Ode to Anne Doyle
An Experiment in Rhyme inspired by seeing our own RTE's Anne Doyle (I thought she was dead too!!) glaring at me from inside her car on Monday night at the traffic lights on the way to Mount Merrion. She did not seem to appreciate the notes we scribbled and stuck on the window for her to read. They were a bit rude. She also did not like it when we licked the window.
Anne:
I longed for your fame from afar
When I saw you last night in your car...
I can't hear your voice
From inside your Rolls Royce --
My hero! Celebrity! Star!
Your newsreading skills may astound...
And with age you have not gained a pound!
You eat nowt but fags
And collect Prada bags
And your nip/tuck physician is sound.
Oh Anne, when will you notice ME?
I'm as charming and cool as can be!
I have dyed my hair white
Since our encounter that night
So our connection can deepen, you see.
I know all your secrets, you know
(that you make up the news as you go),
But that's ok by me...
All I want from TV
Is to escape from the hell that I sow.
Anne, you're the queen of the land:
News-Bearer-Extraordinaire-Bland!
You can keep your bad news,
And your snake Gucci shoes,
And your skin...so aggressively tanned.
*click click click*
THE END
Posted by neuro-praxis on February 2, 2005 05:42 PM, in the category Rhythm Worries
You are sick.
Posted by: David Barrett at February 2, 2005 06:51 PMClarification: in the head.
Posted by: David Barrett at February 2, 2005 07:05 PMThe last line is a gem :o)
Posted by: Caoimhe at February 2, 2005 11:37 PMClas-sick, straight up yo. Often Anne Doyle's news readings seem like a kind of beatnik poetry anyway.
Posted by: Misled Neurofan #527 at February 3, 2005 01:10 AMROFL
Posted by: honest bob at February 3, 2005 10:25 AMI must remember that poem next time I defy the barring order and scale the walls of her house and...
Oops. I've said too much.
Posted by: mr_angry at February 3, 2005 04:46 PMYou bitch.
Anne Doyle is my mammy.
Posted by: embee at February 5, 2005 06:19 PM