Ze Restaurant - the final

Well, what an utter travesty. Put-upon Russell and the inane smiley woman? You want to “urpen a restaurant wiz them” Raymond? REALLY?
The whole of last night’s programme – nay the whole series – seemed edited to get us onside with James and Alastair as everything on their Orient Express task went tickety-boo, apart from some exceptional fusspots objecting to being served an overcooked lobster thermidor (look, at least they spelled it right!)
We’ve been with them on the lows (various hospital emergencies, scaloops) and the highs (impeccable Orient Express service). Only for Raymond to inform us at the last they’d lost out to the Not Terribly Cheerful Souls.
As we’d thought, we spent most of last night wanting to smack Michele. Murder on the Orient Express? We wish!
Michele: “Russell, Russell. I’ve bought these gifts and I’m not sure which paper to wrap them in. Should I choose black-and-white or tissue paper? I just don’t want it to look too girly!”
Russell (through gritted teeth, up to his eyeballs in grapefruit): “Haven’t really got time for this now dear”.
Michele (on board the train): “Russell, Russell, I seem to have left the musicians at Victoria Station.”
Russell: (through gritted teeth, smashing biscuits against walls) “You’ve done WHAT love?”
Russell, meanwhile, seemed to have designed his menu especially so Michele could fling it over passengers. Champagne? Soup? Melted sorbet? Coming right at you! The only thing that didn’t fly in the poor diners’ direction was red wine, for the simple reason Michele hadn’t thought it necessary to bring any. Perhaps she’d thought the musicians could enjoy it on the station platform.
Yes, James and Alastair’s food probably wasn’t up to its normal standards. But they did, at least, work as a team.
Was it just our imagination or were they holding hands under the table as Raymond announced his verdict on who would be his new business partners?
Sadly, it wasn’t to be. We give Russell and Michele’s restaurant five months. Five months, that is, before he snaps and goes for her with a roll of wrapping paper. Or tissue paper. Something not too girly.
“It’s been a rollercoaster ride,” Russell said, in conclusion. A rollercoaster ride? On a reality show? Oh, you don’t say!

Corrie - death of Liam

IT was dress-down-Monday in CORONATION STREET as the whole cast popped on a dressing gown so they could contemplate Liam’s death.
And, in fairness, there was a lot to come to terms with. Such as the fact Tony’s never-ending stag do had finally, well, ended.
At one stage, it looked as if it was going to rumble on and on, with Deeeeev, Steve and all these other people Tony’s never spoken to in his life stumbling up and down Dean Street for eternity. As for Liam’s Top Gear death stunt – well, it was all a bit daft, wasn’t it? Corrie’s attempts to portray Liam and Carla as star-cross’d lovers, complete with their own Italian operatic soundtrack, were equally risible. We’ve seen more heat generated by Rita and Norris.
Just as ridiculous is teen kidnapper John Stape’s new status as the Websters’ trusted friend and confidante. Seriously, Sally and Kevin – you need to ask Gail Platt about parenting courses. After having watched Stape get it away with one teenage daughter, now missing, Sally’s brainwave was send him to collect other one up from school. We’re not surprised Sawphie’s sending postcards as a cry for help. She should be sending them to social services.
And, of course, Stape has Rawsie locked up in his nan’s attic. Such a useless character is he, he’s even making a hash of that. We were expecting to see Rawsie gagged and bound – instead he’s trying to engage her in little chit-chats about Jaffa Cakes. Quite rightly, Rawsie doesn’t seem particularly worried by her predicament. Instead of screaming for help, the only thing Corrie’s answer to Veruca Salt has wailed so far is: "I WANT HEAT MAGAZINE".

