Ready, Steady, Twat.

Having been rather disrespectful (quite correctly in my view) to the (not so) great and (not so) good in recent posts, I feel that it is only right that I should lavish praise on a celebrity. Unfortunately I am not much use at ‘lavishing’, so I will have to restrict myself to bestowing some faint praise on a member of a group that I usually regard with complete and utter distaste: the celebrity chefs.

The celebrity chef seems to have taken over the airwaves. This is hardly surprising when one considers that in terms of cost, cookery programmes are on a par with shite makeover shows hosted by the likes of the ghastly Carol Smilie Smilie. Watching one episode of ‘Ready, Steady, Cook’ is enough to have anyone reaching for the sick bag. Some idiot member of the public provides a celeb chef with a bag containing pitta bread, six bean sprouts, a mars bar, and a mackerel. The chef is then expected to come up with something scrumptious while the gurning Ainsley Harriot prances around in the background exclaiming “what are you like?” This has absolutely nothing to do with cookery; it is shite light entertainment that would not have looked out of place on The Generation Game circa 1974.

Gordon Ramsay, ex Rangers football player, and famously foul mouthed top chef has claimed that the show should be called ‘Ready, Steady, Twat’. This, in my view, is a very judicious and considered comment.

Ramsay is the real deal; a guy from a working class background who sees his dreams of becoming a professional footballer dashed, and responds by devoting himself to the attainment of the highest possible standards in a totally unrelated field. By all accounts he is a chef of genius. His swearing will really not be that surprising to anyone who has been inside a restaurant kitchen when everything is going arse up. He just doesn’t tone things down for the TV cameras. As for him being a bully, this is not really borne out when one considers the hordes of young chefs clamouring to work under him.

Apparently he physically ejects journalists from his premises if they have the temerity to criticize his food. Quite right too: I wouldn’t want some Lunchtime O’Booze whose taste buds have been destroyed by years of chain smoking complaining about my food.