Celebrity chef Gordon Ramsay is as famous for his tempestuous nature as he is for his cooking. TOM JOHNSON met him on Thursday, as he signed copies of his autobiography Humble Pie, at Brent Cross shopping centre - and was soon on the end of a typical Ramsay tongue-lashing
"I don't hate journalists," barks Gordon Ramsay, "they just never f***ing get things right!"
Mr Ramsay is the man who has taken constructive criticism to new levels; the man who has perfected constructive venom. I find myself on the receiving end, doing all I can to dodge the sparks of expletives. Yet it had all begun in such a civil manner.
A line of fans snaked around the shopping centre as people waited to have their coipes of Humble Pie signed, take pictures and pay homage to the chef.
Ramsay sat proudly at the centre of a large, raised platform. His easy manner belied the two hefty guards that protected him from the latent threat of middle-aged women. The scene is encircled by the faithful of Brent Cross, eager enough to observe the circus but not, perhaps, to invest £18.99 in Ramsay's book.
When asked what she likes about him, Suzanne Purdie from Potters Bar, replied his language', and tittered. She paused to think and then added, more seriously, "You'd better say his cooking as well."
Ramsay has a diverse fan base - from young children and teenagers to Dwayne Delande, a mustachioed 40-something who braved the 30-minute queue twice, having forgotten to have his picture taken the first time. "They wouldn't let me back in," he said.
Ramsay spoke effortlessly and personably with each person in turn. With the men he was affable; with the women, flirtatious; the children he took a little longer to turn them from cowering and wary to collapsed in fits of giggles.
Then it was my turn.
"Have you ever f***ed a vegetarian, Tom?" He asked by way of an introduction. His disdain for journalists is clear and his face seemed to fill the room as he stared me down, pausing only momentarily from scrawling his name on another book cover.
It is a markedly different face from that offered to his fans, but one we have seen many times before on television - the furrowed brow that accentuates the deep lines in his face. He is in no mood for a polite chat; not with me anyway.
From talking to his fans, I put to him that they seem to admire him as much as a man like... "Well I should f***ing hope so," he interrupted. "I mean, I've got two b****cks and a..." As a person then? I interrupted back. He went on: "I meet a lot of people. A couple came into my restaurant the other day, and I found out the guy was going to propose. So I cooked them a lovely meal, and when they finished the desserts I went out with a bottle of champagne, said my congratulations, and the guy just looked up at me with his mouth wide open - he hadn't f***ing asked her yet.
"But I footed the bill and he asked her to breakfast the next day. My point is: we all make mistakes."
So does that mean he's mellowing with age? "Am I...? Am I f***ing mellowing? No, I keep going. It's cooking that keeps me going. Saturday and Sunday are mine, but the rest of the time it's work."
With that, the Ramsay bandwagon was on its way again, and I clutched my free signed copy - a present from the great man himself.
timesnews@london.newsquest.co.uk
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