Cooking Show Scriptwriter

I want to write scripts for the taste testers of cooking shows, for after they sample the fare whose recipe was just showcased. Ordinarily it's an easy gig requiring minimal creativity. You script, "Ooh," you say, "Aah," you grunt, "Hmmm." You basically stroke the chef's ego ad nauseum through a steady stream of smacks and slurps, all the while purring how you've never eaten anything this good despite seven seasons on the show. What I want to do is cover the tail end of failed dishes, where the PVC meets the platter, where the proof of the pudding is in the retching. My words will be read by the companion of the chef, the one who looks on in adoration of the Michelin maestro, gurgling and gushing even as (s)he executes such delicate maneuvers as dicing tomatoes and squishing entire cloves of garlic. At the precise moment a forkful of culinary greatness enters the gaping caw of the taster, and the studio audience holds its collective breath during the pregnant pause while his salivatory glands find a pathway to cranial satiety, he glances at my cue card to read, " Oh dear God, this has all the culinary grandeur of a dead rat. The texture reminds me of when I had seasand kicked in my face as if in a Charles Atlas comic book commercial. And don't get me started on the aroma. Stench is more on point. This is supposed to be medium rare. It looks as if they just wiped the bull's arse before serving it up. That's it! I'm demoting to talk shows to preserve my gastronomical integrity."