Gluten Is Lovely

At the time of writing this, it’s coeliac awareness week in the UK. Having been diagnosed with the disease around 12 months ago, I know how often I’ve had to explain it to people – and how little fun that can be (particularly if they ask you about the symptoms – eek). My solution – write a poem about it of course – which I hope people can share to explain the causes, symptoms and frustrations in an un-cringey – and hopefully entertaining – way. Job done, and back to my expensive maize-based substitute products. Yum.

Gluten is Lovely

One day, my body said “Right! No more gluten!”
Why would it DO that, that’s what I’m disputing!
Gluten is LOVELY, it makes dough elastic,

And cake nice and cakey, and croissants fantastic,

The human immune system’s really quite cracking,
But mine is a numpty, it needs a good smacking,
It sends forth its troops to repel yummy biccies,

And crackers and gravy and buns, soft and sticky.

So if I have shreddies or pasta or beer,
Or if one grain of flour has come ANYWHERE NEAR,
My body says “Got this!”, attacks my own guts

And banjaxes my brain – antibodies gone nuts!

So my “glutened” utensils were binned by the drawer-full,
It’s three pounds for bread now, and man, it tastes awful,
And I ALWAYS read packs – I’ve found gluten in cheese,

Jelly babies and chips, stir fry veg – I mean please!

And restaurants are fun, as I question each dish –
“Was it fried in the fat with that nice breaded fish?
Are your chopping boards safe? Do you have separate butter?”

“This woman’s a nightmare!” the waitresses mutter.

But… one crumb of gluten – one smear on a knife,
And let’s say… the bottom falls out of my life,
I am laid up for days, not in dreams, but in pain,

And for weeks, i will not be quite normal again.

I have panic attacks, I have aches, I have chills,
And the long term effects are more frightening still,
“It’s just CAKE, stupid coeliac body!” I cry,

“Now come on! Sort it out! Cos I REALLY miss pie.”


© Nina Parmenter 2018

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Photo by Abele Gigante on Unsplash

Doggy Style

Doggy Style

The eighties set fashion on fire,
That’s why it’s the look I desire!
So I’ve nailed it, long-term,
With a hot poodle perm,
Just like Brian May, Cher and Mariah.

Showed my stylist a photo of Whitney
She went ever so pale very quickly,
She got acid and bleach,
Three big drumfuls of each,
And some creosote. “Yes!” I cried, “Hit me!”

She slathered me, crisped me like crazy,
I said, “Hold up the mirror! Amaze me!”
And – woohoo and way-hay!
I was Jennifer Grey,
Ripe ‘n’ ready to woo Patrick Swayze!

But then – it all got rather strange,
For my poodle perm started to change,
Seems its poodle-dog mind
Was not noble or kind –
It was dirty, debauched and deranged!

My friends weren’t impressed. They’d cry “Wowzers!”
As my perm tried to dry-hump their trousers,
It would steal all their shoes,
Roll in animal poos –
I was banned from their elegant houses.

But soon they were howling with laughter,
It would jump in the lake – I’d go after!
Chasing kitties for kicks,
Going crazy for sticks,
My new perm was a doggy disaster!

It would seek other perms! It would spot em,
Bound up close, and then sniff round their bottom!
This all got me in trouble,
With Bon Jovi’s double,
Who called the police, which was rotten.

So now I’m awaiting the chop,
Down at “Woofterz”, the dog-grooming shop.
Well, I’ll no longer feel,
Like a smokin’ Brooke Shields,
But at least all the lawsuits will stop!


© Nina Parmenter 2018

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