So let’s get this straight. Vakoo has been bedridden and missed the cocktail party. She has returned to the house and has failed to notice that eight new girls have arrived, and six people were eliminated until Abbie tells her.
Just as I think she should head back to her sick bed, I realise I didn’t even notice Vakoo was missing.
Anyway, she’s got heaps of time to get up to speed, because Matt and Elly are off on their Golden Ticket date, but the only Oompaloompa in sight appears to be Elly.
They’re in Matt’s home ‘town’ of Melbourne, where Matt has organised some special experiences. I’m worried about Matt’s courtship rituals. Personally, I think it’s a bit early for a threesome, but there’s Gaye Waterhouse with a set of white gloves and there is a whole lot of fondling of the Melbourne Cup.
And then he introduces the animals.
It’s not like they’re going to “take their horses to the hotel room and ride them all night long”, but they’re not getting to have a go on Winx either. They hop astride a couple of nags and head off to the glue factory.
Horses dispatched, it’s off to the day lounge for the cheese board and bubbly. There’s an awkward moment where it looks like there will be no pash, but Matt comes through and produces the rose from under the cushions. And then they pash some more. Like really pash. Watch out Sogand. On a side note: I really need to reconsider my couches. All I find when I reach under the cushions is dog hair and dehydrated Maccas fries (circa 2007).
I guess it’s the next day, because all of a sudden two red Hyundai loads of girls are off to a sporting field for the first of Osher’s humiliating games. And to make it worse, he has divided them into teams on new girl/old girl lines.
“Just quietly,” says one of them. “We’re confident.”
Quietly. Describes no Bachelor contestant ever.
Mary has no idea how to play Touch AFL which is no surprise because NO SUCH GAME EXISTS OSHER, and soon finds herself in the sin bin. Surprisingly, Nic-hole turns out to be a bit of a star of the game that is invented, and Nic-hole wins Best and Fairest and wins a single night time date with Matt.
Nic-hole has all the romantic moves, like wrapping arms around Matt and skolling a glass of Yellow. But then, Nic-hole spends the entire date rattling off a list of sports and explaining how Melbourne needs her barista skills. To shut her up Matt reaches behind the cushions and finds his rose and promptly knocks the head off.
It is a mood killer (and what we like to call an OMEN), and girls, if you are ever wondering if a guy is into you, this line should prove that he isn’t:
“Well. We’d better knock off the cheese platter.”
At the cocktail party, Nic-hole tries to pretend that Matt liked her more than the cheese, but it’s a hard sell, because, hello, in the red corner there is Jarlsberg and double-Brie and King Island Blue and a wedge of Maggie Beer quince paste, and in the blue corner there is…Nic-hole.
Then, a date card is introduced. Apparently, Matt will decide on the next single-date before the end of the cocktail party. Nice one, Osher.
Poor Matt enters the room and it’s like he is the hot chip and the girls are a flock of seagulls. He beats them away with his thong and drags Elly our into the back yard where they share another little kiss.
Nic-hole is waiting patiently for Matt to come back, but when he does, he is swooped upon by Moan-ik who takes Matt outside to find the “little things she has hidden in her the bush”.
It works, because Matt gives her not only the date, but the rose as well.
Moan-ik is pleased. In fact, in her words (literally):
“I’m esstatic!”
But if Matt wanted someone who spoke a language other than English, surely he would have chosen Elinor or Kirsten?
It’s all too much for Nic-hole who, after realising she actually forgot to put her pants on for the cocktail party, storms off for the first dunny spit of the season. You know, when they run off to the toilets and slam the door in a producer’s face because:
“I’ve had enough! It’s all too much!”
Usually, this type of behaviour comes from someone who doesn’t already have a rose, but Nic=hole has one, albeit just the head (but let’s face it – that’s the business end).
But it appears that Nic-hole’s rose even has amazing regenerative powers:
(PIC)
Osher appears and introduces tonight’s mathematical problem: 17 chicks, 14 roses = 3 leaving.
One poor girl won’t be picked because she had to fashion herself a dress out of David Jones bags…
“Chelsie”
…but then David Jones bags never go out of style.
Abby, Kristen, Elinor, Vakoo and Isabelle all get roses.
“Emma” (OK. He’s still a bit afraid of cutting loose the psycho.)
“Nikki “(We know he likes Flemington.)
“Mary” (Yay!)
Julia, Rachael, Sogand, Brianna and Cassandra.
Jessie, Renee and Jessica are going home.
Around this point, my husband, Mick Molloy, walks into the room, just as Jessica is readjusting her hair.
“Well no wonder he didn’t pick her. Look at that friggen lump under her arm.”
I rewind, and there it is…
However, I think our astrophysicist Bachelor was less putt of by the infected hair follicle than the tatts and the piercing holes that have half-heartedly been covered with spac-filler.
Our Matt may not be a virgin, but it’s baby steps.
But just in case, Jessica – get that lump checked out.
friday night with kath 