This is one of my eldest son's less savoury expressions (as in he'd rather have that than, say, root canal treatment).
And this is how I feel about Masterchef. As I've said before, I have several recurring nightmares, dinner parties (giving them) and deadlines being two of them. They'd only have to had my other nightmare - heights - and conduct Masterchef on top of a skyscraper, and the nightmare would be complete.
Which is why I (continue to) love Masterchef. It's my equivalent of a horror movie. Last night, the three remaining candidates were doing amazing things with tiny little bits of something rare and expensive, with that colourful smear they always have, and garnishes of squirrel livers and pine needles, and reductions (what's the difference between sauce, jus and reduction?).
Clare is doing brilliantly and, extraordinarily, she's ENJOYING it. This I cannot understand. I can understand being good at cooking, and wanting to win. But enjoying cooking an esoteric dish with cameras and sound engineers, and three 3-star Michelin chefs breathing down her neck?