So since the last Reinvention Challenge, harrassed yorkshirewoman Tracy served up a bunch of rubbish, overcooked some steaks and got sent on her florid-cheeked way – thus ending the chances of seeing another overly sweaty mouth-breather taking out the crown. (Yes, I’m talking to you, Julie Goodwin.)
Crushed as I am, it is time to move on and what better way to take my mind off things than to watch a bunch of fools sodomise Australia’s beloved Pavlova on national television.
Straight away, Bonny and Akuc are nervous. Bonny, you may recall, has a history of Pavlova abuse, whereas Akuc harbours a life-long animosity toward dessert in general – a fact she happily shares with the judges in the hope that, as in previous episodes, it will get her easy treatment. Rico (my life-partner in TV couch-judgery) issues a loud ‘oh for FUCK’s sake’ in Akuc’s general direction. I worry that if the judges keep stamping her pity passport, Rico will take his frustrations to the bottom of a 4 litre Stanley’s cask and leave me to snark all on my lonesome.
Elsewhere in the kichen it’s a combination of interesting ideas and complete fuckery. Our Gordon Ramseyesque friend, Cameron, is hoping to impress Marco and distract from the fact that he has the most annoying voice on Australian television. He’s planning some sort of deconstruction of a Pavlova and, despite sounding like an utter WANKER, the idea actually sounds quite nice.
The camera moves on to unfortunate Coop who has clearly been drinking too much of the aforementioned 4 litre boxed wine because he’s doing the recipe equivalent of wandering around the kitchen with his dick out. That’s right, folks, family man is doing a Pavlova Pizza.
My first thought is: ‘isn’t that just a flat pavlova with fruit on it?’. But no, this delusional fucker is actually using an authentic pizza base that he plans to top with pieces of meringue and other desserty stuff. He’s hoping his ingenuity will impress the judges. I’m willing to bet that the only impressive thing will be the capacity of the ‘discretional bucket’ stowed beneath the tasting table.
And now to Bonny who has no idea what she is doing but, because she’s young and mostly deaf, the judges pat her on the back and praise her for ‘keeping her options open’. She promptly burns the first batch of meringue and Marco nearly busts a hip getting back to her bench to help her out.
Angry-Sarah is cooking mini pavlovas and declares her mum to be ‘the king of pavlovas’. Unbeknownst to Sarah her mum is now ‘the king of changing her will’ thanks to being outed as a tranny on national television.
And then of course there’s Akuc who, despite declaring her intention to ‘do my best’, is squatting like a birthing tribeswoman and squeezing out something that looks distinctly like a pavlova into her bakeware. With Marco and Matty P looking on, Akuc then rolls the pavlova into the very foetal position the show’s producers are no doubt rocking in at this latest display of sheer dumbassery.
Tasting goes as expected: Cameron, despite demonstrating a continued disregard for any form of clear speech, has cooked what Matty P calls ‘a contender dish’. Cameron looks so genuinely happy and non-asshole-like at this compliment that I actually start to like him. But then he opens his slack mouth and I’m back to hoping he falls tongue-first into a blender.
Akuc’s pavlova, says Marco, is just ‘pavlova’. For the first time since she served up battered fish and chips to general acclaim in the fish and chip reinvention test, I don’t feel like delivering a double chinese burn to the judges’ testicles.
Bonny has fucked up royally – her dish looks yellow and runny and, in general, like something that might happen to your bowels in Thailand. She’s crying, though, and speaks with an endearing lisp, so Marco delivers a soft-cock critique and tells her ‘your palate is what most chefs lack’. Next to me Rico mutters something about most chefs also lacking the talent to turn dessert into dysentery but the cameras have switched to Coop so I don’t have time discuss the finer points.
Ah, Coop. Family man Coop. Despite serving up some contextually ridiculous ‘cuppa tea’ icecream as a side, his pavlova pizza lives up to its ugly promise. Seriously, this thing is hideous and Im quite impressed when both Marco and Matty P manage to keep it down.
‘You have two problems’ Matty says when his stomach has stopped churning enough for speech. Coop looks like he’s about to hold up two fingers, but manages to stop himself and then spends some time whinging about how hard things are for his family at the moment – a state of affairs I can certainly imagine if this is the kind of steaming turdery he delivers to the dinner table night after night.
It’s no surprise, therefore, that Coop’s in the bottom 3 along with deaf Bonny and Akuc. Bonny is declared safe and then the judges deliver the super news that Akuc’s complete lack of fuck’s for the theme of the challenge have set her on the fast ferry to McDonald’s employment.
Marco, very nice man that he seems to be – despite the pre-show promos of him brandishing knives and glaring down his impressive honker – tries to gentle the blow by telling her ‘we – Australia – have been given an insight into your childhood’. Akuc beams – she seems to think that now ‘Australia knows about Akuc’, we will actually want to eat her food. We might even, she suggests, in a blatant attempt to trade X-rated acts for a cookbook deal, like to ‘taste a little bit of me’.
It’s a happy day in my loungeroom but a grim day for Masterchef producers who now have to face the fact that – despite their best efforts – this show is now as racially diverse as a Cottees commercial filmed in a skinhead clubhouse.