Kitchen Nightmares (2007–2014): Season 2, Episode 8 - Jack's on Waterfront - full transcript

- [Gordon] When I first
visited Bonapartes,

the restaurant was in
dire straits.

New owner Sue Ray had
sunk everything into it.

- It's frustrating the hell
out of me at the moment,

'cause I'm going nowhere.

- [Gordon] The customers
were nowhere to be seen.

How many is booked?

- None, Gordon.
- Nothing at all, no?

Chances of walk-ins, perhaps?

- Slim.

- [Gordon] The kitchen
was down to two staff,



and the money had
nearly run out.

I went in to identify
the problems,

to find out if the
market was there.

How much would you pay for that?

- Well, you wouldn't pay a lot,
would ya?

(laughing)

- If the team were
pulling together.

He can't even take a
fucking penalty!

And if the head chef was
clued up enough.

You're taking the piss,
are you not?

I have just one week to try

and make a constructive
impact on Bonapartes.

- The honeymoon's over.

We've got to start
making profit now.



(knife slashing)

(knife whooshing)

(knife slashing)

Next to its posh neighbours,
Ilkley and Skipton sits Silsden,

a little working class town

yet to make its mark on the
culinary map of Britain.

Lots of fish bars and cafes.

Quite a quaint little place,
little small Yorkshire town.

Bonapartes Wine Bar and
Restaurant on the high street

was taken over by its current
owner just over two years ago.

In her time, Sue Ray has
sold everything

from donkey rides to
cabinetry wall installation,

but the restaurant business
is totally new to her,

and so far, the locals
aren't biting.

Good afternoon.

- Good afternoon.
- Sue?

- It is, yes.
- How are you?

- Hi, pleased to meet you.
- Likewise.

So, how's it going?

- [Sue] A bit quieter today.

- [Gordon] How many did
you have in for lunch?

- About two.
- Two, really?

- That's it.
- And last night?

- Last night I think we did
only two again, that's all.

- [Gordon] Two customers
the whole night?

- Two customers the whole night,
yeah.

Unfortunately, it's just dying
a death, an absolute death.

- [Gordon] The stark truth is
that two thirds of restaurants

don't survive passed their
first birthday,

and as things stand,

Sue's in danger of adding
to those statistics.

As a last resort,

she's placed all her trust
in a 21 year old head chef.

Together they believe
that fine dining

will guarantee Bonapartes
a brighter future.

- It's like being an artist,
do you know what I mean?

You start from nothing
and create something,

so I think that's why I
love being a chef.

- [Gordon] From a humble start

five years ago washing dishes,
Tim has had a meteoric rise.

- Obviously I would like

a couple of restaurants,
maybe three.

It would be in Leeds and London,

New York, you know,
wherever, just big cities.

So, that's my main ambition,

and obviously to make a
lot of money.

- [Gordon] Tim's ultimate
dream is to become a TV chef.

- Put Parmesan for this one.

- [Gordon] But for now,

he's embracing his first
opportunity to run his own
kitchen.

And how did you find Tim?

- He found me.

He knew I'd been struggling
with chefs and lack of them,

and he's very ambitious.

- He must be fucking good if
he's a head chef at 21, right?

Either that or he's a
fucking good bullshitter.

- Yeah! (laughs)

- Tim.
- Pleasure to meet you, sir.

- Likewise and?
- Cheers, pleasure, Lee.

- Lee.

So you're the head chef?
- Yeah.

- And you're the...

Well, you're obviously
gonna be the second chef,

there's only two of you!

(laughing)

Busy lunch?

- No.
- No?

- Absolutely not, no way.

- I didn't think so,

when you're standing their
twiddling your thumbs, no?

Sue's food takings are a
dismal 200 pound a week.

She should be clearing
at least 10 times that,

but she's not even
covering Tim's wages,

let alone food costs
and overheads.

Chefs can't get excited

unless there's
customers to cook for.

I'll never know how
good they are

unless there's any customers
in the fucking restaurant.

Tim, how many's booked?
- None, Gordon.

- Nothing at all, no?
- No.

- Chances of walk-ins perhaps?
- Slim.

- I want to see you under a
little bit of pressure tonight.

- [Tim] Right.

- It's five to six.

I want you to get out
on the street,

go knock on a few doors, and
invite some locals to dinner.

Get your coats on and fuck
off for some customers.

- [Tim] Absolutely.

- [Gordon] If the customers

won't come in of their
own free will,

these two young chefs are gonna
have to go and drag them in.

- [Tim] Excuse me?

We'd like to invite you
for a free meal.

- [Gordon] Fine dining requires

the ultimate presentation,
surroundings, and service.

- I've just had one, thank you.

- [Tim] You've just had one?

- [Gordon] But most of all,
it requires faultless food.

- I'm going, I'm going.

- We just need the people
coming in now.

It's like a big cake.

You've got all the ingredients,
and you can mix it.

You've just gotta find

the right consistency
to make it rise.

- You'll go?

Okay, I'll see you there.

- [Both] Cheers.

- [Gordon] The reputation of
this place can't be that great.

Even with free food and the
fine dining menu on offer,

he's only managed to
pull in 11 guests.

For any head chef, this
would be a walk in the park.

- First order, two pigeon.

Main course, one venison,
one brill.

- Okay, no problem.

- Where do the tickets go?

- Well, I just put 'em there,

because we never really
get enough to worry about.

- Oh, fuck me.

Well, that's nice.

Who's doing what?

Who's doing the fish?

- I'll do the fish.

- And what would you like
to do tonight?

- I'll do venison?

- What I'm trying to say,

is how the fuck do you
organise your kitchen?

Lee, take care of the
hot starters,

I'll do the cold starters.

You do the fish, I'll
do the meat.

We'll jump onto the
puddings together.

- [Tim] Usually Lee will stand
here and I'll do this one.

- [Gordon] Right.

- And when I'm not
doing anything,

then I'll just jump on and help.

