I wasn't going to watch Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution (10pm, C4, 20 September) because, frankly, the proselytising little nit just sounds like a broken record these days.
But then I caught a clip from the first episode in which he blubbed that no-one understood him and the ambulance chaser in me was suddenly alert to the prospect of a choice bit of car crash TV which this SO was.
The series charts Oliver's mission to "save America's health", starting with the good folk of Huntingdon, West Virginia, whether they wanted help or not. Suffice to say, they didn't and Oliver didn't exactly help himself.
It's a wonder there was any space for a foot given the size of his tongue, but shove it in his gob he did putting up a pathetic "I was quoted out of context" defence to unimpressed radio DJ, Rob, who for some reason he thought he was winning over. "Do you think we're slowly becoming friends?" he asked. Cue incredulous look from Rob and a definitive: "Nope".
Bloodied but unbowed, Oliver returned to the elementary school that featured pizza on the breakfast menu. Time for the tried-and-tested chicken nugget trick the one where he shows the kids all the gunk that goes into them, putting them off junk food for life, the one that "never fails". Only this time it did.
A different tactic was required. Whether dressing up as a pea was the right one, I'm not sure. And neither were the kids, especially when he busted some embarrassing dad dance moves while bigging up his lunch menu, which, needless to say, none of them liked.
I felt a moment of sympathy when he tried to establish the extent of their food knowledge and discovered they couldn't even recognise a spud (although they all knew what French fries were), but it evaporated when he started helping 12-year old Justin Edwards. The boy needed help he was so obese he was in danger of developing diabetes.
There was no excuse, however, for the patronising drivel Oliver subjected the poor lad to during his cookery lesson. "Dude, yeah man, feel the power, brother."
Err, the kid's white, Jamie, and you're not American. On the plus side, Oliver had made a fool of himself again. Schadenfreude doesn't get better than this.
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But then I caught a clip from the first episode in which he blubbed that no-one understood him and the ambulance chaser in me was suddenly alert to the prospect of a choice bit of car crash TV which this SO was.
The series charts Oliver's mission to "save America's health", starting with the good folk of Huntingdon, West Virginia, whether they wanted help or not. Suffice to say, they didn't and Oliver didn't exactly help himself.
It's a wonder there was any space for a foot given the size of his tongue, but shove it in his gob he did putting up a pathetic "I was quoted out of context" defence to unimpressed radio DJ, Rob, who for some reason he thought he was winning over. "Do you think we're slowly becoming friends?" he asked. Cue incredulous look from Rob and a definitive: "Nope".
Bloodied but unbowed, Oliver returned to the elementary school that featured pizza on the breakfast menu. Time for the tried-and-tested chicken nugget trick the one where he shows the kids all the gunk that goes into them, putting them off junk food for life, the one that "never fails". Only this time it did.
A different tactic was required. Whether dressing up as a pea was the right one, I'm not sure. And neither were the kids, especially when he busted some embarrassing dad dance moves while bigging up his lunch menu, which, needless to say, none of them liked.
I felt a moment of sympathy when he tried to establish the extent of their food knowledge and discovered they couldn't even recognise a spud (although they all knew what French fries were), but it evaporated when he started helping 12-year old Justin Edwards. The boy needed help he was so obese he was in danger of developing diabetes.
There was no excuse, however, for the patronising drivel Oliver subjected the poor lad to during his cookery lesson. "Dude, yeah man, feel the power, brother."
Err, the kid's white, Jamie, and you're not American. On the plus side, Oliver had made a fool of himself again. Schadenfreude doesn't get better than this.
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