Do we like Gok? Not a lot

There are many things in this life we do not really understand...
Quantum physics... the lyrics to Whiter Shade of Pale... the strange layout of Debenhams in Nottingham...
But possibly the thing we understand least of all at the moment is the nation’s love of Gok Wan.
Maybe it’s the silly glasses, or that annoying uppy downy voice. Or possibly it’s just his obsession with getting women to take all their clothes off.
But while everyone else we meet seems to think he is some kind of fabulous force for empowering women, we are obviously alone in considering him a total idiot.
He was up to his old tricks again this week in Miss Naked Beauty (C4, Tues) - a contest to find a real "natural" beauty queen.
The eventual winner will, hopes Gok, become a role model to show Britain that you can be beautiful whatever you look like. Hmm.
Because Saint Gok was involved, obviously millions of women of all ages, shapes and sizes queued up to audition.
In the end, they were whittled down to about 25 - who were promptly herded into a disused swimming pool and drenched with a fire hose. Charming.
It was all to get the contestants to stop wearing make up or something, we’re not quite sure.
Anyway, inevitably, this ridiculous show was co-hosted by the ubiquitous Myleene Klass.
"What you’ve just done is amazing," she told one tearful woman who was not surprisingly very upset after the humiliating dousing. "You’re incredible."
Later Myleene dragged another woman to a mirror.
"It’s been years since you’ve seen yourself without make-up hasn’t it?" she counseled.
What really? What about before she puts her make-up on in the morning? Surely she sees herself with no make-up on then? Myleene, you’re an idiot aren’t you?
And now you mention it, why was Myleene allowed to wear make-up for this show ? And the women on the judging panel? And Gok?
It’s double standards, we tell you.
Perhaps the most telling thing about this supposed "revolution" for the UK beauty world was the 12 finalists who were picked to go on to the next round.
All were very young, very slim and very pretty.
Harrumph.

Fern Britton

Good sport of the week:
In the middle of our worst financial crisis for 80 years, we’re going to have to tighten our belts. Not a problem for me of course! – delectable host Fern Britton on Have I Got News For You (BBC1, Fri)

Most welcome put-down of the week:
– I always think it makes you feel like a princess, eating flowers
– That’s funny, because when I eat flowers, it makes me feel like a really hungry tramp
The fantabulous Harry Hill sticks a welcome pin in the bubbles of twee spouted by Cheerful Soul Michelle in The Restaurant (ITV, Sat).

Enough with the travelogues

Can we just say that thanks very much and everything, but we have now seen quite enough travel shows involving middle aged men going on fabulous extended holidays abroad on our behalf.
Paul Merton, Stephen Fry, Griff Rhys Jones, that bloke who does the Amazon thing - we’re talking about YOU.

Ze Restaurant - who will win?

So who’s going to win ze grand final of Ze Restaurant tomorrow night? Will it be Fawlty Towers duo James and Ally with their catalogue of “catastrophes” and their scal-oops?

Or will it be Cheerful Soul Michelle with her not terribly cheerful flouncing (“tell ‘im to stuff it!”) and poor put-upon Russell?

We actually have a sneaky feeling that, against all odds, it might be James and Alasdair.

After surviving restaurant “clur-sure” so many times, we’re starting to think old Raymond has a soft spot for them.

It’s true they never make the same mistake twice (although they manage to find a whole new array of idiocies to explore each week). And yes, they urgently need training in management, business and spelling.

But we’d go and eat there, just for the spectacle (background shouts of “DON’T TOUCH THAT” and “GET OUT OF MY KITCHEN” plus the constant worry of whether we’d actually get cutlery would make it quite an experience).

On the other hand, you’d have to drag us kicking and screaming by the hair to a table at the Cheerful Soul. We don’t care how tasty Russell’s risottos are. We’d be overwhelmed by the urge to biff his glassy-eyed grinning loon of a wife.

Peter Kay on Britain's Got the Pop Factor...