- You know how to organise?
- Within reason.

- Within reason, okay,
here we go.

- [Tim] Where did you
put the red board, Lee?

- With the first orders in,

now I can really see what's
going on in the kitchen.

(metal clanking)

What was that?

- I just trashed a
load of bowls.

- You're gonna baste on
the bread first, don't you?

- Yes.

- Nevermind fine dining,

they can't even get
the bread right.

It's fucking frozen.

Put it back in the oven.

Are the pigeons ready?
- Yes.

- We're about to put
them in the bin,

because the bread's frozen,
the pigeons are cooked,

and the fucking bread's
not even out of there,

and if you toss that
fucking cabbage once more,

I'm gonna ram it up your ass,
okay?

Even when the kitchen's busy,

you should be looking
to get the starters out

within 10 minutes of
receiving the order.

- Thank you very much.

- These poor souls have
waited half an hour

for their pigeon breast
with mushroom ravioli,

and that's not the only problem.

- [Gordon] Tim, you
made the ravioli, yeah?

- [Tim] Yes.

- [Gordon] It's burnt!

Can you not taste that there?

- No.
- Smell it then.

You honestly can't
taste that burn?

- Now that you point it out,
yeah.

- Go and shit in the bin.

This is really worrying.

A head chef who can't even
taste his own food's burnt.

He's not gonna win any prizes

for his control of the
kitchen either,

and there's only two of
them in here.

(both chattering)
(microwave beeping)

- I need it today.
- Okay, can you hear that?

- Yeah, yeah.
- Hold on, hold on!

The buzzing, the buzzing
in the background,

that's the veg in the microwave

that should've gone with the
main course four minutes ago.

(exhales)

Come on, Tim, get the
fucking things out!

Desperate to keep her
staff costs down,

Sue has got her hands full
running the bar upstairs,

and seems blissfully unaware

of the farce that's taking
place in the basement.

The kitchen's a disaster.

A disaster beyond belief.

The blind leading the blind,

and the left arm not knowing
what the right arm's doing.

You want 50, 60 seats
filled down there,

and they've got 11
customers in for dinner,

and up to their eyeballs
in the shitter.

I mean, real shit.

- I don't know, all I know
is I'm not making money,

so I don't know what they're at

or where they're coming from.

- But it's Sue's business,
and she should be in charge.

Look at the fucking mess.

I've never seen such
hard work for 11 guests.

It doesn't make you feel good,
does it?

- [Tim] No, not really.

(light instrumental music)

- I've got just one week

to make a constructive impact
on Bonapartes, but by day two,

I'm clutching at straws to
find any positives to build on.

Sue lacks focus and has
clearly lost control.

The kitchen's such a tip,
it's a health hazard,

and worst of all,

the head chef and his mate
just aren't up to scratch.

I must be missing something.

Gentlemen, Tim, signature dish?

- Scallops.

- Scallops, I can't
wait to see it.

Nearly every
successful restaurant

has a dish that it's
renowned for.

I'm hoping that by cooking his,

Tim will produce
something truly memorable,

something truly worthy of a
place with a fine dining menu.

(sizzling)

That's your signature dish,
which is?

- Scallops with
deep-fried Parma,

and black pudding
sauce hollandaise.

- [Gordon] It
certainly looks okay.

- What do you think?

(laughs)

He's gonna be sick.

(Gordon coughing)

- [Gordon] He's only gone and
given me a rancid scallop.

(Gordon retching)

- Can someone get him a drink?

Get him a drink, Lee.
- Fucking shit!

- How can you eat that?

If you knew they were
off, why didn't you say?

- No, I didn't.

I didn't know they were off.

- They're fucking minging!

Can you not taste that?

- I do now, yeah.

It took awhile till now.

(Gordon coughing)

I know what you mean,
I feel sick myself now.

- It's, um, it's grim.

It's fucking grim and
it's out of order.

- Well, I didn't realise
they were fucking off.

So, I suppose it's my
fault really.

(dramatic music)
(knife slashing)

- In the two days I've
spent at Bonapartes,

I witnessed total
incompetence in the kitchen,

a lack of direction from
the management,

and last but not least,

they've tried to kill me
with a rotten scallop.

What the fuck are
you playing at?

- I'm sorry, chef.

- Well, it's not about
being fucking sorry.

You shouldn't be in a
fucking kitchen

if you don't know what's right

and what's wrong in that sense.

This is basic fucking
cooking, you know that?

I need to check if
there's anymore surprises

lurking in Tim's kitchen.

I just want to look in here.

When are they from?

- Uh, Saturday.
- Saturday.

Would you use them today?
- No.

- No, so what the fuck are
they doing in the fridge?

It looks like rabbit shit,
that one.

- [Tim] That's just
some lentils.

- Oh, this one's stuck
to the fucking glass.

It looks like sheep's turd
that's been infested with ants.

We've got fucking fur on
fucking potatoes.

When's that from?
- I couldn't tell you.

- [Gordon] What are we
doing with them?

- Throw 'em in bin.

- [Gordon] Throw 'em in bin,

but you keep them in
the fridge for two days

before you throw 'em in bin.

- Um...

- [Gordon] Yeah, but do you
see what I'm trying to get at?

- Yeah.

- [Gordon] It doesn't make
fucking sense, yes or no?

- No.

- So all this fucking food
you've jampacked with shit,

and we're standing here saying,

"Well, put in bin, put in bin."

Well, get 'em in the
fucking bin!

This whole kitchen is
disgustingly filthy.

In allowing things to fester,

Tim's putting Sue's
business at risk.

Fucking hell, can we get that
one cleaned out as well, yeah?

- [Tim] Yes.

- Just one bad thing can
contaminate a whole fridge.

A health inspector would
have a field day.

Do you know what?

I'm fucking gobsmacked,
you know that?

I've got a good fucking mind
to get ahold of fucking Sue,

and just tell her to fucking
close the place, you know that?

