The Biscuit Critic

I am a biscuit critic
And I love my job.

I reach out over my biscuit swollen belly
To my desk, day on week on month,
To my trusty pen, a sheet of paper,
Write a few words and my work is done.

I only get myself out of bed to taste
The latest wares peddled by McVities or Fox.
And to write a critique on the delicious filling
Or overrated crumbly texture of new products.

I will admit that over the last thirty years,
Doing this job has left me in quite a state.
But my taste buds are honed to perfection
And there’s always plenty of food on my plate.

I oversaw the promotion of the custard cream,
Watched the digestives’ sad demise.
Hyped jammy dodgers through the roof
And kick started the bourbon’s rise.

I am the one all the newspapers call for
When they want the latest biscuit review.
But my encyclopaedic knowledge and
Cultured taste buds will certainly cost you.

Through dedication to my art form
And my consummate professionalism,
I have managed to survive for so long now
In the cut-throat world of biscuit journalism.

When I’m working as a biscuit critic
I will admit that it can get quite lonely
But I surround myself with samples
And my sweet tooth never leaves me.

I am a biscuit critic
And I love my job.

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