The Greatest Put Down in Television History

"All the _____ of a Reversing ____ _____ Without any _____ on."

The following forensic analysis will break down the single greatest moment in the history of the daytime television arts:

Legendarily sore loser, Peter Marsh, and his iconic dressing-down of fellow contestant, and culinary nemesis, Jane.  

Don’t worry if you haven’t seen ‘Come Dine with Me*’ or Peter’s unravelling of the scores - trust me, you’re in for a real treat.

*Come Dine With Me is a reality TV show where four perfectly awful personalities take turns at hosting a dinner party - then score each other’s overall hostship. This is the big reveal.

“In fourth place…” *wounded pause* “...is me.”

As Peter gets himself through to the end of that sentence, the heartbreak in his voice makes for pained listening. Here we can watch a man’s self-identity shattering in real-time - again and again, forever. A scan up the cue card reveals what, deep down, he already knew.

“You won Jane.”

Peter announced the result with all the fanfare of a will reading. Not so much as a hint of forced congratulation. All sportsmanship dropped on its head, he doesn’t consider announcing second or third. To Peter, it matters not.

“Enjoy the money, I hope it makes you very happy. Dear Lord, what a sad little life Jayne…”

There’s no nitpicking at her weak dessert or combative parlour games. Instead, Peter takes Jane’s behaviour over the 12 courses for a sorry indictment of her entire existence. 

“You ruined my night, completely, so you could have the money”

Did Jane really ruin Peter’s night? Don’t worry, we’ll get into that next week.

“I hope now you will spend it on getting some lessons in grace and decorum, because you have all the grace of a reversing dump truck… without any tyres on."

Now here it is. 

Please forgive me if my words feel crude and clumsy in the great man’s wake. Yet how could they not? 

For this is a swan taking flight on a rippleless winter’s lake; a young Biggie lost in the world of his own lurching flow; a blood-red tomato ripened by the Mediterranean sun.

All the beauty this life has to give, condensed into one miraculous put-down. Peter Marsh’s last stand is as good an argument for the existence of god as I’ve ever known. 

Cynically, I had always assumed Peter came with that nuclear comeback armed in his breast pocket. Because, surely not? Surely, he was up all night the night sassing out his frescoed ceiling.

However, my further viewing showed Mr March as a natural source of iconic bitchiness. Plus, his dinner party had only imploded minutes before. I now believe that TV gold was alchemised on the spot.

A man set ablaze by the pain and shame of a misunderstood pecorino salad. Marsh let loose a zinger that will continue to sting, long after he’s snipped his last retort. Backed into an imaginary corner, Peter goes scorched earth on his own lounge - incinerating everyone inside. Who's next? Let’s be having you. 

“I don’t get it,” says the blonde lady who, mercifully, is as lovely as she is dumb.

“Well, you wouldn’t, let’s be honest, there’s nobody in there, love”

Next, the exiled king of salty asides gives a pitch-perfect glance to camera.

As Peter barrels through the fourth wall, we understand that he’s putting on a show. He is a 50-year-old man acutely aware his greatest failure is unfolding before literal hundreds - and he’s taking them down with him.

But our pinstriped avenger has not yet had his fill. 

“So, Jane. Take your money and get off my property.”

Ice cold.

Or so it would seem at 40th glance. Only after rewatching all four acts of the episode did I see the truth. There’s a break in the final word of the rampaging Oxonian’s tirade. For all his withering bluster, he’s just a deeply hurt, middle-aged man on the brink of tears.

Forever remember Peter Marsh as the man who found the perfect words at the perfect moment. As he wept into his bottle-capacity wine glass that evening, there was no alternate script ringing in his ears. He said his piece, and it was majestic. 

For wrong or for right, Peter Marsh stood up for what he believed in: his innate superiority.

There are still so many questions unanswered. Why did a low-stakes cooking contest end in bloodshed? Who was in the right out of Peter and Jane? Did Jane really sabotage Peter’s evening? 

Sorry, I promise I’ll stop skimming along the surface and do a proper deep dive next week.