Because this is the
fucking pits.

You should be ashamed.

Rock bottom, I've never
seen anything like this

in my entire fucking life,
you know that?

Because this is a fucking
embarrassment to catering,

let alone fucking ringed
out fine dining.

Let's move, huh?

- Not the best start it
could've been, were it?

To be honest, fucking...

Right, it's all right,
we'll sort it out.

- The picture's becoming
painfully clear.

Tim's completely
unqualified to do this job.

He's blagged his way in,

and Sue's been naive
enough to take him on.

All these ingredients in there,

and no customers to send it to,

and yet none of them

have been communicating
with each other,

you know, that's
gotta go tomorrow.

Can we turn that
into a fish pie?

Can we do something with it?

But no, the blind
leading the blind,

and every bloody
ingredient in that fridge,

and it's money, your money.

Sue seems to have no idea

what's going on in
her own kitchen.

The key to any
successful restaurant

is regular communication

between the management
and the head chef.

I really need to get
these two talking.

- Well, Gordon just had
a word with me.

He said he's not very impressed.

We need to keep the place
clean and everything tidy,

otherwise I can be sued,

in which case, I'm out of
business, and you're out of a
job.

- I realise that.
- Yeah, I know.

And I've taken it, I've had
to take it onboard as well.

- Fair enough, she has
her little digs, so what?

Fuck her, you know what I mean?

- Relations between Tim and
Sue clearly aren't healthy.

Lee, yeah?

Goggles, gloves.

Before we do any fucking
cooking in here now,

I want the place
absolutely spotless.

Goggles on, please.

That's it, show me.

You handsome bastard.

It's not just the kitchen
that's at fault here.

Any clued up restaurateur
knows it's damn stupid

to attempt fine dining
in a basement,

let alone one that's
beneath a busy bar.

(suspenseful instrumental music)

Sue's panic is obvious

when you see the weird
mix of fine dining menus

and hand written boars
advertising TV name cabarets.

Bonapartes image has clearly
confused potential customers.

- Sue's trying, I think,
to do too many things,

to be all things to all people.

So, she was trying to
have live music,

and have an internet cafe.
(laughs)

I don't think she's
gonna attract the people

that she wants to attract.

It's not as nice as the one
that's opened across the road.

- The newly opened competition
just 200 yards away

has been fully booked
since it opened,

so the punters are
definitely out there.

It's time to find a clear
identity for Bonapartes,

and make a clean start.

Valentine's night is just
four days away.

It's one of the most
important nights

on the restaurant calendar.

If we're gonna reinvent
Bonapartes' image,

we've got to do it now.

It's clearly not gonna work
as a fine dining experience.

Just tell me how much pressure
you're under financially.

- I say flippantly, you know,

I'll end up going bankrupt
if you're not careful,

but that's now true, that's it.

- Yeah.

I mean, how close are you
in real terms?

- In real terms, probably,

I've got probably three months,
maximum.

- Jesus.

- You know, I'm willing to
take constructive criticism.

It's not working, is it?

Otherwise we'd have
more people in.

- The basics are wrong.

I mean, the basics are so, so
wrong, and it's embarrassing.

It's gotta go back to comfort,
rustic, easygoing food.

It's gotta become
more of a bistro,

because the place oozes
that kind of style.

I know Sue's convinced,
but I've had to flush out

Tim's pretensions to fine
dining once and for all.

I need to provide him
with evidence

that he can't fail to
take onboard.

Gentlemen, Tim?

- Right, this is seared scallops
with a bit of black pudding

and a nice hollandaise,
cayenne pepper sauce,

and a bit of
deep-fried Parma ham.

- It looks like potato,
but I'm not sure.

- [Gordon] First time
you've had a scallop?

- Mm-hmm.

- [Gordon] And this is a
beef and ale pie.

- I'll have a bit of that,
I'll have a taste of that.

- Taste of it.
- Oh yeah.

- Mm.
- Yeah?

- Beautiful.

- The scallops and the black
pudding and the Parma ham.

How much would you pay for that?

- Well, I'm not gonna pay
a lot, would ya? (laughs)

- Well, I don't know.

Scallops are dead anyway
aren't they, so 8.50.

- 8.50.
- What, for the one portion?

- [Gordon] And what would
you pay for the pie?

- Oh, about eight pound.
- 7.95.

- Oh, I weren't far off.
- And 8.95, well done.

- Not far off, no.

- [Gordon] Which one
would you prefer?

- Well, I like the pie,
personally.

- [Man] Well, I like the meat.

I'm definitely a meat lover.

- Thank you, gentlemen.
- Thank you.

- One nil, you fucker.

(Tim laughs)

- All the lot.

- [Gordon] Tim needs to learn
a few basic restaurant rules.

If you don't know your market,

you'll never get bums on seats.

- I would probably go
with this one.

- Two fucking nil, next please.

Have you got two seconds?

Here's another one.

Have you got two seconds?

Restaurants without
customers will go bust.

- I don't scallops.
- You don't like scallops?

Three nil, you twat!

(Tim laughs)

Excuse me?

Put another way, Tim needs
to start producing food

the people of Silsden
won't be able the resist.

- That is gorgeous, yeah.
- And delicious.

- Are you listening?
- I am listening.

- Bistro.
- That's where we're going.

- Yeah, fine dining.

(metal clanging)

(laughing)
(ducks quacking)

- Who's going in for it?

(duck quacks)

- It's not bad news,
you know that?

It's fucking good news.

- [Tim] No, it's good news,
great news.

- Yeah, and it's clear, huh?

The writing's on the wall.

She's come to the end
of her till up there,

that's pretty obvious
that she had enough, huh?

- Yeah.
- Is that clear?

- That is clear.
- Yeah?

And you know, you're fucking
cocky with her, you know that?

- Yeah.

- Yeah, and she pays your
fucking salary.

Are you mad?

How much have you put in here?

- Nothing.
- Yeah, not a fucking penny.

