Today's the day. It's here. STOP WHAT YOU'RE DOING. It's the Masterchef final.
It doesn't matter if you've never seen it before. It doesn't matter if you haven't had the turmoil of waiting for weeks to know what this meant -
- I'm here to give you a lowdown on the remaining contenders.*
What drama - John Torode has cried, Greg has overcome anorexia... Overall I think my favourite single dish this time round goes to Rukmini's 'cat stool on the rockery'.
The most feared chef and serial killer Marcus Wareing made an appearance last week to tell one of the finalists that his soufflé was so hideous looking, he would not punish his palette with it. Perhaps a good thing, since the dish of Larkin's he did try resulted in his saying: "I'm speechless... Truly speechless. (Why Marcus? Is it good?) That is appalling."
That comment at a FINALIST. A finalist. FYI, if it was up to me - and really it should be - he would not be there. Larkin is a renegade, and he categorically never pulls it out the bag.
John will be like, 'Whatcha making Larkin?' and he's all, 'Something I've never heard of. Could work - probably not. Give a shit. I wanted to do a twist on a classic so I have deconstructed it and hired this raccoon to plate up.'
His nonchalance annoys me immensely. Why don't you CARE Larkin? WANT IT MORE.
Then there's Dale. Dale is fine. I don't feel any strong emotion towards him - except perhaps the intense anxiety he induces when placed in a professional kitchen. He suffers from the most terrible shakes so that often, once they've panned jerkily back to the clock again to tell us he is now THREE minutes late, he hysterically climaxes and hurls a tiny jug of jus at the head chef.
He did cry though when Wareing told him he had annihilated his "nectar from the Gods" ingredient (langoustine). He wants it.
Natalie though, wow. She is probably the best contestant ever. A cockney techno DJ, she says she doesn't do so much raving (or pills) nowadays, and most of her dishes come recommended by her Grandad, who always brings back "all diffrent odds an' ends from the shop. Like, 'orrible bony, gristly fish an' that".
She is too funny. And so nice. Not like Larkin. Why won't he plan?
'Recipe books? HA! Timings are for the weak. Now hand me that blindfold so I can put a twist on the classic flambé and probably my face.'
I am so excited I can't really cope. If Michel Roux Jr. makes a guest appearance I will literally lose my shit.
The series has really taken its toll on my housemate though; she stumbled blearily into the kitchen one morning recently and asked why John Torode had taken his shirt off in the professional kitchen last night. I equally had a dream that Greg and I went to bikram yoga.
I don't know what I'm going to do when it ends; maybe finally succumb to Game of Thrones.
*Of course it matters. Where have you been?