Are you hungry?

What if you could eat absolutely anything?
Cheese straws, broccoli or fried squid ring?
Now ok, I realise you can eat these foods,
But what about some to which I only alude?

White train chambers and the juice of a book,
Dark late night humours and the use of a hook.
Twenty slaved caption writers with blueberry sauce,
Followed by chipmonks with hooves of fast horse.

Do you fancy sofa shavings, or broiled table legs?
Perhaps some tarmac topped with unicorn eggs?
Or the coat of a president from an unknown country,
with a stolen roulade from nineteen seventy.

Fast moving pamphlets, garnished with thyme,
Canapes of saxaphone played in three/four time.
Leprechaun's hearts in the style of Pot Noodle:
Just add piping hot water and the Flump, Pootle.

And finish with desert, grey twilight caresses,
Served in lady dishes with the shortest of dresses.
Pour on flaming lava, and some grated Mickey Mouse
And the odour will be beautiful and permeate your house.

If this was your diet, you'd be always full,
And your dinner parties would never be dull.
Your guests would arrive expecting fine food,
And leave with their heads fully confused.