At breakfast Stephen heard a tale
His daughter, Audrey, told about
Her granddad's latest fishing trip
And how he hadn't planned to fail
In his attempt to hold a trout
And light his pipe without a slip.

Stephen saw the garden glow.
The golden light of summer led
His feet outside to stretch his legs,
An amble where the brambles grow
Till rumbles in his stomach said
It's time for brunch of scrambled eggs,

With Audrey and her teddy bear
Whose paws' sharp claws had just been trimmed.
It badly needed body hair
To bolster bits already there,
Oddly bare where brows once dimmed
Its beady eyes' ungodly glare.

His diary was empty then.
He had to try to fill the blank
Till lunch by French head cooks who daze.
He held a high contempt for men
Who'd launch a raid on time's Swiss bank
And use their loot to loaf and laze,

And lose their youth in fruitless schemes,
Shameful scams that verge on crimes
And futile dreams of future fame.
He'd recommend an aim that gleams,
A trek to peaks requiring climbs
On cliffs you'll have to calm and tame.

He saw one certain way to waste
The blank that needed filling in:
To see a sport exalting flaws,
A match on which some crimes are based,
A field with teams whose will to win
Instils a keen disdain for laws.

His feet went there without consent
From mental chiefs inventing truths.
Mistreatment had instilled a trait
Of independent thought that meant
The malcontents inside his boots
Were both inclined to climb a gate

To get to their intended goal,
Unhindered by a chilling gale
And showing splendid skill and guile
To slip the clutches of a troll
Who'd stop them stepping on his trail
And put the pompous chiefs on trial.

They took him to the field of play.
A clear, loquacious brook appealed
To spacious heights inside his head.
Ungracious lowlands soon held sway
To steal a look at men who'd wield
A deadly weapon made of bread,

Yielding dread with jam-filled bowls
And bin-lid shields attached to arms
To hamper harm from marmalade.
Percussionists played crucial roles.
They felt concussion's simple charms
In drumming sounds their armour made.

Metal helmets clanged and clattered.
Heads developed novel rattles.
Cricket bats were lightly buttered,
Bits of grated cheddar scattered,
Toasted by the heat of battles,
Tasted after oaths were uttered.

Competitors and combatants
Would edit words that cause offence,
Excising them from battle cries.
They'd exercise some common sense.
Expletives highlight flaws in gents
Whose baseball bats would flatten pies.

Stephen watched as men in leathers
Fell to blows from black umbrellas
Held by women making cheese cake.
Treacled heads attracted feathers.
Old grandmothers fought as well as
Young men rich with gold that bees make.

Some wore white bee-keeper hats
And much abused designer suits
With cheaper shoes in sock-less feet,
A look that said 'We sleep in baths
And drink champagne from worthy boots
And fight with weapons fit to eat'.

The players loved their great food fight.
They saw it as a perfect sport,
Though it lacked rules and referees,
Barring only dogs who bite.
Just one match would end in court.
A man was shot with dreadful peas.

As Stephen watched the fight unfold
He felt a thrill he couldn't hide
And he enjoyed the disarray
As chicken cricket balls were bowled
In brawls with thick fake blood applied
To flying fries in this affray,

A free-for-all that called to light
A fire to burn his diary
And enter into anarchy,
To revel in this lawless fight
Where cannon balls of pie are free,
And let his inner planner flee.

He joined the fray amidst a fall
Of makeshift missiles made from maize.
Ice cream bombs would blow and melt.
He marvelled at the way a wall
Of hoses spraying mayonnaise
Could ease the slight malaise he felt.

He swelled the ranks of troops who tried
To take a vat of seafood soup.
It brought its maker high esteem,
Providing him a sense of pride.
Their goal was dropped when Stephen's group
Consumed their guns of cake and cream.

He didn't need his lunch that day.
While fighting in the field he drank
And ate as pasta castles fell
To land on plates where raiders lay,
A perfect way to fill the blank,
His stomach and his soul as well.