confession: I cannot watch anybody faffing about with food on TV. Maggie and Mr.Bangles, Gordo, those mad Japs, Peter Russel-Clarke, and the creepiest of all Ian Parmenter. Cannot watch. erk.
transpose cosmetics for ingredients, hook 5 in off the streets, and challenge them to slap it all on and come out looking like Posh or Paris or Pink.
"Perfect TV" ... while most of the country is paralysed by ordinary people being humiliated in groups, I turn the receiver on for Spooks, Hollowmen, Marple, Poirot, documentary accounts of financial swindles, and of cultured lives. A 'Life Of Lautrec' and I'm there, last week it was the construction of a Steinway Grand - just rivetting.
Fat people crying is a shades-of grey-story, I like to go further than that - dead people! murder.
Perhaps if the losers were euthanased I would tune in.
This week's outrage at my place is the total injustice of a stricken sportsman who has lead an exemplary life, embracing family and charity; when a self-indulgent drug-addled bag-of-pus footballer appears to be healthy despite himself. just giving me the shits.
I think I meant (it's been so long) that the TV screen frames a kitchen workbench and associated kitchen-athletics and ingredients so well that cooking shows were always going to be a TV staple, like talking heads, panel shows or indeed, snooker. A person chopping onions is mesmeric and the voyeurism is perfectly tied in with the superobjective of selling things.
Confession: I did watch MC - and enjoyed it until the finals week, when the commercial agenda became rather blatant, and the Coles Continental Stock Mum was always going to win. In fact, I became rather upset about this reality-show-injustice. Luckily television, and its anxieties, are essentially ephemeral.
ah! lovely to see you surface now that it's over. I could have predicted Mrs ColesMum was the greatest cook' on day 1 if I had seen a photo of her husband - he is prettier than she is.
Off now to watch The Swedish Chef of The Muppet Show - he makes those meatballs served at IKEA.
10 comments:
confession:
I cannot watch anybody faffing about with food on TV.
Maggie and Mr.Bangles,
Gordo, those mad Japs, Peter Russel-Clarke, and the creepiest of all Ian Parmenter.
Cannot watch. erk.
transpose cosmetics for ingredients,
hook 5 in off the streets,
and challenge them to slap it all on and come out looking like
Posh or Paris or Pink.
maybe I could watch that.
There is certainly a lot of faffing about these days.
Guess it's like snooker really - Perfect TV sport.
"Perfect TV" ... while most of the country is paralysed by ordinary people being humiliated in groups, I turn the receiver on for
Spooks, Hollowmen, Marple, Poirot, documentary accounts of financial swindles, and of cultured lives.
A 'Life Of Lautrec' and I'm there, last week it was the construction of a Steinway Grand - just rivetting.
Fat people crying is a shades-of grey-story, I like to go further than that - dead people! murder.
Perhaps if the losers were euthanased I would tune in.
This week's outrage at my place is
the total injustice of a stricken sportsman who has lead an exemplary life, embracing family and charity; when a self-indulgent drug-addled bag-of-pus footballer appears to be healthy despite himself.
just giving me the shits.
wishing you peace and love though.
(pls visit my blog of pretty stuff sometime)
I think I meant (it's been so long) that the TV screen frames a kitchen workbench and associated kitchen-athletics and ingredients so well that cooking shows were always going to be a TV staple, like talking heads, panel shows or indeed, snooker. A person chopping onions is mesmeric and the voyeurism is perfectly tied in with the superobjective of selling things.
Confession: I did watch MC - and enjoyed it until the finals week, when the commercial agenda became rather blatant, and the Coles Continental Stock Mum was always going to win.
In fact, I became rather upset about this reality-show-injustice.
Luckily television, and its anxieties, are essentially ephemeral.
ah! lovely to see you surface now that it's over.
I could have predicted Mrs ColesMum was the greatest cook' on day 1
if I had seen a photo of her husband - he is prettier than she is.
Off now to watch The Swedish Chef of The Muppet Show - he makes those meatballs served at IKEA.
that FG above, has been standing in front of the amps too long.
great exposure of the 'Masterchef lies at the Tele' thanks to grogs gamut blog
Ian Parmenter: "Lid on, gas down, and allow to simmer at my favourite blub blub rate".
Creepy but quotable.
(And his enunciation revealed a relish for rolling rs.)
The "tweet" of the night goes to
@AbuSufyaan: Exclusive: Telegraph announces Jeff Goldblum nearly wins #masterchef Australia. Came second to Richard Wilkins.
*tap tap*
seconded.
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