So if you didn’t buckle your bitchbelt prior to watching last night’s episode of My Kitchen Rules, you won’t be reading this because you’ll be splattered in fleshy gobules over your TV’s windshield. That’s right: last night was a veritable tartare of bitchery resting on a bed of ice-cold cunt crystals.
The Instant Restaurant was Jake and Elle’s, the brother and sister duo from a well-to-do background. Jake is an interesting creature and, if not for the Whores of the Orient, might have had a chance at the title of most-hated contestant.
Jake also looks like Molly Ringwald.
And here’s Molly Ringwald:
Anyhoo, back to the show. The guests arrive and, surprise surprise, Jessie and Biswa are unimpressed. ‘Where’s the sun?’ complains the one resembling a bullfrog in its best frock. And I’m forced to agree: Molly and Elle’s failure to halt the rotation of the earth makes for a a grim start to the evening.
In the kitchen, Molly and Elle love to bicker like all good siblings. Elle scrambles the icecream, Molly forgets the mincing blades, but nothing is catastrophic and the cameraman manages to capture plenty of footage of Molly bending over in tight white pants. Outside, the cuntery continues with Biswa hoping the entree is not too rich or creamy because she ‘can’t eat too big of a meal’. The other contestants’ eyes roll so hard they spend the rest of the time prior to the delivery of the first dish on their hands and knees picking them up off the floor.
Out comes the entree and it’s looking good. The judges are a bit sad at the lack of truffle but love the flavour and are particularly impressed with the authentic aldente cooking of the pasta. Cunt and cuntier, meanwhile, practically spit it back out on the plate.
In the kitchen and out at the table there’s plenty of concern about the pubfood-potential of the main. Molly thinks the fear is baseless and proceeds to serve up a Hagrid-size steak that looks like something Bambi might have dragged out of that forrest fire. Feltchy and Bitchface start cackling like two junior serial killers carving up their first cat. ‘It’s so GROSS’ they giggle, conveniently forgetting that just last night they served up what was effectively the contents of a nutsack in a martini glass.
Neither Pete nor Manu feel the love in the dish and Molly and Elle race back to the kitchen with their tails clasped protectively over their privates.
Dessert looks and, according to the judges, tastes fantastic. The rest of the contestants agree, even Jessie and Biswa. Ok, I’m lying: Biswa ‘hates it’ and they both pull the kind of faces usually reserved for a mouthful of someone else’s spew.
Again: the irony.
Scoring time comes and despite Biswa thinking their failure to force anyone to be physically sick deserves a zero, they settle on one out of ten. The other contestants and the judges think differently and the much higher scores cause the girls to squeeze out some tears at the table. Surpisingly, no-one gives out so much as One. Single. Fuck.
So now there’s just one team left and, after tonight’s performance, I’m confident they could serve up a decomposing wombat in a blue santitary bin and still pip these two whores at the post.