Aw shucks. I’ve done it again. I didn’t mean to… but I’ve gone and watched Masterchef (BBC Two, Tuesday, 8.30pm) starring Tweedle-Dum and Tweedle-Dee again. This time, there’s a worrying development. I’ve gone and convinced myself that Wallace and Torode present the show naked from the waist down.

Amongst all the ear splitting acid rave and drum ‘n’ bass, demands of passion and the strange never looking at the camera… a bit like a blind person does… you may have noticed that, not once in this show, do we see the judges legs. Why is that? Is it because Greg Wallace needs to feel ‘a bit freer’ when he’s tasting soup? Does waist bands get a bit tight after all that food tasting?

In all honesty, it’s quite remarkable if you think about the shows new found success. It’s gone from sleepy seriousness to full on prime-time overblown reality show. Part of me feels like it deserves its popularity. Another part of me (the baying moron part of me) just wishes that it toned down some of the stylistic points.

When watching the show, I’ve begun to get hot-flushes of fury during certain segments. The show opening has become a particularly gruesome experience for me. Steaming house music hammers from the speakers while Greg ‘n’ John look away from camera. I hop around shouting “over here!” and waving at the screen. Then, I’m bombarded with buzz words and ridiculous over-emphasis. “COOKING doesn’t get TOUGHER THAN THIS!” No! No it isn’t! Cooking whilst on fire is tougher. Cooking in a war is probably more demanding.

The poor contestants get caught up in the nonsense as well. One poor lad, who had enough freckles and moles to do a join-the-dots-and-reveal-a-detailed-drawing-of-Buckingham-Palace said something along the lines of “To win Masterchef, I’d probably give 99% of my life”. Does that mean in time? Existence? Flesh? I know that TV wants to build up the tension and importance, but come on, this is Masterchef, not a firing line.

In saying all that glibbery, the show is enjoyable enough (once you get past all the annoying tricks). Watching some cocky upstart mucking it all up and some nice guy doing really well (that was last night’s show anyway) is always a pleasure to watch. If only I could get the Wallace and Torode nudity out of my head.