Sweet mother of chubber but it was a THRILLING first week on The Biggest Loser – The Next Generation!
Rico reckons it would be great to be fat because you’d never get cold and then you wouldn’t have to worry about shrinkage. I’ve tried explaining that it doesn’t exactly work that way but he can be a stubborn bitch, especially when it comes to his friend downstairs.
Anyhoo our journey on the hefty train starts with our mother/father/daughter/son duos chucked on a large-capacity bus and hurtled to some sort of stadium where they can stand in front of some seething masses and ‘make a promise’ to each other.
The contestants are understandably nervous. I mean – they signed a contract to strip down to their knickers in front of cameras, not living, judging people. Plus the outside is staffed by a bunch of matrix-style security staff and I half expect Laurence Fishbourne to materialise out of a side-door and start bitching about how his daughter became a porn star.
Onstage and there’s a fair bit of regret from parents who reckon they should have been a bit suss when that ranga clown told them the Food Pyramid was made out of burgers and his secret sauce.
Perhaps the most interesting exchange is between mother and daugher team Janet and Kirsten. According to the pre-show footage, Janet likes to run her fat mouth off in shopping centres and then act surprised when her daughter tells a bitch to shut the hell up. On stage, Janet reveals herself to be addicted to God, as well as donuts, by saying that ‘there is a plan for us’ and that The Biggest Loser will help her drown out the voice of Satan. Kirsten reckons if her mum can stop being the obese kettle who calls the pot a porker, they’ll be a strong team.
Over to the light blue team and Amber has obviously been studying The Biggest Loser Cliche Handbook because she’s spouting out every single saccharin clanger under the sun about digging through the lard pit and dragging the skinny person out.
But she’s not the only one. Ranga Jess reckons she’ll make her dad proud and then in a staggering display of unintended irony, announces that she feels like a massive weight has been lifted.
Rico snarks that it ain’t gonna be that easy because isn’t she the one they’ve been showing us on the previews making a generous donation to Michelle’s barf bucket?
But promises are over and the producers have got more torture in store because – you guessed it loser lovers – before our teams can bust through the doors of the Big House and start bitching about their opposition, there’s a ten-metre drop with their names on it and two trainers who are anxious to rip off their tops and strut around like overly-tattooed turkeys.
While the teams stand around looking nervous, I notice that the producers have let the Commando put his sunglasses back on. Rico reckons that with Michelle’s scarily orange legs and Shannan’s plasticcy face, it’s the least that’s required and that the only reason the other two aren’t wearing any is because they’re Terminators who don’t feel pity or fear or remorse or pain.
But now to the jumping and the Grey team are struggling. Mammy Mandy doesn’t think she can do it and while her son treads water and loses all sensation in his genitals Shannan produces his gut muscles and lets everyone know that he’s ‘100% committed’ to dragging her fat ass down with him.
But Mandy doesn’t give two turds for Shanny’s six-pack and it’s only when some sexy bitch in a wetsuit comes over and tells her the sooner she jumps, the sooner she can get away from this poof in a preen-suit, that she lurches off the edge and saves her son from a future as an amputee, as well as a fat bastard.
Back on the cliff and the Commando has proved himself an even bigger attention-whore than Shanny by actually jumping off the cliff and then revealing his bald patch.
Rico is shaken by this news. Though he holds the military in the same esteem as the factory that produces low-grade kitty litter, he likes that the Commando seems like a man who’d clean his teeth with a Bowie knife and tell Cujo to lay his murderous lunch-breath on someone who gives a shit. So seeing his idol with a neat little bald – and there really isn’t another word for it – pate is rather shocking for him and rather akin to the time when he realised that Santa was Uncle Eric and the only present he was carrying was in his pants and addressed to his mother.
As the jumping continues there’s not much excitement and following the predictable ‘now it’s your turn’ trainers’ jump, it’s off to the new Biggest Loser house for the first weigh-in.
But first some chitchat with host, Hayley, who waffles on about $200 000 being just enough for a down-payment on a dog box in Broken Hill but because it is a COUPLE who’ll win, unless one bitch eats the other, they’ll have to make do with The Biggest Loser Boar Game and a lifetime of why-the-fuck-did-we-bother?
As the weigh-in starts there’s many a nervous face and Blue Team daddy worries that ‘there’s nowhere to run’.
Rico sprays his port in disgust and mutters that if this bitch had shown more interest in running and less interest in bacon a bit earlier, he wouldn’t be on the damn show.
