I hoped that we would soon see the back of Jamie Oliver, once a ubiquitous presence on television, as his youthful Golden Labrador-ish appeal waned and his mouth increasingly looked like something you’d find on the end of a fishing rod. But regrettably, like many of the cor blimey pretend meritocrats of his era – from David Beckham to Jonathan Ross – he has proved as determined to hold on to his place on the dung heap of fortune as any old landed toff. It seems the ceaselessly acquisitive Oliver clan want some more of whatever pie is being divided. Is the world ready for Buddy, his 12-year-old son, who has just been awarded his own BBC cooking show?
For a man whose USP was being driven by concern for poor children, this is a grotesque state of affairs
We’ve been here before when it comes to befuddled nepo babies crashing and burning among the Le Creuset cookware; two years ago the oldest of the Beckham brats had his own, mercifully discontinued, TV show Cookin’ With Brooklyn.
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