Delicious or Disaster: The Real Disaster Is the Video Review

One hardly knows whether to laugh or sigh at the spectacle of a man so proud of his own ignorance. In his video review of Delicious or Disaster, the self-anointed critic fires his verbal musket with such confidence, one almost misses that he’s holding it the wrong way round. What he calls “analysis” is, in truth, the culinary equivalent of eating with a fork upside-down — messy, awkward, and mostly self-inflicted. He has, to borrow from the kitchen, overcooked his own credibility.

There are bad reviews, and then there are reviews that review themselves — unwittingly revealing more about the critic’s shallowness than the subject’s flaws. The viral video purporting to analyse Delicious or Disaster falls squarely into the latter. It struts like insight but stumbles like ignorance, mistaking mockery for analysis and virality for validity.

Where my last essay approached the show with the sobriety of someone who understands both art and its architecture, the video by Justice Zubby Ike substitutes cheap noise for thought. It is a crash course in what happens when commentary becomes content — when someone, armed with confidence but starved of context, decides that conviction alone makes a critic.

The reviewer’s biggest sin is not harshness but hollowness. His points are wafer-thin, collapsing under the mildest touch of scrutiny. He embraces the judges, the scoring, and the contestants, but never once engages the real argument — that Delicious or Disaster is a symptom of Nigeria’s larger cultural confusion: our worship of visibility over value, clout over craft.

Where the earlier critique traced that malaise with nuance — situating the show within the crisis of expertise and the rise of influencer culture — the video response merely shouts at shadows. It offers no structural understanding of television production, no grasp of the pressures of time, taste, or storytelling. It is all noise and no nutrition.

It’s easy to sneer; it’s harder to think. The reviewer mistakes irritation for intellect, as though performance were a substitute for perspective. His arguments are strung together with the impatience of someone trying to trend, not understand. Every line feels pre-chewed, designed for applause rather than analysis — a monologue for clicks, not critique.

But critique is craft. It demands method, memory, and mercy. What he should be offering instead, is that delicate balance of cultural criticism and moral urgency — the video annihilates with flippancy. It ignores the humanity of contestants, the structural absurdity of the show’s design, and the ethical lapses of its judges. Instead, it performs outrage in the echo chamber of its own self-importance.

In calling out the show’s supposed “drama,” the reviewer fails to see that his video is the same spectacle he claims to protect — a frantic theatre of performance over thought. His delivery is an exercise in the same unseriousness: no evidence, no empathy, no awareness of what criticism actually demands.

Meanwhile, persuasively, that Delicious or Disaster embodies a deeper crisis of value in Nigerian media — one that deserves reform. Justice Zubby Ike’s argument had spine. The video, by contrast, has only volume.

If irony were edible, the reviewer could open a restaurant. In his rush to declare the show as brilliant, he creates one of his own — a masterclass in misunderstanding. He reduces a layered cultural conversation to the level of gossip, flattening everything into “hot takes” and hashtags. He mistakes provocation for perception, and ends up proving the very argument he tries to discredit: that Nigerian entertainment is drowning in performative shallowness.

It’s only fair to ask for higher standards — not just from the show, but from the culture surrounding it — demanding thoughtfulness where others chase trends. The video, in contrast, is a symptom of the disease, not a cure: unserious in structure, shallow in argument, and smug in ignorance.

In the end, the only thing truly “disastrous” is the analysis itself. Delicious or Disaster may have its flaws, but the reviewer’s performance is proof that bad faith, not bad cooking, is Nigeria’s most overproduced ingredient.