Not a single penny, but you've
taken from her, haven't you?

- Yep.

- So now it's time to give back.

- Absolutely, yeah.

- And not cooking for egos,
get rid of it.

(knocks table)

Back to basics, you know that?

What I want you two to do,

just to confirm that
you do know the basics,

both at the same time,
cook me a fucking omelette.

Show me something that I
can eat and be happy with.

An omelette is probably
one of the first things

you learn to cook at
catering college.

When's the last time
you cooked an omelette?

- I ain't cooked one before.

I've never cooked an
omelette before.

- Come on, don't be stupid.
- I haven't.

- Look inside, what does
that tell you?

- Um, slightly overcooked.

- Slightly?

Tastes like fucking rubber.

They're both overcooked.

That was shit by any standard.

You're a head chef.

You're taking the piss
here, you know that?

You are taking the piss,
you know that?

- [Tim] Yes, Gordon.

- He gives you nothing back,

and the whole idea of
telling him off

is to sort of help train
him and educate him,

but clearly, not used to
being told what to do.

Right, make me another omelette.

Fuck it, let's go.

Any chef worth his salt
should be able to source

good quality ingredients
at a good price.

The locals already think
Bonapartes is too expensive.

They want value for money.

For Sue to start making
any sort of profit,

Tim needs to be clever
at what he buys.

Can I have two bacon sandwiches,
please?

And two cups of tea.

- Let's see those grapes.

- He needs to wake up to
the real world.

He's clearly in need of
some inspiration

for his new bistro style menu.

Thanks darling, thank you.

That's yours, that one.

You've got a table of four in.

I want you, okay, to
buy starter,

main course, and
pudding for 20 quid.

Five quid per head.
- Right.

- I want to see how clever
you are with that money.

- Right.

(greengrocer shouting)

- I'm thinking
French onion soup.

- Right, we're making some
French onion soup today,

so we're looking for some
sort of rustic baguettes.

- I would do with this
baguette here

in this window right there.

- Ask to look at one.
- Can I have a look at that?

- [Gordon] Clearly, Tim's
never bought anything

from a market before
in his life.

- Yeah, let me bag that up.

- Discount for the trade?
- Any discount for the trade?

- The discount for the
trade were a pound.

(laughing)

I got ornery with that.

- It's always worth
bartering for, you know that?

- Yeah.

- So when you're on the
telephone in the morning,

you check in with your suppliers

and you want to know how
much the fish is.

You can always barter with them.

I bet you don't treat Sue's
money this way, do you?

- I will do from now on.
- Fucking right you will.

Tim's menus are packed with
expensive fish and meat cuts.

He needs to open his eyes

to the tasty, less
expensive options on offer.

Yeah, what would you do
with a braising steak?

- [Tim] I don't know
really, maybe a barbecue.

- Barbecue?

- A barbecue, we should
get steam going.

- Braising steak means
fucking braise it,

so it's telling you what
to do with it.

So what what you do with it?
- Braise it.

- Like a stew.
- Okay.

- You can't put it on
the fucking barbecue.

I'm just looking for some
chicken breast.

- Some nice chicken breast,
boss.

- There you go, look,
he's showing you.

- That's nice.
- Check it.

- Have a look.
- How much is it?

- [Tim] How much is
chicken per breast?

- One pound 12 that.
- Four of them, please.

Any discount for trade?

- Discount for trade,
how much was it?

- Four pound 12.
- Four quid.

- That's my boy.
- Lovely.

- Thanks, that'll do for me.

Cheers, thank you.

Can I have a bill, please?

A receipt.
- With the AT.

- With the AT.

- You'd come again, yeah?
- Absolutely.

- The more they see you, the
more banter you have with them,

the more bargains you
get with them,

and the cheaper it becomes.

You know that?
- Yeah, yeah.

I definitely knew that.

- Then the restaurant starts
to make a bit of fucking money.

- Yeah.
- Get the picture?

- Yeah, I get it.
- Thank fuck for that.

How much we spent?

- Just over 12 quid.
- 12 quid, fantastic.

For four portions.
- Brilliant.

- Okay, French onion soup.

It costs 75 pence to
make a portion.

How much should it go
on the menu for?

You times it by four, and
that should cover everything.

2.95 for a bowl of soup, and
we've made money on that,

and one thing we don't want
to do with the ingredients

you've bought this
morning is waste anything.

With the Valentine's
extravaganza just two days away,

I'm under no illusions as
to what we're up against.

You're a fucking limp dick in
the kitchen, you know that?

Give it some fucking energy.

You're fucking 21
for God's sake,

you should be getting
fucking 12 hard ons a day,

not one a fucking month,
let's go.

Lee's gotten better now,

but I've gotta hold Tim's
hand every step of the way.

Are you sure you want
to be a chef?

- Yes.
- You are, yeah?

In, right into the centre.

This is our one chance to see

if Tim can cope with this
new bistro style food.

Pull the knife out,
put it back in,

and bring it to the edge there,
yeah?

- [Tim] Yeah.

- Gently, gently, gently,
gently.

Make love to it, don't fuck it.

Outside leaves.
- Yeah?

- What do we do with them?

You throw 'em away.

- [Tim] Yeah, we usually
throw 'em away, yeah.

- Okay.

But before we let him loose
on the paying customers,

I've asked him to cook
for four special people

in the privacy of
their own home.

What I haven't told him,
it's for his own family.

- [Tim] You'd stir it into it.

- [Gordon] No, you leave
it dangling on top,

so it gets perfect.

Of course you let it
fucking stir inside.

We've got soup, chicken,
lemon meringue pie.

- Yep.

- Let's go and surprise
Mom and Dad, shall we?

Let's go round to their
house and you cook their tea.

- Yeah.

- Do we need any jus,
sauce for the Chicken Kiev?

- Um...

I don't know really.

- I'm asking you.

- I don't think so.
- Good.

