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Week 1: Cakes
Our last contestant this year is Jamie. A Manchester native, Jamie moved to London for work five years ago, and only recently picked up baking.
“Me stepdad’s always been a baker, so when I decided to pick up a hobby, it seemed a good idea, ‘cause I’d someone to ask for advice and stuff. Turns out, I’ve got a knack for it.” Jamie absently fiddles with his earlobe as he speaks.
In fact, the victoria sponge Jamie is making is a family recipe from his stepfather, featuring blueberry jam and orange whipped cream.
“So,” Paul says as he approaches Jamie’s workbench. “Blueberry jam? That’s a bit unusual. Blueberry can really overpower the delicacy of the cake.”
Again, Jamie fidgets as he speaks. “Yeah, but that's kinda why I like it, you know? Classic can be too sweet, and this gives it more depth.”
”And of course you have the citrus from the orange whipped cream to cut the blueberry.” Mary Berry interjects. “I think it sounds delightful.”
When tasting comes, Jamie’s sponge is met with enthusiasm from all parties. His technical doesn’t go as well, but by the end, Jamie sails through to the next week.
Baz turned to Paul and Jeremy, still trying to process what they just saw. “Am I mad, or is Jamie Tartt on Bake-Off?”
"Nah, mate. You’re not mad.” Jeremy paused. “Or we all are.”
Paul smiled and clapped the others on their shoulders. “Well, I think it’s great. Now, we already know who our favorite is.”
Baz brushed his hand off. “No, we don’t. We can’t support Tartt just because he’s a greyhound. This is Bake-off! We have integrity with our favorites.”
"Yeah, but did you see his crumb?” Jeremy added. “Plus, it was summer. All he had to do is basic conditioning and prep for the tent. He’ll kick ass.”
The three nodded in agreement, then raised their glasses. “We’re Richmond ‘til we die! We’re Richmond ‘til we die! We know we are, we’re sure we are, we’re Richmond ‘til we die!”
Week 2: Biscuits
For his biscuit showstopper, Jamie is making a recreation of his favorite football team, AFC Richmond. It will include the lockers, benches, and a center stand, plus open doors to the coaches offices and treatment room. He is using a classic shortbread for his base.
"Shortbread’s a bit of a risk for this, isn’t it?” Paul asks as he examines the partially assembled scene. “It’s a good bit crumblier than something like gingerbread.”
"Yeah, it is, “ Jamie agrees as he carefully slots a red locker into place “But this is for meaning, not just winning. Me boss’s boss is a bit prickly.”
He looks up, panicked. “Not that she’s a bad person, she’s pretty great, but she’s had some hard times that closed her off a bit, and this biscuit recipe, made fresh each morning, is how me boss helped connect with her and that helped make Richmond into what it is now. Not using Ted’s shortbread just … felt like a lie.”
Mary smiled as Jamie spoke. “What a sweet story. And it shows such an understanding of the power of baking to bring people together and forge bonds.”
Though a bit crumbly, Jamie’s locker room holds together, and the choice to do something harder but meaningful gets him star baker.
Rebecca downed her wine in rage, almost spilling merlot on her white couch. Almost. “Are you shitting me?”
She poured herself another glass of wine before grabbing her phone, somewhat pleased when it went right to voicemail. “Good evening, Jamie. I just saw the last episode of Bake-off, congratulations. I must say, I had no idea Ted gave you the recipe for his famous biscuits. He’s rather stingy with it. Would you be a doll and bake a batch for me Monday?” The “or else” was left unspoken but extremely clear.
She hung up and dialed another, more familiar number. “You utter bastard! How could you give the recipe to Tartt? Tartt! I’ve been begging for those biscuits for years, and nothing, but you’ll give them to him willy-nilly? You’ll pay for this!”
Rebecca tossed her phone back onto the coffee table before grabbing a pillow to scream into.
"Feel better, darlin’?” Her mustachioed man asked from the other side of the couch.
Slowly, Rebecca raised her head to glare at him.
"Take that as a no, and I’m guessing I’m sleeping in the guest room tonight.” Ted mused.
Her head nodded, almost of its own free will.
