mama dolmio portrait one use

Mamma mia! From now I am available only occasionally, which eez not what they-a-say about my bella bambina Sophia, ‘oo eez ’ow you say, a leetle bit more everyday. This eez anyway what ’er great culone of an ’usband Carlo was sayin’, but you only ’ave to look at ’eem to see why.

No wonder my mignotta Sophia is down at Wetherspoons every night lookin’ for, ‘ow you say, comfort while Carlo eez tuckin’ into the chocolate bars. ‘Ee eez takin’ bein’ part of the Mars famiglia a leetle bit too literally and these days ‘ee ’eez lookin’ like the Pillsbury Doughboy with a vermicello attached. Al dente.

What eez the world comin’ to when the art of cucina Italiana eez bein’ treated in this way? Don’ you Eenglish know that from Bari to Milano, the cul’inaria like Sophia still learn the sophisticated an’ time-‘onoured methods of complementin’ the finest artigianali ingredients with subtle blends of ’erbs, olive oil and spices to delight the most sophisticated of palati?

And we in the famiglia Dolmio are maintainin’ this tradition by sloppin’ great dollops of salt, sugar an’ some kind’a industrial red gloop over a giant plate of carbohydrates, then chuckin’ it in the microwave for ’alf an ’our, all washed down widda bottle of Asda spumante.

So why are-a-they tellin’ us our food eez bad for you, eh? They-a-takin’ the leanin’ tower. You know, the Pisa.

But I reckon we gott-a-‘ol Don Corleone at Mars-a-runnin’ scared. If he eez no-a-backin’ off he’s-a-gonna find a horse’s ‘ed to wake up to on ‘is Dolmio Day! An’ if that means we don’-a-’ave enough ingredients for our ragù bolognese then merda dura!