Ode To Ricky Grover.

To a point unknown, rarely recognised,

Olive-skinned, black 'tache, very beady eyed.

Current times comedian, triple extra large of vest,

A man Mountain of stature, more so than Leslie West.

I've seen him on the idiot box,

In characters he's created,

A show called "Fuck off, I'm fat",

In which he also narrated.

Highlighting problems of the larger folk,

Was this programme on the telly,

Unfair of us to think,

That they're all unfit and smelly.

But I prefer to refer,

To him in an amusing role,

Side splitting in jester's character,

Even compared with Ashley Cole.

He's been Buller, a prison convict,

A stocking-faced nut,

A mad Greek-Cypriot barber,

Dishing out his demon cut.

Martin Lamont was a spiritualist,

Fraudster, in it for the money,

Exploiting people's fear of death,

Now that was really funny!

He's been a dodgy street salesman,

With look-outs on the move,

Peddling counterfeit articles,

Near Shepherd's Bush tube.

So we salute you, cabaret big man,

From Dunstable down to Dover,

At night your wife may say to you;

"Move over, Grover".