Poor Ivan! He’s a dancer, not a fighter and as a result he hasn’t spent much time with Ali. But, boy, can he impress an alpaca with his Nutbush.
Of course he is hoping for the single date, but Osher’s card has Robert’s name on it. The latter looks to Bill anxiously. Bill still has the WILD ROSE. He could steal the date.
But he doesn’t.
“Go spend time with Ali,” says Bill.
There is a conflict developing between Bill and Charlie, so I’m pretty sure we can figure out how this wild rose scenario is going to play out.
The next day Ali is on a speed boat in the Harbour. The water is blue, the sun’s out – and so are Ali’s nipples. This could be in anticipation of the date with Robert, or it could be that despite the sun and her exposed shoulders, it’s still freezing cold.
She picks up Robert and they jet around the harbour for a bit before arriving at Cockatoo Island. Haha. Cockatoo Island. Ex-penal colony. There’s a pun producer wetting himself right now.
Apparently, apart from being heritage listed AND a significant site for indigenous Australians, the island is home to a world-renowned “relationship art” facility, where potential beaus get to write big words (both LARGE and MULTI-SYLLABIC) on large paper screens before driving through the lot in some sort of suped-up dune buggy.
It’s enthralling television, but even more titillating in real life, because Ali, who is determined not to fall in love too quickly, has, for the second week in a row, pashed a bloke before the cheese platter. (Yep. That’s a convoluted sentence. Channelling my inner Peter Carey.)
And what a cheese platter it is! Ali has integrated the bottle of passata Robert presented her on the first night. She has even used some of it to make a relish, which she has served up to Robert on a cracker.
“I don’t want to see your erection,” says Ali. “I’m scared.”
Holy moley quackimole. That must be some sort of amazing relish!
“I don’t want to see your reaction,” says Ali. “I’m scared.
Phew! Of all the enhancements Ali could have had, perhaps one of them could have been enunciation.
Needless to say, Robert gets a rose – and another pash.
Back at the mansion, Ivan has been impressing the alpacas with some Gangsta Macarena when he is rudely interrupted by Todd with a group date card. They all get to go. Jules is really, really excited, even though it’s a gladiatorial challenge and Jules is…gladiatorially challenged.
The next day Osher is proudly announcing the FIRST EVER GLADITORIAL GAMES, and I can’t help but wonder if Osher is wondering why there are never ever any “second ever” anything.
Maybe it’s the total disregard of anything WHS. The blokes are dressed in faux-leather skirts and baby oil. Are there even any equipment checks?
What’s worn under a gladiator’s fleather skirt? Absolutely nothing – it’s all in perfect working order!
Boom-boom. I’m here all week.
The first stage of the contest is a chariot race. It’s exactly like the ancient Roman ones except there aren’t any horses or Ben Hur, but Ali gets to balance a plastic goblet of water and pour it into a jug to see which group of lads gives the smoothest ride. (Oh please!)
Needless to say, the team with all the short, scrawny guys in it is eliminated. Despite this Jules is excited, because he gets to watch Ali carry goblets.
Stage 2 is a convoluted Tug-O-War. They are in teams, but the first four individuals to grab a flag win. Of course Charlie and Bill are on the same team and Charlie is annoyed because Bill isn’t playing for the team and is only playing for himself.
And…duh…isn’t the whole concept of this show to play for yourself?
Bill wins the flag because he didn’t play as a team so Charlie could win, but in the end it matters little, because of the four flag winners, Ivan wins.
Poor Ivan! He’s just been so involved in the dance for so long that he has forgotten to how to chat with a girl. He falls foul of premature articulation:
“I’m a carpenter, but I really, really want five kids – boy, girl, boy, girl, boy – and then I really, really, really want to dance on Step Up Series 3 in the wonderful U-NIT-ED STATES!”
Oops. Everything about that is a potential deal breaker, but the US (ie. Grant fiasco) is a particular sore point. The only thing he could have done to make the date worse would have been to turn up in his talking head outfit:
Honestly, this girl would latch on to the muffler of a rusty 1976 Monaro. How the heck did he manage to f*ck this up?
He realises he has too step up (literally) That’s why he has a surprise arranged for Ali at the cocktail party and it’s all organised that he will do it as soon as Ali is finished chatting to Taite. Please don’t let him do some sort of interpretive tap to Bette Midler’s ‘The Rose’.
Then Bill breaches the Bro Code (Article 57: If thou hast the wild rose though shallst not cut the grass of a tradie with dance moves)
Ivan changes into his dance garb. His hat is on backwards and his pecs are oiled.
He goes for it.
And Ali feels awkward.
Charlie, meanwhile is berating Bill.
“You are just in this for yourself, mate,” Charlie accuses.
And again I am confused, because I really thought this was the point.
Osher arrives to announce the rose ceremony:
“How are you feeling, Guys?” asks Osher, in an unusually anticipatory tone.
“Sore,” they chorus, “because of the incredibly taxing task in the first ever gladiator challenge.”
I smell a rat, because two-thirds of them were eliminated before they even had to tug anything.
Ultimately, two of the men have to go.
Ivan’s dodgy dance moves save him for another week.
Ali lets go of Wes (the last of the hirsute guys) and Damian (bullet dodged).
See you all tomorrow.