The Price of Fame

Try not to meet us in the flesh
We’ll disappoint you if you do,
Our dandruff and our garlic breath
Are better tucked away from view.

Try not to catch us off the cuff
We’ll topple your romantic dreams
Not concentrate or smile enough,
You’ll see us parting at the seams.

You hang our pictures, read our books
Or watch us on the telly nightly,
You’ve clocked our more despondent looks,
Know if we’re straight, or gay, or slightly.

Better to love us from afar
Let distance tint your overview,
Up close you’ll see how crass we are;
How disappointingly like you.

I learnt this lesson three years back,
I sat in Hatchards signing books,
A lady who had bought a stack
Had flashed me several meaning looks.

‘I’ve always been your biggest fan’
She fixed me with a gimlet eye,
‘I thought you such a clever man,
But may I say, I hate your tie?’