Evenings with satellite food channels

Commence with the culinary excess that is "Man v Food"
Impellingly repellent.
Twenty million calories smothered in gunge
In peculiar combinations -meat with grapefruit conserve
Wrapped in bread.

Then to Ina in the Hamptons
And her Jeffrey.
She's independent,apparently,but so down home.
The concept of "back to basics" enshrined in processed
This and ready made that.
Make it for yourself dear-and if
Jeffrey doesn't like then....
More for you!
Harking back to Europe,
Shabby chic that wouldn't dare be.

Assume nothing, take nothing as read,
From an audience that needs an ad break
Every ten minutes
And smile at all costs.
Why are there no brown eggs in America?
And an electric squeezer for the juice of half a lemon?
How back to basics is that?

My god! the man's not due back 'til tomorrow
Yet he hangs like an omnipresent master.
He's a patterned sweater wearing,
Grizzle haired,
Teddy bear of a man
Who comes home now and again.

Ina's cuisine is slightly less
Overblown, less smothering,
Just as calorie, cholesterol laden
And I shouldn't watch, especially
At this time of night.
It makes me hungry and I'm
Trying to be good.

They keep guffawing at each other,
She's actually said "My purpose in life is to
Make you a good dinner" and
"I do love our weekends together".
Does she go into a cupboard from Monday to Friday?
Was Sunday dinner filmed on Monday because of Jeffrey's schedule?
A chimera like their whole relationship?

I'm gritting my teeth not to succumb and go to the fridge.
I should switch off and do something more useful instead -
Like sleep!

Next up -
Dypso drifts around The Med,
Pickled in claret and merlot.
I can't be bothered.

Tonight it's the woman with the
Curly fingers and that damned perpetual smile and
She has pink spatulas.
This is another supposed option to fast food,
She makes the sauce after serving the dish,
Surely it's getting cold so is it fast food per se?

From the semi-sublime to the nearly ridiculous.
"4 Ingredients" from Oz.
This is cooking through white tombstone teeth.
Smile after smile.
Open a can of this (boiled condensed milk),
Buy a ready made that.
Serve it up to four captive guests who will
"Ooh" and "Aah" to the camera.
It's really all about the sea and surf setting,
A cheats dinner party,
Okker food.

Now back home for Nigella.
All this contrived domesticity,
Barefooted (but no Contessa).
No bed hair or naked face (although the
Pretence is there).
"Ugly duckling" children who
Mustn't upstage her.

Why does she never splash herself
While wearing crisp summer linen?
The pretentiousness of pulling a
Large mixer from a holdall,
Just can't be without her
Culinary status symbols.
I refuse to believe she does the washing up.
Domestic goddess to skivvy?
Impossible.

Everything has to be a seductive,
Quasi-orgasmic experience,
Trying to be ordinary but would be
Horrified to be defined as such.
And do the friends mind being used as
Stooges, foils, accessories?
Wearing less distinct clothing,being colourless,
So as not to draw the focus away from
"The Star".
Patronising didactism demonstrating
Pallid parcels,
Rice based,vapid,
High class nursery food.

Prissy, flirtatiousness,
While friend is consigned to
Bathing the children,
Putting them to bed,
Prior to the grownup food.
Ostensibly, South Indian, but never
Tainted by peasant fingers.
This is playing at "roughing it".