Discussing Jason Manford’s canapés, Berry declared: “You’ve got something to hold at the end and pop it into your mouth.”
Ah, but the comic hadn’t “quite got the rise”, she added – something he probably didn’t mention in those sex-texts.
Canapés, though? Blimey, that’s posher than the show’s usual hot baps, massive horns and soggy-bottom tarts.
But then this time they had a genuine aristocrat on board in the shape of baronet’s daughter Samantha Cameron, a woman who has scoffed more canapés than her husband has broken promises.
Unlike ex-England goalie David James. His looked more like sausage slices than dainty bitesized nibbles…and he served ’em in a bowl.
“A bowl of canapés?” roared Jason.
“What parties have you been to?”
Manford made black pudding and scallop “manapés” while Sam-Cam served Cornish crab and shrimp curry vol-au-vents.
Which left EastEnder Maddy Hill, so beautiful away from dreary Walford, to cook up pizza canapés with crisps on top.
Very Queen Vic, luv.
The technical challenge was to make Paris-Brest choux pastry rings.
“I wouldn’t know a Paris-Brest if it hit me in the face,” said Maddy, giving Enders’ writers an idea for Nancy Carter’s bicurious adventure on the soap’s next visit to France.
Sam-Cam took up the innuendo baton to say of the cream, “I’m assuming you just shove it in” – it worked for the Tatler Tories.
Jason won the round with Maddy, who over-did the salt, coming last.
That left Calamity James in third place. Could the likable comic nick the final Trophy Round too? Sadly no.
Jason’s Ashes-themed cake was as wonky as Scott Boswell’s bowling at the C&G trophy final.
David’s was based on American Football.
“That is a big helmet,” gasped Mel Giedroyc.
The goalie had to deal with a large crack – insert your Hollyoaks jokes here – before nearly dropping the cake.
It was as messy as James himself in Vienna, 2006.
So it was Maddy’s Swiss roll yoga mat versus Sam-Cam’s true-blue construction with wave effects and sugar paste surfboards.
Victory was in the bag for the PM’s missus who remained cool and collected, nice but bland throughout – much like the show itself.
People in TV think viewers crave nastiness (see CBB’s obsession with casting mouthy no-marks).
Yet Bake Off remains an oasis of warmth, skill, politeness and safety.
And it tops the ratings every time.
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THERE is probably more chance of Donald Duck becoming US President than Donald Trump, the former being less of a cartoon.
The Mad World Of Donald Trump showed the Republican frontrunner to be vain, smug, bigoted and gobby.
Trump’s policies are nuttier than his hair but by talking tough on immigration and Isis “the Donald” has touched a nerve with the hard-up and disgruntled.
Cue liberal outrage.
C4 wheeled on talking heads to dismiss him as “this billionaire”.
Yet you never hear them call Hillary Clinton “this millionaire”.
British telly won’t scrutinise her record (Benghazi, iffy emails, dodgy donations) and dubious policies.
And C4 won’t make The Crazy World of Jeremy Corbyn any time soon.
Only right-wing populists get this kind of TV mauling.
Compare the easy ride Hislop & Co gave Diane Abbott to how they treated Farage…
Trump might have the most unpleasant views this side of an offshore wind farm but those who’d ban him are scarier.
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DO Not Disturb was like Carry On Crossroads with more adult scenes: oral sex, light bondage, prostitutes or – as Lord Sewel calls it – the usual.
A couple who’d split up after the wife’s fl ing with a toyboy met in the honeymoon suite where they’d spent their wedding night years before.
Anna (Catherine Tate) was there to mourn their marriage, John (Miles Jupp) because he paid for the room in advance.
The romantic fool!
A reunion looked possible but the hotel had a stag party in and the best man came to in Anna’s bathroom and assumed she was on the game.
All the superficial elements of farce were here – blokes without trousers (mostly hotel porter Steve Edge), women in saucy smalls (the actual hookers).
But the show lacked the escalating chaos of the real thing.
It needed to be faster and crazier and the characters more likeable.
Why should we care about “repentant” Anna’s plight when the old slapper enjoyed the best man’s bedroom, um, tongue-twister so enthusiastically?
Farce fans should watch Frasier’s classic Ski Lodge episode, a superb example of how it should be done.
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ON Sugar Free Farm, Jane McDonald said: “I looked into a mirror today and thought I looked old.”
Is she sure she was looking at a mirror and not a DVD of The Cruise?
TV doesn’t get more so-what than this.
Sub-jungle celebs work a farm and swerve sugar.
Why do we care?
It’s yawnsome nonsense.
ROY Walker is on The Real Marigold Hotel. Dangerous.
Let’s hope he’s not tempted to “say what you see” next time Miriam lets rip.
CBB wheeled out “health guru” Gillian McKeith.
Yes viewers, one day you too could look as good as Gillian.
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Small Joys of TV
CAMERON Monaghan as murderous magician The Great Rodolfo on Gotham.
Allison Janney’s hot-pants on Mom.
Drunk Stoned Brilliant Dead: The Story of the National Lampoon.
Marg, Benidorm.
The Great Gangster Film Fraud.
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RE Branwen Jeffreys’ glasses: did the BBC’s education editor nick them from On The Buses’ Olive?
Or is she moonlighting as a spot welder?
IF Ian Beale had a spare £25k why is he driving a 2009 VW?
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Random irritations
THE BBC hounding the elderly for licence fee dosh while awarding their own useless executives eye-watering salaries.
Robert Peston’s shameless pro-EU bias.
Feckwitted astrologists banging on about the “new planet” – it’s been there all along!
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DID you see that lunatic in the suit made of exploding fireworks on Planet’s Got Talent?
Imagine going through all that only for the judges to give you a rocket up the arse.
MARY Berry described lobster and chips as “the height of decadence”.
Something tells me she’s never had a night out with the Happy Mondays.
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