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Rated R. does Great British Bake Off episode 1 – on your marks, get set, bake

With the return of The Great British Bake Off, over the next few weeks, I will keep you all in the loop as to my favourite contestants, hilarious baking moments and perhaps even try a few recipes of my own in homage to GBBO.


As a keen member (the General Secretary in fact) of the KCL Baking Society, it is my (icing-sugar-dusted) duty to make sure that the news of the century is delivered to every student of King’s College London. 27 minutes ago – at time of writing – I had just finished watching episode one of the new series of The Great British Bake Off. Just so no one is missing out, I will fill you in on my highlights from the most strenuous, stressful and sensationally scrumptious hour of my week.

The joyous return of my favourite lesbian, Sue Perkins. Oh yeah, and Mel. But is is all about Sue. The glasses. The wit, the humour, the shivers I get when they say ‘On your marks, get set, BAKE’ in unison. The subtle innuendos and the constant dipping of fingers into chocolate ganache.

The massively underrated cake history lessons. I think most of you will slightly doze off at this bit, but if you’re not fascinated by a courting cake, made purely so that women could lure men into an engagement, you’re off your rocker. And not into baking enough to be watching this show.

The Hollywood. Not the bikini wax guys, stop your filthy minds running away with all kinds of strange baking/grooming images please. We all know who I’m on about. The silver fox himself, with the shiniest blue eyes I have ever seen. So what if he recently shagged his American co-presenter and divorced his wife? Have you seen the way he prods the ‘close texture’ of a sponge? Have you not witnessed the tantalising way he nibbled on Ruby’s chocolate and ginger cake, said, ‘You know what’, paused for an eternity, looked up at her and said, ‘…I like that’. Good god, the man is the British, baking equivalent of George Clooney.

The Bezza. Effortlessly flawless. Manicured to perfection. Fashion icon. Baking goddess. Her list of accolades is endless. Good old Mary Berry always comes up with something constructive to say. Also, how she is so slim when all she does is eat cake all day is beyond me. And when she even admitted she wouldn’t have been able to execute Rob’s balloon tempuring tekkers, I nearly melted (no pun intended) on the inside at her humility.

The return of the strange sexual tension crossed with the mother/son relationship. We all know it’s there. It’s the elephant in the room. Do they snog passionately behind the marquee? Or does she just make him a roast dinner once a week, and tell him his wife’s not good enough for her little man (too soon?). We will never know, but it makes for bloody marvellous on-screen chemistry.

A three tier cake covered in chocolate made to look like bark, and decorated with biscuit squirrels is oh so normal. Nowhere else on TV would this be totally in the realms of normality, and then to have Sue Perkins say, ‘Mind you don’t cut the squirrel’s nuts off’. Just brilliant. Sandwich shaped cake tins? Nothing unusual to see here. A mouldable chocolate bear? You mean, you haven’t done this before? Amazing.

Deborah’s fringe. Like something I have never seen before.

World's worst fringe, but can Deborah bake?

The innuendos. Buns, drizzles, even passion fruit. Everything takes on some kind of strange sexual frisson of an erotic nature during the show’s hour. I particularly enjoyed, ‘a drizzle of lemon and passion fruit curd’. Sounds filthy, especially coming from Mary Bezz.

Jessica’s Hot Favourite Week One: Frances: a jam sandwich cake, and edible squirrels – one to watch.

Who’s going to be tossed in the oven for a firing next week? My money’s on Ruby, she just fell apart over her creme patissiere, I don’t think she can handle one more split custard.

All I can say is, I cannot wait for bread week next week – the notoriously hardest week. The wheat get separated from the chaff (pun definitely intended) and we get to see the Hollywood in his element. I know precisely where I will be every Tuesday at 8 pm, and that is is on the sofa, with a brew, tuning in to BBC 2.


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