That’s my pick for the winner this year. As the twelve bakers were introduced at the very start of the show, Carole made us pick out our favourite based on pretty much nothing. I picked Selasi, Carole picked Kate. Although she’s changed the rules of the picking game and is now #TeamSelasi… which seems very unsportsmanlike of her.
But having GBBO back on our screens is brilliant.
It’s the television event in our house, in that we have to watch it when it’s on. We can’t watch it recorded because things happen – like Baked Alaska-gate, for example – and people ruin it all for us and we have to have them killed by professional hitmen and that costs money. So we have to watch live – which, in this day and age, is a rare thing and something that pretty much only happens with GBBO (and currently Robot Wars because we’re nerds).
And, it would appear, this year the innuendos are coming thick and fast, which will have the Daily Mail up in arms again. Last year they blasted the show as being disgusting and wotnot, but that was primarily so they could keep complaining about Nadia being in with a chance of winning, what with her being a woman and a Muslim.
And this year, it’s not even all coming from Mel and Sue. Because, like that footage of Howard running from several years ago, it’s going to be hard to forget Kate’s “I like the taste of cox” while innocently discussing the relative merits of apple flavours. Couple that with Candice discussing how she plans to penetrate her cake, and you’re half-way to a Carry On film. And you know what, it’s bloody magical.
If Points Of View still exists I imagine there will be a few “disgusted of somewhere-or-other” letters complaining about all of it. And you know that’s bound to get picked up for The Extra Slice on Friday. If it’s not, then I’m going to be writing a disgusted of Huddersfield letter demanding an explanation!
At the other end of the spectrum, I’m kind of rooting for Val to leave because I’m not sure how many weeks I can put up with her wacky kitchen behaviour like dancing while she cooks and listening to her cakes sing. I appreciate that it is a thing, but it just seems to be one bullet in a fully loaded magazine of kooky grandma in a kitchen that she has up her sleeves. If she spent less time dancing and titting about, she might stand a better chance to get her sugars right.
Until next Wednesday, when it all might change.