Sex and Drugs and Sausage Rolls Robert Rankin

For my very good friend Jonathan Crawford,

whose postcards are always from

The Edge and sometimes even beyond.

In the Future There Will Be Nothing

But the Past

There’s a frog in the Kenwood blender.

There’s a cat in the microwave.

There’s a mouse in the waste disposal.

There’s a chef and his name is Dave.

There’s a cockroach that lives in the pâté,

And the salt is an earwig’s grave.

There are droppings all over the butter.

There’s a chef and his name is Dave.

There’s a nasty fungus under the stove,

Where the creepy crawlies wave.

And squeezing his spot in the beef hot-pot

There’s a chef and his name is Dave.

There’s a man from the Health Department

And he’s just been sick in the sink,

And the Watermans Arts Centre kitchen

Will be closed for a while, I think.