Sam entered a world-class poem into a Gerry Ryan Pot Noodle competition today. Unfortunately she was not selected to go on air (unlike her last piece of genius which was up there with T.S. Eliot and she got to read out to the listening public). So, in order to give it the publicity it deserves, here it is in it's entirety.
The Pot heads
We are from the planet Noodle,
We cannot write, we scribble and doodle.
Where we're from, we're like Super Heros,
But there was no atmosphere and the gravity zero.
My family came here to be Earth's saviours,
But instead of names we're called flavours.
My father we affectionately call him BEEF,
He runs a tight ship, he's commander and chief.
He is muscular and handsome, long golden locks,
Our very own Samson, as strong as an Ox.
He flies through the neighbourhood, defending the weak,
Protecting the young, the old, and the meek.
He truly is a wonderful man,
My brothers help him all they can.
The boys had trouble trying to adjust,
They have to blend in, they know it's a must.
The oldest smells foul, so we call him CHICKEN.
It's bad ass this fella is always kickin'.
My other brother's cool, he is a FUNG-GHI,
He smokes strange plants, and is always high.
But he does keep up with the latest trends,
So in with Earth people, he perfectly blends.
My sisters for Aliens, they look really pretty,
Their good deeds are known throughout the city.
One's called CURRY, the other's CHOW-MEIN,
They're not a bit self-centred, not a bit me fein.
The Sizzler is the name we give our mother,
Because like her, there is no other.
She's hot, she's fiery, her humour is wicket,
She wouldn't go home if she got a free ticket.
Because there's a man she thinks is great,
For music and chat, and topical debate.
We sit around we are all ears,
When he says good morning, we give 3 cheers.
No-one comes close, even though they're all trying,
He's up on a pedestal, "HAIL GERRY RYAN".
We listen, we love him, his praises we sing,
Back home on our planet, he wud be king.
So every day between 9 and
We boil the kettle and get our spoon.
We discard our masks, and undo extra limbs,
This is when Gerry's show begins.
We no longer have to disguise our features,
Beneath the latex we're exotic creatures.
We're the happiest family in the land,
Gerry Ryan on the radio, and pot noodle in hand,
and hand, and hand, and hand.
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