“Fair enough. I’m getting some ice cream, you want any?” He stood and headed towards the kitchen.
“Raspberry ripple, please.” She put the pillow back and before switching over to Netflix.
”Oh, and honey?” Rebecca glanced over at where Ted spoke from the doorway. “The reason I won’t give you the recipe is because if you can make them whenever, they won’t be a special gift from me to you.”
“Ugh!” The grunt of frustration was amplified as Rebecca threw her head against the back of the couch. “Damn that sweet and caring man! How am I supposed to be mad at that?”
Week 3: Bread
Mancunian native and London resident Jamie is doing a traditional Welsh bara brith for his signature bake, though with a bit of a twist on the shape.
“So,” Sue asks, watching Jamie carefully arrange the bara brith pieces into the right order, “why a rainbow? I’m certainly not complaining, but—“
“It’s not a common shape for tea loves.” Mel finished.
Jamie laughs as he grabs his next piece. “It’s an inside joke with a bunch of friends. Me mate, Colin, we work together, and he came out to a bunch of us a few months ago. And it was huge for him and us, because there’s not a lot of out blokes in our field. So, when he invited us to a Welsh pride event a couple months, we went all out. Rainbows, glitter, feather boas, body paint.”
“Sounds like my kind of party.” Sue mugs for the camera.
“Yeah, only it turns out there were a bit of a mixup.” Jamie turns sheepish as puts his bake in the oven. “End result was a bunch of dudes in glitter and rainbows at a serious rally for Welsh independence.”
There’s an awkward pause as Mel and Sue take everything in.
Mel breaks the silence. “In all fairness, I can see how that might happen.”
It took everything in him not to look at his boyfriend, but Colin did it. He was a strong and capable man who would not give his boyfriend the satisfaction of acknowledging his howls of laughter.
“Is that how you ended up covered in glitter when you claimed you were at a strip club?” Michael choked out in between laughs. “Your himbo friends tried to be supportive but got the wrong cause?”
At that, Colin gave his man a kick in the thigh. “Hey! They’re not himbos! I could have been clearer.”
Michael leaned over and took his hand. “Babe, I love you, but AFC Richmond are all himbos. You share one brain cell, and Sam has it most of the time.
"Besides,” Michael purrs out as he straddles Colin’s lap. “ I happen to like himbos. They’re sweet, and loving, and suck cock like a dream.” He followed that oddly romantic statement with a kiss that melted Colin’s brain, single cell or no.
They kissed languidly for a few minutes, but when Michael reached for his belt, Colin grabbed his wrist. “Hold on a minute. I don’t want to forget.”
He reached past his boyfriend’s legs to fish his phone out of his pocket and open Instagram. He quickly made a post with pics of Jamie from the rally, as well as some of the bara briths he’d brought over for him to taste and wouldn’t explain why (though Colin figured he knew now) before returning to the serious matter of his boyfriends’ dick.
Many congrats to Jamie for surviving week 3 of Bake Off, and thanks for his support as I show the world who I truly am. Of course, that mixup wouldn’t have happened if Wales was independent. #BakeOff #GayPride #WelshIndependence
Week 4: Desserts
Normally, the technical challenge is 24- year old Jamie’s biggest struggle. By his own admission, he’s mostly self-taught, which makes classic recipes more of a challenge. Sometimes, though, people get lucky.
“Yes!” Jamie cheers as he flips the recipe and quickly gets to work.
Mel and Sue approach, amused looks on their faces. “Well, this is certainly a different reaction that you usually have to technicals, Jamie.”
He grinned as he measured out his ingredients. “Yeah, well, someone did me a huge favor. A few weeks ago, me boss, Nate, had a bunch of us over to his for a housewarming and to meet his girlfriend, Jade. And I,”
Jamie pauses, looking ashamed. “I used to be a complete ass to Nate. No excuses, I were a right prick. But I’ve grown and he’s forgiven me. His girlfriend, though, she holds a grudge. And she’s proper scary. Got this blank glare that makes you feel like a worm. So mi vida suggested I make her favorite dessert, which is tiramisu!” He gestures at the table. “Honestly, I don't think I even need the recipe.”
