I have a secret shame. Sometimes when I’m meant to be working I will go onto Channel 4 instead and watch crap like Come Dine with Me, Supersize vs Superskinny and my favourite 4 in a bed. As my medically proven allergy to laundry doesn’t allow me to buy a B&B and bitch about the owners from the Blackpool one I have always half fancied myself as a contestant on Come Dine with Me. Let’s suspend reality for a minute and forget that I keep the plasters in the kitchen next to the knives for very good reason or that I’m often found updating about burning stuff because I was too busy updating my status. Don’t judge my precious. We all have things we are great at and cooking isn’t my thing. I get by with a lot of help from recipe books and restaurants.
A friend of mine received a letter asking her to apply to go on Come Dine with Me. At first I was like go for it girl but then she felt she may get nervous and mess up. But I encouraged her. I could think of loads of cool reasons to go on come dine with me
1) You meet some interesting characters
2) You get to see inside some of the local houses without having to lie to estate agents about being on the market
3) You get to test out those dishes on other victims
4) You might win £1000
5) 4 nights of dining out at other people’s means 4 nights of no cooking and washing up
7) You get to dress up 5 times which means finally you can throw a Hollywood themed party and wear that ball gown you’ve been saving.
8) It’s a great way to spring clean the flat
9) It’s the safest Reality TV programme I can think of with the lowest barrier to entry. Britain’s Got Talent is just too dangerous
10) There are so many of them that people may forget the episode that you are on.
That was it. All of a sudden I was thinking that this could be something I could really get my teeth stuck into. After all I’m unemployed. Cooking could be my new hobby. Wish me luck my precious. I’m going to need it. Ouch! Just promise me you’ll keep the plasters nearby.