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(Steve) Skinner's poem of the week is...My pizza's got depression! Click on this link to read the poem...

...and now it's time for Skinner & T'witch's regular feature...(Steve) Skinner's Poem of the Week...

My pizza’s got depression

My pizza’s got depression; my soup has got the blues

What a psychiatric menu from which I have to choose

The chicken liver starter is vulnerable and stressed

The salad’s got all mixed up and refuses to be dressed

The salmon’s feeling washed up, can’t face up to its fears

The rump steak’s looking blue, and the duck is close to tears

The sea trout suffers trauma, the lamb shank feels alone

The lobster has delusions, he’s the mobster, Al Capone.

The Specials think they're special and ought to win a prize

The Sides all feel excluded, and fear they're marginalised.

Even my Prosecco, the best wine on the list,

Is feeling insecure and needs a therapist

She had an awful childhood, abandoned on the vines,

And now gets quite acidic, when popped for Valentines

The cheesecake’s schizophrenic, when cut up into parts,

The Eaton Mess is in distress, for flirting with some tarts

My platter of fine cheeses are paranoic too,

They fear they will be eaten – but, of course, this time it’s true!

Thank heavens that my coffee seemed to be quite sane,

But then the mint took the hint and was raving once again

All my favourite dishes need counselling or pills,

So how can I relax, when dining out for meals?

Steve Skinner Copyright 2018