Mel and Sue exchange quiet looks, clearly finding it hard to believe this sweet boy, with all of his friendship bakes, could be a prick to anyone. “ Do did it work?” Mel asks, gently.
"h, yeah!” Jamie nods as he mixes. “I’d made so many the week before for practice that by the time the party came ‘round, no one else wanted any, so she got the whole thing to herself. She actually smiled.”
Between his strong self-saucing puddings and a perfect technical, Jamie won star baker a second time.
Nate sighed and looked at Jade. She looked back at him, as if she had no idea why he was annoyed, despite the tiramisu she’d half-finished.
"Have you been scaring Jamie into making you tiramisu?” He finally asked.
"Maybe.” Jade took another bite. “How was I supposed to know he’s scared by my work face?”
"Everyone is scared of your work face, sweetheart.” Nate reminds her. “It’s why Rebecca keeps trying to hire you as her assistant. But darling, you didn’t even know him then.”
Another bite. “I know he was an ass.”
"So was I.” Nate grabbed her ankle on his lap and shook it gently. “If you want people to change, you have to let them. Besides, the new Jamie will still make you tiramisu. You just need to ask.”
Jade scoffed. “I doubt that.”
"Oh, for sure. He’s always bringing in things. It’s driving the nutritionist nuts.” He shrugged. “But we always have good snacks around the office now.”
Jade sat up. “Always? Always some fresh treat, for everyone? Even the lowly staff?”
Nate gave a quick nod. “Especially them. Sarah makes sure of it, because if the office staff eats everything, the players can’t.”
Jade had a calculating look in her eye. “Could you hand me my mobile? I think I might take Ms. Welton up on that offer.”
Week 5: Pies and Tarts
Once again, our favorite Mancunian is letting his signature bakes be inspired by his friends. This week, he’s making a custard tart recipe originally crafted for a birthday surprise.
“A chocolate caramel custard tart? I don’t think I’ve heard of that?” Mary leans over to examine Jamie’s two pots of custard. “And you’re not mixing them together?”
“Nah, because Isaac, who I made it for in the first place, he loves rolos.” Jamie explains as he stirs his custard. “So I made a chocolate shell, and then swirl the two custards together, so it’s chocolate and caramel, not chocolate caramel.”
“So it’s more like the candy.” Mary nods as she assesses the bake. “Caramel custard can be a bit tricky, but I think if you’ve got that down, it should be a jolly good bake.”
”I think I’ve got it pretty well.” Jamie shrugs. “Isaac definitely liked it. He was so happy, he gave me an extra haircut.”
Though once again faltering on the technical, the perfect artful swirls and smooth custard got Jamie through to the next week.
Isaac could feel the glares from the rest of the team as the most recent episode of Bake-Off finished. Jamie had given permission to leave, as he didn’t like watching himself, but the rest of the team had universally agreed on Bake-off for movie night. Which would have been fine, if Jamie hadn’t opened his big mouth.
“So, an extra haircut.” The betrayal in Colin’s voice cut deep. “I didn’t know that if you sucked up enough, you might get an extra haircut.”
“I was also unaware of this possibility.” Sam added.
"It’s an Illuminati conspiracy!” Cried Bumbercatch.
As one, the team yelled out “Fine!” Toward the Swiss.
Isaac pointed at him. “You know the rules, no claiming things are conspiracies just because you don’t like them.”
Bumbercatch shrugged. “Yeah, that one’s fair.”
"As for the rest of you.” Isaac spoke as he climbed on a chair. “My haircuts are a privilege, to be given not just when earned, but when needed. Jamie had not used a haircut in two years, and was going to confess his feelings to someone he’d been in love with for two years, swallowing it down not because he had to, but because he felt unworthy of their love in return but could do so no longer. He was a man walking to his execution, unable to lie but convinced he would be rejected and alone, again.”
The team sat, quiet, mulling over Jamie's actions in the last year— his self-imposed punishments, his placing himself last.
"Now, I knew his love would be returned, but I could not send him to have such an important conversation looking like a kicked dog. So I gave him a haircut, so he might approach his man with the confidence and hope such endeavors should begin with. And it worked! We all know how happy they’ve been!”
