It’s funny to think that Ready Steady Cook (BBC2, 4.30pm, Every day until the end of time) once revitalized the flagging cookery show. In this country, we were used to seeing someone dryly telling us recipe after recipe with the only light relief coming from Keith Floyd’s drunken twitterings. When RSC leapt on to our screens, it was a whirling dervish of food and fun loved by pensioners and students alike. That’s the secret ingredient for a cult hit.

Since the departure of Fern Britton, the show flagged and Ainsley Harriott made the jump from cooker to card holder. Mostly, the faces are the same, but the show has changed since its imperial days when it could walk on water. A tweak of the format and a gurning presenter has left people throwing uncomfortable stares at the screen wondering if anyone will put something better on around 4.30pm. Precisely the position I found myself in yesterday…

I normally wouldn’t review a show like this because… well… where do you start? Everyone is aware of the format of the show and everyone knows what the craic is with the presenters et al. So why am I bothering? Well, if I hadn’t gone to the pub last night I would have been watching Mind Your F-ing Language on Channel 4. Instead, I was face down in an ashtray having my ears bullied by DJs drinking rum through a straw. I just thought I’d share a little of my life with you dear reader. Even if it may all be lies.

One thing that struck me about RSC is Ainsley. Now, I’m not suggesting for one second that Mr Harriott is fond of class A drugs, but really, he’s cocaine incarnate isn’t he? The sweating pate, the bulging eyeballs, the relentless jabbering and terrifying grinning. I’m sure Ainsley is a stand-up chap with an enthusiasm for life that cynics like me will never understand… that’s fair enough… but Jesus, you wouldn’t want to be stuck in a lift with him would you?

Flanking Ains’ was a pair of chefs. One who I’d never seen before (who, for the record, waxed lyrical about the 80s even though he looked about 6 years old) and the other being that Leslie woman. Now, long ago, I had a fear for Leslie the Chef. I feared that her wackiness would lead her down a darkened path. That being the path to Su Pollard (from Hi-de-Hi). Leslie is fast becoming the nations new Su. She has her hair in zany styles and cackles at just about anything. She seems lovely, but I don’t think me an’ ‘er would get on. And isn’t it amazing that she’s ALWAYS pregnant. Her husband/beau must have some rare kind of super sperm.

Everything seemed the same with the show. There was the ever present count down from 10 at the end, bad puns stuck to dishes (yesterdays? I’m calling this “I Couldn’t Give a Tofu…”) and people cheering at cheese. To be honest, the whole thing passed me by in a flash. It was a bit like a repressed dream trying to remember it today (although that could have been the ale from last night… Dentergems… a refreshing and tasty wheat beer that soothes the pallet – can I have some for free now?). I recall some food being served up. I recall the theme tune kicking in. I certain remember the gang talking about colour coded knives. Other than that? Much the same as any other showing really. [Mof Gimmers]