- Because the centre
is the sauce,

the garlic sauce inside of it.

- Oh, fucking hell!

(Tim laughs)

Hallelujah, we don't
need any jus!

- We don't need any jus.

(Gordon cheering)

(knocking)

Hello Madge, how are you?

Surprise!

I hate to use Tim's folks
as guinea pigs,

but with the the three
course meal already prepared,

all Tim needs to do is reheat
the soup and cook the Kievs.

Should we get cracking?

And where's granddad?

- Granddad's in the front room.

- [Gordon] This should be
a walkover, even for him.

I will leave it all to you.

- Ow!

I'm gonna break me shoulder.

- He was always in the kitchen

as a boy wanting to help bake.

- Really?

'Cause he loves talking
about it, doesn't he?

- Yes, yeah, but then he
decided whilst he was at school

that that's what he
wanted to do,

and he got himself a job
in the kitchen,

and it just went on from there.

He told me that he was
going to be a chef,

and he was going to the Good
Food Show to meet Gary Rhodes,

and off he went.

- [Gordon] Fantastic, and
looks what's happened.

- Yeah, yeah.

(smoke alarm beeping)

- [Gordon] Oh, fuck me.

- Don't burn it the dough, huh?

- Burn it?
- It's still burning.

- Here we go.

(exhales)

Sorry to keep you waiting.

- That's quite all right.
- He's ready.

- I'll get Granddaddy.

- [Gordon] Let's not
forget, Tim is a head chef.

- Fucking hell!
- Whoops.

- [Tim's Mom] You've burned
my pans, have you? (laughs)

- [Tim] I might as well have.

I might've just burned them,
yeah.

(Gordon laughs)

- The last thing I said to him,

"Don't forget your croutons."
(laughs)

He's managed to fucking
nearly burn his gran's house.

(muttering)

- Ladies first.

This is some French onion soup.

- Thank you.
- Minus the croutons.

What am I gonna do
with this numpty?

- [Tim] Oh, look at that,
superb.

- Scorched on the outside
and pink in the middle.

As for the lemon meringue pie,

we would get a better reception
if he threw it at them.

Tim's family wouldn't
dream of criticising him,

but the paying customers
on Valentine's night

won't be as forgiving.

We've got 44 booked on
Saturday night.

- Mm-hmm.

- And you fucked it for four.

What chance have you got for 44?

I'm now starting to shit myself.

(dramatic music)
(knife slashing)

It's my fourth day
at Bonapartes.

Tim's first attempt at cooking
a simplified bistro meal

may have impressed his granny,

but he and I both know
the awful truth.

It was a spectacular flop.

You're paid as a head chef,
aren't you?

- Yeah.

- Do you think you should
be a head chef?

- Not really.
- Thank fuck for that.

Don't start crying!

- I'm not.

- Well, you look like you're
about to fucking bubble.

- [Sue] Okay, so you're
delighted with that, are you?

- [Gordon] Bookings for
tomorrow night's

Valentine's Cabaret
are piling in.

With the restaurant
nearly booked to capacity,

I'll try my hardest to
stay positive.

- That's fine, Mr. Lowe.

I'm sure he'll enjoy it.

- But with just a day to go,

it'll take more than
high energy drinks

for these two to pull it off.

When someone's been told off,

the first thing to do
in the kitchen

is come back at 100
mile an hour.

This guy disintegrates.

Every time you tell
him something,

he just disappears
into oblivion,

and loses all sense of
concentration,

that little short
span that he has.

Why don't we swap the
roles around tomorrow?

Why don't you become
the sous chef,

and Lee becomes the head
chef for tomorrow night?

No answer.

- Whatever you want to do,
Gordon.

- But it's your fucking kitchen!

You're supposed to say,
bollocks, no!

I'm the fucking chef.

My name's Tim Grey it's
me on the menu, no?

Yes or no?

- Yes.
- Oh.

Maybe it's me, I should try
the soppily soppily approach.

You've got a big night
Saturday night, it's full,

and it's the first time
since you've been here

that the place is full, okay?

And whilst I'm here,

you're not shafting me as well

at the same time, you know that?

- Yeah.

- You're gonna work together.

Over the next 15, 20 minutes,

I want you both to
think of something

really simple menu wise.

Three starters, three main
courses, and three puddings.

- What do you think, Lee?

Soup?

- [Lee] Yeah, soup.

- [Gordon] By passing some
of the decision making

back to Tim, I'm hoping to
build up his confidence,

and instil some pride
in his food.

- It's hard to write
a simple menu

when you've had your head up
your arse for so long doing,

trying to make fancy,
silly food.

That's the kind of stuff
we're going for here.

- [Gordon] So, what
have they come up with?

- Main course is liver
and onions, mashed potato,

macaroni cheese, fish and chips,

mushy peas, Lancashire pork.

- Lancashire pork,
that sounds nice,

and you've come up with
the ideas together?

- Yeah, well, we just
flipped through some books

and thought about what's simple
and basically we thought,

what did we used to
have at school?

What did we like at school?

- And not forgetting
where are we?

- In Silsden, in Yorkshire.

(Gordon humming)
(snapping)

(Gordon humming)
(laughing)

- We're getting there!

We're getting there!

In devising this new menu,

I'm aiming to take most
of the pressure

off Tim and Lee during service.

90% of the food can be prepared

and perfected a day in advance.

That's good, see if
you can show,

show me you can handle
two pans at once.

As long as it's made well,

it can't fail to be a
hit with the customers.

Now there should be 15 things

going on in there all at
the same time.

Coordination, understanding,
meat in, pink, is it well done?

Onions roasted, bang!

In short, Bonapartes'
new bistro menu

is designed to be idiot-proof.

Definitely identify them
as vegetarian, yeah?

Let's go, come on!

So far, Tim's
attitude towards Sue

has been that of a
stroppy teenager,

rather than a respectful
and supportive employee.

- I'm gonna go tomato soup,
rustic tomato soup, yeah?

