Jamie Oliver

At first glance he looks like a chef, but I assure that he aint,

See the light shine out his arse, a chubby lisping saint.

Jamie’s walked on water since he beat the war on junk,

He’s more reviled than the Pope’s piss, purer than Bono’s spunk.

He didn’t like school dinners, turkey twizzlers he torpedoed,

He stalked the kids at lunchtime like a culinary paedo.

He’s opened up his own school to help bad kids go far,

But what’s Jamie’s achievement? Where’s his Michelin Star?

Jamie’s forgot his naked roots; his campaigns are a ploy,

Less like a TV Saviour, more Channel 4’s rent boy.

I liked him way more in his youth as he Pukka’d round inanely,

He spends far too much of his time these days 69ing Sainsburys.

He even went to the U.S, obesity he tried to rid,

They promptly told him fuck off home to his flower bed of kids.

 But it’s hard to dislike Jamie, he’s good natured and he’s pleasant,

but best of all his stupid books make easy Christmas presents.