"Let me make one of my famous prophecies or predictions,
In 2000 years, everyone’s going to be into fitted kitchens.
I may have been born in a lowly stable,
In a manger, or a stall,
But I’m telling you,
2000 years hence nobody’s going to want a boring old table,
Not when they can have a huge island, granite topped.
Livery cupboards, dole cupboards, ambrys, hutches, all will
have flopped,
No one will want anything made of oak,
Or free standing,
Nowt so queer as folk,
They’ll all be demanding
MDF fitted to a plastered wall,
Let me assure you Martha,
In the future, you’ll never be left to prepare a meal on
your own,
There’ll be no hearth at all,
Only cooking machines,
And high-speed equipment for heating up baked beans.
Your guests will all be gathered in ‘the heart of the home’
Each distracted by the screen of his mobile phone,
And there’ll be underfloor heating, like the Romans have in
Rome.
Even in houses protected by listing,
They’ll all be insisting,
On the modern and new.
Symmetrical cupboards lined up in a row.
Let me fit one for you, gratis, and as quid pro quo,
I’ll tell my friends about it and you'll let them come and see,
How easy life can be,
When a kitchen’s fully fitted
And with gadgets fully kitted
Nothing unbalanced or quirky or odd
Think of all the time they’ll have to come and follow me,
But hey, what do I know?
I’m just the son of God!"
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