Colin was a chef; he'd been to school and learned to cook,

his teenage years spent washing pots and pans,

and now he'd graduated, didn't need the old text book -

not with his new degree in pies and flans.

He opened his own restaurant, and called it "Colin's Cave"

all French - with frogs and garlic escargots,

the yuppies thought it wonderful, it soon became the rave,

with branches in Madrid and Tokyo.

Experimenting always, Colin baked a caribou,

stuffed full of lemon thyme and melted brie,

a big producer tried it and pronounced it cordon bleu,

and signed him up for nationwide TV.

When "Colin's Kitchen" went to air, the women went berserk,

the chef showed off his plovers' eggs with sage,

the audience went crazy, gave security some work,

as women threw their knickers on the stage.

Despite his busy schedule, he released a cook book next:

"1000 Naked Things to Do with Mint"

the housewives, mainly overweight and very undersexed

stampeded it into a second print.

They aired a special tribute show: The Colin Sunday Roast,

celebrities and politicians too,

they laughed as Colin demonstrated how to butter toast -

and clapped when flashing signboards told them to.

One day the paparazzi saw his kitchen window free,

and snapped the world a very sordid tale,

the chef, his secretary, and a funny recipe -

the nation turned an ugly shade of pale.

Now Colin's in New Guinea, he's a missionary man,

his life is one of sadness and regret,

he had it all - then lost it with his greedy gourmet plan:

to use a woman in a crepe suzette!

more of my FUNNY POEMS here