What is it about the French and pastry? Bizarre. I don’t get it and last night’s pastry-themed MasterChef in no way enhanced my understanding. Why does everything need to be immaculate?
It seems a world where, if your choux buns are not identical, not ‘just so’, you hurl them in the bin. Not once but twice. I found myself incandescent, squealing DON’T DO THAT. I’ll eat them. My friends would be similarly delighted with imperfect buns. Hell, they might even taste better. Any passing elephant would be grateful.
Preposterous little French fancies. Load of old tosh. The ‘perfect’ rose meringues looked like vile Barbie Frisbees. Give me a bacon butty, a mug of tea and a slice of lardy cake. None of your teensy weensy little finger food crap. Portions far too small for women of a proper size anyway.
And those pompous, portentous grumpy old gits (yes, even you, actually especially you Michel Roux Senior) sitting round a cake-stand wimbling on about the importance of any chef worth his salt spending fifteen years doing nothing but making tarts. They were like characters out of a Roald Dahl novel.
And Sketch had the weirdest neon blue lit staircase I’ve ever seen. I thought the waitress was heading for a hazardous health and safety incident with creme anglais.
The desire for perfect pastry became increasingly sinister. Come back Mr Kipling. It’s only bloody food you fools.
And India Fisher’s overly dramatic, taking-it-all-far-too-seriously voice-over totally gets on my wick. I want a culinary version of Craig Revel Horwood on the case, or even the fabulous Come Dine with Me guy. We need rudeness, piss-taking, irony and sarcasm. We want me actually. I’d be brilliant. Then I could eat the buns. Go on, giss a job…
Posted by Inkface
Sometimes I want to give Dr Ruth Winters a good slap. She’s been thawing gently recently thanks to Lovely Staff Nurse Jay Faldren, a man who, when he was first in Casualty seemed like a Class A prat, but has morphed into Boyfriend of the Year material. But Ruth let her ambition get in the way, and when her frosty boss told Ruth that being “linked” to Jay could harm her career, Ruth went to the Surgeon’s Ball without him. He’s not so easily put off, though, and turned up anyway, posed as a waiter to get in, and served her up a little birthday cake. Ruthie rushed out in embarrassment, and promptly collapsed. Just as well she had a Lovely Staff Nurse on hand.
I’m guessing her collapse is something to do with the drug we saw her taking, which was presumably something to put an end to her recently-discovered pregnancy. So Jay will doubtless find out about that, and he will doubtless be very unhappy. Like I said, I could slap Ruth sometimes. She sabotages herself at every turn.
Meanwhile, Nick Jordan is holed up in his penthouse apartment with the chambermaid he met before his operation, refusing to see Zoe. He couldn’t refuse to see Charlie, because Charlie simply barged in with a bhaji (and assorted curry dishes). And, following a bit of a kerfuffle with an upset bereaved relative and a scalpel, Adam and Jessica have decided to get married, probably in a decorative and disaster-filled festive episode in December.
There were plenty of shocks in last night’s Corrie, the biggest one being the return of the magnificent Carla Connor. How I’ve missed her raven-haired loveliness, the sarcasm, the put-downs, the voice that carries the whole of her “I came from a Manchester council estate and look at me now” back story in its husky Manc drawl. In short – I’ve missed the bitch.
Fittingly, she chose Liam’s graveside to loom terrifyingly at Tony. Well, we can’t have him being too happy, and he was threatening to settle down with Maria and the baybeh and live happily ever after. But here’s Carla to gently remind him that he’s a murderer. A fact that she is willing to keep quiet as long as he signs over his part of the factory to her. She wants her knicker empire back.
She already owns the other half. Rosie thought she owned it, but in shock number two, Luke Strong has done a runner with the remainder of John Stape’s granny’s cottage money (which Rosie transferred to him to buy up his factory shares), so Rosie is left with nowt. You can imagine Sally’s reaction to that.
You can also imagine Gail’s reaction to the news that Joe has bought a knackered old boat and parked it in front of her house. Joe, who doesn’t quite inhabit the real world, thought she’d be thrilled. “Sometimes,” said Gail, slumping down onto a nearby wall, “Just sometimes, you need to sit down.” Sentiments no doubt echoed by Rosie and Tony.