My Friend Burgers

I know a boy who's called Alex H Turner, Though really his name is the plural of Burger, And that noble name I've no wish to disparage, When I say that he is of formidable carriage. I'll describe to you now his bodily form, His proportions do differ quite far from the norm, A vast, swollen belly and putrid behind, From over-consumption of scratchings and rind. And if you should dwell on the cheeks of his bottom, Then surely his facial ones can't be forgotton, They balloon unbelievably, shiny and red, They account for two thirds of the mass of his head. On physical hardship he spares no volition, His stomach's appeased with great piles of nutrition, In early September he's need of a heater, He'll summon a taxi to travel one meter. Here are some adjectives naming him well, Lazy, unpopular, flabby, un-swell, His friends often mock him; they heed not his ire, His gargantuan cheeks are the talk of the shire.