MasterChef: Worse Than Crack: Part 2

Ladies and Gentlemen. The Grocer Has Landed.

He has answered our appeals from Part 1

This is what I love about Twitter, blogging and the interweb in general.

If it wasn’t for this outlet, all this would be rattling around my head and the poor Better Half would be left to put up with this on her own. This way it gets diluted and – more importantly – I get closure.

@ccrichton took up the cause on Twitter and Gregg replied to her:

So there we have it. Two runners, up to their arms in Fairy liquid (other detergents are available) dreaming of the day when they are Head of Factual Programming at BBC4.

So I’ve fired off another email to the BBC:

“Dear The BBC

Just to let you know not to worry.

Gregg’s answered my question about MasterChef so you can get back to answering the important queries of the Daily Mail readers demanding to know why Huw Edwards doesn’t call it Rhodesia any more and why can’t they buy Banjo chocolate bars?

Lots of Love


Yes. I may – MAY – have started on the wine.

MasterChef: Worse Than Crack: Part 1

The Better Half and I were watching the television the other day when I turned to her.

“Is there anything else on? This episode of ’24’ is rubbish,” I said.

“That’s because we’re watching ’60 Minute Makeover’,” she replied. “Masterchef is on in a minute.”

“Word.” I worded.

Anybody who knows me knows I bloody love Masterchef. My money’s on Alex this year. He seems to be a cross between Jesus and Ghandi. But – y’know – better.

But something has begun to trouble me in the last couple of weeks.

Who does the washing up?

Obviously the cutlery is fine the way that John and Gregg clean them with their MASSIVE MOUTHS. But what about all the pots and pans? 

I asked the Twitter Hive Mind, but they were unable to help.

Then I remembered that Gregg Wallace is on Twitter.

Gregg loves Twitter. Twitter got Gregg laid. Maybe I should go straight to the source.

So I sent him a message:

“Hello @puddingface! Can you settle an argument for us please? Who does the washing up on Masterchef?”

It should be noted that puddingface is his Twitter ID and I wasn’t insulting him. Not this time anyway.

As of this moment, I have not received a reply.

But Gregg’s a busy man. That parsley won’t sort itself.

Or maybe he read my tweet a few days ago suggesting that “Gregg is just meat in the room” when it comes to the decisions.

Never mind. I pay my licence fee. Maybe I should flex some muscle. 

I’ve also emailed the BBC directly:

“Dear The BBC

My partner and I thoroughly enjoy Masterchef. There’s nothing we like more than eating beans on toast soaked in our own tears while watching people endlessly make scallops on black pudding and pea puree.

But I have one question. Who does the washing up at the end of the programme? Is it the most rubbish contestant?


I will keep you posted…

Bueller…? Bueller…?

Some top level procrastination today. Have the day off work and it started off well. Got the Screenwriters’ Diary finished and answered a few emails. I just need to think of a good way to publicise it. Any ideas gratefully received!

Then I remembered that I need to get an outfit for a fancy dress party next week. The brief is anything from the last 40 years, so punk it is!!! So the rest of the day has been spent trawling the charity and DIY shops (the padlocks, safety pins and chains don’t grow on trees, you know!)
Anyway, I got to thinking about my teenage years, locked in my bedroom listening to the Clash (Is “(White Man) In the Hammersmith Palais?” the greatest song ever?) and the Sex Pistols. What’s the best teen movie ever?
Personally, it’s a Mexican standoff between “Quadrophenia”, “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” and “Say Anything”. Why? “Quadrophenia” captures perfectly the awkwardness, energy and the disillusionment that comes with youth. Though set in the 60’s, it was made in ’79 and fizzes with a speed-freak punk energy. Not even Sting can ruin it. Did the director Franc Roddam really go on and create “Masterchef”?
“Ferris Bueller…” is the ultimate teenage wish fulfillment. Hell, I’m 32 and I still want to sing “Twist and Shout” at the front of a carnival parade.  
And “Say Anything”? Three words. John Fuckin’ Cusack. He is extremely cool. Wearing sandals in “Con Air’? Genius! 
I think it’s safe to assume that I have a man crush on him. 
So, what’s your favourite? And, while you’re there, can you explain the attraction of “The Breakfast Club”?