Trash TV pleasure

Until a couple of years ago the only thing I ever got to see on television was the news. This was because I lived with Anne-Marie, the type of person who thought Buffy The Vampire Slayer was a “tits and arse” show and could not believe that I would not get turned on if I accidentally saw a Timotei advert. Practically living without television for seven years has probably helped ensure that even these days I am not exactly a regular at the cathode ray shrine. Across the year, I think my average TV viewing per week is still below two hours per week. There just are not a lot of State Of Play or Edge of Darkness quality shows to watch these days.

During the writing of my last two books, I worked 16 hours a day, six days per week for ten weeks apiece to ensure that I hit my submission deadlines. That type of schedule does not favour casual television watching or any other type of time vampire. However, there were three escapist programmes I stopped the grinding routine for: Doctor Who, The Mighty Boosh and MasterChef Goes Large.

The last counts as my most deliciously guilty trash TV pleasure. It may be total tosh, but I adore the show. When working flat out on Secrets & Lies and Global Gangland, I would stop religiously at 6pm to eat dinner and watch amateur chefs cooking. It allowed me 30 minutes during the working day where I was not dwelling on the CIA, Cosa Nostra or threats by Scotland Yard to prosecute me for perverting the course of justice.

Now it is back for a third series and even without an ongoing book project, I am still a huge fan of the show. It is definitely more than X-Factor or American Idol for wannabe chefs, not least because it actually gives something of a food education across the whole run. Of course, that is not my prime reason for watching.
I enjoy seeing the chutzpah of people who cannot even make a decent mash believing they can win MasterChef – it always leads to a fantastic crash and burn. I delight in seeing working class oiks like myself thrash the pants of people who think that because they can afford to eat at some poncey London restaurants they have a good palette. Most of all I love seeing some of the contestants absolute passion and joy for food. It is infectious and occasionally may actually constitute an apparent oxymoron, moments of the genuine on reality TV.