The perfect woman
2012 has been dreadful in pretty much every way – no one can get a job, no one’s got any money, perhaps you gave up smoking at the beginning of the year in a bid to never get cancer, and now you’re always sad or upset. But there has been one shining beacon looming large like a beautiful neon erection – Masterchef. By far the greatest television programme about competitive cookery around. You’ve got John Torode with his weird puppety face, Gregg Wallace like a potato in a suit punching his fist into his forearm and going “phwoar!” at a chocolate cake. There’s fire and drum and bass, and it’s not as shit as it was last year when they attempted to turn it into something far too glitzy. Plus, this year they have Shelina, who is literally the greatest woman who has ever lived. But before that, here’s a little rundown of the last four standing and why they may or may not win the thing.
Jay – big Herculean tree trunk of a man, he’s absolutely brilliant when he’s in his comfort zone, which can be located around an open fire on a beach in Southport prodding a giant pork chop, as his massive penis dangles enormously in his trousers. Unfortunately the former bouncer lacks a lightness of touch, which means that when called upon to do something delicate to a salad, he erupts in sweat and starts panicking like he’s Lennie in Of Mice and Men and he’s just been asked to puppy-sit. Definitely won’t win.
Andrew – a sweet man, Andrew’s most peculiar quality is that he can’t cook and speak at the same time, so any question is met with a switching off of ovens, and a short presentation as an answer. He always finishes with a flourish in the form of a lovely smile. But when he’s not forced to oscillate between cookery and public speaking, he can put together mind boggling dishes like no one else in the competition. Everything he’s made so far looks like an Olympic logo that you could EAT. Could be the dark horse.
Tom – Tom is exactly like Billy Elliot, only not a bisexual ballerino. He’s a plasterer from somewhere really working class, yet he’s always dreamed of serving up venison in pastry cummerbunds splattered with pistachio foam to businessmen and minor royals. He’s really good at it too, although he’s forever a couple of weird ingredients away from completely alienating his diners. If he can keep it simple, he might win. Although he loses respect points for the time he turned Shelina’s oven down during a task. Not cool.
Shelina – and so to the goddess Shelina. She’s a world of wonderful beautiful woman, and she can literally cook anything. Even when she rustles up some creepy lunch of dried shrimp vaginas wrapped up in an old leaf that she found in a puddle, John and Gregg take one bite from the thing and their trousers tent in unison. She literally has no weaknesses. She’s great at starters, her mains are amazing, and she’s brilliant at afters. Plus she’s hot. Must win.