Green light on, twenty one is free.
Select category, number required,
just you. Eggs and beans and Brie
My image on the screen admired,
I feel you watching from above.
Unexpected item, not desired
Don’t play cruel games my love,
you know I’d never cheat.
Approval needed. Ok don’t shove
I hate that cow with her flat feet,
her access to your secret keys.
My life without you, not complete
There’s no need for guarantees
Just tell me with that manly voice,
my points don’t add up in threes.
O Tate Modern, what have you done?
Removed all the swings
where the children did play
the lovers did flirt
and put in their place
a giant pink turd.
Dr Kellogg openly boasted
his were perfectly firm
and, more often than not,
coming out a yard or more long.
But six metres high, twice that in girth,
just how many cornflakes
would you say?
And that shade, how to get it,
it’s so Peppa Pig!
Rice pudding with beetroot,
blancmange and raw meat,
washed down with damsons in gin?
It’s not a turd, you oaf,
said an angry old man.
They’re Viennese sausages,
can’t you see by the line?
Sausages, I reply, are not my life’s study,
but surely it’s OK for art to be funny?
Provoked by Franz West’s Rosa/Drama, 2001 – on loan from the Pompidou Centre in 2019.
Let’s gas all the chickens
and stamp on their eggs
Let’s lynch all the cows
and piss in their milk
Let’s poison the pigs
and squidge all their brains
Let’s skull-crush the sheep
and choke all their lambs
Let’s flame-throw the turkeys
and turn them to dust
Let’s fuck all the goats
and graft back their horns.
Tomorrow we’ll feast
on chana masala
and wild berry pie
Come all ye faithless
join the Vegan Crusade.