Sunday was Peter Kay night on Channel 4.
This involved a pointless hour of all the jokes you’ve already seen on the DVDs and some sub-standard behind-the-scenes malarkeying.
Luckily, the rest of the evening consisted of a giant all-night spoof of the X Factor called Britain’s Got The Pop Factor And Possibly A New Celebrity Jesus Christ Soapstar Superstar Strictly On Ice.
We sat down to watch this with slight trepidation – despite the all-star cast Kay had assembled (Sir Paul McCartney, "Dr" Neil Fox, Nicki Chapman, Pete Waterman, Cat Deeley, Shelley off Corrie...)
After all, the X Factor practically spoofs itself now. How funny could this be?
The answer, we soon found, was oh rather.
The only tedious bit was the singing, which meant the jokes had to stop (although we did love Kay’s Home And Away duet).
First we saw the auditionees who included a pensioners version of the Sugababes who got rather narked when they weren’t picked to go through ("You’re looking at 200 years of talent here!"), a man who couldn’t get a dog to jump through a hoop (after looking at it closely, he revealed: "I’ve brought the wrong dog") and, best of all, a man who was dressed as Freddie Mercury down one side and Monserrat Caballe down the other swivelling from side to side to perform a Barcelona "duet". Better than garlic bread, that.
Eventually they were narrowed down to three finalists:
R Wayne (the Geordie version of R Kelly) "The Lark of Tyneside" who faced being booted off because his "story" wasn’t sad enough – then, luckily, his nan died
Two Up Two Down (a husband and wife quartet, two of whom were in wheelchairs.) Yes, taste flew out the window – but doesn’t it in the X Factor?
Geraldine, an Irish transexual who eventually won.
"People have been really supportive," she said, "which is funny because before this competition, they wouldn’t have p***ed on me if I was on fire. And now I believe they would."
Sadly, she was last seen choking to death on ticker tape while performing her winning ballad. "Is there a doctor in the house?" cried a panic-stricken Pete Waterman. "I’m a doctor!" shouted Dr Fox, leapfrogging over the judges’ desk. Brilliant.
We didn’t do any American history at our school. European history, yes. British history, kind of. The industrial revolution? Only 79,000 times.
But the Americans? The most powerful nation on the earth? Nope, we’ve no idea how they came to be there.
So Simon Schama (BBC2, Friday) has a mammoth task on his hands in his new series as he educates ignorant Brits prior to the US elections which, you may have heard, are taking place next month.
We do like Schama. He’s not ubiquitous, obsessed by his own celebrity.
He only goes near the gogglebox when he has something to say.
That said, there is A LOT of history to cram into four episodes, so Schama always seemed in a bit of a rush.
There’s also a tendency on British TV to belittle the Yanks and this show does occasionally fall into that trap.
This week’s "theme", for example, was the environment and Schama tut-tutted about America’s hoovering of natural resources.
"Are the Americans good at adjusting?" Schama asked two farmers, at the end.
"Not really." they admitted, before coming right back at him with "Are you? How are the Englishmen then, Simon? Bingo!" Lots of laughter.
As Schama concluded: "While American resources are in short supply, its resourcefulness is not."
A fact you can’t help but admire them for.

Comedy high of the week:

Harry and Paul’s Royal Henley Northerner Show, 2008 (BBC1).

Comedy low of the week:

Stephen Fry on Buzzcocks (BBC2). Individually, hilarious. Together, they just didn’t work.

Soapsuds - death of Liam

Corrie
Poor, poor Liam Connor.
Not only did he get bumped off at the hands of the evil boggle-eyed Tone, he had to spend his last moments dressed in head-to-toe tartan, face-paint and a Tony Gordon mask.
What a way to go.
But then, perhaps Liam deserved to suffer.
For this week’s Corrie is one of the poorest run of episodes we’ve seen in ages. The storyline dragged on for loooooonger than a Deeeeev Alahan sentence, while Carla and Liam’s big break-up scene with an Italian opera backing track, was just laughable.
Liam, meanwhile, has spent most of the past month running around topless. Not a sight we object to, let’s be clear. But we’re just surprised he didn’t finally expire of pneumonia.
We’re not sure if Corrie was just trying to distract us from their other big storyline – John Stape’s cat.
But no, we’re on to them.
Anyone else reckon that moggie might just answer to the name of Rawsie?
Elsewhere, in Emmerdale, goings-on were equally ludicrous. But then, that’s Emmerdale.
While Bob plotted how to break into prison (don’t ask, we wouldn’t know where to start), Diane was wondering "how such a lovely little boy turned into a wifebeater".
The lovely little boy in question, in case you’re wondering, was lumpy-faced Andeh who has been thwacking Jaw.
Yes, Diane was probably reflecting on Andeh’s halcyon days of setting barns on fire and accidentally torching his stepmum to death. Or shooting his dad. Or impregnating local Dingle girls. Bless ‘im.
Andeh is yet another of those Emmerdale characters whose entire personality varies according to plotline. We’re getting a bit fed-up with it now.
Any chance anyone could set Tony Gordon on to him?

