And so it proved - but not in the way I'd expected.
Any reservations I had about James and Ali (they of the 'poached pairs' menu gaffe in the Raymond Blanc series) paled into insignificance compared with the astonishment and revulsion I felt when confronted by the party they were catering for.
The clue was in the title, and set the task of whipping up breakfast, lunch and dinner for the shooting party in celebration of Guy and Kate's parents' joint 65th, the duo pulled off the game-heavy menu with surprising aplomb. If only this lot had deserved it.
I know what you're thinking. And, for the record, you're wrong. I have no moral issue with game shooting or the people who do it (although I'd be telling porkies if I said they were among my best pals). But the Anderson family and their hideous Hooray friends give the decent folk who indulge in the sport a bad name.
Gormless Guy, fetchingly attired in red sweater, pale blue shirt and sage green trousers, was offensive enough, insisting as he did on addressing James and Ali as "chaps" constantly.
His sister, though, was in another league of awfulness altogether. They shoot horses, don't they? It'd certainly have been a blessed relief if this whining mare had been put out of her (and our) misery.
At one point she had a go at the pair for failing to clean her kitchen, describing it as "unacceptable". (No, Kate, what's unacceptable is your demeaning treatment of these people!).
James, who'd given the usual game dishes some clever twists (adding Marmite to the game sausages and pan roasting venison and serving it with a chocolate sauce, for instance) was crushed by the incident and deserved better. As did Ali, who was reduced to playing butler throughout the unedifying affair.
Let's hope some day the tables are turned and the Andersons are forced to endure a life of servitude. They'd be fair game, I reckon.
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