How to make the perfect roast potatoes – a poem

I was diligently following a recipe called
“How to make the perfect roast potatoes”
Thinking, if I can achieve perfection
Here in my kitchen
That would be really quite major
Offsetting all thoughts of career failure.

Like – alright, Macron
You might have become President of France
At the age of 39
And live in the elysee palace
Rather than a 3 bed terrace
But have you knocked out perfect roast potatoes
Not just exceptional
Not just blinding
Perfect.

No. No, you haven’t.

So clear in my superiority
I knuckled down and followed the recipe
Par boiling to the second,
Interspersing garlic among the King Edwards
and as I sat there
oven side, like a midwife
I thought to myself
I’m alright.

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