I watched Breaking Into Tesco thinking I was going to learn something about supermarkets, and realised I was actually watching a documentary that was relevant to writers pitching for television and film. And the more I watched, the unfunnier that comparison got, though there were some fascinating moments along the way.

The show followed a group of people who reckoned they’d got the culinary chops to get their home devised recipes onto supermarket shelves, and it traced their progress over a few weeks as they went from having a dream to pitching their product.

Starting with four people, by the end only one was standing, and I’m pleased to say I was with her all the way. First casualty was a woman who’d developed something she called, if I recall correctly, a hotpot foot, which was a Lancashire hotpot that for some reason was entombed in pastry so that it was half-pastie. An unclear concept in other words, and she was the first of the contenders to leave the field.

That left three players. A man who was pitching all his hopes on cherry ravioli. A woman who reckoned she’d come up with a superhealthy muffin that absolutely everyone could eat. And a Malaysian woman who wanted Brits to pick up a pot of her curry noodles for lunch instead of a sandwich.

Cherry ravioli. It doesn’t even sound right, does it? I have experimented with sweet pasta on a menu, a chocolate one, and wasn’t particularly impressed. And the guy couldn’t even make decent pasta until he was coached into tripling the number of eggs he put in to give it a decent silky texture and golden colour. Anyway, he struck me as a bit of a chancer – he was a theatre director looking for something that would make him some money while he was resting. And he was the next one to be gone, still reckoning he’d got the best idea.

And then there were two. Face it, someone who’s trying to make something that’s not only good for you, but can be eaten by their freakish nephew who’s allergic to everything, is not going to win you over as much as the person who puts you at the top of their list. Which is why the muffin was never going to bowl anyone over unless it was indeed used to topple wickets etc, which frankly it looked like it could be. Meaning the nice Malaysian woman, the only one who was cooking anything that looked like food, got to win – or at least get through to the next round, when her home cooking will become factoryfied.

Remember what I was saying about the metaphor though? Or maybe learnings transferable to another context would be putting it more accurately. Because it struck me that what the cooks were learning was just as appropriate to anyone who reckons they’ve got something that the public should be watching. That would include me, and a good few of you too.

Let’s look at the losers first. And you know, there’s still something about a hotpot foot that doesn’t feel right to me. An object lesson in having a concept that you can actually describe, and a reminder that if you’re going to create a hybrid, for god’s sake give it a tasty sounding name. As for cherry ravioli, there probably is a place for it. Somewhere. But it’s always going to be a minority market, in which case you want to be looking at BBC3 to put it out rather than expecting it to replace Eastenders in the Radio Times.

Which brings us to the final two. A healthy muffin is alright in principle, but altogether too earnest: perfect for a documentary slot on BBC2 or Channel 4 then. Whereas what won the spicy Malaysian dish through was not just its distinct difference, but the fact that its creator was wanting to share something of herself that she was passionate about, that she knew wasn’t out there already, and which will still be there for her even if she doesn’t hit the big time.  Interesting.