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The Saga of Graham Norton
A fair-haired lad from County Cork
Sought the guidance of Madame Zork.
'I want fortune and I want fame.
I want cute boys to shout my name.'
"You'll make your audience hoot and howl,
When you wrap your head within a towel.
Your fame will rise, it will not sag,
If you present yourself in drag."
The candle of fame was ignited,
To other shows he was invited.
Thus his influence did grow,
As he moved from show to show.
Again he sought out the witch,
Looking now to make a switch.
'What more can you do for me?'
Was our lad's sincerest plea.
"More fame for you would be a treat,
But first I'll need some Barbie feet."
'To gather up that which you ask
I'll set my flunky to the task.'
'I will be a bigger star,
Than that upstart Alan Carr.'
Our lad moved on to Channel 4,
Then up to BBC and more.
Again he went to see the crone,
This time it was to pick a bone.
'Is that the best that you can do?
Just a show on BBC 2?'
"Lose the Barbies and it shall be done,
You'll have your show on BBC 1."
Once again it came to pass,
Our lad's ratings did amass.
One last favour he did seek,
Nothing but a little tweak.
'Why am I seen on Monday nights?
Friday is where I've set my sights.'
"To achieve that goal there must be a loss,
You must do away with Jonathan Ross."
'No,' gasped our lad now flush of face,
'Well, okay. If it'll win this race.'
Thus ended the era of dear Wossy,
And began a time a bit more glossy.
The tale continues of our lad fair,
With cherubic face and big red chair.
Innuendo and a glass of wine,
Making all our Friday nights just fine.
_________________ Typewriters were more fun than keyboards. They made more of an impact when thrown. Read my writing at http://books.darlamittler.com
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