Make The Bake Off Great Again
If you’re anything like me, you’re unhealthily fixated with The Great British Bake Off. My adoration for the show began many years ago with a chance viewing back in the halcyon days of Mel and Sue’s clumsy warmth, Mary Berry’s pristinely polite flavour of savagery, and – if you can believe it – Paul Hollywood being semi-likeable. I was instantly hooked and watched religiously from then on, making predictions with my friends about upcoming eliminations and documenting every innuendo out of Mary Berry’s mouth (there were a LOT).
Over the years, our dalliance has been a tumultuous one – a love/hate relationship, you could say. I loved GBBO for its wholesome escapism, like a comforting friend visiting every autumnal Tuesday evening, and GBBO routinely reciprocated my affection with suffering and heartbreak.
I know what you’re thinking, but I didn’t just write this article to ramble about my obsession (that was only about 60% of the reason). No, I wrote this article to address the elephant in the room – our beloved show has lost its spark.
Disclaimer. This is (obviously) my subjective opinion. I’m sure there are many out there who would vehemently deny that anything has changed since the switch from BBC to Channel 4. The innuendos are there, the likeable contestants are there, the entertaining hosts are… um...?
On the surface not much has changed, but my problem with new-look GBBO isn’t anything on the screen - it’s a behind-the-scenes issue. The magic, spontaneity, and sincerity of the original show is absent. Like a 39p shop-bought muffin from the discount shelf, it leaves a cheap, artificial aftertaste. It does the job but leaves you wanting more.
To illustrate my point, let’s compare two seasons of the show – Series 6 (or as all my friends call it, ‘Nadiya’s season’), and Series 9.
Nadiya Hussain is undoubtedly the biggest icon to emerge from GBBO outside of that squirrel with the big testicles. Due to her panic disorder, Nadiya regularly spiralled into anxiety when things went wrong in the tent, but she eventually triumphed thanks to her endless creativity and remarkable spirit. She beat four-time Star Baker Ian to scoop up the Series 6 trophy in spectacular style, making me sob with her memorable winning speech, “I’m never going to put boundaries on myself. I’m never going to say I can’t do it. I’m never going to say maybe. I’m never going to say I don’t think I can. I can, and I will.”
Series 9 saw Rahul Mandal achieve a very similar triumph. However, while Nadiya’s win left me overjoyed, Rahul’s just left me frustrated. This is by no means an attack on Rahul, who was nothing but lovely throughout his (extensive) screen time. My irritation stemmed from the fact that I had correctly guessed after Episode 2 that Rahul would win. How the judges spoke to him, how the producers framed his struggle with self-confidence, and the sheer amount of attention he received relative to his competitors screamed that this season could only end one way. The breaking point was Week 8: Danish Week. Rahul’s smørrebrød was dense and gluey, his aebleskiver were burnt, and his kagemand was dry, but he progressed at Manon’s expense because she dared to put a personal twist on her Danish bakes. (Seriously, Paul said they were ‘too French’ – what does that mean, Paul? I have some questions). They traded sincerity for a satisfying, albeit disingenuous, narrative.
The show’s authenticity is declining. Nowadays, contestants can be neatly categorised: the aloof, conventionally-attractive young woman who will invariably become a finalist; the loveable grandparent who will consistently last 3-5 episodes (just enough to touch our hearts, but not enough to steal airtime from the charismatic youngsters); the quirky fan-favourite who survives a few more episodes than they deserve - the list goes on.
Has GBBO’s recent artificiality led its audience to view the contestants less as people and more as characters that can be cruelly judged and scrutinised? It’s difficult to say, but that’s the impression I get.
Take Series 10’s Rosie – after a strong opening four weeks, she suffered five consecutive weeks of instability and barely avoided elimination each time, finally bowing out in the semi-finals. In the process, she narrowly bested fan-favourites including Helena, Michael, and Henry, which saddled her with an onslaught of cruelty from keyboard warriors attacking not just her baking but her appearance, voice, and value as a human being. This isn’t an isolated incident – the year before, Kim-Joy endured similar torment. Such deplorable behaviour isn’t new, but in my experience, it’s escalating. How many of those who levelled racist abuse against Kim-Joy, or openly bullied Rosie, would have persisted if they paused to contemplate that there was a real human with real feelings on the other end of their hateful message?
Maybe I’m reaching. At the very least, I believe Channel 4’s GBBO has sacrificed its integrity in search of a magical, defining moment, a ‘Nadiya moment’. I also stand by the fact that this has changed the show’s surrounding culture, leaving it stale, predictable, and noticeably less cosy than it once was.
Make no mistake, though – I won’t be turning off my TV anytime soon. Rain or shine, I’ll be there every Tuesday at 8pm, clinging to that fondest hope that one day, we can Make GBBO Great Again.