“Too fucking true.” Colin muttered. “I’d like to remind everyone that hotel walls are thin and we don’t all have our boyfriends with us!”
"That would probably work better if you weren’t talking to Dani, Richard, and Jan Maas.” Sam mused.
The three men just smiled at the rebuke. They were lucky, they knew it, and they planned to enjoy it.
"So I will not apologize for giving Jamie an extra haircut. Besides, that tart was fucking incredible. Like a rolo custard. Now, everyone, off to bed. And Jan, please make sure you and Richard are far away from Jamie and Dani’s room. We don’t need another round of team orgy rumors.”
Richard gave a lascivious grin.
“NO!!!!!” The entire team shouted in unison before he could open his mouth, Jan most emphatically.
"I do not share.” The tall Dutchman growled, dragging his boyfriend with him.
" Je sais.” The Frenchman’s grin only grew.
Isaac sighed and headed over to Beard. “Coach, we should probably leave an extra- big tip for the cleaners.”
He pulled out a wad of hundred-pound notes. “Way ahead of you.”
Week 6: Alternative Ingredients
While most bakers have turned to vegan recipes for their gluten-free miniature cakes, Jamie has gone in another direction.
"Me mate Sam is Nigerian, and owns a Nigerian restaurant.” Jamie explains. He turns to speak into the camera. “Ola’s in Richmond, absolutely fantastic, fully recommend. But I had shaku shaku there for the first time and I loved it. I convinced his girlfriend, Simi, the head chef, to teach me how to make them.”
Paul examines Jamie’s fairly bare work table. “It’s a pretty simple recipe, it looks like.”
Jamie nods as he works the dough. “Oh, definitely. Which kind of makes it harder, because when there’s not a lot to it, it’s real easy to fuck up, and if I fuck it up, Simi will probably kill me. I keep half-expecting her to pop out behind a counter and tell me I’m doing it wrong.”
When he brings his tray of shaku shaku up, Jamie is visibly nervous. He bites his nails as Paul and Mary try one.
“Mmm!” Mary cries out. “That is absolutely scrumptious. The texture is quite velvety.”
Paul nods in agreement. “The coconut flakes add an interesting texture, and I love the addition of the shredded mango. Absolutely incredible.
Mel and Sue try one for themselves. “That is damn tasty.” Sue sighes she tastes it. “I’d definitely say you’re safe from murder.”
“Good work, everyone!” Simi told her staff after an insanely busy Monday night. “Go home, get some sleep, and try not to die before tomorrow.”
“Yes, Chef!”
Simi collapsed into a booth, almost knocking over her boyfriend. “Why on earth were we so busy tonight? It’s Monday! No one tries new places on Mondays.”
"I think we can blame Jamie for that.” Sam rubbed her shoulders. “He mentioned Ola’s on Bake Off. We’re fully booked for the next three months.”
Simi sighed as she relaxed into Sam's strong hands. “That does explain all the orders for shaku shaku. Which he didn’t fully disgrace himself making.”
“Speaking of, my angel,” Sam murmured into her ear, “would you please text Jamie and tell him that? He’s apparently concerned you’re going to kill him for adding mango.”
“It is not traditional! But it is Bake Off.” Simi allowed. “You can’t rely on just the basics, even if the basics are perfect.”
“You’re a very generous woman.” Sam murmurs, allowing his hands to drift downwards from her shoulders.
She sighed again, content in the contact. “Fine.” She fished out her phone and opened her twitter. Sam’s tweet was the first one she saw.
So proud to see @JamieTartt showcasing Nigerian cuisine on Bake Off. Remember that food is a way to see the whole world!
Simi quickly retweeted it before adding her own.
@JamieTartt the shaku shaku were acceptable. You will not face punishment today.
Week 7 : Pastry
Jamie, a Manchester native relocated to London, is again going for an international inspiration. For his savory parcels, he’s making Mexican empanadas.
“So,” Paul says as he approaches Jamie’s table. “Tell me about your Mexican empanadas.”
