Why can’t I cook like Delia Smith?

My steak pies

Rarely rise

And my bread puddings go stiff

When it comes to cheffessing Delia’s ter-rif

While the look

Of what I cook

Ain’t like the photos in her book

I curse and swear and shake my fist

I’m sooooooo miffed

Why can’t I cook like Delia Smith?

She’s catering’s goddess

She’ll prepare a six course supper

For twenty guests

Without any stress

Or mess

Not a single crumb

Oh hell

Oh bum

My runner beans won’t even run

There’s no current in my current bun

There’s no pop in my poppadom

I’m gonna jump from a cliff

Shrieking from the precipice

My final request

My dying wish

Why can’t I cook like Delia Smith?

My beef bourguignon’s like rubber

My risotto always sticks

Last time I had a dinner party

Seven guests were sick

Projectile vomiting

Left them a bit cross

Caustically commenting

And longing for culinary bliss

If only I could get the gist

Why can’t I cook like Delia Smith?

Her TV programme’s haunting me

Her radio show is taunting me

I’ve even burnt a cup of tea

(Not my fault - I lost the recipe)

Dear Deirdre

What’s wrong with me?

I’ve incinerated my chargrilled fish

Leaving one pressing question topping my list?

Why can’t I cook like Delia Smith?

The Cordon Bleu Queen

She’ll go a la carte

While a simple slice of toast I grill

Is guaranteed to make you fart

But in her marble-cladded kitchen

Delia looks the proper part

An artist practising her art

Where do I start?

I’m losing heart

I haven’t got her gift

My soufflés never lift

My flour never sifts

My efforts never will desist

But unless I make a paradigm shift

Forever I’ll be asking this

As I muck up my umpteenth dish

Why can’t I cook like Delia Smith?

So

If you want a decent meal ya

Don’t ask me to cook

Ask…

Jamie Oliver