Strictly Boys v Girls

What precisely does GMTV’s Andrew Castle have to do to get himself into the dance-off?

The breakfast boy with the bouffant came out, clodhopped around the floor for a bit, then nearly dropped his partner, the delectable Ola, from a great height at the climax of his American Smooth.

But instead of receiving a similarly unceremonious dumping by the viewers, Andrew was allowed a stay of execution and it was Don who got the chop. Poor Don – always a gent but he never lent the show much in terms of personality or dancing ability really, did he?

And at least John Dancer Sergeant skipped free of the drop-zone, his “promenade in the park” smiley samba displeasing the judges but not the public. We’re hoping he gets the paso next week – although we think his "bit of bully" impersonation might be a little more along these lines…

Strictly - tearful Jessie departs

WE thought it was a bit of a sneaky move by the Beeb on Saturday – showing Strictly at an unfeasibly early hour so Merlin didn’t clash with the footie on ITV1.

But, we must admit, if you were looking for fabulous footwork, Cherie Lunghi and Rachel Stevens beat Ashley Cole and Gareth Barry hands down (or should that be toes?)

Overall, we felt the standard of the girls fell a little flat this week, with the exception of Cherie and Rachel. The big build-up to when men and ladies compete together seems to have gone on for far too long.

We felt very sorry for this week’s leaver Jessie Wallace – mainly because Bruce still can’t get her name right (Jenny? Jelly? Jessie?), Grumpy Len’s tactless remarks about her bosom, and the fact somebody in the wardrobe department clearly has it in for her. What WAS that pink thing?!

And even Jessie at her most stumbling is a thousand times better than some of the boys.

However, we were glad to see Jodie stay another week. She and Ian look lovely together, don’t they? Makes you wish they were an item...

So who should have gone? Well, either Lampard or Gerrard. Sorry, you mean the dancing? Haven’t got a clue.

Soapsuds

Corrie

YOU’VE got Tony, I’ve got Maria," hissed Liam at Carla on CORRIE this week.
It’s a shame we’re not casting for West Side Story then, isn’t it?
Although probably boggle-eyed Tone and twirly airhead Maria wouldn’t be our first choice as star-cross’d leads.
Liam would probably get a look-in, though, and indeed he is set for a tragic end next week. We’re a little bit cross about this. Couldn’t they have left the door open for a Liam comeback rather than executing another Connor? Michelle must be getting worried.
Anyway, there’ll be no more Malaria (as Tony refers to the amalgamation of "Liam" and "Maria") as from next week.
Poor old Liam. If Andy Sugden, over on EMMERDALE, can survive getting impaled, surely Liam could survive whatever Tony has in store for him?

Soapsuds

Easties

That was an odd reaction from Dot the other day when Bradley rather nicely bought her a new cooker in EASTENDERS.
Imagine it. If you came home and found one of your relatives installing a fancy new cooker to replace your broken one, wouldn’t this be something you’d be quite interested in?
Call us old-fashioned, we even think you might be pleased.
Not Dot though.
She did question what Bradley was doing, but seemed more irritated than grateful.
And after scalding him for wasting his hard earned cash on such a frivolous item (hmm, they don’t seem to be very big on modern appliances in Albert Square, which is why no-one has a washing machine either), she changed the subject and walked out of the room.
Without even staying to see what the new cooker looked like. Or what brand it was. Or whether it worked.
She was a lot more interested, though, in the replacement Moggy Minor Bradley went on to buy. And the iPod.
There was even an all too brief scene where Dot was shown walking through a leafy Albert Square as Andy Williams sang Can’t Take My Eyes Off You.
We found this quite enjoyable and were rather disappointed when it ended so abruptly.
But it made us think - what was the point of that then?
Indeed, it made us think - what IS the point of Dot at all these days.
Without the marvellous Jim, she’s nothing. Not funny, not tragic, not convincing at all.
So thank goodness for the news we’ve heard on the grapevine this week.
Yep. The nation’s favourite badly acted baddie Nick Cotton is coming back. Maybe there will be a point to Dot soon after all.