”Erm, so, mi vida is from Guadalajara, and I know he really misses the food, but he can’t cook for shit. Like, set the ‘house on fire trying to boil eggs’ can’t cook.” Jamie says as he cooks his beef, adding plenty of cumin, paprika, and chili powder. “So, one day, when Dani was feeling really homesick, I looked up some Mexican recipes to see if it could help. It took a few tries and some help from his mum, but these meet his approval.”
Jamie’s spicy baked empanadas are a sensation, though they do end up a little too hot for Mary and Mel. Still, he easily gets through to the next week.
Jamie stands by a tree, again fiddling with his earring as he speaks. “I feel really bad about that. Normally Dani is always complaining that I don’t add enough spices to things, so I figured making them the way I like would be fine.”
Jamie let out an “oof” as a throw pillow hit him in the face. “Fuck’s that for?”
He move the pillow to see his boyfriend pouting adorably at him. Dani didn't mean to pout adorably, it just happened. He does everything adorably. Even be angry.
”You told the whole world I cannot cook!” He crossed his arms, before picking up their cat. “Even Cesto thinks you’re mean.” The tuxedo cat stretched gently before settling on his papi’s lap.
“First of all, Cesto thinks you’ll give him treats, which you will.” Jamie replied. “Second, you can’t cook and you did nearly burn the place down trying to boil eggs. The fire brigade has the selfies to prove it.”
Dani sighed, giving their baby a scritch under his chin as he did so. “Still, I am embarrassed. My mama tried to raise modern men who didn’t depend on a partner, and now they know she failed. That I failed.”
At that, Jamie got up and snuggled into Dani’s shoulder. “Hey, no one thinks that. Swear down!” He added at Dani’s skeptical look. Jamie grabbed his tablet and opened Twitter.
“See, all anyone sees is one person who has a thing he just can’t fucking do, and a very sweet partner who’s happy to fill that gap. Among others,” he adds with a leer a grab of his boyfriend’s very fine arse.
”Fine. And you do make very good empanadas.” Dani gave in and gave Jamie a kiss. “Although that's not all that's on Twitter. Apparently there’s also people who are convinced we are just flatmates. Or that I’m a woman.”
“How the fuck that’d happen?” Jamie frowned as he scrolled, dismayed to see Dani was right.
Dani shrugged. “Maybe if you called me your boyfriend instead of su vida…”
Jamie glared. “Boyfriend is for children and people who ain’t sure. You are not my boyfriend. You’re the moon in the darkness and the warmth in the cold. You’re my life, mi vida.”
Dani gave him a fond smile. “You incurable romantic.” He leaned forward and gave Jamie a sweet kiss. “Is that your way of saying you want to watch The Old Guard ?”
Jamie grabbed Dani’s hair and dragged him in for another kiss, this one much filthier. “Actually, it's my way of saying we should shag like mad, which you know they did after killing everyone in the van.”
After dislodging Cesto with an irritated “mrrumph”, they headed upstairs to do just that.
Week 8: Patisserie (Quarterfinals)
This weeks technical challenge is the savarin, a variation on the rum baba. Created in Paris in 1848, this will surely prove a difficult bake for all of the contestants, who haven’t even heard of them… with one exception.
"Thank you, Richard!” Jamie cries as he pumps his fist in the air. “I owe him so many macarons for this.”
Mel and Sue quickly sidle up to Jaime as he gets to work. “ I take it that you’ve seen one of these before?”
Jamie nods. “Yeah, and by dumb fucking luck, too. Me mate Richard asked me to make some for his and his boyfriend's first anniversary. Said it was the perfect dessert for the two of them.”
"Oh, are they both French?” Mel asks.
“Nah. Richard is, “ Jamie says as he measures flour, “but Jan’s Dutch. I’m pretty sure they used ‘em as edible cock rings, but I didn’t ask.”
"Can’t say I would have, either.” Sue adds.
Jan sighed as his boyfriend ranted angrily in French. Most people think of French as a romantic language, but Jan knew perfectly well that its true power lay in anger. When Richard finally paused to draw breath, Jan intervened.
“Why are you so mad?” He asked, a single eyebrow raised. “It’s not as if Jamie was that far off from the truth.”
