My hero doesn't wear a cape

I know a hero who doesn't wear a cape
But you should see his moves with a dirty old plate
His weapon of choice? A scourer or two,
My hero knows what he must do

Approaching the mountain of dishes, no fear
The sink full of water, crystal clear.
He dons his gloves, takes a breath
And plunges in at elbows depth.

Battles mould that's been sitting out for days
He shows no mercy, all he slays.
Every single smidge of grease and fat
Scrubbed away, thank heavens for that

The worst part is done and all that remains
Is the raw chicken knife, and the funny green stains
He pulls the plug, the job over and through
Wait, what's that there? A flipping teaspoon

I know a hero who doesn't wear a cape
But you should see his moves with a dirty old plate
The dishes have lost, our war is won
Until after dinner, when the gloves go back on