- "Because it’s live TV, I’m just hoping she can produce her breast."

- "My breast?!"

- "Best! I meant best!"

Ian Waite and celeb dance partner Jodie Kidd bare all on Strictly: It Takes Two (BBC2)

Goethe had an interesting theory...

Who’s Gertie?

Why we love Roy and Becky on Corrie (ITV1, Wed)

Ze Restaurant - life's no picnic

So can anyone explain to us why so many people want to run a restaurant when they can’t actually cook?Raymond sure doesn’t seem to know. In fact, so despairing was he about all the terrible twosomes who remain in The Restaurant (BBC2, Wed), he refused, in a fit of pique, to give anyone his “Restaurant of the Week” award. And frankly, we can’t blame him.This week’s test meant the couples had to offer a take-away menu, alongside their normal service. Between them, they offered a delicious concoction of 14-hour-old sarnies (yum), something called clangers (puff pastry containing jam and mince) and oven chips. To complete the picture, there was the Chinese bloke who can’t cook Chinese and the English woman who can’t cook English food and gets mighty offended if anyone implies otherwise.Not surprisingly, none of the regatta-goers with their caviar and champagne really fancied purchasing a box of shriveled-looking sarnies.As the Restaurant stepped up its spooky, “Harry Potter” soundtrack, we couldn’t guess who might be going in “ze shallange”. They all deserved it.In the end, Rah-mond spared Lindsie and Tim. We were glad of that. Poor old Linz had already been through the works, thanks to that shouty, sweary tool who refused to pay for his food. And he didn’t even stay to sample the delights of a clanger. He wants to count himself lucky he wasn’t dining in one of the other restaurants. They REALLY can’t cook.The only other couple to stay out of “ze shallange” were smiley, happy cuddle-bunnies Russell and Michele. Word to the wise... we reckon Raymond wouldn’t mind “urpening a restaurant” with them. If they do triumph, we’ll be steering well clear of their eatery – they’re so irritating. But then, maybe we just don’t have cheerful souls.

It never rains, but it pours - on Sunshine

It was hardly a laugh-a-minute, Steve Coogan’s new comedy-drama Sunshine (BBC1, Tues).
In fact, after an hour of watching this tale of a feckless northern gambling addict and his long suffering family, we were just about ready to top ourselves.
Course, it had its amusing moments - well, one at least that we can think of, actually.
The scene where our hero Bob “Bing” Crosby tried to quietly eavesdrop on a punter’s supposed betting tip - while he was sitting on the loo having a rather noisy dump.
Nothing like a bit of toilet humour to lighten our mood.
But, generally speaking, you’d have more belly laughs watching an average episode of Coronation Street than you would this.
Penned by Craig Cash and Phil Mealey (who also appeared - albeit rather unconvincingly - as Bing’s binmen workmates), this opener did have some promising moments.
We particularly loved the great Bernard Hill as good old Grandad Crosby - funny, warm hearted and just generally a very nice bloke.
But even he looks like he’s in for some awful catastrophe soon. All those dizzy spells. Oh ’eck.
At the end of the programme, we left Bing a broken man having been the victim of a rather daft betting shop scam.
He’s lost the family’s “Disney” money. His wife knows he’s been at the savings tin and is probably about to chuck him out. And his lovely dad is probably going to cop it soon.
Don’t know about you, but we can’t WAIT to tune in for next week’s hilarious escapades...

