If I were a top-class chef, the best you've ever known,
I'd bake and boil and grill and roast a chicken on the bone.
I'd create soups and casseroles and sweets to make you sigh
And you would say my food was best, without word of a lie.
The TV companies would ask me to make many shows,
And that is where the money is, as anybody knows.
I'd help with failing restaurants and tell them what to do
But most of what I said to them would be bleeped out - ''F*** you!''
I'd go into their kitchens and say to the chef ''Get out!
I do this so much better than a fool like you.'' I'd shout.
I'd redesign their eating space, their menus I would bin
And all this while I sit and count the money rolling in.
Between TV appearances I'd write so many books.
Some would be ''How to Cook Like Me,'' type things for home-based cooks
An autobiography I'd pen, with multimillion sales,
With anecdotes of my deprived background, and other tales.
I'd open many restaurants across the world, and soon
My greatest venture would be the first bistro on the Moon.
I'd live in luxury houses and drive really flashy cars
And all the time I'd count my cash and all my Michelin Stars.