Steven takes the biscuit
Steven with an jarringly emotional takeaway message. Tough Flo reveals her own Arnold Schwarzenegger tendencies. She’ll be back.
And so will I! Next week is bread week, and it looks spectacular from that trailer. Plus, I’ve figured out who everyone is now, which can only lift the whole experience.
Until then, come say hello to me on twitter or instagram or dare I say it, facebook. Or google maps me and drop a pin on my head.
Ciao!
Updated
Steven is star baker again
He’s done the double. He’s...[insert apposite football reference]
Chris meanwhile is sent packing. Like a thinner Charlie Brooker, or a slightly camper Graham Norton, he was too good for this world. But not good enough for the tent.
Save Flo. Flo can’t go. I need her, even without the Flo-titles.
Toksvig gone full Gosling in Drive tonight #GBBO pic.twitter.com/dFd6zfTCMX
— Stuart Davis (@stu_1512) September 5, 2017
Ah my friend Gabby is in that Purple Bricks advert. I’m pleased for her! I don’t know what Purple Bricks are though.
Steven’s bake is so strong that Prue looked almost sad.
Oh dry-as-a-bone Stacey, I fear you’re in trouble.
STEVEN! Nails it again with his 100-element board and intricate pieces. The very fact he’s attempted chess, the game of kings, shows his class. Can he Star Baker twice in a row? What do we think?
Liam only does flavour OR decoration, but he always pulls one of them off. He goes for the former today. Paul plays him at noughts and crosses and lets him win. What is happening? Why is Daddy being nice?
Kate’s “Jungle Game”– due to legal complications arising from the Jumanji trademark – looks like a swamp, according to Prue, who has gone full Miss Trunchbull.
“Eating it is not going to be a huge pleasure.” It’s like she’s sent Kate’s family pet to a farm in the country, and then explained exactly what that means.
Prue always gets some sexualised banter in at this point. Like she’s on a timer. Liam last week, and Chris “I love your compass” this week. Long working days do wear down one’s social decorum, I guess.
Chris’s Great Sail Off looks like a practice sketch by a pavement artist. And is burnt.
What did she just say? It’s not okay to ask for Flo-titles is it
Very worried for Flo.
I’ve no idea what Flo just said. Stay tuned for more of this edifying commentary.
Yan lets herself down with rubbery squares. Prue loves the primary-coloured blocks of James’s game because it reminds her of the Lego world from which she sprang.
OH OKAY, Tom exists and he’s handsome and good at baking. FINE. I’ll give him that.
This episode has been incredibly stressful hasn’t it.
Sophie is a precision craft-baker, isn’t she? Looking very strong. Steven gives her the kind of “well done” you’d reserve for a friend who’d earned a tax rebate the same day you’re sent down for 20 at her majesty’s pleasure.
That Financial Conduct Advert with the robotic blonde and Arnold Schwarzenegger’s head on a miniature tank. What...is it? It’s weirder than the singing cake.
When did the Admiral in Admiral’s car insurance become a woman? Before or after Doctor Who? Who’s the real pioneer?
“I’m known as the Powerful Piper.” Definite indications that Noel is relaxing, gang. We could have Old Gregg icing his downstairs mix-up for the final yet. Or drinking Baileys from a choux. Fingers crossed.
Oh no! She’s cracked her base! You could say … she’s lost her flo?
(OH COME ON. It’s no worse than Noel and Sandi’s bits, and they’re being paid in gold.)
Rupert Tom’s using shop-bought fondant. Flo “it’s a terrible job, this” makes baking biscuits sound like working in an abattoir.
AHAHAHAA! Paul and Prue’s faces as Chris was outlining the rules to his Great British Sail Off puzzle. As if he was explaining how his fillings pick up KGB radio waves, and tell him what to do.
Never thought I’d say this, but bring back the historical interludes. “Leopold of Schweinsteig invented Lucky Charms by casting his kingly treasure into a field of barley, under the influence of syphilis...” that kind of thing. That would make more sense.
