Masterchef

“She’s burnt that beef,” Iggy says.
“Her presentation skills aren’t up to much either,” Bowie replies.
“Yeah, but she can learn that, burning beef, that’s a basic error, she’s going home.”
“Have I ever told you about the Kobe beef I was served on my first visit to Japan?” Bowie asks. Iggy turns his gaze away from the television and fixes Bowie with a stare. “What?” Bowie asks, “what?”
“Have I ever told you about the Kobe…” Iggy mimics in his campest Bowie voice, flapping his hands around as he does so.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Bowie sighs. The sound of the telephone ringing from the hallway postpones any potential argument. “Oh be a love and get that would you Iggy.”
“No way, I made the tea, it’s your turn to do something,” Iggy states folding his arms across his chest. Bowie shoots him an icy glare, which Iggy ignores. “You gonna answer it or not?”
Bowie stubs out his cigarette in the overflowing ashtray. “Alright, alright, just this once. Be sure to watch it though, I’ll want to know if I miss anything.” He then dramatically rises from the sofa, gestures for Iggy to move his legs so that he can get past and makes a theatrical exit.
On the television John Torode explains to the crestfallen contestant that her beef is far too tough due to overcooking. I knew it, Iggy thinks, mentally high-fiving himself. The next contestant nervously approaches the judges carrying what looks like a plate of beige. Come on, what’s taking so long, Iggy thinks. He looks over to the door willing Bowie to finish up the call and get back onto the sofa. His focus returns to the TV. The woman with the big gums is never going to get that past John and Gregg, he thinks. Come on, what’s taking so long. Jeez.
“Who is it?” Iggy shouts. He waits a few seconds then repeats his question, this time slower and louder. “WHO. IS. IT?”
Bowie’s perfectly coiffured head pokes into the room, “Did you say something dear?”
“Who is it?” Iggy repeats, trying to remain calm.
Covering the mouthpiece of the phone Bowie whispers, “It’s Brian, he wants to know if he can come over, he’s got some ideas for some…”
“C’mon, Masterchef’s on. Tell him we’re watching Masterchef
,” Iggy implores. Bowie nods, he thought as much, but thought it best to double check, just to be safe. Jeez, Iggy thinks, who calls during Masterchef? A few minutes later Bowie dances back into the room, does an acrobatic move over Iggy’s outstretched legs and settles back onto the sofa.
“What did I miss?”
“Big Gums is going home.”
“About time, she’s rubbish.”
With that the two ageing stars turn their full attention back to their favourite TV show.

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