Right, so everyone’s flapping their gums about MasterChef Australia at the minute. I thought the show was pants, but that’s beside the point. What really worries me is that amid all the chatter about judges, culinary techniques, TV ratings, Hainanese chicken rice, comfort food, cookbook-publishing deals and dumbfuck newspapers that can’t even correctly report the winner of a TWO-HORSE RACE, people may be losing sight of what’s really important:

Oh, and bugger me with a fish-fork if the woman who won isn’t a dead ringer for a certain Pamela Allen children’s book character: