Anybody watch Masterchef on Tuesday night?
Didn’t you just want to scoop up little Harvey from Hull, dry his tear-brimmed eyes... and tell him to go home and pick up a Mrs Beeton’s?
He was only 20, bless; and keen as mustard. But when it came to experience, it was painfully obvious he was greener than a salsa verde. Which he probably thinks is a Latin dance.
How on earth did the poor mite get through the selection process?
I was begging Michel Roux to say something, anything, nice to him just to preserve a wafer of his self-respect.