I would have a pretty tough time believing that anybody’s friends and family were better gift buyers than mine are.
My mum pulled me over a few days ago in order to inform me that she had purchased 2 tickets to Paul Hollywood’s British Baking Live Tour as my “Congratulations on getting a new job” present (I know. She’s a legend.)
Obviously with fear of isolating our transatlantic friends, I will explain that Paul Hollywood is one of the judges on Britain’s all-time favourite baking show, The Great British Bake Off.
He also makes every middle aged woman go weak at the knees simply by prodding his massive finger into contestants doughy bread.
If anyone outside of Britain ever questions how seriously we take this show, then all you need to know is that in the last series, someone sabotaged a ginger man’s baked Alaska and he got so pissed off that he lobbed it in the bin and proceeded to take the said bin up to the judging table in order to be critiqued.
As a result of this, the country was in uproar about “Bin-gate” and it was the most intense feeling of “holy shiiiiittt” that I have ever felt in my life. I became so emotionally invested that my head nearly blew off.
Anyway, the days leading up to the tour could not have gone any slower. I literally couldn’t wait (I’m not even ashamed). Then yesterday, the time had come.
The day wasn’t so great to start off with. Firstly, my mum had put me in charge of the Sat Nav. Now anyone who knows me will understand that I am atrocious with technology and leaving me to deal with any form of technical equipment is the equivalent of leaving me in charge of the Star Trek Enterprise.
After driving round the roundabout more times that I can remember, we finally arrived.
No word of a lie, the queue to get in was longer than the one I had to stand in when we went to see Kasabian at the Camden Roundhouse. This guy is the Robbie Williams of baking.
After lots of faffing about, we finally walked into the auditorium. House music came courtesy of “Kashmir” by Led Zepplin and for a moment, I almost thought I was in a film with Will Smith and we were going to participate in some sort of Hunger Games type shit. Then I remembered that we were just going to watch some grey bloke knock up a few mince pies.
The house music consisted of almost every song that I have on my iPod and it was amazing. Now, if before I came here somebody had told me that Paul Hollywood and I have the same taste in music, I would like to think that I’d put my iPod in a bag with a bunch of bricks and launch it into the River Thames. However, it just made me like him even more.
I want to give people a clear indication of the effect that Paul Hollywood has on women because even I was shocked. Most of the men that had come to see the show looked like they really didn’t want to be there and as we made our way to our seats; a lovey couple had the following exchange of words:
Wife: “OWW we are quite far back aren’t we?”
Husband: “Its fine. We can see everything perfectly.” (He then looked at me, rolling his eyes)
Wife: “I know but I’m not close enough to look into his eyes darling.”
The wife then proceeded to wink at me with a huge grin on her face. What a beaut.
This is what Paul Hollywood does to women, people. As though he is some sort of middle-aged sex panther.
It didn’t stop once the show had gotten underway either. He was constantly being heckled. One woman informed him that she was a vegetarian and celiac to which he replied “Why did you come here? It must be torture surely?” to which she replied “I’m here for your body Paul.”
Once she had belted out this statement, the atmosphere was enough to make anyone cringe but I was sat there applauding the lady’s sheer brilliance. Needless to say to say that he was more interested in icing his chocolate roulade than any of us pervy lot.
I have to say though, he completely won me over (Paul you dreamboat, you.) and I literally cannot wait until next year when we have a full fresh 10 weeks of contestants sobbing over their flat buns and soggy bottoms.