- [Sue] Yeah.

- Some little cheese fingers.

- That's probably a first.

He's actually come to us.

I've had to run down
and chase all the time.

You know, I need this and then,

"Oh yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

"It'll come later."

I'll say, "I need it now!"

- Basically just putting
through some, pushing them up.

- Today seems a lot better.

I don't know what he's been
doing to him down there,

but he's certainly improving.
(laughs)

- In the week I've been here,
I've hardly seen Tim or Lee

sample or season
anything they've made.

No wonder their tasteless food

is failing to woo the customers.

Everything we do in this
kitchen has to be tasted.

I don't care if it's a
fucking bread roll,

a lemon meringue pie, or
a Chicken Kiev.

You have got to start
tasting things.

From now on, bland is
off the menu,

and to teach these two a
lesson they'll never forget,

I'm resorting to dirty tactics.

You know what a medium
steak tastes like, yes?

Does that taste like a sirloin,

T-bone steak, or is it
a rump steak?

- [Tim] Sirloin.

- Sirloin?

- [Lee] It tastes like sirloin.

- Fucking hell!

Here we go.

Now for the pork.

Okay, open up.

Okay, tell me whether that's
medium or is that well done?

- Medium.

- And?
- Well done.

- None of you got that right,
yes?

- Yeah.

Pork.

- Pork and fucking lamb,
fucking hell!

- You don't realise until
someone blindfolds you

and feeds you that your
palates are not active.

- It could've been worse.

It could've been chicken!
(laughs)

Then we would've looked
like fucking idiots.

(laughing)

- Oh shit!
- Sorry.

- Tim's had a week of
nonstop grief from me.

Whip, whip, whip, whip, whip!

Put the bowl down.

This boy has really
tested my patience.

All right, how do we
know they're ready now?

- When you can lift
it upside down.

- Yeah, there you go.

And I really don't know
if any of it's sunk in.

God, I'd love to just
get it on, put it in.

- No!
- Shit, oh!

(laughing)

But with more than 40 guests

expected in just over two hours'
time,

he'll soon be tested
to his absolute limits.

(Gordon laughs)

- [Tim] I slipped!

- Oh no, don't tell me.

It was the mud?

- It was the mud. (laughs)

- He can't even take a
fucking penalty.

I'll say this for Tim,

he's no quitter, and I
don't want to see him fail,

but now he's got to prove he's
master of his own kitchen.

We're not leaving this
as a draw, you know that?

Hey, in cooking,
nobody draws ever.

One thing's for sure, tonight
he'll either sink or swim.

Whoa!

Yes!

(Gordon cheers)

Another two upstairs?

- Possibly.
- Possibly, okay, good news.

Good news, another two.

So we're up to 50, 48 now.

Sue's never had so
many bookings.

She's having to move
furniture out.

- Right, lift.
- To fit more tables in.

Are you happy with that?

- Chicken Kiev with
roasted vine tomatoes,

T-bone steak with
homemade chips.

- Because there's so
many involved for dinner,

I wouldn't stall them
upstairs for too long.

You're really gonna
dump us in it, big time.

- Prawn cocktail, three bean
salad with mustard dressing.

- What do you think?
- Ooh, very bistro.

Yes, I like it.

- [Gordon] I hardly dare say it,

but this place has got
a real buzz about it.

There's one thing missing.

What do you like on
all your menus?

- Oh, his name's not on it.
- Ah, bingo!

And where should we put
that, on the back or?

- I don't want my name on it.

We worked as a team and
it's a giant effort,

and bistro, you know, that's it.

- That's the most sensible
thing you've said to me

all fucking week, you know that?

Thank you.

Every decent restaurant
in the country

is full on Valentine's night.

The competition down the road
is packed to the rafters,

and for once, so is Bonapartes.

In a small town like Silsden,

business thrives on
word of mouth,

and if tonight's a disaster,
it could break Sue.

- I have got a fear
that he will not be able

to cope with the numbers,

especially when he's
saying that 11's busy.

I don't think so.

So, we'll see what he's made of.

- [Gordon] Tim has got to
get this right.

- Right, two for upstairs.

Two soups, two chicken.

- Okay, hey.

Six o'clock, first order's in.

Hello, chef?
- Yes?

- Might as well give
it to Scott.

Scott, first order in.

Hey, are we gonna let the
kitchen porter

call out the tickets or are
you gonna call them out?

Come on!

- On order, two soup,
two chicken,

one creme brulee, one
treacle tart.

- [Lee] Yes, chef.

- Let's go, soups made,
get onto boil.

Scott, put some water on it,
please?

Something's burning.

What's that burning?

- [Tim] It's just something
that's on the grill.

- It's not the croutons, yeah?

- [Tim] No, it's not
the croutons.

- Don't burn the croutons.
- I'm not burning croutons.

- Soup's on, yeah?
- Yep.

- Pan on for the chicken?
- Not yet.

- I think you should put
the pan on first, yeah?

Start the chicken and as
they're eating the soup,

the chicken's cooking, yeah?

Are you all right, yeah?

- Yeah, yeah.

- First order in, it's upstairs.

- I'm fine, I'm okay.
- You're okay?

Well, the pan's not on
for the chicken, yeah?

Don't burn the croutons.

Okay, how long for that soup?

- Probably fast.
- 45 seconds.

Oh, fuck off will ya?

Hey, what the fuck
are you doing?

Out of the way.

Young man, what are you doing?

Slow down, talk to him.

Lee, can you send the two soup,
please?

- [Lee] Aye.

- Look at the croutons!

Charcoal again.

Oh god, this is the first
fucking order!

What's the matter?

- [Tim] Nothing.

- You're cooking like an
absolute
twat, you know that, yeah?

Just take your time.

(exhales)

Big, deep breath, and
talk to Lee a little bit.

You're just on your own,
spinning around round and round,

and just creating a
fucking bedlam, yeah?

Calm down, get yourself
organised, yeah?

And control yourself.

Now, fucking come back to
me a little bit!

Come back to me a bit, yes?

- [Tim] Fucking...

(Tim laughs)

- Come on, Timmy.

Fresh start, or we're gonna
go down like a sack of shit.

That's better, Lee.

Look at him, look!

Hey, nice and bright.

Give us a smile.

- Hey.
- It's well done, isn't it?

- Yeah.
- Yeah, come on.

In! (clapping)

Team work!

- Two minutes for the veg, Lee.

Can I have two ovals out
of there, mate, please?

On order, three prawn cocktail,
one soup.

One sirloin medium, one T-bone
medium, one sirloin medium.

So, we'll work the starters.

We got a lot of stuff
to get on here.

- Good, communicate, good!

- [Tim] Right here, two.

Let's get some in
case I need 'em.

(restaurant patrons chattering)

- How long for veg?
- One and a half.

(bright music)

- Are we sending them yet?
- Gonna, yeah.

- [Server] Table five.

- On order, one prawns,
one beans, one Kiev,

one sirloin well done,
one lemon, one brulee.

(restaurant patrons chattering)

Right, Scotty, can I have
two ovals now, mate, please?

- Good, that's it.

Now you're talking to
the whole brigade now.

Now you're talking to the
team, which is fantastic.

Keep it going, yes?

The minute you stop talking.

We're gonna go, we're
gonna do down, yeah?

- [Tim] Yes.

- Hey, it's not quite right,
but at least it's moving, yeah?

- Yeah.

Medium with salad, that's a
medium on its own without salad,

and that's a rare, yeah,
without salad.

Fucking hell!

- Keep it together, yeah?
- Yeah.

- [Gordon] Yeah, let's
not get nervy.

- The food was excellent.

Yeah, very enjoyable.

- It's what we expected to have,
really.

It was really tasty and
really enjoyable.

It was nice.

- How many more to come, please,
Sue?

- There's another four.
- Four.

- I overbooked actually.

- The local competition
tonight has got 46 booked.

If we do this last
four, we've beaten them.

(Sue cheers)

Yeah, does that not just lift
the morale up a little bit?

- Absolutely!
- Yeah?

- T-bone medium, medium,
medium, medium and a chicken.

- Ladies and gentlemen,
showtime.

Cabaret, I'd like to
introduce Tom Sawyer.

- After prawn cocktail, get
some hollandaise on, yeah?

Call service, please, Scotty?

- Take it away.

(crowd applauding)

- One T-bone steak medium
and one Chicken Kiev, please,

and that's all going
to table 12.

- Take these two, they're done,
please.

(restaurant patrons chattering)

- [Gordon] Watch the colour,
look.

When it's brown, it's cooked.

When it's black it's?

- Fucked.

(restaurant patrons chattering)

(bright instrumental music)

- Watch the plates for me,
please.

Pies.

- Veg first, veg first.
- Beautiful.

- [Tim] Two sirloin medium.

- Not finished yet, but yeah,
well done.

(Tim laughs)

Tim's gran and granddad

are celebrating their
44th wedding anniversary.

At last, Tim can repay them

for the rubbish he served
up a couple of nights ago,

with a delicious welcome meal.

- It was lovely that
steak, it was beautiful.

- I'm glad you liked it.
- Yeah.

- It brought back memories,
that T-bone steak.

- Did it?
- Yeah.

- Hey, did you hear what
Granddad said?

- Yeah, it's brilliant.
- Brought back memories.

(crowd applauding)

You really surprised me tonight,

and I'm really seriously,

over the moon that you
didn't fuck it.

I'm serious, huh?
- Yeah.

- 'Cause the first 15
minutes at six o'clock,

you acted like the biggest
twat in Britain, you know that?

All over the shop and you
pulled it back together,

and that wasn't me,
that was you,

and the feedback from them
out there has been brilliant.

What does that tell you?

What does that put in there?

- I haven't had a service
like that for a long time.

- And these stupid fucking
illusions of grandeur,

and all this stupid
fine dining crap

that you're trying to do.

- Is gone.
- Do you understand?

- Yep.
- Exactly where you are now?

- Yeah, yeah,
totally understand.

- Can you understand

what you're capable of doing
within this restaurant?

- Yes.

- Stop trying to take it

beyond something it's
never gonna be.

You'll fuck the restaurant,

and you'll fuck yourself,
big time.

- Mm-hmm.
- So never forget tonight.

♪ You know when that
shark bites ♪

♪ With his teeth, babe ♪

- Tonight, Sue's takings
are a record 2,000 pounds.

♪ Fancy gloves, oh ♪

- I thought the guys downstairs
done absolutely brilliant.

It's up to you now
not to allow it

to go back to where it was.

- [Sue] I've been too soft.

- You have to be, yeah, exactly.

I'm glad you're saying it,

because that was exactly
what I was gonna say next.

- I've been too soft,

and I've also allowed him
to have his head too much.

- I also think you've been
confused to what you want,

because you haven't been focused

on one direction for
the restaurant,

because you've been jumping.
- Trying out all things.

- All over the place.
- Yeah, I agree, I agree.

- And that's part of a panic.
- Yeah.

- And that's wrong,
and now tonight,

it's clearly evident
exactly what you need to do

from this day onwards.

If he changes anything,
I'll pickle his nuts.

(dramatic music)
(knife slashing)

When I first arrived at
Bonapartes in February 2004,

it literally had no customers.

Head chef Tim was a liability.

(Gordon coughing)

- I didn't realise they
were fucking off.

- He couldn't even
cook an omelette.

You're taking the piss
here, you know that?

In one gruelling week we
attempted to transform
Bonapartes

from a failing fine dining
restaurant into a buzzing
bistro.

With Tim sending out
quality food

to nearly 50 contented
customers on Valentine's night.

(bright music)

Hallelujah!
(laughing)

A month later,

I discovered Sue had already
given Tim two written warnings,

so I returned unannounced to
find out what was going on.

