I didn't think I'd write a post about the final because, well, what is there is to say? But it might be a good way to round-off the half-baked (1) series blog I kept. So here's a goodbye Masterchef UK post.
On the result
Completely unsurprising, of course. Shelina was always going to win. The only unexpected thing was that nothing unexpected happened to her. Given how obvious her victory was from the start, I thought it was too easy a call, that surely something would happen to upset the flan(2), leaving someone else at the top and the viewers stunned. But slow and steady etc. except that she doesn't have steady hands (she told us so herself) and she's always the first to finish.
On Tom and Andrew
I'm happy for Tom because he got a near-perfect result, and he needed to because his run-up to the finals wasn't as smooth as Shelina's or Andrew's. His dishes looked spectacular. Andrew didn't have as good a day as he could have, did he? He is the sort of cook who experiments though, so if you have to go out on a flaw, at least it's a characteristic flaw rather than a generic 'potatoes didn't boil' situation. But this may not be my finest theory.
On something weird
I didn't like what happened from the time the winner was announced. From a nervous collective, suddenly it was just Shelina, Greg and John in their exclusive champagne party (no plebs, please). I suppose they wanted to avoid the melodrama that Masterchef Australia is sometimes accused of. But would it have been so terribly unfashionable to invite some of the old contestants back-maybe even the judges- and to not push Tom and Andrew out of the room like dregs(3)? The whole two months were condensed into the winner's moment and it's sad that a series that bubbled as nicely as this one did, ended with a squeak(4)
But let's remember
Shelina and her well-deserved victory, Tom against the flattering pastel shades of plastered walls, Peter Griffen, Angry Bird and Lady Grey at the critics table, Scary-Jay at the gym, Afsaneh cackling, Emma improving, Miso ice-ream and whiskey fish. And in-line with the show's obsession with Coldplay, let's end with Greg's epic poem sung to the tune of The Scientist:
Zip Up Yer Boots (Bo-ots if you're singing it properly)
Back to your roots
to the place of your birth
back down to earth.
Bye.
On the result
Completely unsurprising, of course. Shelina was always going to win. The only unexpected thing was that nothing unexpected happened to her. Given how obvious her victory was from the start, I thought it was too easy a call, that surely something would happen to upset the flan(2), leaving someone else at the top and the viewers stunned. But slow and steady etc. except that she doesn't have steady hands (she told us so herself) and she's always the first to finish.
On Tom and Andrew
I'm happy for Tom because he got a near-perfect result, and he needed to because his run-up to the finals wasn't as smooth as Shelina's or Andrew's. His dishes looked spectacular. Andrew didn't have as good a day as he could have, did he? He is the sort of cook who experiments though, so if you have to go out on a flaw, at least it's a characteristic flaw rather than a generic 'potatoes didn't boil' situation. But this may not be my finest theory.
On something weird
I didn't like what happened from the time the winner was announced. From a nervous collective, suddenly it was just Shelina, Greg and John in their exclusive champagne party (no plebs, please). I suppose they wanted to avoid the melodrama that Masterchef Australia is sometimes accused of. But would it have been so terribly unfashionable to invite some of the old contestants back-maybe even the judges- and to not push Tom and Andrew out of the room like dregs(3)? The whole two months were condensed into the winner's moment and it's sad that a series that bubbled as nicely as this one did, ended with a squeak(4)
But let's remember
Shelina and her well-deserved victory, Tom against the flattering pastel shades of plastered walls, Peter Griffen, Angry Bird and Lady Grey at the critics table, Scary-Jay at the gym, Afsaneh cackling, Emma improving, Miso ice-ream and whiskey fish. And in-line with the show's obsession with Coldplay, let's end with Greg's epic poem sung to the tune of The Scientist:
Zip Up Yer Boots (Bo-ots if you're singing it properly)
Back to your roots
to the place of your birth
back down to earth.
Bye.
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