Soap cuisine

I was a TV critic for 13 years and IMNSHO* the second best in the business. The best, by far, was Nancy Banks-Smith of the Guardian. She’s still doing it, and is as good as ever. Here she is, for example, on the other night’s TV:

One can only deplore the current state of catering in the soaps. In Coronation Street (ITV1), Roy, proprietor of Roy’s Rolls, was ordered out of his own cafe because he was scaring the customers. Distress has, indeed, given him the look of a giant tortoise suffering from SAD disorder. His face falls in perpendicular folds. His cardigan seems to distend as you watch. His customers, never backward in coming forward, are complaining about the size of their organically sourced meals. As Blanche said, “I came in for meat and tater pie. How far the tater’s travelled and the lamb’s dying words are no concern of mine.”

When the heart is in turmoil, the takings go down, and Roy and Hayley’s partnership is under strain. Her long-lost son took the news that she was his father (do try to keep up) very badly indeed. Now Hayley is sitting alone in a late-night cafe as chairs are upended around her, while Roy has a breakdown in Freshco.

*Footnote: In My Not So Humble Opinion