Like many of my fellow countrymen, I have been seduced into watching the television show Master Chef Australia. The premise is very simple; a handful of would be chefs are pitted against one another. They cook, they are judged on their creations, contestants are eliminated until finally they have a winner – ‘Australia’s first Master Chef.’ (There is prize money, potentially the opportunity to start their own restaurant, and a cookbook deal for the winner.)

Over time you encounter dishes you may have never seen before. You learn tips about cooking and food presentation. You come to bond with the contestants. You find some annoying, others inspirational. You have your favourites.

The thing that really struck me though watching the show was the language that is used by the contestants. You constantly hear things like “I’m cooking for my life” and “My life depends on this” and “This is a matter of life and death.” You can imagine my disappointment then when upon elimination not a single contestant was shown to the firing squad.

Of course it helps to remember that these people are aspiring chefs. They’re not aspiring writers or aspiring orators. The show has spawned a collection of unintentionally hilarious remarks from the contestants and judges alike. I think my personal favourite was when contestant Andre, having prepared his ‘romantic’ themed dinner, suggested that that was “literally my heart on a plate.”

Language issues aside, this really highlights the un-reality of so-called ‘reality television.’ These contestants find themselves in such a unique position that their very concept of reality is dramatically skewed. (I think you would be hard pressed to find a working chef anywhere in the world who would be required to cook one or two dishes a day and then await the verdict on the dishes and their career prospects.) But the contestants on Master Chef Australia seem to be slightly different to the contestants on other ‘reality television’ shows. Despite the verbal gaffs, they seem to be genuinely thankful for any experience they can garner. They have bonded with their fellow contestants so much that they feel genuinely disappointed when a friend leaves the competition. When people leave the competition they are philosophical. I suspect this reflects the ages and maturity levels of the contestants on this show.

This is a vast contrast to the likes of Australian Idol (the Australian variant of American Idol) and So You Think You Can Dance. Contestants tend to be much younger, less experienced. They tend to internalise the hype and rhetoric of the shows, the belief that ‘this’ is their one last opportunity to impress the world and that if they fail to impress the judges their life – or at least career – is over. You could be forgiven for thinking that upon elimination from these shows contestants have their voice boxes removed and legs broken.

Success on such a show does not guarantee career success. Indeed once a fickle television audience no longer sees you on television every day of the week they may very well forget you as quickly as they discovered you. But similarly failure to be deemed ‘the best’ in the context of a competition is not an indication of career failure. Use ‘life and death’ metaphors if you must, but abstain from attaching ‘literally’ to every panicked thought.