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