I don’t really watch TV that much; it just bores me. There’s a few things I like; Agents of Shield (still not as good as Firefly), Some Girls (rule 63 Inbetweeners), and, of course, the Great British Bake Off. If you’ve never seen GBBO, then you’re missing out. It’s basically X-Factor but with cakes, automatically making it a thousand times better than X-Factor. The missus and I love it; we have
arguments robust discussion about which contestant will be eliminated each week, as we drool over the culinary marvels that are being produced.
Overseeing all this baking are Mary Berry, a disarmingly lovely old lady who has written approximately 8 billion cookery books and is pretty much the alpha female of baking. If baking was Catholicism, Mary Berry would be the Pope.
Mary’s sidekick and fellow judge is Paul Hollywood, who is the bad cop to Mary’s good cop. Paul will tell you your treacle tart is dry and flavourless, but at least Mary’s there to say that there’s a nice glaze on it or something, just so that you don’t immediately go and stick your head in the oven.
Paul’s awesome. When he’s impressed, he’s honestly generous with his compliments. But all the other times, he will punch you right in your sense of cooking pride. Seeing as I have time off work, I thought I’d mess around and be LOLHILARIOUS and try one of these “meme” things the kids are talking about…