TV

Review: Jamie And Jimmy’s Food Fight Club

Jimmy and Jamie, or is it Jamie and Jimmy?

Jamie Oliver chums up with his bestest boyfriend Jimmy to defile the memory of our war dead by re-writing history and teaches Alan Carr how to use a Breville.

Jimmy and Jamie, or is it Jamie and Jimmy?

I’ve always been a fan of Jamie Oliver. Sure he’s got a pudding face and he doesn’t half talk some shit, but I had a bit of a nervous breakdown a few years ago and this led to me having an affinity for him. I’d just come back from travelling in South East Asia and after crashing a motorbike and doing a lot of mushrooms I felt an overwhelming urge to do something; Something humble, something honest, something with my hands. As a result of this quarter life crisis I went and got a job as a bottom of the rung chef at the ripe old age of 27. Humbly earning £12k a year, doing 60 hour weeks and wearing a permanent aura of cheap warm vegetable oil. It wasn’t my greatest hour and the shifts were tough, so I respect him as a fellow chef. I’ve been in the trenches and I know what its like to cut your finger on a mandolin when you’ve been awake for 48 hours and you’ve drank too much cooking wine. He’s a man who presents quality food in an approachable and elementary format to the masses. Cooking is a simple pleasure and when done right can bring someone infinite joy. As a result his passion for simplifying good grub commands my respect.

So when settling down to Jamie and Jimmy’s Food Fight Club last night imagine how disappointed I was to see him and that pig touching friend of his bumbling about the country in shit hot Capri chucking cheese about the shop. The premise of the show is a bit of inane celebrity chatter in some greasy spoon the duo have set up on Southend pier, mixed up a bit with an international battle of the food stuffs. Last night saw England giving France a right royal drubbing at the age old art of making cheese. The cheese off is not a bad premise as a standalone and maybe warrants a BBC2 half hour show nestling between the ample foody bosom of Rick Stein and the 2 Hairy Bikers. Not an hour long Essex LAAAADfest complete with an overwhelmingly nauseating 2 minute dream montage where the fat tongued chef leads an army of cheese wheel wielding artisans in to battle on the beaches of Normandy. I don’t know if the directors were as thick as Oliver or just wanted to mug him off to the nation, but last time I checked we fought Zi Germans on Normandy Beach, not the French.

Not content with defiling history Jamie invites a celebrity chum over to cook a food fight themed dish. What better way to showcase the up and coming quality of the series than to set the bar nice and high with Alan Carr cooking a cheese fvcking toasty.

I fully understand why people genuinely hate the man after last nights sugar sweet cockholding chumfest, and while I’m not knocking him as a chef, his not so subtle segue into light entertainment is starting to wear a bit thin. Stick to the snap big J.


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