“Yes, it is!” Richard cried indignantly. “Now the whole world thinks I am so pedestrian as to have my boyfriend eat pastry off my dick!”
Jan rolled his eyes. ”When the actual answer of using them to display a series of new dildos is much more sophisticated. In all honesty, why are you so upset?”
Richard pouted, before flopping over into Jan’s lap. “Because I planned an incredibly special and romantic night for your birthday next week, which would have made the most wonderful coming out announcement, and now it’s ruined. I am sorry, my love.”
Jan just shrugged. “I don’t really care. Not that you planned a wonderful evening, I care about that very much” he specified at his boyfriend hurt face, “but I don’t care how people find out about us. I just want them to know, so I can drag you off when you start flirting with people without needing an excuse.”
"You do like dragging me off.”
"Because you flirt with everyone with a pulse.”
Richard sat up and ran his tongue up Jan’s neck. “But how else will I get you so jealous you leave bruises that last for weeks?”
"You don’t, because the trainers get upset with me.” Jan shot back, but he caved when Richard sucked over that one spot that drove him crazy, then bit down hard. “But you know what, fuck them.”
He stands up, hoisting his boyfriend as he does so. Richard loops his legs around Jan’s waist with the ease of practice. “No, my love. Fuck me.”
Week 9: Chocolate (Semifinal)
For Jamie’s showstopper, he’s doing a triple layer dark chocolate cake with strawberry jam and whipped cream, with a chocolate mirror glaze and more strawberries on top.
”Well, this certainly looks like quite the challenge.” Mary comments after Jamie details his plans. “Dark chocolate can be quite tricky to bake with. It’s very easy for it to go from dark to bitter.”
“Yeah, which is why I’m real glad I’ve got this to use as a last dry run before the real thing.” Jamie agrees.
At this, Paul stops, confused. “I’m sorry, did you say that the showstopper semi-final is the dry run for this cake?”
“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” Jamie answers absentmindedly. “This is the cake I’m making for a friends engagement party next week. Keeley, me ex, and Roy, me boss, have both had some shit, but they’re finally together and in a good place, so we’re all happy for them and going all out.”
“Just to clarify,” Mary says, in her calm, patient voice, “this is the practice run for your ex-girlfriend and boss’s engagement cake?”
“Absolutely. Keeley and I are better as friends anyway. She’s the one who helped me work though realizing I’m bi.” Jamie says offhandedly. Anyway, I designed this cake just for them. Roy’s all dark and broody, so, lots of dark chocolate, satisfying but best in smaller doses. And Keeley, she loves pink and is sweet as hell, so that’s all the strawberry jam and whipped cream, which I made sweeter than I’d usually do. So alone either part is a bit much, but together—
“They should balance out perfectly.” Mary smiles as she speaks. “Like your friends do?”
Jamie gives a big smile. “Just like Roy and Keeley.”
Buoyed by his flawless showstopper, Jamie wins star baker for a third time.
Keeley couldn’t help but kick her feet and smile at the telly. “Aww, babe, how incredibly sweet was that? Jamie thought our engagement party was more important than the Bake Off semi-finals.”
“I thought you were still mad at him for not telling you he was on it in the first place?” Roy asked, a nail polish brush held aloft. “And try not kick, I haven’t finished you left foot yet.”
Keeley put her foot back in his lap, grateful for her fiancé’s help now that bending over was getting a bit difficult. “Oh, I still am. Sure, I’ve gotten some good press for Richmond now, but nothing compared to what I could have done with prep time. But I thought he used chocolate and strawberries because it was romantic. But it was specifically for us and who we are as people— Ooh.”
Keeley winced and pressed a hand to her belly; Roy following her hand worriedly. “Everything ok? Do I need to ring the midwife?”
She waved him off. “No, just your bloody footballer child using my ribs for practice. I mean, I’m not surprised, but I’m not thrilled.” She adjusted carefully, trying to get maximum back support. “Why can’t she be a future page 6 girl like me and sit quietly?”
Roy nearly dropped the nail polish. “She?”
Keeley nodded. “She. Little bastard finally sat in the right position at my appointment today.”
