This cabbage starred in a recent poem. Here it is, resting after its fifteen minutes of fame, basking in the glow of the acolyte lemons.
One red pepper gate-crashes the party, hopes that no-one’s sharp enough to notice.
Vaguely arranged like balls on a snooker table with the same shine in all the right places.
Casting couch fruit and veg hoping for action, they even welcome the sight of the silver knife.
Or they wait on the black chair like Mastermind contestants.
Well Mr Pepper, you chose The Beatles as your specialist subject. Let’s see how you get on with the general knowledge round…
Acid applause from the invisible audience.