Alright Serge... why we want John to win

Strictly night… and the thing we were most looking forward to was John Sergeant’s (or was it Jo Brand’s?) tango – and the twinkle-toed tubster didn’t disappoint.
Sultry. Raunchy. Impassioned. John’s tango was none of those things. Instead he capered around the room with a broad Cheshire cat grin on his face. “It had all the characteristics people associate with me,” he beamed, at the end. “Passion. Rhythm. And raw sexuality!”
Well, perhaps not. But, as Bonzo Tortellini said: “Eet worked!”
I don’t know a single Strictly watcher who doesn’t adore John. He's what Strictly is all about.

In recent years, the show has focused boringly on ex-pop starlets performing "a different kind of dancing" (yeah, right) with clinical, lacklustre brilliance. But surely it's people like Serge, rotund golden oldies flinging themselves wholeheartedly into jives and rumbas, that give Strictly its entertainment value?

Never mind slinky Rachel Stevens or muscle-bound hunk Austin Healey. Surely it has to be John in that final?
As for charmless chef Gary Rhodes… well, he’s no loss, really. He had none of the charisma we’ve come to expect from a dancing dunce. The only shame is that, next week, another girl is going to have to go. Don’t suppose it could be Lisa Snowdon, could it? That way, we’d get shot of Brendan at the same time.

Ze Restaurant – I’ll take that on board

It took us the usual twenty minutes to work out what on earth the contestants on The Restaurant were supposed to be doing in “ze shall-ange” this week.

Rah-mond was there, in his foxy suit, and we could pluck the odd phrase from his French burble “eef you are successfool”, for example. We’re not sure precisely what a “success-fool” is but we reckon there are some on this programme.

Anyway, we needed nice voiceover woman to inform us that, this week, the contestants had to make and serve delicious airline food to a variety of high-profile guests. And Sarah Willingham. Who? Sarah Willingham. She’s one of the judges but, apparently, quite easy to overlook. Two teams completely forgot to give her her dinner.

Tim and Lindsay, as we expected, were immense and promptly became best-buds with their cooking partners, Steve and Helen. We reckon they’ll all start going on holiday together once the series is over.

Not surprisingly, the teams that struggled were the ones that can’t really cook much. The Welsh Wok-ites struggled because Peter the Chinese bloke STILL can’t manage to cook rice.

But it was the endearing Northern Dimwits who departed. Fair enough – what they dished up in the name of “Lancashire hot-pot” looked more like it belonged in a chamber pot.

“We’ve lost out to a Chinese man who can’t cook rice,” sighed Dimwit 1 (Chris). True. But better than being an English man who can’t cook ANYTHING.

Ze Restaurant - you 'ave to leesten verray carefully

Well, we felt very sorry for Tim and Lindsay getting “poot in ze shallarnge” (that’s “put in the challenge” for those of you not attuned to Raymond Blanc-speak).
After all, once drippy Lindsay had dried her tears about missing her son, they flung their whole hearts into their Japanese theme, even going for a big karaoke finale.
And their food certainly looked a tad more appetizing than the stuff being churned out by those Northern numbskulls who were doing Mexican.
Last night Rah-mond, in his wisdom, had assigned each couple a different national theme for their restaurant dishes.
“We could do beef and horseradish in a fajita - that’d be good, wouldn’t it?” asked Dimwit Northerner (1) Chris, as the British viewing public clutched their stomachs in agony. You can put anything in a fajita, you know, and call it Mexican. Carrots. Green beans. Anything. And they did.
Not surprisingly, they too were in “ze shallarnge”.
Also in there was the hilariously named Welsh Wok which went Spanish, probably because its customers are now totally confused about what kind of cuisine they might get to eat there. (“Ahm baffurled by ze concept”, as Rah-mond might say).
Angry Man Chef and his Bungling Sidekick (James and Alastair) were lucky not to join them, having penned their menu in “French” – the kind of French where vegetable becomes “veggie-tabluh” and pears becomes “parres”.
Rah-mond was mightily offended at all this, despite the fact his English is hardly anything to write home about.
In fact, that’s one of the funniest things about this show – half the time we haven’t got a clue what he’s on about.
Whereas Alan Sugar tells his would-be colleagues straight (“You’re fired!”), Raymond beats about the bush a bit more.
Unfortunately, this tends to mean nobody really knows who’s staying or going.
“You ‘ave nurt convinced me un oeuf,” he’ll say, while the contestants stare at him blankly (“Does he mean us? What’s going on?”)
Our money’s on the Northern Dimwits to go.

