Tuesday, April 28, 2009
You can't make a souffle rise twice, but despite all the hot air about "Masterchef Australia", it didn't rise to the occasion once.
"Masterchef Australia" overcooks every cliche and stunt from the off the shelf templates used for *reality* TV shows. The mutton telegraphed punch dressed up as mouth-watering suspense lamb. The only reality about all these television programmes is that they're all about the judges. None of them are a patch on the only judge for whom I have any respect, 'Hanging' Judge Jeffreys (thank you 1964 Ararat High School British History lessons) who died in 1689, ironically a prisoner in the Tower of London.
And what are the odds that "Masterchef Australia" will have it's own Susan Boyle moment? A geriatric bag lady rocks up with an old string bag full of foetid fish heads from a back alley at the Vic Market and prepares the most brilliant Stargazy Pie known to man.
"Masterchef Australia" or "So, Big Brother, You Pop Idols Think You Can Dance With The Biggest Loser Bondi Vet Who Wants A Wife?" You be the judge.
I lasted 20 minutes before I switched off and went to the kitchen to microwave a cup of Continental Chicken Noodle Soup and a couple of yesterday's Krispy Kreme Donuts for supper.
Have recently been to both the Hellenic Republic and the Press Club where George Calombaris' forte is serving up seriously top notch nosh. Marcia Hines, Mark Holden, Simon Cowell, Dicko or Kyle Sandilands he aint - nor should he want to be. Stick to the knitting George!
Labels: Disappointing.
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