I ♥ Jeremy Kyle

by Ashley Lister

Tragic or comic? This is the poem I read at the Dead Good Poets’ event last night. I like to think it contains elements of tragedy and comedy. It is not based on true life and, whilst it doesn’t contain any truly offensive language, I’d have to say it’s not safe for young readers and the easily offended might do well to steer clear.

It’s probably best also if Jeremy Kyle gives the poem a miss.

I ♥ Jeremy Kyle

We met on the set of Jeremy Kyle,

you flashed all three teeth with your black and green smile,

You winked one lazy eye and you waved your webbed fingers

and you looked least inbred out of all that show’s mingers.

Your bum looked so yum, in your pink tracky bottoms.

I said to my chum: “She’s not scum: she’s a hot ’un.”

And I vowed I would ask for a date if I could.

I hoped your lie-detector results turned out good.

Your segment was on first – it was very exciting.

I’ve been bonking twin brothers – and now they are fighting.

Judgemental Jez Kyle claimed your libido the cause

and announced both the brothers you’d been bonking were yours.

We shagged in the green room. You said I was the best.

We then shagged whilst you took your STI test.

We had a quick bunk up in the studio lavs.

And I then met your family – all Jeremy Kyle CHAVS.

Now I like Jez Kyle and I’m happy to chat

and argue with all those who say he’s a smug twat

but some of his guests are just perfectly mental

and most have got problems well beyond orthodontal.

And your family, love, well I’m sorry to say

had a season’s worth of problems for Jezzer that day.

It was obvious there would be lots of fighting

with their Burberry gear and their six carat bling.

Your family’s so interbred that your son’s his own dad

a twelve-fingered three-thumbed giant of a lad.

He’s as ugly as sin – he could scare a scarecrow

and he looked right at home there on Jeremy’s show.

Your mother’s a slapper. She’s been in more beds than bed lice

She tried shagging Jez Kyle – she tried shagging me twice.

And your sister’s the same – any bloke can lay her.

She’s handled more balls than a snooker player.

And they found your three dads each one there as a guest.

And Jezzer’d arranged for three DNA tests.

All were excited – including my mate.

It was like they’d remade Mamma Mia on a council estate

Your cousin complained his love life was amiss

Your cousin looked sad as he stood and said this:

“Most women would love, on their birthday morn

To be woken with chocolates, by a guy with the horn

To get champagne and gifts and some sexy birthday fun

But that’s just most women – that’s not my mum.”

But romance occurred on that Jeremy Kyle show.

You stole my heart – and you got an ASBO.

You promised to forsake all those other bad geezers

as you and I both shared our social diseases.

So we both got together doing Jeremy Kyle.

He sent flowers to our wedding. That guy’s clearly got style.

We’ve named three of our kids after Jez – that’s a fact.

There’s Jeremy. There’s Kyle. And there’s Smug Little Twat.

Ashley Lister