This slop is just a food X Factor
LIFE IS GRAND FOR THIS COLOSSAL PAIN
IT was a tough choice for thriller fans this week – Mayday or Broadchurch.
Did you go for BBC1’s Mayday, about a close-knit rural community torn apart when a child is apparently murdered?
Or, did you plump for ITV1’s Broadchurch, about a close-knit rural community torn apart when a child is apparently murdered?
There were massive differences between the two, of course.
The Mayday
victim was BLUESTONE 42 is a decent new BBC2 sitcom about a British Army bomb disposal team working in Afghanistan.
It features Kelly Adams, who plays the camp chaplain.
Her character reminds me of Father Mulcahy, the US Army chaplain in a famous sitcom about a field hospital during the Korean War.
This is partly because she presents the comic tension of a Christian preacher trying to uphold the virtues of faith in a brutal and hostile environment in which normal rules do not apply.
But mainly because I’d like to sM*A*S*H her back doors in. last seen riding a bike, for example, but the Broadchurch one was on a skateboard.
Also, the downtrodden but ultimately good female police officer in Broadchurch had just come back off leave, while the downtrodden but ultimately good female police officer in Mayday was still off work.
And the constant moody keyboard chord in Mayday sounded half an octave lower than the one in Broadchurch.
Both were very useful, though, because I do like to be told when to feel extra suspicious. (If only the cops could hear the same score, they’d solve these cases much faster.)
Personally, I wish I’d watched neither. For me, the real “murder-mystery” here is why even ONE channel presumes we like to think about children being murdered, let alone two at the same time.
Perhaps I’ll write a TV thriller about it. Set in a close-knit rural community, obviously. PIERS Morgan was very excited to have landed Lorraine Kelly ( as his latest guest.
“This is the first real television interview she has ever done!” he cooed.
Yes, Piers, and there is a good reason for that. She is dull. Very nice, totally shaggable, but basically dull. Her life story was – brought up by loving parents, worked hard, got married, had a kid, loves her job. Big deal.
The only interesting fact to emerge was that, in her days as a newspaper hack, Lorraine used to be known as “hollow legs” because she could handle her ale.
After 25 years of fronting makeovers, diet advice and rip-off phone-in competitions for bored housewives, I guess she must have a new nickname by now. Hollow Head. SCARY times on Coronation Street, as Karl ( above) locked Stella in his taxi and forced her to talk to him.
He can’t do that. If every lonely cabbie kidnapped his ex every time he needed a chat, TalkSport would have no callers.
The last episode closed with him promising to go “cold turkey” on Stella but we all know he is about to make the old bird get very hot – when he torches the Rovers. Michael Owen likes to speak with a comedy Italian accent to amuse his relatives, we discovered on ITV1’s All Star Family Fortunes.
No big surprise there. He often pretends to be Italian on the pitch, too – usually if an opposing defender even breathes on him in the box. FOOD Glorious Food is Simon Cowell’s attempt to do for home cooking what he did for music.
Namely murder it, rifle its pockets for every last penny, then brutally f*** its twitching corpse.
Billed as a hunt for Britain’s best home-cooked dish, it is a talent show for very average cooks. I’d like to say it is Masterchef without the skills but it is more like X Factor without the singing, the karaoke replaced by casserole, Celine replaced by semolina.
He has gone from voices that can curdle milk to...well, actual curdled milk.
But, hey, this slop has been ITV1’s staple diet for more than a decade. It has been made faithfully to Cowell’s own favourite recipe, which goes something like this:
Take a load of assorted nuts (or “contestants”, as they prefer to be known) and leave them to stand for several hours. In a massive queue.
Crush most of them, along with their stupid dreams, and put to one side. Forever.
The few remaining nuts should then be seasoned with the salty tears of their own back story – a dead nan, a life-changing illness, being bullied at school.
Once tenderised, they are ready to be mixed with something sweet, something tart and a bit of useless gristle. Otherwise known as “the judges”.
In this case, the sugar is provided by fruity baker Stacie Stewart, while the sour flavours come from pasta sauce salesman Loyd Grossman and some old bint from the Women’s Institute. The useless gristle role is filled by semi-Royal spare part Tom Parker-Bowles.
Once mixed, most of those nuts can be tossed aside and a couple put into the main dish. Repeat this process every week for eternity, then ask the public to select its favourite nut (which will probably be the one with the most serious illness, the worst history of bullying or the deadest nan).
The winning nut is finally ready to be savoured, adored and devoured. Then, after approximately 24 hour, shat out and forgotten.
In this case, the winner will also have their favourite recipe massproduced and sold as a supermarket ready meal. Mmmm, just like your dead nan made it....but with more horse.
Now, come along children – eat your slop, or Uncle Simon and Auntie ITV will be very cross. CHESTERFIELD used to be famous only for its twisted spire – but now the Derbyshire town will be known for the most twisted Come Dine With Me result of all time.
Among harmless the dolts usual
was Clare Gaunt, a pinkhaired nightmare with a gob and ego the size of Matlock.
Spiteful, rude, obnoxious, petty. She was such a colossal pain in the arse, the final host even kicked her out of his home. Well, his caravan. (Long story.)
Then, because she had not played fair with the scoring, she only went and won the bloody thing.
A thousand quid for being a twat? Channel 4 bosses, I demand a stewards’ inquiry!