TV Dinners: How to make Gordon Ramsay

Ah yes, Gordon Ramsay, what to say? The guy who made swearing and throwing tantrums in a TV studio kitchen into his USP (but no cussin' on Hell's Kitchen USA - he's not stupid). The guy who once claimed not to be a celebrity chef, yet is hardly ever found where he's supposed to be: in the kitchens of his internationally renowned restaurant empire - too busy prancing about on international telly. The guy who got paid for endorsing the lovely Bramley cooking apples, then publicly (yupper - on telly...) declared that "these fucking apples taste of nothing!" The guy, in short, you love to hate. Too successful to ignore, too much of a great chef (he is - honestly), too preoccupied with winning everything he gets involved in (he usually does), too adversarial to be a reasonable person, too OTT...

Here's Jim Shelley's recipe to be a Gordon Ramsay in your own domestic kitchen...

1. Stand in front of the shiniest surface in your kitchen. Tuft up hair and apply blond highlights in the style of a pin-up from the 1980s. Footballer Frank McAvennie for example. Or Limahl.

2. Next, carve face with crevices so deep you usually only see them on programmes about the volcanic wastes of Iceland (not the supermarket). Gauge grooves into your forehead, cheeks and, most weirdly, chin, until you resemble a very worried, more muscular version of Engie Benji.

3. For no reason that is apparent, take your top off.

4. Bounce up and down outside the back door bristling with all the energy and eagerness of a dog with two dicks. Rub hands together even though it's not cold.

5. Re-enter kitchen shouting: "Fuuuuuuuck me!" and "Fucking hell!" as if you are so wounded you may be about to start crying. Scrape traces of yesterday's Sunday roast out of oven and threaten to shut down those responsible (your other half) because of the threat of food poisoning, MRSA and bubonic plague.

6. Start talking in short. Sharp. Commands. And end every sentence with the word "yes?".

7. Shout: "Come on, big boy!" and "Where's your bollocks?" to any male (or female) unfortunate enough to wander into the kitchen for a sandwich. Tell anyone who disagrees with you to go back to France -- even if they're not French.

8. Declare that from now on the kitchen will only be serving cheap, simple food (soup, salmon, cheese on toast), using only local produce bought from local farms -- even if you live in Croydon. Yes?

"Watch" last night kitchen nightmare with live commentary here...