As ever, the return of TV’s favourite toothache brings with it a lot of questions. Will last year’s custard theft be eclipsed by even worse dessert-based delinquency this season – perhaps a spot of soufflé arson or an obscene image hidden in a sponge cake? How much filthier can Sue’s innuendo-o-meter become before she’s just shouting, 'LOOK, SEX!' while squodging the filling out of a cream bun?
It’s a lot like going back to school after the holidays. Mary has a new blazer, Mel has a new fringe and the show has a new location in Berkshire (rumours they had to leave Somerset because Berry and the scrumpy got on a little too well are, as yet, unconfirmed).
READ MORE: The Absolute Filthiest Moments From Great British Bake Off History In GIF Form
So grab your kit bag and meet us at the tuck shop for another 10 weeks of baking triumph and disaster. All that extra pudding padding will come in useful because by the time we finish this beautiful journey, it’ll be October and we’ll be cold. Remember cold? No, I barely do either.
On a roll
This maybe primetime light entertainment, but there’s no age discrimination here! This year’s line up spans several generations, with both the oldest and youngest competitors to date – 69-year-old Diana and 17-year-old Martha – as well as the most heroically hairy. I’m not saying Iain’s definitely smuggling extra eggs in his facial thatch, but it seems a logical progression from that flowery beard trend.
The first signature bake is Swiss roll, which is a tough challenge. Partly because it involves rolling a light, fatless sponge into a perfect spiral, and partly because everyone knows Swiss roll is one of the top three most delicious cakes to buy for 99p from a newsagents and eat when pissed (the other two are almond fingers, and those filthy flapjacks with ‘yoghurt’ on top).
Barely a minute in, and already we have a candidate for this year’s Jumper Crumpet – Jordan, who is extravagantly tressed as well as extravagantly dressed, in what appears to be a knitted version of the Test Card. He’s singing a little song about cake to himself, while the internet informs me that Jordan likes to play Dungeons and Dragons, spins his own wool and has a pet sourdough starter named Yorick The Yeast. Actually, on second thoughts, we don’t have to choose this year’s Jumper Crumpet immediately.
Across the tent, Luis is using aniseed in his Swiss roll, because apparently Flavours Everyone Hates R Us was out of Parma Violets and tripe. Richard’s is going to be pink and flowery because 'he has two daughters' (get the man to Everyday Sexism, quick sharp!), Claire’s will have a whole chocolate tree on it, and pottery enthusiast Norman’s will be presented on a decorative skateboard he’s made himself.
Seasoned baker Nancy has remedied her failed hazelnut praline by blitzing it to a powder and pretending it was supposed to be like that all along. Genius! I plan to try the blitz-to-powder solution for all future mishaps, including typos, parking tickets and when my hair flicks off in a weird direction. VOOM. Problem gone.
And sadly, lovely beardy Iain’s attempt at scoring his sponge to help it roll better has backfired, causing his cake to crack and my brain to go 'AHAHAHA scooore AHAHA' for the next three minutes. Back come the judges, and Swiss neutrality’s nowhere to be seen.
Martha, who it is already clear will be the child prodigy our parents secretly hoped for but never got, has baked a perfect tiramisu roll, and Chetna’s coffee and cardamom flavours are a hit. Elsewhere, Enwezor’s roll is underbaked, Claire’s is over-orangey and Kate is on the receiving end of one of Berrywood’s most devastating critiques: 'dry'.
In the end, Richard is top of the class with his 'fantastic' floral creation – a sort of if-Cath-Kidston-did-carbs.
'I don’t know why I’m crying over cake,' sniffs Claire. The camera crew might be a clue there, love.
Cherry aid
Next, in a bake you suspect Sue Perkins might have lobbied for because it features not only popped cherries (HARR) and toasted nuts (FNARR) but great gloops of white icing dripping seductively down the sides (oh stop it, we’re pre-watershed), is the technical challenge: Mary’s cherry ring.
No sooner are the tins out than the disasters begin. Jordan, who is beginning to make Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory look quite the rock 'n' roller, has forgotten to save some cherries for decoration. Some have neglected to dry their cherries too, which means they’ll sink quicker than Paul’s morals on a work excursion.
'I don’t think the glaze should be very thick,' says Richard. 'I could be completely wrong, but you’ve got to go with your instinct.'
He is completely wrong. But at least he went with his instinct.
Time for the judging, and in line with Bake Off tradition, another year means another vaguely hilarious baking defect. Where series four had slack custard, this year we have ‘bottom cherries’! I think Boots have a cream for that.
Jordan’s disappearing fruit has landed him last place, while Nancy, who I already adore because she reminds me of someone Jim Broadbent would be married to in a film, comes top.
READ MORE: GBBO Is Back And 17-Year-Old Martha Is Our Fave Contestant
Tiers and tears
Before you know it, while I’m the only person in the land shouting, 'WHERE BE THE HISTORICAL LEARNING SEGMENT? I HAD A NOTEPAD READY!' at the TV, we’re onto the final round. The first showstopper challenge of the series requires a colossal 36 miniature cakes – enough to cater a Borrower’s hen party.
Norman is using his lucky wooden spoon, which 'has all kinds of flavours in it, from curry to rice pudding'. I have a spoon like that. You might call it lucky, Norm, but to the rest of us it’s just called ‘not being arsed to buy another spoon.’
In a move Marie Antoinette may have had mixed feelings on, Nancy’s brought in her own guillotine for precision cake-cutting. It’s been specially carved by her husband, which will be a déjà vu moment for anyone who remembers Christine’s home-hewn biscuit mould last year. These husbands and their woodwork! My boyfriend’s never so much as whittled me a twig.
Meanwhile, Luis and Jordan are both attempting mini lemon drizzle cakes with genoise sponge. It’s a drizzle-off! Pipettes at dawn! May the zest man win! Pith off! And while Diana may be the oldest baker in the competition, Norman is giving her a run for her nostalgic money – 'tuppence a pound of raspberries', to be exact, which in 1950s Moray was enough to buy a bungalow.
As judging approaches, the kitchen becomes frantic and the finishing touches are hit and miss. 'I’ve got the shakes, which is not good for cake' – but it IS good for poetry, Jordan! Time to chisel your lemon drizzle, for shizzle.
Paul and Mary can excuse many things, but ungainly dessert isn’t one of them, and Iain and Chetna are both scolded for their towering tiers. Having given her cakes the chop, Nancy is getting the opposite – she’s the first star baker of the series.
Meanwhile, Claire’s chaotic chocolate flops make her the first evictee, and the first recipient of a universally coveted Mel/Sue sandwich (Pret: take note). Cheerio, Claire! You may only have lasted a week, but you melted our fondant hearts.
Next week: Is it a bird? Is it a plane? It’s both of them, made out of biscuit! Oh, and the boring fascinating historical segment is back. Phew.
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This article originally appeared on The Debrief.