The Air Fryer

(i)

Oh, glorious air fryer!

Thou hast made thyself indispensable

in such a short span.

Pray, accept this precious cargo

of breaded onion rings

and garlic mushrooms

and do your wondrous thing.

The oven, shrouded in cobwebs

like a kind of culinary Miss Havisham,

looks on enviously.

It could well be

that the days of Gas Mark 6

(one hundred and eighty C)

are over. And now I discover

that one can make cakes

within thy august chamber!

Oh, happy day!

(ii)

But the oven, by damme,

won't take this lying down.

It's seen off these challenges before.

The slow cooker?

You don't see that anymore.

Just what is the fan-assisted jocker plotting?

(iii)

3 A.M. and I can't escape,

waking nightmares of dry heat.

Crushed beneath a giant crisper plate.

Trapped in a bastille of grease.

Mandoline-sliced, thrice-cooked like chips.

If you need me,

I'll be hiding in the fridge...

B.R. 31.01.24

Drac (Sir Christopher Lee)  after spending ten minutes in the Ninja Max with Van Helsing