My Russell Brand Sonnet

From the Sonnets, Mostly Bristolian. I wrote this sonnet several years ago, but now seems like as good a time as any to publish it. My antipathy towards this individual dates back to the Sachsgate prank calls debacle of October 2008, as a result of which I cancelled my TV licence.

Sonnet 78

Where to begin dissecting Russell Brand?

The matted rug’s quite Da’esh Caliphate.

Ditto the beard. The overactive glans

in God knows what kind of infectious state.

Creeping towards belated middle age,

the weeping winkie of this Peter Pan

has petered out, beset by phallophage.

May God have mercy on the ghastly man,

who can’t afford to put sleeves on his shirts.

Lo! On his mattress stuffed with last year’s pranks

this yahoo reeking worse than his own dirt

unglues his Bookywook and limply wanks.

He says he wants a revolution. Well,

he’ll need a lot of antiseptic gel.