You just know, sometime in the hopefully not too distant future, that a few of these girls are going to be ejected and get their few minutes of fame on The Project and the breakfast radio circuit. They will be asked a hundred times about how they came across on the show and one-by-one they will claim that they aren’t really like that – it’s all creative editing.
Well let’s all praise Vanessa Sunshine. She left the house last Thursday night and has been luxuriating in her fifteen minutes of fame for the past week. Whenever she was asked about how she was portrayed, she had the same response. “Yeah. That’s me.”
And that just confirms it for me – there are three fricken bitches in that house, and it’s about time that they got their come-uppance. But more about that later.
The episode begins and two special deliveries have been made to the house. The first, a forty-four gallon drum of fake tan, has been embraced by all the girls. Romy is so orange she looks like she’s about to interview for an opening at Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory.
The second is a group date card.
Nick has chosen a bunch of girls he didn’t take camping, and everyone is fine with that because that is fair. They don’t seem too bothered by the fact that he has accidentally doubled-up by taking Alysha again, probably because Alysha has not shown that she has any other interest in the house than spreading malicious gossip, and she therefore poses no threat to them winning, but one must wonder why we have seen so little of Dasha for the last couple of episodes – surely Nick must have something big in mind for her later down the track.
The seven chosen ones soon join Nick and Osher in the back yard and Osher has a big surprise. He has sent out for a special delivery of three brunettes from Uber Meets and in short order Deanna, Jamie-Lee and Britteny have emerged from the back of a convertible to meet the Honey Badger.
Now all of this comes as a bit of a surprise to Nick because sneaky Osher didn’t tell him that these girls were coming. Nick says that ten years of playing international rugby have left him with a poker face.
They haven’t. Cauliflower ears maybe (like has anyone even seen his ears?), but his face lights up like a fat kid in a lolly shop.
All of the girls make an impression, though it is Britteny that makes an impact.
Now bear with me here. My sister is getting married this Saturday and is having a bit of trouble deciding how she is going to position her boobs in her dress. Not being an expert in such things, I decided to help her out by a bit of Google research. Suffice to say I learned a great deal more about “boob binding” than I ever wanted to: it is a THING and it is the type of thing that you MUST NEVER LOOK UP ON A WORK-RELATED COMPUTER. Once seen it cannot be unseen and it will haunt your dreams. Shudder.
Anyway, even the tamest of those images looked a little bit like this:
It’s soon clear why three intruders were required. Osher stupidly wrote an odd number of girls on the date card, but he needed ten to do what he does best: submit the women to a humiliating game where they wear scanty clothing and turn on one another.
“Welcome to the first ever Bachelor Moon Ball Tournament!” he exclaims proudly. It’s just like netball except they are bouncing around on inflatable balloons and there aren’t any middle-aged women in short pleated skirts blowing their whistle every fifteen seconds because you’ve taken too many steps, or you’ve stood too close, or you’ve thrown the ball too far, or you’ve stood in the wrong part of the court, or you told one of the women to shove her whistle up her clacker…
But I digress. You may have guessed that netball and I are not a match made in heaven.
Nick’s job is to be the referee, and at this job he sucks. It all starts off harmlessly enough, the girls bouncing around like they are afflicted with nasty case of haemorrhoids; occasionally one of them even manages to get the ball through the net. But it soon disintegrates into an all out melee of girls ripping earrings out of the heads of other girls and deliberate tripping, all out wrestling and gratuitous crotch shots…and for god’s sake Nick! Blow the god-damned whistle! None of this behaviour is in Osher’s carefully crafted Official Rules of Bachelor Moon Ball!
But he doesn’t and somebody gets hurt. New girl Jamie-Lee has gone down lame and finally Nick takes control and calls a medic.
“Crikey, mate. She went head over biscuit and now she’s broken the old measuring stick.”
Luckily the medic speaks Honey Badger and tends to Jamie-Lee’s ankle.
Cat, of course, is buying none of it, because Cat is a class-A bitch.
“She’s just bunging it on so she can spend more time with Nick,” she purses, clearly upset she didn’t think of such a ruse herself.
And just like that, the game is over. No winner is declared, no one-on-one date is offered, no rose is given. It should be played on that other channel 10 program: Pointless.
Instead they all return to the mansion where there is a pointless cocktail party, unless the point is for Romy to reunite with her coven and lay shit on the new girls.
The next day, Nick has invited Tennille on a single date. He says that’s because he hasn’t spent much time with her, and to be honest, I’d forgotten that she was even in the house.
