Sorry, Carol Vorderman, but you have annoyed me no end with your poncy voice-overs and presenting, on "Food Glorious Food" this evening. Three cooks were trying to make it to the final, and tonight had to cook for and be judged by - according to you - 'Hungry Heroes'. This term was used at least four times, and doing so was quite simply inappropriate and incorrect.
First, I wonder what all these members of the emergency services had to do to be available for the programme. One hundred and sixty people from the emergency services (all from 'the north', apparently) were able to sit and eat portions of three main dishes and vote on which was best. Hmmm. As for designating them en masse as heroes, Carol has simply cocked up. Once, they were instead referred to by her as "Lifesavers" (which in the USA would mean Polo mints) when there is no evidence at all that they could be described thus. To see a lollipop man putting a piece of paper in a ballot box to vote on which he preferred, Chicken tikka, chicken korma or profiteroles, hardly conjures up images of heroism! Members of the emergency services (including lollipop people and who knows what other disciplines - maybe milk monitors?) are not exclusively wanting of good food nor do they own the rights to heart appetites; they are simply people doing a job - period.
To decide that anyone in the emergency services counts automatically as a hero is farcical. It's akin to twats who deem that anyone who kicks a football around on a pitch is a celebrity, and that the term 'National Treasure' is suitable for the fucking likes of, for example, Bruce Forsythe, Trevor McDonald, Cheryl Cole, Cliff Richard, Barbara Windsor, to name but a few of those who most definitely are NOT 'National Treasures'.
Where on earth do these ideas come from? I am sick of 'celebrity', whether it's a celebrity version of something or other rather than a normal programme, or whether it's the complete misuse of the term when the people thus labelled are has-beens, nobs or even cunts. I am also sick of fucking food, journeys, challenges, high stakes, delayed announcements of results, judges up their own arses, and anyone using the terms 'life-changing' or 'take it to the next level'.
The commentary tonight included the line: "Finally the last of the tikkas reached the tables." As if I gave a cuntin' fuck, and it might as well have been "the last of the Mohicans" - I reckon no one would have noticed anyway. The profiteroles were made by "Miss G" who, in case you're in any way interested, was a bloke despite the outfit, and s/he came second with her efforts.
Food Glorious Food. Yawn, Yawn, Yawn.
...
No comments:
Post a Comment