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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I always reckoned I could cook, great tucker for me need, yet the kids and missus turn their heads, when I serve up a feed. Now the wife has joined weight watchers! She reckons she’s obese, so she won’t cook a single thing with sugar, salt or grease. There’s no bacon, chops and frying eggs; our milk is only lite. I looked forward to chips and chiko rolls every Friday night, now when I sit down at the table, I can only shake me head, there on the plate is rabbit’s food and no butter on me bread. And for a bloke whose tooth is sweet, she done an awful sin. I watched her clear the lolly jar, into the wheely bin. The sugar canister’s a longing sight, as empty as can be. She said, “There’s no need for sugar!” So I must drink black tea. Two weeks I took this torture when my taste buds want to tackle, Some crispy burnt chicken skin and the saltiest pork crackle. With tingling nerves on edge, she served up salad once again! I took one look and quivered, then lost leave of me brain. I placed me hand below the bowl, then tipped it on her head. I yelled to her if this is food, then I might as well be dead! Lite oil dribbled down her face; tomato seeds stuck to her ears, shreds of carrot laced her hair; alfalfa wrapped asparagus spears. Did she do the flamin’ ‘cruet’. At first it was the glare, then like a tiger pouncing, she left her kitchen chair. I never saw her for three days. On the fourth I caught a fleeting sight. You see I was now recovering. Me left eye was opening just a mite.
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