ode to peter everett

Every week day, the clock does strike two,

i hold the remote and then i watch you.

your eager smile, your awkward banter

with your powder blue shirt you're quite the enchanter.

you say you're quite lonely, but you're one little number,

maybe that's why you make so many culinary blunders?

if i held up a spoon and my reflection was you,

maybe i'd get in the way of Manu Feildel too.

then the clock hits 3 and the cooking is done,

until tomorrow i wait.. holding my capsicum.

(dedicated to Madge, Naomi, Seb, sir Thomas of Goode and Honey Desmell)