What the hell was that Sandi and Noel “bit” with the biscuit dunking? There wasn’t even a bad joke in it.
Second referendum? A crash in Dr Oetker stocks?
Joanieloves! Quickly, wish for something else!
I do not want to speculate on the origins of Flo’s “Pick My Bones” game. My hunch is that it’s 1950’s sex ed.
Ah, Stacey’s “Get to School” game. Destined to be filed alongside “the Quiet Game” and “Who Can Get Changed and Into Bed Fastest” in the ranks of manipulative parental techniques.
Oh, apparently that’s not Rupert Everett, it’s some guy called Tom?
Ah, at least Rupert Everett has brought the pun game, with his “drains and ladders” effort.
“Coppit with the kids.” Someone else make a joke, I daren’t.
Sophie you’ve missed a trick! Bakes and ladders. BAKES AND LADDERS.
Why has she made this before? When...when would the necessity of making a biscuit board game arise? What the hell goes on in Tunbridge Wells?
Bakes and ladders? Jenga nuts? Triviennese Whirl-pursuit? (Should have stopped at Bakes and Ladders.)
Showstopper: biscuit board games.
“You must be able to play your board game and eat your board game.” I feel like Noel is coming up with these showstoppers himself.
That was a very underperformed technical, wasn’t it? Unfortunate cookies.
These adverts do go on. I vote we all make a simultaneous tea and crash the grid, just to get rid of them.
Oh god, the KFC advert. It haunts me.
Chris and Flo bring up the rear, James does well and Sophie’s number twos are very solid. But Yan steals it. Go Yan and go Science!
Sophie leaps straight from the back to the top of the class with her beautifully shaped little hearts. “Today you will mostly poo candy floss” and “You will get bored of writing fortunes” are axioms for the ages. Wunderbar, Sophie! You’re the new Steven.
Judging time! “Raw batter’s not much fun,” gags Prue, spitting out Chris’s wad of underdone biscuit. Don’t need a fortune cookie to know which way the wind’s blowing for him.
“All I have to do now is the dipping and the nutting.” Calm down Stacey, this isn’t Love Island.
They all seem stressed and hapless. Is anyone bossing this? Possibly Sophie at the back. They haven’t put a camera on her for a while, so I assume she’s baking her cookies inside a crystal ball, or stone-baking on a statue of Nostradamus.
“I didn’t expect them to get hard as fast as they do.” Julia is Some Like It Hot-ing this Bake Off malarkey, while Stacey is Mrs Dalloway, bordering on breakdown. Chris has made a Cornish pasty fit for a Borrower.
I can listen to James saying “I’m guessin’ it’s meant to be a tweeel consistency” in his cockney accent all day long.
Julia goes for “Make it count.” Ironically, she writes it twice, casting doubt on whether in fact she can.
Contestants writing their own fortunes, at least for this round. “Speak your mind for it is …” “Stupid.” I love Yan. She must write all fortune cookies, birthday cards and political manifestos going forward.
Paul’s fortune cookies look like queen scallops. Yumsch.
More job insecurity bantz from Prue. Nice.
Technical challenge: fortune cookies
“A tall and goateed stranger will prod at your dreams until they collapse.”
Tom (?) Sophie and Stacey pull ahead. They may be well Waitrose, but they’re not a bad bunch when it comes to the baking, are they?
Seriously, who is Tom?
Julia’s jelly wotsits are beyond weird, right? Flo’s gin is unapparent, but Steven’s chewy almonds get a thumbs up. Kate’s biscuits are so hard they border on punchy, while Stacey’s are frostier than Prue, but with a perfectly set marshmallow centre. Sophie’s biscuits are identikit marvels, like she’s poured out a tray of Mrs Crimbles cookies.
Why is Prue dressed like Timmy Mallett?