(bright jazzy music)

Turn that fucking thing off,
my God!

What's going on?

- Chilling.
- Chilling?

It's Friday night, it's 7:30.

How many's booked?

- Four.
- Four?

Where's Lee?

- He's upstairs on bar.
- He's on the bar.

What the fuck is that in there?

- [Tim] Mussels.

- [Gordon] You're not
serving them are you?

- Yeah.
- What are the fridges like?

My God, almighty.

What is that shit in there?

That is mould and fur.

Dear, oh dear, so you
haven't changed, have you?

Oh, fucking hell!

The whole week drumming
into their thick skulls,

and it comes to this.

Holy fuck!

This is a living
fucking nightmare!

Nobody in this place is taking
control and in this state,

a health inspector would
close them down

without a second thought.

- I think I better just close
and put due to refurbishment.

- [Gordon] And you should
bow out gracefully, yeah.

- I've just been giving him

another chance and
another chance.

I can't tolerate that,
it's just going to end up,

like professional suicide,
isn't it?

- It's beyond recognition
really, isn't it?

How fucking stupid that
someone can be,

you know what I mean?

It just don't work.

- [Producer] And who is
that someone, Tim?

- Oh, that would be me,
pretty much.

Yeah.

- That night, Sue and Tim
parted company.

Restaurant owner hits
back after TV nightmare.

Since then, Bonapartes
restaurant has hit rock bottom.

Sue's made several rather
public complaints about us.

"Cooked up: Ramsay's
Kitchen Nightmares."

Whilst I'm genuinely gutted
it hasn't worked out for her,

I wholeheartedly deny
the allegations.

(sombre instrumental music)

I'm heading back to Silsden

to see for myself just
what's gone wrong.

It's a great shame when
restaurants don't succeed.

The figures state that two
out of three restaurants close

within the first 12
months of business.

You can imagine how hard it is

if you've never ran a
restaurant before in your life,

like Sue.

Lunchtime and there's no
sign of life at Bonapartes.

When I ring the number.

- [Sue] Hi, it's Sue here,
obviously not in person.

- [Gordon] All I get
is a recorded message.

- [Sue] Please leave any
contact details.

Thank you so much for calling.

- Maybe the people of Silsden

can help me find out
what's happened here?

- I don't know actually.

I've heard they've just
converted it to a bar actually.

- Just been converted to a bar?

- [Man] Who are you
gonna close down?

- Who am I gonna close down?

Hello.

(laughing)

Excuse me!

Why do you want to hit me?

- Because you upset my mate.

- So you don't think it
was fair or justified?

- Uh, I think it
would be fierce.

- Well, thank you for
being so honest.

- If I'd have been there, I
would've hit you there and then.

- [Gordon] You don't
look like a violent man.

- Oi, catch me if you can.

- Fucking hell!

I'm determined to speak to
Sue, but in the meantime,

I've tracked down her
ex-head chef extraordinaire.

Well, there's nothing burning.

Tim Grey.

Phew.

Hello Tim!

- How's it going, Gordon?
- Are you well?

- Yeah.
- You're looking brown.

- Yeah.
- You've lost weight.

- Yep.

- [Gordon] Oh, it smells
nice and fresh.

- [Tim's Mom] Hello Gordon!

- So, they're not
serving any food now?

- No, nothing.

She said she can't trust chefs,

and she doesn't know what
she's looking for in a chef,

or all that, so she's
not gonna bother at all.

- Well, remember that night,
Valentine's?

- They pulled it off.
- Yeah, you pulled it off.

- Pulled it off.

- They had some
bloody good food,

and if it stuck along
those lines,

spend a bit of money
on the kitchen,

cleaned up their act, it
would've worked.

(dramatic music)

My god!

So, you haven't changed,
have you?

This is a living
fucking nightmare!

- I think if the team,

I'm not gonna say a
certain individual,

either being myself
or anyone else,

if the team had listened,

and acted upon the advice
we were given,

Bonapartes had every chance,

but because the team

flushed that information
down the toilet,

and went straight back to,
then you know, that's it.

It could've worked, yeah.

- Tim's drawn a line
under his life as a chef,

and is pursuing other
career possibilities,

including jobs in television.

Are you sure you've made
the right move?

- It seems like I have,
I think, definitely.

I were fighting a losing battle
with it before, you know?

- But you were so proud of
him in the house last time.

- I still am.
- Are you happy?

- I'm very happy, yeah.

- Mm-hmm?
- I'm very happy.

- Finally, I get hold of Sue.

She's agreed to meet me.

(knocking)

But when I turn up, she decides
she doesn't want the camera.

Sue told me that's in the
hands of an insolvency company,

and she narrowly
escaped bankruptcy.

Sue is looking for a
buyer for the site.

It shouldn't be too hard.

I always thought they had
great potential.

I asked Sue about her
comments in the press,

and why she's still
convinced that we set her up.

She was unable to back up
any of her allegations.

Oh dear, oh dear.

You know, sometimes you
have to admit defeat,

and this one
definitely defeated me.

Let's get out of here.

(light instrumental music)

We got a couple of minutes,

so I want to make sure you're
still on the ball, yeah?

- I'll make you an omelette.

(laughing)

There you go.

- [Gordon] So, what have
you been up to?

- Working on a TV
programme in Jersey.

- [Gordon] Doing what?

- Resident chef?
- No.

Running like for a stage
management team.

- So you've stopped
cooking altogether?

- [Tim] I don't cook as
a job anymore.

- Thank fuck for that.

(laughing)

There's actually one thing,
do not become a TV chef.

- [Tim] No!

- If I ever see you, a twat
who can't cook one wank,

I will spank your arse!
- Oh no!

- [Tim] You can see why I
got out of cooking into TV.

- [Gordon] Oh Timmy, you've
just fucked my omelette!

(bright jazzy music)

(knife slashing)