Deep in the…no, let’s not knock yet that door.
Let’s have a bit of class and dip our head
for Tara Palmer-Tomkinson, who’s dead,
and (like the man said) we must earn therefore.
Not yet, then; let us be Diana’s for-
esters, gentlemen of the shade, the Bed-
post Rule unfollowed for the moment, led
astray by thoughts that made our pet sleb dour.
Posh totty knows the score, though; snow don’t grow
on trees. Once monetised, those cute vowels
called the shots in from all sides, no beater
spared, no gundog starved. Doubloun tendresse blow
all you like – she’s deaf deep in the bowels
of Frank Skinner’s studio theatre.
February 10, 2017
“For Falstaff he is dead, and we must earn therefore.” Henry V, 2 iii. Pistol’s earn meant yearn, meant mourn.
“Marry then, sweet wag, when thou art king let not us that are squires of the night’s body be called thieves of the day’s beauty: let us be Diana’s foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the moon, and let men say we be men of good government, being governed as the sea is, by our noble and chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance we steal.” Falstaff to Hal, Henry IV Part 1, 1 ii.
TPT was Prince Charles’ godchild. In popular memory, she appeared well-oiled during an appearance on a chat-show hosted by Frank Skinner. Off-screen, Skinner had a routine in his stand-up act about anal sex, for which “studio theatre” was his chosen euphemism. There is no suggestion of such congress between Skinner and the late TPT.
“Bedpost rule” and “pet sleb dour” are anagrams of the poem’s title.