Judging time! Prue gives James the Federer of backhanded compliments. “You’ve made 24 almost identical biscuits.” This is what she’s like when she’s being nice? “I’m getting rhubarb which is lovely” she wheezes painfully, as if she’s just ingested a tablespoon of fertilizer.
Perfume ads are beyond parody, aren’t they? They’re the Donald Trump of commercial content.
Updated
Steam cleaners, Santa Maria sauces and Suzuki. This ad break brought to you by Sesame Street and the letter S
Liam praises septuagenarian Flo’s jammy prowess. “That is sick.” She sips her tea, content with a job well done. I want these two to be a double act forever.
Now, drink your syrup, everyone.
In the midst of all this excitement, can we call a moratorium on Noel and Sandi’s skits? While not the ring-puckering low of the “bowled over” bit last week, the “sandwich biscuit” gag still leaves you wanting less.
“Orange and …” “Sex?” Sandi and Chris enjoy the clumsiest flirtation to ever grace a tent. The bungalow of erotic banter, it doesn’t even reach the height of a single entendre.
You notice all these #GBBO contestants have quirky hobbies. It's not like "Gary sits in front of the TV eating Monster Munch"
— Áine (@AinYeah) September 5, 2017
Kate had a relative in the engine room of the Titanic, who survived, we discover. I usually take a micro-nap when people talk about their families on TV, but that is fascinating.
None of the presenters know what to do with the information however, so the conversation ends on a lightly awkward note.
Sophie is SO winter sports, isn’t she?
Howard I need all the encouragement I can get! I’m all jacked up on cinnamon palmiers and will definitely collapse before the showstoppers.
Forget the gin-stewed raspberries, Flo and her girlfriends singing All About That Bass is all the jam I need, baby.
Who is Tom? I swear this is the first I’m hearing about him. He’s no Steven, I know that.
Flo’s working on her bingo wings, while – hang on, did Julia just do … a comedy Russian accent? I bet she’s actually from Budleigh Salterton.
James doing some amazing fake answering a phone in that clip. Textbook
“That’s marriage: everything and nothing.” Literally what does that mean, Sandi.
I love rose, cardamom and pistachio, so Julia’s biscuits should be lovely. Yan’s peanut butter and banana effort sounds kinda amazing too, with added science.
Who leaves Siberia to live in Crawley? That’s like moving from the freezer to the refrigerator.
“If you combine a hard biscuit with a soft interior, it’ll go all over your lap.” Paul explains the quickest way to a soggy bottom after a big night/a certain age.
Signature challenge: sandwich biscuits
Well which is it? Make up your minds.
Sandi folding in a bit of QI-ery into the intro. Noel’s shirt is so red it looks like he’s peeled his entire skin off. Worth a drink.
Here we go! Settle down and listen the doctor. The clearly mad doctor Oetker.
Ch4 Newsreader garbled that summary of J-Law’s new film, but the words she did get out were intriguing. Filthy Beast? A dirtier sequel to Dirty Beast?
Shall we do a bingo? Let’s do a bingo. If any of these occur, drink everything you own:
- Noel being quieter than his shirt
- Prue carving “Not worth the calories” into a contestant’s head
- Uncle Paul mellowing like the fruitfulness of autumn
- Liam calling Paul Pops, and explaining “we bake different nowadays”
- Stacey staring into a bin
The old Bake Off can’t come to the phone right now. Why? Because she’s brown bread.
If you’re reading this, you’ve decided last week’s GBBO showed promise – enough to come back for seconds, anyway. And this is where things get interesting. We’ll start sifting the star bakers from the kitchen no-marks, ditching anyone boring and becoming slowly obsessed with the rest. This week it’s biscuits. Who’ll snap into gear, and who will crumble? There’s only one way to find out: dust off that weird holiday booze, undo a button or several, and let’s get comment-y.
The show starts at 8pm, and I want you on your worst behaviour. See you then, baking bredren!
