Pasta Fascist

All household tasks are shared
In our domestic bliss
I’ll clean all the toilets
Whilst she plays with the kids

Although ironings not my strength
I’ll always have a try
And when it comes to cooking
We’re not straight – we’re bi!

Until it comes to pasta
Then my thumbs will itch
My eyelids will start squint
My neck will get a twitch

Because

I am a pasta fascist
You have to do it right
And whilst I don’t condone violence
Get it wrong and we will fight

She tried to cook fusilli 
She got it really wrong
I had to grin and bear it – we’d not been together long

The water wasn’t seasoned 
It was soggy – done right through
And there was water on the plate
The sauce was shop bought too

See

I am a pasta fascist
So what I’m going to do
Is tell you how to do it 
To make things right for you

Use the largest pan you have
So it can spin and swirl
Boil the kettle at least twice
We’re going deep my girl

The water must be salted
And turn the heat up high
If you care for the environment
Then go and eat a pie

Now get the water boiling
Leave the lid in the drawer
Twist the spaghetti in the pot
We’re cooking with amore

Oh I am a pasta fascist

I get cross at Ragu
My mouth froths at Dolmio
And if I see a jar of Grossman
Then I don’t know what I’d do

I like it al dente
But it could be worse of course
If you add sauce to the pasta
Instead of pasta to the sauce