Unctuous

Delia, oh Delia, you taught me all I knew,
When I was young and keen but really didn't have a clue!
Since then, there've been so many, imparting good advice.
Some of it quite useful; some of it not nice!
All that effing swearing puts Gordon quite to shame,
Jamie's fine, but seems a kid and Nigel's rather lame.
I never got Nigella, the siren on our screens,
But took to dear old Hugh who cut his hair and ate more greens.
But now I'm getting older and learning how to bake,
a new face staring from the box is making ladies shake.
Our eyes are turned to Hollywood, no not the famous place,
The siver-haired male tottie who causes hearts to race.
Those baker's hands and peircing eyes really are the ones
that made me rise at six to cook this batch of hot cross buns.
But though it's fun to watch him flirt with dear old Mary,
my efforts are not meant for him, but someone not so hairy.
I talk of course of dear BE, the one whom I adore
Who blips the buns, then eats the buns, yet still comes back for more.