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I have a confession: I have become an absolute, flag-flying, plan-my-schedule-around-a-TV-show fan of MasterChef. I adore it. It is fascinating, watching the brave contestants breathe deeply and put a plate in front of those three daunting judges, and then try not to cringe as they comment no-holds-barred.

I have just loved watching them face-off against an impossible mound of cakey chocoately deep fried stuff and make it happen.  I have loved seeing the reality of who we are as South Africans on my small screen, and one of my favourite things was watching as the other contestants were happy when someone else was praised – they were so excited for each other, nevermind themselves! They are this little microcosm of us and it made me feel better about us, about who we are at our best. I love us! I so loved the self-effacing flair of some and the literally larger-than-life-ness of others. I adore the fact that a boytjie from a Joburg video store and a Howick mom were all on an equal footing here, and that a sweet young lady with braces could cook to keep up with the foodie science-guy. I was wowed by the special sisters, would invite Tumi to supper tomorrow and wanted to hug Ozzy every time he went for judging – without fail he looked like he was going to burst into tears!

But I have a favourite. I had, by chance, had a couple of email and phone chats with Kamini just before the show aired since she was going to interview a client of mine, so I already knew she was sweet and down to earth, and very organised – a plus in my world!

And she quietly presented plate after gorgeous plate and sailed through everything until last week when the top 6 pressure started to take its’ toll and her wheels buckled under her. It happens, and someone has to go home when the black aprons are out, but somehow circumstances conspired against her – yes, against her – stick with me for a little longer and I’ll explain.

Last week the judges – who are as loved as the contestants by South Africans, and I daresay have gained as much recognition and esteem as well – overstepped a line that the most important people in the whole programme had accepted. No, not the judges themselves, not the contestants, not the celebs, not even the producers. The viewing public.

Here’s the thing – MasterChef is a phenomenal product, it has created massive equity, generated positive energy and news in a hard-pressed country, and built a pathway to dreams. It is not a small thing. And all of that was created to serve only one group: the audience. MasterChef is wonderful, but it is also a commercial venture – like all TV shows. It is carefully crafted entertainment designed to create passion and commitment in viewers in order to increase ratings for the show. The ratings, in turn, are used to entice advertisers who pay for the privilege of advertising to that audience. It’s a simple equation, when you get it right.

But it is fragile, especially when you forget who it’s actually about.

The judges have spent the entire season being clear about one point on what they call the “replication” challenges where contestants are required to follow the recipes and replicate a usually complicated dish created by an esteemed top Chef. And the person who is furthest from the original, leaves the show. The judges on both the SA MasterChef and the MasterChef Australia shows which preceded our own (and which South African audiences also loved) had been adamant that in a replication test, all the elements of the dish must be on the plate as a minimum requirement. They said it often, and they backed this up by sending people into elimination and home because they had not met this criteria. Until last week, that is. Last week, suddenly, they seemed to change the rules they were applying, and they did this not once, but twice.

When Kamini didn’t get all the elements on the plate everyone watching (and I suspect Kamini herself) expected her to be eliminated. But despite her failure to meet this rule they eliminated  Jason and then Ozzy – both of whom had met this minimum requirement.

And if you’ve been online in the past week and seen anything related to MasterChef you’ll know that there has been an outcry by the viewing public. And everyone agrees, it was the unfairness that struck hard. You made the rules, MasterChef, you can’t summarily change them when it suits you!  Even those rooting for Kamini agree – stick to the rules.

There is a lot of uproar around why this happened, commentary around it smacking of favouritism and general sadness that the programme has lost it’s credibility, but I think what is far sadder is that this is a no-win situation. Everyone involved loses.

Kamini loses. She has, through absolutely no fault of her own, been tainted, and if she wins it will now be under a shadow. An unfair shadow – the worst kind. At this stage, sadly, it would be better for her to come third or second, but not first. She will come away with more sympathy and better associations and support if she does not win. How hard for someone so talented, so passionate.

The judges lose. They have hurt their own credibility in the eyes of the viewers, and even if they believed with all their heart that they were making the right decision, the problem was that they – and the producers of the show – lost sight of the fact that it is actually not about them or the contestants at all, it is about the viewer and how they feel about it all. And making the decisions they have has been a huge blow to that love.

The winner and the other contestants lose. Whoever wins will have lost a little of the passion, the enthusiasm and the benefit that they could have gained from the show. They will win, but they will – and everyone else will  –  always wonder what would have happened if the last six went down differently.

The sponsoring brands lose. I am not sure how Robertsons  feels about the flurry of unhappiness at the moment, but if one of my brands was sponsoring MasterChef I’d be very unhappy too right now. Brand sponsorship is an exceedingly expensive exercise – apart from the actual cost of headline or other sponsorship, you also have to spend a lot of money leveraging that sponsorship so you make ads, buy media time, provide product and brand clothing and a myriad of other costly things to make sure that people know you are sponsoring the programme (or whatever it is), other what would be the point, really? And it is exactly those ‘people’ who are now most disenchanted with the whole thing. I’m fairly sure that the ratings for the final two shows (today and tomorrow!) will still be excellent since viewers will still want resolution, but the sentiment has shifted just too much for my liking – I bought the wowed, passionate fans of the show and now they are a little more lukewarm.

The MasterChef brand loses. And this to me is almost the saddest thing of all. That a brand that has been such a positive, inclusive (cf. the very informed, supportive treatment of Ozzy’s religious requirements by the producers), and heartwarming rallying cry for a country still trying to figure out this diversity and living and growing and being happy stuff, should be tainted by this unfairness, is beyond sad. The brand has built us up as South Africans. And brought us, and itself, back down again with a bump by forgetting that unfairness is not something South Africans like or want to see.

Play by the rules, MasterChef, it’s not so hard.

It certainly can’t be as hard as dealing with the fallout you’re dealing with right now.

Whatever you do, don’t forget who the boss is. A brand does not belong to the person who owns the trademark, it belongs to those who love it and embrace it and fill it with meaning and give it a place in their lives. And the second you forget that and think that your decisions as a brand are about you, you will fall too.

Here endeth the Masterclass.