There are very, very few TV shows that I will sit through the intro for (these days it's only Game Of Thrones, I love the music and the graphics), and let me tell you, cooking competitions like Hell's Kitchen and Top Chef are at the bottom of that list.
The producers take their already not-ready-for-prime-time contestants and ask them to do dorky things like pretend their wooden spoon is a ninja pole or tap dance. Hell's Kitchen is always the worst, because the intro has a theme. This season its a Creepshow type thing, with a Halloweenish font and our heroes going through comic book adventures while their names pop up. You might get kicked off this show and called a donkey's ass, but you will forever live in the long, drawn out opening credits that everyone fast-forwards through.
Sad news: Gordon Ramsay has lost that hatin' feeling. It's gone, gone, gone. I'm tempted to say that he's phoning it in, which I can't really blame him for. He has about six shows he's always working on. But when the dinner service inevitably goes south, as it did this week, and when someone can't even make a bloody plate of bloody fish and chips, well, the veins on his neck no longer pop out. Then again, he does appear to have had work done; a neck-smoother perhaps?
On this episode the remaining chefs had to first identify all the parts of a pig and then prepare it. Astonishingly, everyone did well. Anton appeared to be a front runner; his food tastes fantastic even though it looks like "the dog's dinner," as Ramsay quipped. Then of course, as these things go, he fucked up on the line and was up for elimination with three others. No one was sent home though because this is the beginning of the Purple Period, that golden time when members of the Blue Team have to join members of the Red Team and vice versa. Not cutting anyone also means he can roll more than one head next week. In a kind way. Because he's nice now.