Goldilocks And The Three Films (With Apologies To Roald Dahl)

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Goldie Hawn. Lives with Kurt Russell. Not bears.
You may have heard about Goldie and bears,
Of porridge and beds, the usual affairs,
But you may not know it all ended OK,
The foursome still sharing a house to this day.
But porridge and sleep can soon lose their thrill,
How else can this foursome get them their fill?
“I know,” said Goldie,”how we’ll get our kicks,
Let’s see what’s showing at our local flicks.”
 
“Cracking!” said Mother, “but what shall we see?
On what we should watch we never agree?”
“That’s fine,” cried Goldilocks, “I’ll make a call,
To keep us all happy I’ll go with you all.
You each choose a film that you really must see,
And then I’ll accompany all of you three.”
“Fantastic!” said Daddy Bear, “I shall go first,
Because Mummy’s choices are always the worst.”
 
Dad's choice: Little White Lies
Straight down to the arthouse was Father’s conception,
For he really fancied that bird from Inception.
“Marion Cotillard, ah, je t’adore!”
But by the ending, our Goldie was sore.
“Two and a half hours!” the young girl exclaimed.
“My legs are all numb, and my bottom’s maimed!
I loved many moments, but it’s far too long.
Such overwrought Frenchness, well plainly it’s wrong.”
 
Mum's choice: Winnie The Pooh
Next day was Mother’s choice, and, very loyal,
She chose a bear film that’s practically royal.
“Winnie The Pooh, such an outstanding fellow,
His only problem is he’s far too yellow.”
Goldie was happy, but then came a fright –
Too soon the credits were clearly in sight.
“Oh no,” she grumbled, “they really had ought’a
Made this film more than an hour and a quarter.”
 
“But I should’ve known, you two make me frown.
Hopefully Baby Bear won’t let me down.
If he also follows your regular form,
Then his choice of movie should just leave me warm.”
But Baby the name’s a little misleading,
He’s all grown up (thank regular feeding
of porridge, and sleeping). Now that cheeky weasel
Said, “Get me my fix of that wonder Vin Diesel.”
 
Baby's choice: Fast Five
Goldie was happy, she fancied The Rock,
But still she glanced nervously at the clock
Before they departed, and she was right.
Sadly the editing wasn’t too tight.
“I can’t believe it, it’s happened again,
This film’s just too long at two hours and ten!”
Cried Goldie to Baby, she wasn’t impressed.
“OK,” said the three bears, “it’s time you confessed.”
 
“How long exactly do films need to be?
None of our choices have filled you with glee.”
“This is the problem,” said Goldie, “of timing,
Often it’s difficult, just like word rhyming,
But every film must have a natural span,
So why is it that only certain films can
Be of just the right length? It’s such a pity –
And don’t get me started on Sex And The City.”
 
“Two and a half hours of Sam and Miranda,
Who wouldn’t grow tired of such propaganda,
Not even feminists could stand that duration,
After that film I required prostration.”
On reflection, the bears were all in agreement,
But they had grown tired, and they saw that she meant
To find no solution, so they solved it later;
They silenced her moaning – they all simply ate her.
 

The End

2 thoughts on “Goldilocks And The Three Films (With Apologies To Roald Dahl)

    […] written a poem, which is completely unique and in no way almost exactly like something I did just last month for the general blog. Sean Connery’s Bond’s had reached number five, But felt his […]

    […] posts And in addition to all of the above, I’ve done everything from write some spectacularly awful poetry to trying to encourage other people to watching 100 films in the cinema in a […]

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