Come Dine With Me
By now, it’s a cosily familiar format. Come Dine With Me takes five dipshit stupid food buffs, has them throw dinner parties where they say dipshit stupid things, play silly parlour games then privately give each other marks out of 10. The winner gets a crisp £1000 note for them to donate to their favourite charity (themselves). A snarky voiceover encourages us to laugh along with the absurdity and boy don’t we love it?
"Toni says ‘speaking of chopped liver — I keep my placenta in the freezer’ just as Alison’s liver stuffed mushrooms are going down a treat. A scene reminiscent of the African-American sheriff’s arrival in Blazing Saddles follows."
Last week was spent in South Yorkshire which you frankly wouldn’t wish on anyone. Crusty tryhard Toni pisses on gym instructor Alison‘s chips when she says "speaking of chopped liver – I keep my placenta in the freezer" just as Alison’s liver stuffed tomatoes are going down a treat. A scene reminiscent of the African-American sheriff’s arrival in Blazing Saddles follows. Granite jawed connoisseur Gary, apparently still believing the baby to be attached to said placenta, silently fumes. He was raised on tripe and beef dripping – how could she be so gross?
"Toni pisses off to the hospital where one can only imagine she nipped into the maternity ward to score some afterbirth."
Toni laughs it off and the evening survives her p-bomb. When it comes to her turn to host, Gary the placenta hater and sales manager Mark are amazed that she doesn’t live in a squat and that, despite her being something of a tomboy, some of the furnishings in her house are pink. Her pink hair wasn’t a giveaway then? Toni makes chilled melon soup with brandy which isn’t really a soup, more a dessert – not that these douchebags care. She gets out of serving up her swill by half slicing off her finger and pissing off to the hospital where one can only imagine she nipped into the maternity ward to score some more afterbirth.
As you’ll likely know by now Come Dine With Me is a lot of fun. The dipshits judge each other on food, presentation and perhaps most of all hosting skills and personal chemistry. There is no all powerful arbiter, no public vote and only modest prizemoney. They fend for themselves, answer to no one, creating their own laws, customs, food and drama along the way. It’s the emergence of civilisation in microcosm.
The verdict on Come Dine With Me: Light yet filling.
Marks out of 10: 7.5
Imagined: Wednesday, 3rd March, 2010