Why Bake Off beat The X Factor – it reflects the values we hold dear in Britain

There must have been some misgivings at Channel 4 as to whether now was the right time to begin a new series of The Great British Bake Off. But, as so often over the past few days, in the end the right decision has been made: what a tonic, what a delightful dose of escapism, drowning in buttercream and positivity. No matter your opinions or disposition, The Great British Bake Off, a show about cake, is somehow both great and distinctively British.

We can endlessly debate what Britishness is, but not, surely, that GBBO offers up a pleasing slice of the national character. What’s on display here, just as it has been for the past 12 series, is an immensely likeable form of amateurism. That doesn’t just mean the baking, though episode one had its fair share of claggy catastrophes and multi-layered triumphs. (One of them precipitated by a baker forgetting to turn on the oven. I know your pain, Abdul.)

No, it’s also in the way the programme is made: from the opening sketch, a feast of daft Star Wars puns with “Prue-bacca” (judge Prue Leith) and “Darth Baker” (Paul Hollywood, inevitably) chewing the scenery, beneath the weight of a script dead set on reaching a “Flan Solo” punchline no matter what; to Noel Fielding and Matt Lucas’s whimsical interstitials and persistent Hollywood abuse. The Great British Bake Off is as quirky, manifold and at times delightfully silly as the country that gives it its name.

If the series were a baker on the show, it would be marked down for providing precisely zero originality. New contestants aside, series 13 is pretty much exactly the same as every previous Channel 4 series has been. It was mentioned at the beginning of the episode that we have moved back from the Essex-based, Covid-proofed tent of the past two years to the original tent in Berkshire but frankly, a tent’s a tent. Other than that, we’re in territory so familiar it rolls off the tongue: signature, technical, showstopper, Cuthbert, Dibble and Grub. Deadpan Noel, cheery Matt, prim Prue and perma-tanned Paul.

The spice in the pudding is provided by those new contestants, who this year are so unexpected, diverse, and far-removed from the pre-Bake Off cliché of the home baker as a stodgy white matron from a Hovis ad, that their infinite variety has almost become predictable. Maisam, for example, who is only 18, is originally from Libya, speaks five languages, is interested in still-life photography and has been baking since she was 13. She’s also really, really nice. They all are.

Remember Big Brother? Remember the Simon Cowell world of talent shows, that could have had Ayn Rand or Nietzche as an executive producer? Well, Bake Off is the antidote, and 13 series in, you’d have to say it’s the Bake Off/Strictly ideal of Britain – as illusory as it may be – that’s come out on top, at least in the TV ratings.

That’s probably why they decided to go ahead with the new series in the week after the death of Queen Elizabeth II: on television, at least, few programmes offer that feeling of constancy, reassurance, kindness and good humour that the Bake Off does. And on reflection, I quite like the Flan Solo joke too.