I want to be clear about something up front: I love events that bring the country together.
I’m filled with national pride when I see ordinary Australians performing at their peak.
It brings me absolute joy to watch our countrymen – from all states, and all backgrounds, and all walks of life – face massive challenges, and succeed in the face of adversity.
So yeah – you guessed it.
I bloody love My Kitchen Rules.
Maybe it’s the impossible-to-follow structure. (Why are they in teams of two and also on teams of 10 this year? Why do they make them wear such funny hats when they cook outside? Why am I so confused?)
Maybe it’s the introduction of Elimination House (which, by the by, I’m 90 per cent sure is only a thing because they lost the lease on the warehouse where they normally do elimination cook offs. Because… for what other reason would you have a cooking showdown in a house with two kitchens? It doesn’t make any sense? Colin can’t be in both rooms at once so he is quite clearly shouting about running out of time to nobody?!?).
Or maybe it’s just that I – like so many other Australians, and contestants on the show, and also maybe Pete? – love Henry and wish he would marry me.
Whatever the reason, I’m outraged – nay, appalled – that Channel 7 ditched two solid weeks of quality MKR to air the Commonwealth Games.
Sure, sport is… good. The things they do are…fancy. I will not pretend I can do those things that athletes do, because… I can’t.
But trying to put enough sauce on a plate to satisfy Manu’s frankly manic appetite? Thinking of a new dumb pun to make every time you ring a doorbell? Saying “Manu is looking good tonight” 47 times in a row for the cameras without drowning in crushing self-hatred? Not slapping Sonya and Hadil in the face every episode?