First up on the scales are Orange Team Robyn and Katie. Katie has already shat me because she likes to refer to herself in third person and, when her mum wept that Katie was ‘just loyke me’ and then in the same sentence squeezed out a giant sloppy with the words ‘I think she’s beautiful’, didn’t turn and give her a fat hand across the face for being a raging dumbass.
Anyhoo, Katie is fatter than Robyn and there’s a fair bit of fat hugging because Katie doesn’t blame Robyn and reckons Robyn didn’t wedge open her jaws and just POUR the donuts in.
Onto Blue Team Richard and Amber, and Amber’s ass-lips are in overtime queefing out such steaming nuggets as ‘I just want to live’ and ‘I want to let in the light and shut out those fucking burgers that keep sneaking into my hongray hole’.
When Red Team Sam and Jess take the stage, Hayley lets her inner cunt out for a breather by telling them they ‘deserve each other’ and then pours salt in Brett’s veruca by telling him he’s officially got the chunkiest guts in the house.
When Pink Team Janet and Kirsten step up, Janet says that she worries about her daughter’s weight and Kirsten whinges about her mum being about as self-aware as a bucket of pig grease. She then takes the opportunity to let Australia know that she may be a fatty, but fatty has a BOYFRIEND BIATCHES! The producers seal this beautiful moment by showing us the rather awkward mirror footage of Kirsten with her chubby puppies pressed into some black lingerie.
The weigh-in finished, we get to see the contestants settling in to their new abode. Since there’s nothing to eat, our teams start taking bites out of each other. Gerald is unimpressed by Richard and thinks his potty mouth doesn’t belong on a family show that specialises in close-ups of people being violently ill. Janet is concerned about the ‘explosion of personalities’, not to mention the explosion of lunches when they hit their first training session.
And speaking of: it’s time. We start with the Commando’s group and, true to form, he’s got them hauling large objects and skinning antelopes with their teeth. Shannan’s given his gym a make-over with some boxer wall art and a heavy bag in the hopes that his teams will see him as an old-style boxing trainer, rather than just an overly-botoxed git. Michelle is more practical and has spent her redecoration budget on a series of spew receptacles.
‘Anyone want a bucket?’ she shrieks and fuck me if there isn’t veritable stampede, with the eventual victor being Jess who crams herself in neck-deep before losing her stomach butter.
First training session over and it’s time for some more fuckery. In trots the guy who likes to tell people that, while their birth certificates say one thing, their fat asses shout another and they’d better start saving for one of those motorised carts before their cankles block the flow of foot traffic. Today, though, he’s got something special planned: he’s got his hands on some nifty software that’s gonna show the parents what their kids are going to look like at their age. Trouble is, this software seems to have fallen off the back of a Grand Theft Auto truck, because the only thing it manages to do is turn all the kids into hardened-looking criminals with a splash of Jabba the Hutt thrown in for good measure.
First up is Jess, and her GTA make-over is a greasy looking dark wig, an uneven tan and a Shannon Noll-style flavour-saver. Jess’ dad is horrified because if he saw this hot bitch in a bar he’d probably try and sleep with her.
Next up is Katie and she too gets done by the dodgy spray tanner. Katie’s mum is thrilled that her daughter hasn’t tried to go blonde therefore bear more of a resemblance, while Katie is just pissed that her ancient self couldn’t even be assed picking up a hairbrush.
Fifteen year-old Todd and the guy with massive earholes from the Black Team have been given the ‘Mega Jabba’, but for some reason the program has chosen not to give them long, scraggly hippy hair that needs a bucket of Pantene and a delousing comb. Brett from the grey team has been given matching grey hair which irks him because he’s got no intention of ageing gracefully and has big plans for his scalp and a packet of Napro Grecian Black when the fateful day arrives.
Kirsten is clearly the crack-smoking, rugby-playing whore of the bunch, because her skin looks like busted bubble wrap and her neck has been completely removed, whereas Amber’s naturally curly hair has been completely ignored in favour of a plastered-down Gollem-style that could again stand a few serious introductions to a hairbrush.
The session ends with the kids feeling like ground-in skidmarks and Shannon Noll placing a furious call to his barber.
The next episode starts with Hayley’s big news that if these bitches can put down the bacon to the total of 100kg, no-one will get eliminated this week! The cameras cut to Shannan who reckons ‘there’s no such thing as a free lunch on The Biggest Loser’.
