(Bruce Venables, King of the Primates, opens tomorrow in Shakespeare In Italy, playing two big medieval roles)
Behold the King, in motley clad,
In Act One sane, in Two half-mad,
Beset by Popes, hermaphrodites and rogues,
With Adelaide accents like Lionel Logue’s,
He boasts, he blusters, drinks bad red,
Stands the universe on its head,
Secretes a ring in a nice girl’s twat,
Holds court in prison, snores a lot,
Makes mockery of all there is,
Condemned to hang, says ‘That’s showbiz!’,
Struts his hour upon the stage,
Sings and mugs and gives road rage
Just like at any Primates do,
Ignoring every hiss and boo.
He dominates. He snarls and sneers.
Tapdances till the theatre clears.
He knows his place, it’s way up there.
We kneel to him. It’s only fair.
All hail King Bruce! In swish chain mail!
An Oscar for King Bruce! Wassal.
Name:
Twat were you thinking when you posted this Bob