Zebedee's Suicide Note

The price of tabasco is shocking these days,
Alone, amid a crowd of seething phalaropes.
I left my chequebook in San Sebastian:
My toenails look charred, I don't know why.

Oh I could share a lettuce with Carol Vorderman
(Dark and mysterious, the beetroot in her pocket)
And like her, for her hair contains no lice.
Thrift is the least of all the cardinal virtues.

Stop that slithering, it only upsets the goat!
(D'ye ken a Toby Jug hid in a grain of sand?)
Ordure is my line of work, Miss Mayhew;
That donkey-jacket wasn't there before.