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November 30, 2014



And the devil produced

a large iced bun,

in the hope, to temptation,

we would succumb.


And the nutritionist

said ‘Oh no, no, no!

All that fat and sugar

will have to go.


And the devil returned

with chocolate truffles,

to slow down our pace,

to lethargic shuffles.


And the wise nutritionist;

back in the race,

suggested fruit and pulses,

to increase our pace.


And the devil re-appeared

with his trump card,

of Jam Roly-Poly,

laced with artery-blocking lard.


And the frustrated nutritionist,

shook her head in despair,

whilst sitting alone, eating salad,

with sliced avocado pear.


And the devil, still taunting,

waved a chocolate digestive,

and a slab of stollen,

just to be festive.


And the food nutritionist

sank to her knees,

after eating a stick of celery,

with cottage cheese.


And the devil ate all the cream,

that had been left to curdle,

then collapsed and died

at the final hurdle.


And the smiling nutritionist,

with the race won,

sipped pomegranate juice,

to toast a job well done.


But the devil incarnate,

always waiting there;

tempting and goading,

the sweet-toothed unaware.


And the well meaning nutritionist,

raises her hands in admission:

She’s on a hiding to nothing,

on this hopeless mission.






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