If I were the owner of a genuine steakhouse, that well-seasoned beast in which generations of South Africans have grown up, what this tells me is that none of the old-style steakhouses is likely to win one of these gongs if these big boys are allowed in the competition. The bar is set way too high for most of them, so doesn’t that defeat the object?

Tony Jackman pays tribute to the late Mark Swift, poet, journalist, romantic, womaniser, drinker, colleague and friend

Now everything is the new everything else, and there’s no end in sight, and that’s the problem with an out-of-control cliché. It’s off and running, which of course is itself a cliché, but then again “no end in sight” is one too, as is “of course”, so we’re all doomed.

There was a splendid lunch awaiting us at Vergelegen’s new Camphors restaurant, where PJ Vadas, formerly of a very impressive stint at the Roundhouse in the Glen, overlooking Camps Bay, is now ensconced. It is quite clear that by hiring this award-winning chef, Vergelegen intends taking Camphors to the top.

I enjoy single-malt whisky as much as I don’t enjoy being pushed off the road, and I am prepared to attempt to drink BMW drivers under the counter any day, just as long as it is on their tab. Having said that, obviously I would be ineligible to drink in the hallowed portals of a Beamer Lodge.

If it was the last night of the world, of my life, of your life, of all this, of everything, what would you dine on? What feast of the tastiest morsels of an interrupted lifetime of eating delicious things would pass your lips one last time?

The publishers of the Eat Out magazine have built the title and brand superbly for very many years, and have given us to believe that their awards represent the country, and therefore represent us. Unless they want to risk losing some of that hard-won success and brand recognition, they might want to reconsider a few things.

There’s a white gown and silly white towelling slippers in the locker. I change into them, feeling as foolish as an Earthling who has strolled into an experimental chamber on Battlestar Gallactica by mistake. One wrong move and humanoids will come in, tie me up and inject me with something luminous green that turns me into jelly. I am very grumpy and ready to run.

Far more interesting to watch was Jade, who seemed to be more of a potential chef than some of her fellow contestants, although the real reason we wanted her to stick around was in the hope she’d give in and explain to us how she managed to get a Dutch accent while growing up at the Cape. Sarel looked like some oke who had wandered off from his braai and on to the set of a cooking show and thought, “Ja, okay, I’ll do that instead of fixing the bakkie today”. Who knew he’d be able to turn out a gorgeous little cupcake? And would he ever be allowed back at the braai by his mates?