Jaspistos
Celebration
In Competition No. 2471 you were given two opening lines and invited to supply an appropriate song or lyric.
In Competition No. 2471 you were given two opening lines and invited to supply an appropriate song or lyric. No room for chitchat this week. Commendations go to W.J. Webster, Keith Norman and G.M. Davis. The prizewinners, printed below, get £25 each, and the bonus fiver lands in the lap of Brian Murdoch.
Once I was only a wannabee,
But now I’m a big celebrity,
Because I’ve done reality
On Friday nights on the TV.
Now although I’m only twenty-three
And I haven’t a single GCSE,
I’m writing my autobiography
(Well, somebody’s doing the words for me).
It’s easy-peasy to get to be
A really big celebrity
And you don’t have to do much for your fee,
You only have to let the camera see,
When you have a wash or go for a pee
(And your bra size has to be 42D).
You can hear I’ve no musical ability,
And I can’t even tell if I’ve gone off key,
But I’ve got this song on my first CD,
Just because I’m a big celebrity!
Brian Murdoch
Once I was only a wannabee,
But now I’m a big celebrity.
I’ve turned the glamour on!
I hug the hoodie, love the lout,
Affection’s what I’m all about,
I’m the cuddly Cameron.
Global warming isn’t nice,
So off I flew to the land of ice
With a warm windjammer on!
I danced with the seals and the polar bears,
I’m the eco-man who clearly cares,
I’m the kindly Cameron!
Primed for fame at a public school
The rabble thought I was really cool,
The guy whose grammar shone!
At home with the lord and the lout alike
I’m the ladies’ knight on a shining bike,
I’m the awesome Cameron!
Alan Millard
Once I was only a wannabee,
But now I’m a big celebrity.
Ahm a six-foot mover, an’ mighty proud,
Wailin’ an’ a-rappin’ an’ shoutin’ out loud.
Ahm a soccer star — pro — Rastus ma name,
Ahm a two-foot shooter on top of ma game.
The fans all love me an’ they call me Razz.
When you’re talkin’ ’bout money then loads ah has.
Ma pad’s in the City an’ way up high,
Cost a load a hot money but ahm king o’ the sky.
Ma motor’s a Ferrari — gleamin’ red.
Ah cut the other drivers an’ leave ’em fer dead.
When the dames all see me as ahm struttin’ by
They’re a-screamin’ an’ a-swoonin’ an’ catchin’ ma eye,
So ah have ’em an’ leave ’em but treat ’em swell
Cos ahm livin’ the life an’ ahm goin’ pell-mell.
Sid Field
Once I was only a wannabee,
But now I’m a big celebrity.
Once no one knew my name,
Now I’m in the hall of fame.
I used to be a hoodie
Scaring people on the street.
Now I hobnob with Jade Goody
Where the beat meet the elite,
And I’m recognised in South-West 23 —
Which of course is Forest Hill to you and me.
Pete Burns calls me on the phone
If he’s wasted and alone,
While David Gest and Cheggers
Always email me the word
When they’re playing silly beggars
And they’re looking for a third.
I’m astounded at my popularity
As an always-in-demand celebrity!
Basil Ransome-Davies
Once I was only a wannabee,
But now I’m a big celebrity.
Filing a form on the internet
Brought me my chance on a TV set,
And found me auditioning there to be
Part of reality BBC.
Finally I was one that they chose —
Aided by means that I won’t disclose.
Filming was boring, it took an age,
They made us memorise page after page
Of very unrealistic guff
Which we had to deliver ‘off the cuff’.
Somehow I mastered the right technique,
Staying a winner week after week;
While others were, one by one, for the chop
Audience phone-ins voted me top.
Though fat and dim and a bit of a bitch,
I’m famous, feted — and very rich.
Alanna Blake
Once I was only a wannabee,
But now I’m a big celebrity.
Try as I might I can’t help but see
The attractions of being what I used to be:
No pencil-thin gals shrieking in my ear
No coke, dope or amphetamine,
Or too-fast cars to steer.
How I miss the blank looks
Of strangers on the street.
Now it’s ‘Hello, Elvis!’ from everyone I meet.
They found me on the moon
And brought me back to Earth,
Or at least that’s what we all agreed
When the Sport gave me this berth.
Next week I’m playing overseas
For the troops in Kandahar,
And I still don’t even know
How to play this old guitar.
Peter Krijgsman
No. 2474: Nursery rhyme time
Parodists in the past have expanded nursery rhymes mockingly in the style of well-known poets. You are invited to do the same. Maximum 16 lines. Entries to ‘Competition No. 2474’ by 14 December.