Let Them Tweet Cake.


Yesterday, I reached the dizzy heights of Twitter superstardom.  



It had to come around one day, let’s face it. It's a question of fate. When I vacated my mother’s womb in mid-1981, my social media turning point was predestined. He, whose He is spelt with a capital H (I'm referring to God) already knew that four years later, less than twenty miles from my birthplace, a girl would be born who'd discover a love for baking at twenty years old - and a decade later, I would comment on it. Such is the wonder of the Universe.

(…and now I’ll stop being a dick.)

I’m not surprised that my most popular tweet to date is about the Great British Bake Off; it was either that or Strictly Come Dancing. Despite going against my character – or 140 of them – I’m addicted to both shows. I like to watch people with skill (in the case of the GBBO contestants or the Strictly professionals) or people learning one (as in the Strictly celebs). I also love cake and Claudia Winkleman, so it’s no wonder I was suckered in.

I think Nadiya's fabulous, by the way. I hope she wins. My money’s on her or Tamal. If Ian lifts the coveted glass cake-stand, I’ll shake my fist at the BBC; the man owns guinea fowl, for Christ's sake.

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