The Tale of Charles: who left his saucepan to boil over and had his circumstances greatly reduced
by Dan
I had no time to take much stock
So parodied Hilaire Belloc *
and if that isn’t to your taste
Apologies, please blame my haste
1.
Charles Alexander Fennimore
A child, I’ve not described before,
displayed the most outrageous skill
At basting, broiling, spit and grill.
Why, even at the age of 3
His gastronomic mastery
Extended well beyond the fare
His cook and servants could prepare.
His Spatchcock liver gained renown
As far away as Canning Town.
(A destination on a bus
Which may not be salubrious
But came quite quickly to my mind
Because it sort of scanned and rhymed).
“What a lad” I hear you cry
“There’s naught to stop him riding high.”
But Charles endured the shameful fall
Of which I now must tell you all.
2
His fame soon spread from there to here
As it was whispered far and near
That this precocious ingénue
had caught the eye of Michel Roux
who said “he’s just the boy I want
to run my brand new restaurant.
But first I think I’ll test him out
And see what he is all about”.
So Charles made jelly from a quince
And ballotine of sprouts in mince
And Turbot wrapped in nettle stems
That day fished from the mighty Thames
And bacon fat and blackberry tart
And langoustines with rabbit heart.
With staff of merely 28
(If one includes Miss Postlethwaite).
3
But then upon the very day
That Michel Roux was come to stay
Charles spied a mongrel dog called Rover.
and left his sauce pans boiling over
and went to play upon the green
Forgetting his effete cuisine.
And shouting “good boy” “Run” and Fetch”
This miserable little wretch
Let carnage reign upon his hob
And only finished half the job.
The unsuspecting Chef Michel
Arrived at Charles’s kitchen hell
But sadly was a trifle late.
To save the poor Miss Postlethwaite
And several others in the team
The coroner said, “death by steam”.
4,
Although his mother almost pleaded
He wasn’t what the great chef needed
“That child alas is just not like us
Let him join the hairy bikers”
But even they would not employ
This most obnoxious little boy.
Too late his parents set him free
From ties of high society
And let him loose to sink or swim
Even the dog deserted him.
So heed the lessons of this tale
When cooking dinner never fail
To turn the cooker dials to off
Or don’t expect to stay a toff
And like young Charles you’ll soon be found
Busking on the underground.
*an Edwardian author who
Warned naughty children old and new.