Wednesday, 23 October 2013

Why I hate the Great British Bake Off

After much flirting, crying, icing and, finally, baking, Frances Quinn has been crowned The Great British Bake Off winner. 

The surprise BBC Two hit from 2010 has gained even more viewers this year and saw off a terrible copycat from Simon Cowell, earning it a slot on BBC One next year - which also guarantees its demise, naturally.

Now I have an admission to make - I think the show is turgid and my heart sinks when Mrs Welsh puts it on. 

I would rather watch re-runs of John Major in Prime Minister's Questions than be subjected to Paul Hollywood, who must have the most bizarre rise to fame as any man could have.

The Twitter chaos when the show is transmitted is mind-blowing, nobody seems to watch it any way but live and it's like someone has taken Twitter and dumped it in 1995. I half expect Mr Blobby to walk in with his home made Blobby buns.

I also can't decide if it strikes a blow for sexual equality with the male baker helping the mainly female cast achieve stardom in this male dominated TV world, or if it is some sort of secret misogynist plot, concocted after TV chiefs realised their wives were too busy watching X-Factor and not making them enough cake.

And there's the thing about cake, I like eating it, not looking at it. Bring me some cake, Hollywood, damn you.

But despite all this it has given the Beeb a format success that the more expensive The Voice failed so miserably to do.

It catches the British eccentricity and its success all over the world shows why people continue to flock to our great isles to capture this unique mix of politeness, imagination and creative rebellion.

I admire that and the BBC for having the guts to commission it.

So I'll have a slice of cake after all, Mr Hollywood.

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