Biscuit Week
Mel Sandwich: Without Sue, it’s more of a tartine, I guess... Anyway, it was Welsh Louise who was woman-handled
in the name of sympathy – after her dream wedding venue/gingerbread church caved
in entirely, mere seconds before judging. (Oh how I enjoyed the disaster montage!)
Berrywood were so appalled they saw no reason not to exchange an openly bitchy
look as poor Louise trekked up with her crumpled offering.
Lucky escape: Val clings on
for one more week. The writing has to be
on the wall next week– unless she’s a secret master-baker.
Ma Baker: Candice, with a FLIPPIN’ AMAZIN’ gingerbread pub,
complete with jelly pool table and gingercake carpet. And we get to see another lippy shade to
boot.
Gingerbread ‘story’: (Story?!
What is this airy pretentiousness?!)
Good old Michael - oh to be 19 and choose ‘meeting Santa’ as your life’s
highlight. What would you pick? Obviously I would choose
attending the Eurovision Song Contest giving birth to my beautiful
son Max, though I’m not entirely sure how that would translate to biscuit form.
Smut-watch: Where to begin!?!
Who’d have thought the innuendo action would increase WITHOUT Perkins? It was a total filth-fest, from Tom stuffing
fistfuls of sausage, via Mel’s warm hands on Rav’s bag (and Candice’s jugs), to
Mary and Paul professing a keenness to taste carpet and Val’s sister
respectively. I need a lie-down and some
smelling salts.
Berryspeak: “informal” and “clumsy” – Mary’s euphemisms for “total shit”.
Clock-watch: Engineer Andrew had four clocks. FOUR CLOCKS.
How many ovens was he even using? #stillmyfav #candiceaclosesecond
Next time: Paul’s patronizing smugness hits its peak – it’s bread
week.
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