On most reality shows the stakes aren’t very high. Yes, you might have to eat the odd koala anus, but that’s about as bad as the jeopardy gets. There is nothing that will do lasting damage. Reality shows simply aren’t real enough. The competitors on The Apprentice, for instance, aren’t real businessmen and women. Likewise, the contestants on The Great British Bake Off are just cuddly amateurs and the only thing they really have to lose is the will to live after the eighth take of a clunky innuendo. But on MasterChef: The Professionals the drama is real and terrifying because the contestants aren’t just being judged on their cooking, but their entire livelihood.



The horrible reality of this becomes wonderfully apparent in the very first challenge they have to face – the skills test. This is where the chefs, without prior warning, have to cook anything from ceviche to banoffee cheesecake while Marcus Wareing, Monica Galetti and Gregg Wallace scrutinise their every knife flick. It’s a setup that induces a state of shaking nervousness – and it’s quite tricky to chop a shallot when your hands are trembling. Because of this, almost everyone does terribly and chefs with decades of experience forget that a hollandaise sauce isn’t supposed to look like scrambled egg.

It’s not that what they say is particularly rude – although Marcus did once describe someone’s wild garlic velouté as “probably the most tasteless plate of food I’ve tasted”. It’s that they really mean it. There are no ridiculous zingers, just serious criticism. So when Monica tells a head chef from Northern Ireland that “you clearly didn’t know what you were doing”, you can see on the poor man’s face how much it hurts. To tell someone who cooks for a living that they can’t cook is probably enough to make them not want to go on living.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest A setup that induces a state of shaking nervousness … Marcus Wareing, Gregg Wallace and Monica Galetti scrutinise every knife flick of the contestants. Photograph: BBC/Shine TV

It’s almost sociopathic and if you can stand to watch it, you won’t be able to tear your eyes away. There’s nothing else like it on television. That forensic analysis of skill and the uncompromising standards the contestants invariably fail to attain make it the perfect antidote to those infantilised reality shows where you get feted for sitting on a sofa beside Lionel Blair for two weeks.

That sharp edge might be too much to bear if it weren’t for the unique presence of Gregg Wallace. Now, let me say right now that I love Gregg but, with all respect to him, he doesn’t seem a particularly complex man. You don’t get the impression that there’s much of an inner voice and, if there is, it’s just the Only Fools and Horses theme tune on loop. Because of this, all of his emotions find immediate expression on his face or escape out of his mouth. A chef forgets to hammer the meat for a steak diane and Gregg instantly looks as if he might vomit. Another chef describes his hazelnut, chocolate and caramel pudding and Gregg emits the excited squeak of a climaxing rodent. No one is quite sure how Gregg came to be on the show, but without him it would be missing a key ingredient.

MasterChef: The Professionals is incredibly difficult to win, there is no prize at the end and your entire identity is likely to be shattered by your heroes. To be a contestant, you have to be prepared to lose a lot, and that’s what makes the show so good. That, and the wondrous sight of Gregg Wallace unshackled from self-control and John Torode.