Ode to Mister Kipling
Mister Kipling's cake
was on this particular occasion
slightly disappointing
in the face of the relatively high expectations
the marketing had raised within me.
There was too little jam,
too much icing,
and for a cake that claimed to be bakewell in nature
there was exceedingly little bakewell.
I suppose even Mister Kipling makes a mistake or two
now and then.
But it isn't surprising when you think about it.
I have been up and down the length of the UK
and in just about every shop
on every street corner
in every town
up and down the land
there are several boxes of cakes
all made by Mister Kipling.
How does he do it?
He must get up exceedingly early.
I'm surprised that most of his cakes don't taste
completely disgusting
with so many cakes to bake each day.
How does he manage never to burn the fruit
pies?
If I was Mister Kippling, I would inevitably
forget about the cakes I had in the oven
while I was applying icing to the
the bakewell slices.
So if anybody's asking me,
(is anybody asking me?)
Mister Kipling is an exceedingly hard worker.
And should be forgiven,
for coming up with cakes,
which, quite frankly,
taste like they have been mass-produced.
Poetry by Andrew Bindon
Read 1086 times
Written on 2010-01-12 at 16:25
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