And so we breathe a deep sigh of relief as life suddenly becomes worth living again. MasterChef, the ultimate feelgood reality TV juggernaut and the only place on Earth where a person can be taken seriously while using the word “semifreddo”, has returned and joy is unconfined.

The new season begins with the obligatory swelling music and montage of past triumphs. We are reminded that MasterChef is not just a TV show, it is also a rollercoaster of emotion, a source of inspiration and even, in some ways, a cooking competition.

We then meet the judges. Andy, the only previous judge who is returning, reveals that he likes MasterChef a lot, then the newbies have their chance to say what the show means to them and walk in slow motion along colourful alleys. (Good) Food writer Sofia Levin asserts that she is extremely good at eating. French chef Jean-Christophe Novelli admits that he cooks quite a lot. And two-time contestant Poh Ling Yeow confirms that getting this job is not only more lucrative than actually winning the show, it also affords wonderful opportunities for displaced vengeance.

But the time for reflection is over. Now we go to Kitchen HQ and the motley collection of hyperventilating punters who have been chosen this year to tilt at foodie windmills. Andy introduces his fellow judges and the contestants scream and whoop and jump in the air as if a Beatles reunion is taking place. These guys may or may not be great cooks, but when it comes to following the producers’ instructions to act excited, they are absolutely on point. Their next task is to fake laugh at the judges’ awkward banter, and once more they prove themselves adept.

The contestants are given their aprons. Alex is over the moon. “I feel like Charlie at the chocolate factory!” she bubbles, subtly referencing the horrific child endangerment that she has witnessed on her first day. Once aprons are distributed to all however many of them there are, Sofia reveals that a very special guest is on the set.

This is almost too much for the amateurs, some of whom experience total systemic shutdown from the excitement. Luckily, Sofia then reveals that it’s only Jamie Oliver, so everyone calms down. Jamie comes out and enthuses about how much he loves coming to Australia to be given large amounts of money for very little work.

Everybody in the kitchen is bursting with the greatest happiness they’ve ever known, but it’s not all fun and games: everyone knows that sooner or later they are going to have to make some food. Not just yet, though: first Andy has to hold up the season’s only immunity pin, which is today’s reward.

Jamie then drops the bombshell that whoever wins today will also get to work in his London restaurant for a week. Many contestants’ legs give out under them as they contemplate what it would mean to fulfil their dream of providing cheap labour to a multimillionaire.

Andy gathers the judges to deliver the news that the clock is ticking, shocking them all.

And then…we’re away! Adelaide banker Sav gets the honour of having 2024’s first home montage, wherein she claims that she “lives and breathes food”, which seems to betray a bizarre misunderstanding of the digestive system. She also says that she sees herself as sassy, a sinister harbinger of things to come.

Another milestone is reached with the year’s first judge-hug. It goes to Khristian, a savvy operator who knows that the road to success lies in sucking up to Jamie Oliver. “I’m sure you’ll agree the stakes could not be higher!” bellows Andy, which seems a big claim to make given this is the first day and nobody is being eliminated in this challenge, meaning that really, the stakes could not be lower.

We check in on Nat, who has almost a hundred tattoos and is fairly certain that this makes her interesting. Andy asks her what’s freaked her out the most. “Meeting you guys,” Nat replies, insultingly. She is cooking kangaroo larb to express the different parts of her identity; larb to reflect her Thai heritage, but kangaroo to reflect her hatred of marsupials.

In almost no time, the cook has reached the halfway point and the recapper has realised he’s already written far too many words. Jean-Christophe meets Steve, who has a crocodile tooth around his neck and is passionate about Australian cliches. Meanwhile, Sav has started singing, which is bad news for everyone. Jean-Christophe is giving various amateurs advice, which may or may not be wise but is delivered in a French accent so everybody obeys him.

With half an hour to go, Khristian’s stock has reduced, forcing him to call his broker. Andy gathers the judges to deliver the news that the clock is ticking, shocking them all. They do the rounds of the benches. Poh informs David that she made the same dish as him in Season One and lost, and laughs hysterically at his foolishness. Meanwhile Nat has set fire to her kangaroo, the rage within her unable to be contained any longer. Elsewhere, Lily has taken her shoe out of the oven, or at least I think that’s what she said. Her shoe is soggy so she puts it back in. Nobody likes wearing wet shoes. “Look at this, it’s like going to the fairground!” exclaims Jean-Christophe as he casts his gaze around the kitchen and decides who to seduce.

Unexpectedly, the cook eventually ends, and it’s time for the judges to perform the most dangerous part of their job: putting things in their mouths. The contestants are anxious, but they shouldn’t be: they don’t have to eat it. “I’m so worried about my fish,” says Sav – she forgot to feed them this morning and their tank hasn’t been cleaned in days.

Serving time. Sav plates up her possibly-raw fish in orange liquid. “It’s like a painting,” says Poh, but actually it tastes slightly better than paint. “You’re in the bowl,” says Andy, obviously confused. Khristian serves his lump of meat with a side of heartrending backstory. It tastes just like meat and sadness should. Next is a bunch of people whose personal lives we haven’t seen footage of and who therefore are definitely not winning today.

Then there’s Lily, whose soggy buns have been giving her a hell of a time. The judges agree that her dish is terrible, but it’s okay because feelings are nice. Juan has feelings too, and everyone agrees that’s fine. Steve serves a quail and everything gets very tense for no apparent reason.

The soundtrack vacillates between funeral and bomb defusal. Steve tells a long irrelevant story about mud. The quail is wonderful. The angels cry. Some other people pass briefly in and out of her lives. “I know about tarts,” says Jean-Christophe, not telling us anything we didn’t know.

Nat brings forward what appears to be a plate of dog food in pea soup. The judges are blown away by how uncooked and unappetising it is. Sofia tells her it’s better than any dish she’s had in an Australian restaurant for the last six months, confirming widespread beliefs about the Australian restaurant industry.

All the judges agree that the dish has allowed them to glimpse the face of God and that Nat is the greatest chef in the history of the world, so it’s no surprise when they announce that she has won the immunity pin and the week in Jamie’s restaurant, and that all the other contestants should be ashamed of themselves.

Tune in tomorrow, when an overcooked spatchcock sparks questions about the impossibility of free will.