Gogglebox Doggerel
This week, I find my appraisal of all things televisual can only be expressed adequately in verse:
FMF
I know I left them here somewhere
So my steps I’ll have to retrace
Finding something I love
Looking all over the place
I didn’t leave them on the bedside table
Or in my bag
Not in the kitchen
This stuff is making me so sad
Not under the couch
Or in the car
Maybe when I got pissed
And staggered from that bar?
Finally, I found my lost relations
But they’re bogans and I don’t want them
Thanks for nothin’, Find My Family
And a posh-speaking Jack Thompson
CSI: The Poem
I cut open a body
To see how a man died
I’m a CSI pathologist
Finding out if our suspect lied
The camera zooms into the wound
Past the bubbling blood
Under the severed artery
And over the oozing pus
Maybe the victim was poisoned,
I think, as I cut the skin and pull it
Then I realise the cause of death
Was a fucking big metal bullet
Underbelly: A Tale of Two Titties
A nasty young man who says, ‘Fush and chups’
In a true-life drama that should be a farce
Underbelly’s slow-motion sex and violence
As smooth as Matty Newton’s arse
The Biggest Loser
There are a bunch of fat people
All trying to lose weight
They do lots of exercise
And won’t eat chocolate
They all watch what they eat
And don’t go down the boozer
Then I realise, watching this crap,
I’m the Biggest Loser
Matt Quartermaine is a Melbourne-based writer and comedian. He can be seen taking part in ‘The Chat’ (See four grown men in comfortable chairs spill their guts!) every Friday night from 8:30 at the Maori Chief Hotel, corner of Moray and York streets, South Melbourne. Entry is free. Click here to read Matt's article about ‘The Chat’ podcast (available at iTunes) in ‘The Age’.
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