608+00:00Offbeat contemporary verse inspired by figures from the world of pop music.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger42125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-69457967080469907462014-03-23T12:44:00.000+00:002014-03-23T12:44:18.316+00:00

[In this outtake from Vida La Vida or Death and his Friends, Chris Martin and co take on Stephen King's It. Er, spoilers for those who haven't read the book.] Take me to the deadlights babyAt the gateway to the macroverse.Through the tunnel, past the TurtleWhere Its natural form is even worse.Pennywise used his evil powersTo control the bully Henry Bowers.And George won't be chasing any more

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-49167665156504624792009-03-08T11:50:00.015+00:002016-10-25T07:57:14.092+00:00

Starlight shines from limousines On the streets of Monte Carlo But I'd prefer a cup of tea In a caff with Gary Barlow. He'd draw inspiration from The drabness of the venue And weave sweet melodies around The items on the menu. Spreading sounds of happiness Around the greasy spoon. He may be a chub-a-lub But he sure can write a tune. I could take him back to mine To feast on milk and cookies.

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-26331658268952337302008-05-19T11:26:00.000+00:002008-05-25T10:12:39.702+00:00

[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

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1143293149220453932007-09-18T18:02:00.000+00:002007-11-19T21:17:52.387+00:00

[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

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-26964268097210398702007-03-23T13:40:00.001+00:002008-07-16T10:32:29.635+00:00

[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

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-55052143186976706912007-02-08T13:37:00.000+00:002007-06-18T20:57:24.139+00:00

[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

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-5612290920542244942007-02-05T13:30:00.000+00:002007-06-18T20:58:43.199+00:00

[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

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-9459212660522572892007-01-31T13:15:00.001+00:002008-10-03T06:37:56.152+00:00

[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

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-82525954659403909062006-12-15T13:12:00.001+00:002014-03-23T12:48:48.123+00:00

[A quick pastiche of 2006's hottest band (apparently): Arctic Monkeys]Well haven't you seen the indie disco kid,Scrabbling on the floor for his poppers' lid?Pushing to the front of the cubicle queue,With a pocket of powder that's soaked right through?Haven't you seen him throwing some shapes,Blurring the line between humans and apes?Desperate to score but he'll leave aloneAnd give it one last

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-35531249759584118382006-11-03T19:07:00.002+00:002011-01-11T20:43:48.635+00:00

[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.""

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-43068385781605177462006-10-30T11:18:00.000+00:002007-10-10T11:42:09.059+00:00

[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

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-83206926359786780362006-10-11T10:15:00.000+00:002007-04-05T10:52:48.757+00:00

[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

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-82320400995242467482006-10-03T10:02:00.000+00:002007-04-08T10:39:19.205+00:00

[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

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-49947534997582496122006-09-28T13:36:00.000+00:002007-08-05T12:27:11.741+00:00

[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

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-26033492323364565762006-09-26T10:23:00.000+00:002007-04-05T10:52:48.762+00:00

[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

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1155287866641767192006-08-11T17:29:00.000+00:002007-09-18T14:46:26.463+00:00

[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

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1154862119512437142006-08-06T18:55:00.003+00:002014-03-23T12:39:50.589+00:00

[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 neck And sealed it with a kiss. "You look lovely babe," he purred. "You could almost pass for real. Now lets go and make a million On our OK! wedding deal. Will you take

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1153558352350891902006-07-28T20:39:00.000+00:002007-04-05T13:23:03.665+00:00

[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

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1153417738852215572006-07-21T09:35:00.001+00:002008-04-06T15:53:27.620+00:00

[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

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1151819072325773332006-07-06T17:40:00.002+00:002011-01-11T20:45:00.734+00:00

[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

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1151656274158283272006-06-30T07:59:00.000+00:002007-04-05T10:52:48.825+00:00

[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

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1151020469467561942006-06-22T23:19:00.000+00:002016-10-25T07:56:58.539+00:00

[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 sweet I'm gonna lay you down A special morning treat. Don't need no milk 'Cause you got cream enough for two. Love's on the

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1150271266662271422006-06-14T06:59:00.001+00:002013-09-07T08:57:42.979+00:00

[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

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1149103891322339102006-06-09T19:27:00.000+00:002007-06-26T18:48:34.883+00:00

[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

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451536.post-1148030151106218222006-05-25T18:17:00.001+00:002008-07-11T07:14:06.570+00:00

[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

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4