Cake week.
Bye bye: Music dude with pointy metal collar triangles. (I have an eight week old baby, so names and the correct term for dickish accessories are beyond me at this point - there's a different kind of soggy bottom ruling my life.)
Lucky escape: Dorret's Black Forest collapsed into a chocolate bog which didn't even taste that great. Like "rubber". Gee, thanks Paul.
(Stuart! The loser's name was Stuart! Go me, blogging this at 3am and remembering stuff! Mary was also way harsh for week one, essentially calling him a pompous try hard.)
Middle class gauntlet thrown: 19 year old (allegedly) Flora used blood oranges, forgot to turn on her oven as she's got an Aga at home (though, erm, I have, embarrassingly been there) and the nose-around-your-home section featured her sister on a unicycle.
SISTER ON A UNICYCLE.
So yeah... That.
Best baker name: Dorret can't beat out Alvin (mainly for the ear worm: Alvin, Simon, (pause) Theodore).
Most blatant attempt at brown-nosing Mary: a gin and tonic cake.
Calling the winner now: Marie v Nadiya.
Next week: biccies.
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