“Fuuuuuuck”. Roy exhaled. “A girl? We’re gonna have a daughter?”
Keeley looked over at him, worry all over her face. “Are you disappointed? We never really talked about that, but I figured you’re so close to Phoebe that—“
Roy leaned over and cut her off with a kiss. “I’m fucking thrilled. Boy, girl, enby, something else, I will love all our kids no matter what.” He sat back and picked up the pink nail polish again. “I’m just concerned that a Jones-Kent girl with Rebecca Welton for a godmother will destroy the fucking world.”
Keeley thought about it for a moment. “You know what, that’s fair. But what a fucking world she’ll make after.”
They both burst into giggles. “Pink everywhere, like Barbie.” Roy declares.
“And lots of cake from Uncle Jamie!” Keeley giggles.
Week 10: Final
“I still can’t believe I’m the finals.” Jamie says as he works the sugar for his piece montee. “I didn’t think I’d end up in the tent, let alone have a shot at winning. I just though it’d be a laugh or summat.”
Jamie is once again returning to AFC Richmond for his final showstopper. His pi è ce mont è e is a recreation of the Dog Track, the famous stadium, with several people filling it out.
“We’ve got Ted, Beard, Roy, and Nate on the sidelines, obviously. Ms. Welton, Keeley, Simi, and Jade over in VIP. Paul, Jeremy, and Baz, our biggest supporters, in the stands. And the lads on the field, Isaac, Jan, Colin, Richard, Sam, Dani, Bumbercatch, Zoreaux, O’Brian, and I’m just there.”
Jamie points out every member of the team in turn, carefully arranged in a mock scrimmage as the other figures “watch”.
Mel and Sue exchange careful looks. “Jamie,” Mel begins, “At the risk of sounding incredibly stupid,”
“Do you play for Richmond?” Sue finishes.
He looks up, surprised. “Erm, yeah. Number 10.”
“Why didn’t you ever mention that?” Sue asks, baffled. “You brought up Richmond, and your friends and all, but why not that you’re a footballer?”
“Never came up, did it? Jamie asks with a shrug. “Richmond is me home, and everyone else is me family. That’s what really matters when I’m baking, not that I’m the teams second-leading scorer. Mi vida’s first, obviously.”
After a long deliberation, the winner of The Great British Bake Off is announced as none other than Jamie Tartt.
“Tell you what,” Paul says as he shakes his hand, “if football doesn’t work out, you’ve got a great future in baking.”
“And if not,.” Mary hands him the winners cake stand, with Jamie accepts with a smile and a kiss on Mary’s cheek. “You’re definitely an inspiration to home bakers, which is the whole point.”
“Thanks very much.” Jamie says with a blush. “But I figure if sommat happens to me, I’ll just play trophy husband to mi vida. Make all the WAGs jealous with me mad kitchen skills.”
At that, he waves Dani over, to join them in his victory photos. Cesto in his harness is brought too.
“You know,” Dani smiles as he hands Jamie Cesto, “you have to be my husband to be my trophy husband.”
Jamie grins back. “Sounds good to me.”
The Dog Track broke into cheers so loud that it almost beat Richmond’s promotion, or their Premiership victory.
People sceamed and hugged strangers. Cries of adulation were heard a block away. And a bottle of champagne was popped as Jamie Tartt was hoisted onto his teammates shoulders.
“Bake Off Watch Party at the Dog Track.” Rebecca shouted to Keeley, barely audible over the din. “Truly one of your best ideas.”
“Nah, it was pretty obvious once it became clear that the fans were behind him all the way. Plus, Jamie used the cake stand for the baby shower, so I knew he won.”
“I’m just amazed he managed to keep it all a secret.” Rebecca mused as she ate her biscuits. “He’s normally an open book.”
Keeley smiled as she watched Jamie drink from the champagne bottle before handing it over to Dani. “Sometimes, you want to keep something good to yourself.”
“And sometimes”, she said as she watched Jamie get one one knee, “you want to tell the whole world.” At least this time, they gave her a proper warning.
@DaniRojasRichmond
@Jamie Tartt might have won Bake Off, but I won him! #bakeoff #twoaces #AFCRichmond