So obviously with things being as they are in the current world of tv watching and recapping I’ve not really got time to dedicate to full coverage of the charity spin-off of a minor reality sewing show. No time for Dave Myers being almost as bad at sewing as he is at dancing, except with fewer laboured food metaphors. No time for Gaby Roslin rampaging around yelling that she’s NEVER SEWED BEFORE and yet somehow turning out nigh-on perfect garment CHINNY RECKON. No time to discuss what Helen Lederer’s done to her hair or Louis Spence going on a righteous rampage over being put in the same heat as a PROFESSIONAL SEWER and tearing the legs off a child’s onesie, or to talk about all the deeply tragic ways I would bear Mark Watson’s children if I were in possession of a working uterus. No space even to talk about Edith Bowman’s perpetual runner-up melancholy, that somehow managed to equal Korto Momolu’s three series worth of almost making it, condensed into but one episode or how Gemma Cairney should have just given up and made everything into a head-scarf or even pondering who Dr Dawn Harper or Kathryn Flett are.
NOT EVEN PATRICK’S MOUSTACHE.
But what I do have time for, what I will always have time for, is to give a reality without a winner…erm…a winner. Imagine a final between the three heat winners, presided over by Heather, probably with a riding crop. Who won?