A Letter to Matt Newell from TV's 'My Kitchen Rules'
Pictured: A guy who is not me with his dad who is also not my dad.
Hello! I hope that everything is going well with you. For my readers not living locally it seems pertinent to mention that we have never met. You are the recently returned star of a television cooking show that is broadcast here in Australia called My Kitchen Rules. I am an Arts graduate and a blogger who writes things that people sometimes read.
I know what you’re thinking: Lyndon, I’m a busy man. If I’m going to grace your letter with an earnest reading you’re going to have to cut to the chase. I’ve got restaurant launches to attend. Okay. Fine. Let’s cut to the chase. Maybe then boil it in a white wine jus.
I look like you. Well, maybe you look like me. Let’s not fight over birthdays and conception dates. At first I wasn’t even sure I agreed - yes, I’m a brown-haired young bloke in Tassie who wears thick rimmed dark glasses and is reasonably gentle and well-mannered. And sure, the similarities were close enough that my family was certain to laugh at the television and say, “You’re on again, Lyndon!” or “He even walks like you!” but that was probably it, right? Turns out it wasn’t, but I could get used to the Facebook messages and text messages every time the show came on. You’re on the tellie! Nice work with dessert tonight! To be honest, I even got to barracking for you and your dad. A Tassie team with a guy like me. Bring it on.
But then it got weird, because strangers started talking to me. Today, in the hour and a half that I was in town, three seperate people asked me if I was Matt from My Kitchen Rules. One lady came over and said, “Excuse me, Matt?’ and when I politely told her, "I’m sorry, I’m not him but I really hope he wins,” she said, “Are you sure?”
Am I sure of what? Am I sure that I am Lyndon Riggall, Tasmanian scribbler of things, and not Matt Newell, Tasmanian celebrity chef? Am I sure that I exist - that I’m not just you pretending to be me so that I/you can get some peace and quiet at a café?
Yes, I’m sure. I’m so sure that I can confidently write you this letter knowing that it’s not actually going to wind up back in my own inbox. But what of tomorrow, Matt? What if the next “fan” goes one step further, and refuses point blanc to believe me? What if our parallel-apparently-separated-at-birth lives reach the point where mine is burnt away by the brief but consuming candle of your fame?
There is only one thing for it. We need a strategy. Sure, I could look at it as an awkward inconvenience, but I’ve read too many stories about identical twins for that to work. How great could it be - I could do your media appearances when you’re sick, or you could blame your nightclub indiscretions on “that other guy who looks like you.” We’d be a team, two halves of the same Superman. What do you say?
Either way, I’m not going to complain. As weird as it is to be part of a widespread identity crisis, it is a compliment. As much as TV can reliably tell you anything about anyone you do seem a genuine and likeable guy, and I hope that one day - if the world doesn’t implode when it happens - I get to meet you. It’s not Ashlee or Sophia that my style apparently resembles, and that’s got to count for something.
If nothing else, it seems inevitable that one day soon I will be invited to a costume party which I have neither the inclination nor the time to prepare for. Kinda nice to know that I can just put on an apron and I’ve got it made.
Here’s hoping, for both of us, that you win MKR. Best of luck.
So… I made a little something. Just a couple things about how I went about finding and compiling the gif hunts. I only checked the actor’s name+gif hunt in the tags. I also didn’t include gif hunts that didn’t specify how many gifs there were. Furthermore, I only went back until April 2013 except for some cases (Alex Newell, Matt Morrison, Jane Lynch) where there were only 3 or less gif hunts in the tags.