The year is 2192. The British Prime Minister visits Brussels to ask for an extension of the Brexit deadline. No one remembers where this tradition originated, but every year it attracts many tourists from all over the world.
I remember when Bake Off started thinking ‘who the bloody hell is going to watch a bunch of randoms bake a cake?’ Ten series later and I’m sat on the edge of the sofa like “Jesus Christ!? if Mick tries to ice that Genoese sponge while it’s still warm he has absolutely fucked it.”