Soapsuds

Corrie
DO we think this week was the most badly-planned exit of any character EVER in the history of soap?
It certainly seemed that way to us. Last Friday, Jerry-Kebab (who we’ve only just managed to stop referring to as Sinbad) half-mentioned something about going to Spain. By Monday, he and his two youngest kids had gone. For good.
"Are you sure you’ve thought this through?" Mel asked him, echoing our own "viewer to scriptwriter" concerns.
"Yeah, it’ll be fine," breezed Jerry.
"But you don’t speak the language," pointed out Mel, reasonably.
"Ah – soon learn," said Jerry, a man who’s never even been able to speak Mancunian, never mind anything more adventurous.
"And you don’t know anybody," said Mel.
"Ah, balderdash and piffle," shrugged Jerry (or something similar) before he and his family set off for Spain with no job, no money and next to no possessions.
We don’t understand why Corrie have proved masters of the slow-burning plotline and yet can be so cack-handed with their slow-burning characters.
Anyway, following the rapid dispatching of Harry, Vernon, Jerry, Kayleigh and Finlay, Lovely Liam should be afraid, very afraid, now Tony’s in the know.
And, BTW, were you shocked at the sight of Rawsie in a revealing corset? Not us. The biggest shock is that she doesn’t walk around like that all the time.

Jamie's Ministry of Food:

“If Jamie’s School Dinners was Star Wars, this is the Empire Strikes Back,” said Jamie Oliver at the start of his brand new TV mission this week.
Yep, Jamie’s Ministry of Food (C4, Tues) showed quite a lot of the celebrity chef talking utter excrement – but this certainly livened up what could have been a very dull show.
The series is a kind of follow-up to the lisping hero’s earlier efforts to persuade schools to improve their lunch time menus.
Only this time, he wants to improve an ENTIRE TOWN’S eating habits. By passing on a few simple healthy recipes and hoping his “students” go on to teach them to a couple of other people. And in the end about two million people will know how to cook. Or something.
Obviously, to do this he needed to head to a scummy-looking northern town where folk left cans of beer and boxes of crisps piled high outside their back doors.
So off we trotted to Rotherham, where the first person we met was Julie Critchlow – the gobby mum who famously passed bags of chips through to her kids when Jamie’s healthy school lunches were introduced at their school.
The chef was amazed when he met her that far from being the work-shy junk-food loving harridan she appeared to be from the news clips, Julie and her mum were actually quite keen on home cooking.
They even made Yorkshire puddings, for goodness sake.
Jamie was obviously terrified of the tough-talking matriarch.
So much so, he completely forgot to bring up the issue of why she was feeding her kids chips through the school fence then. If she was such a devoted fan of healthy home cooking.
Instead he decided that she was going to be some sort of ambassador for the new “mission.”
A couple of volunteers who hadn’t got a clue about cooking agreed to be the first to learn all of Jamie’s new recipes.
They included a well-meaning young mum who was shown giving her kids their “fourth takeaway of the week.” And it was only Tuesday.
She turned out to be quite a natural in the kitchen actually.
Other volunteers weren’t quite so successful though.
One seemed to have trouble with the concept that when a pan was bubbling, that meant it had reached boiling point.
There were also grumbles that all this cooking and teaching lark was just far too time-consuming.
And indeed, when Jamie caught up with his subjects a couple of weeks later, even the successful mum had fallen off the wagon and started buying kebabs again.
Jamie wasn’t put off though – proudly boasting to camera that he had still “enriched her life.”
We’ll see.
Entertaining though this show undoubtedly was, we can’t help being a tad put off by the “look at the thick northerners” tone.
Still, clips of future shows, where Jamie is seen at a football pitch with the crowd crying: “You fat b*****d!” look highly promising.