Rico reckons there’s no such thing as ANY lunch on The Biggest Loser, and this fool needs to re-read his handbook.
Back to training and Shannan is whipping Janet into a sweat and asking her how it feels to be the whore that everyone, including her daughter, wants to slap. Janet doesn’t like it and looks forward to the day she’ll be fit enough to cruise the cougar bars and slap the ungrateful tongue out of that little bitch.
Over to the Commando’s lot and he’s created a monster. He’s picked Katie as his Second in Command because she’s still carrying around a photo of her chubby self strapped in a cadet’s uniform. Commando says today’s session is all about encouraging and because Katie wants to join the army, he’s happy to encourage her to turn into a bossy whore with a massive knob-end for a head.
Back to Michelle and curly-haired Amber is trying to figure out a way of getting out of gym. She has two options: pretend she’s just gotten her period, or fake a panic attack. She’s not keen on the first one because she’s pretty sure Jillian Michaels was a raving clam diver and since Michelle was created in Her image, she’s pretty sure she’ll see that as some sort of weird lesbian invitation. So panic attack it is and before you know it she’s panting like she’s about to spit out triplets and the medic has to come running with the forceps.
Michelle reckons Amber is ‘a princess who has always gotten away with anything’ and if she tries that shit again she’ll take away her bucket privileges and make her spew through her fingers like a REAL loser.
Back to the Commando and Katie is 100% committed to roaring like a demented bitch and doing the laziest arm-push-ups I’ve ever seen. She’s also trying to encourage Gerald, who’s slow on the run, by heaving lung farts on the back of his neck and jabbing him with her imaginary dick. Gerald is shocked – he had no idea a delusional bitch could fuck him so hard and next time he’s going to insist on the lubricant.
Back to Michelle and ranga Jess has been checking out real estate on Quit Street and has made an appointment with Michelle to discuss a sale. Michelle sits down and does her utmost to give a fuck when Jess cries about being fat in future wedding photos. While Jess sobs, Michelle pats her on the shoulder and tells her she should be more worried about being DEAD in future wedding photos, because if she lets a few close-ups with a bucket scare her off, she – Michelle – will bust through the space-time continuum and rip out her spine.
Training sessions over and it’s off to the airfield! Rico is excited because he’s seen the preview of the Commando in a jet fighter and wonders whether he was actually someone important, and not just the guy who sewed the buttons back on the combat fatigues.
But, no. Commando has his ass firmly in the co-pilot seat and the most dangerous occupation of his day looks to be closing his mouth when the bitch up the front squeezes out a Code Brown.
Rico is bored because it’s another one of those drag-something-really-heavy challenges and even though they’re ‘racing’ the jet plane their chances of winning are stronger than the Commando’s death grip on the eject button.
Amber is skeptical and reckons she can throw a hell of a tantrum but hauling anything other than her own sense of entitlement is going to be TOUGH. Katie, however, is EXCITED. She says that braying like a donkey on a dung hill is her thing and her lungs are gonna get a workout today.
The pushing and sweating and grunting begins and Jess is struggling because she’s frothing for a fag and forgot to insert her nicotine suppository. Kirsten, on the other hand, is saving her strength for the next time she needs to tell her mother to shut the FUCK up. But then when the load grinds to a halt, she’s the first to put her hands on her hips and declare that if those slackers up the back don’t put their meat into it, she’ll unhitch her barge-ass and go carve her some slices.
As the slog continues, Katie’s hollering is starting to jack people off.
‘Man up!’ she barks and Jess reckons if Katie doesn’t put a cork in it, she’ll be putting a fist in it.
‘The jet’s five minutes away!’ shrieks Shannan, but to no avail: the procession has ground to a halt AGAIN and despite some harsh verbal fisting courtesy of Michele, it takes AGES for those wheels to start turning again.
But the producers have been firm: these fat fuckers are going to succeed and Commando and his driver have to choose between aerial boglaps or hoping they fly over a drive-thru.
Finally they do it, and as the first fatty collapses over the line, Shannan gives Commando the word and the jet fighter comes screaming in reeking of Special Sauce.
Gerald, who has practically pushed that fucker all by himself, greets the dirt with his face and prays for the death that will save him from having to carry these lazy bastards for the rest of the show.
The show ends with the promise of more projectile and a large pair of legs afflicted with some sort of disfiguring skin condition which may or may not have something to do with the puking.
Until next week!