He picks her up on an Indian motorcycle and takes her off to an apple orchard where he shows disdain for Workplace Health and Safety once again. Without even a short medical evaluation to assess Tennille for anaphylaxis, he has her dressed up in a hazmat suit and they are off to harass some bees, before sampling some of the bee vomit.
Before Nick can say “suck on this”, Tennille has shoved a handful of honeycomb straight into her gob.
“Mmmmm. Dewishus,” she tries to say, her teeth stuck together by a huge lump of beeswax, and unsure whether to spit or swallow.
Nick takes this as a sign to take her to another grove where the usual daybed and cushions has been set up.
This whole date has been planned so that Nick can tell a story about how middle-aged people…sorry…people in the middle ages were given a whole lunar month’s worth of honey mead as a wedding present and that’s where the word honeymoon came from.
He neglected to say that in the middle ages people existed on a diet of mead and ale for breakfast lunch and dinner, and that is just like The Bachelor.
Nick then says he wants to get to know Tennille on a deeper level, so he asks her to explain the lunar cycle:
“It’s about the…moon…maybe?” she attempts.
And now knowing she is deeply stupid, he stilll gives her both a rose and a kiss.
If I recall correctly, Nick has kissed all of the brunettes he has taken on one-on-one time, the notable exception being Cat, and that was because he suspected she had a detachable jaw and would swallow him whole if given the chance.
And all of a sudden it’s cocktail party time.
Jamie-Lee has returned in a full-body cast, a moon boot and crutches. What an attention seeker.
Romy has been spending her time during the interceding hours prowling the garden killing birds so that she can fashion their pelts into a frock, gathering intel from minion Alysha, and jamming a stick right up Cat’s butt so that she can perch on the arm of a sofa and lord it over everyone.
Tennille, excited by her rose, has told the girls every last detail about the date, including the fact that she and Nick kissed.
Now we must pause to remember that when Romy went on her one-on-one date with Nick, she attempted to eat his face off and he diverted and pecked her on the cheek. Then she went back to the house and told a bold-faced lie about the passionate kiss she and Nick shared.
“Oh that’s so tacky,” she declares. “How dare she come back in here and tell everyone that they kissed on the date.”
Well, they kissed on the lips. I agree the date would be tacky.
Romy decides this indiscretion must be addressed. As the moral compass in the room (I actually think I may have vomited a little as I typed that, despite the irony), she approaches Tennille.
“You said kissing Nick was gross,” she attacks.
“No, I said kissing a man who had kissed a lot of other girls as well as me was gross,” defends Tennille.
“You said kissing Nick was gross,” comes Romy’s skilful retort.
“Stop putting words in my mouth!”
“You said kissing Nick was gross.”
At this, Tennille attempts to bid an elegant, non-confrontational retreat.
Romy follows her.
“You’re a hypocrite. And stop being so aggressive!” taunts Romy while minion Cat tells camera what a drama queen Tennille is. It is all very yukky and very school-yard bully.
Romy will not let up, flapping about Tennille like some vindictive white and orange magpie. And like most people being attacked by a magpie, Tennille flees, running into the garden pursued only by Shannon, seventeen producers, thirty-seven sound guys, a very excited director, but curiously not Nick.
Tennille has undone her zip, ripped out her mike and made a run for the back corner of the garden. She is pursued by the frantic camera-crew whose footage of jiggly camera and crying and runny-noses looks like they are trying to remake The Blair Witch Project.
Finally, Tennille finds solace in the arms of a tree.
“I’m sick of this shit!” she sobs to the tree.
The tree does not respond because the tree is a good listener.
“These three girls have given me nothing but shit about my date with Nick and I m sick of it!” she repeats.
The tree and I agree.
I know part of the appeal of The Bachelor is the drama, but this is beyond the pale. This is heinous. I want to reach through the television and slap someone, but I settle with slapping myself instead.
Finally a producer manages to calm Tennille down, zip her back up and get her back for the Rose Ceremony. Osher arrives to tell them all that Nick only has thirteen roses, even though there are fifteen girls.
“Well, two intruders will be going home,” observes Cat. “Sending home one of us original girls would be unfair.”
I agree. Sending ONE of them would be unfair. Both Cat and Romy need to go, because surely Nick couldn’t have missed all the drama. Surely Nick has finally seen their true colours?
But Nick hasn’t. Not only does he keep ALL of the intruders, he persists with Cat and Romy, sending Rhiannon and Ashlea home.
By this stage I am ready to scream. I’m ready to give up on this entire series because the bullying and bullshit is too much…
…and then there is a trailer for episode 8…
…and the promise that someone is going to be dethroned.
I.CANNOT.WAIT.
friday night with kath 