This week marks the start of television’s big ratings season. Gone are the long lazy days of summer spent watching so many forms of cricket and so many ads for KFC, I half expected to start dating a supermodel, tweeting tastelessly about other people’s mental health issues and devouring buckets of cage-raised chickens. Tonight it’s MasterChef up against House Rules which is good as I was really tired of switching between a cooking show and a home renovation show but now… oh wait.
There’s a chill in the air, I’ve already insisted on re-instating the electric blanket, I’ve burnt the dust from last year off the gas heater and un–space bagged the Ugg Boots. Now’s the time I can hibernate indoors, change in to my PJs as soon as I get home and curl up with my cheesy mite toast to watch people confit things that I can’t afford to eat. Now that I think about it, I can’t even afford the fat they confit in. When did fat become so expensive? And I can do so guilt free as it’s TV season. Duck season! Rabbit season!
But can I really? Can I really watch the sixth season of MasterChef without feeling the slightest pang of guilt? It’s already a bit sad that I remember the first season so fondly (Oh Julie you legend!) but what’s worse is that I must have tuned in every other night for four other seasons, riding the waves of soggy risottos and perfect egg ball desserts only to discover I can’t remember a single thing about them. Well that’s not true, I know Poh but a Google search reminds me she was also from the first season. Then there was the hairy bloke who liked to cook offal whose name is Chris Badenoch. I know his name now because I Googled ‘beardy guy from MasterChef who liked to cook offal’. Is it just me? Did I have a particularly good memory year in 2008? Why is everything else such a blur? Now it’s got me thinking, why do I watch this stuff? It’s not giving me an interest in cooking. It hasn’t even really seen me add to the dishes I cook each week. I’m still vegetarian which means I can only ever eat the desserts on these shows anyway and I’m still not wearing a cravat.
Sadly I’m realising, I watch reality TV so I either a) don’t have to think about reality after 7pm and b) have something to talk about with people at work who I don’t have much else to talk about. Are these good enough reasons to tune in for 2 hours a night for three months? Yeah I thought so too.