#7 - A Poem: When Jude Law came to the Italian Restaurant

So today, there's going to be no topic to discuss.
Instead, here's a poem that I wrote about Jude Law, whom I saw a few weeks ago and who left me a little starstruck.

His moustache was cool.

When Jude Law came to the Italian restaurant

So I was eating some pasta, messy as usual,

At Bertorelli, a family of four,

And who should walk in, dressed down and casual,

But Dr Watson, or else known as Jude Law.

He came with a friend and asked for a beer,

While all about him the diners whispered,

‘I can’t believe Jude Law is here!’

They wondered what kind of beer he preferred,

But all were too shy to work the courage up

To ask him for a photo of them on their phone,

And then upload this exciting close up

On Facebook as soon as they’d got back home.

They looked indifferent and tried to be cool,

Stared everywhere except at the place where he sat

(I must confess that we did this too),

While Jude Law and friend had a quiet chat.

This went on for a while, and we all nearly did it,

Just eating our dinners and acting composed.

I was too starstruck to actually admit,

That if the chance came I would not oppose.

Such an autograph could fetch a few hundred quid!

But we were too proud to bother the star

And carried on eating calamari (or squid),

While he sat and had a drink at the bar.

But all good things must come to an end,

Jude Law got up and paid for the tab.

He waited patiently for his friend

Before he made to call for a cab,

But a timid young waiter quickly ran up to him,

While we watched in horror as Jude Law concurred

To write his signature on an (unused) napkin.

We couldn’t believe what had just occurred,

And glared with envy at the happy waiter,

Who tucked away safely the small piece of paper.