After all the excitement of receiving messages from Hamber, Moral Katie and Little K, it was a wonder Rico and I could sit still long enough to watch the Weigh-in – but with the assistance of a tube of Pringles, a bucket of old-man’s claret and the knowledge that Moral Katie’s little brother has generously agreed to let us refer to him as ‘Junior Dyke’ – we prevailed!
So the show starts with the pinks rocking up to Michelle’s LCT and spilling their lardy guts about joining forces with pube-face Richard and ending up with a half-kilo weight penalty and freshly fisted anal passages. Michelle does her best to look positive, but her already overly botoxed face is in lockdown under a heavy layer of orange pancake and she ends up looking like a woman struggling with a birthing turd. Not that it matters, though, because as soon as she’s alone in front of the cameras she makes it clear that she’s FROTHING mad and that it doesn’t matter that Janet’s asshole is held together MacGuyver-style, bitches are getting another ride!
And ride them she does and, boy, it’s a good one because before too long Janet’s cheeks are filling with chunks and she’s got to stagger into the garden to blow the flowers some gut kisses. Little K is about as sympathetic as a territorial dog with a chicken carcass and snaps at her to ‘quit the dramatics’ and try throwing up somewhere she doesn’t have to put her feet. But Janet’s urge to spread the stomach love is bigger than her desire to please her complaining offspring and before you know it she’s wandering around the veranda, her cheeks puffed like Big Kev playing hide-the-popcorn-chicken and Michelle has to intervene and tell her to calm the fuck down because her earpiece is on fire with producers terrified of the cleaning bill.
As Janet grunts like an exhausted buffalo, Mich tries to distract her by telling her a beautiful story of a good mother who is so innocent that she can’t help but see the good in others. Janet latches onto her words because she hadn’t really been looking forward to adding ‘raving moron’ onto her resume and, plus, this is the kind of shit that makes her bitch daughter twist in her sport shorts.
Over to Commando’s LCT and Richie is talking about the breakdown of The Alliance because clearly he’s been up all night and has come up with an excellent way of blaming his utter cuntery on the Greys. Commando snaps that he couldn’t give a solitary fuck – not even if it was glammed up in crotchless fatigues and looked like a femme Gerard Butler – and that today he’s introducing Special Treatment Training, which is basically fancy talk for one-on-one pain.
Robyn is understandably sceptical because she learned the meaning of ‘special treatment’ from King Richie and her gag reflex hasn’t been the same since. Hamber, meanwhile, is concerned for Big Daddy because his face is getting rather red and if he blows an Aorta he’ll be out of commission and that McDonald’s franchise ain’t gonna buy itself!
Over to Shanny’s group and – ooh! – he’s got a surprise in store because there’s a boxing ring and some skinny guy who is probably the cleaner mopping up the last of the busted teefs before the special guest comes in. But hang on – he IS the special guest and Shanny pumps him up for a bit before announcing that he’s their trainer because he’s late for an anal bleaching. Aforementioned skinny guy is apparently someone who won a couple of fights against some old person who may or may not have taken Rocky Balboa a leetle too seriously, and the Greens and Greys do their best to bust into a sweat but it’s only when Shanny returns with a spring in his step and smelling of Chlorox that the Rexona gets a workout.
But the time has come for weigh-in and here’s pretty Hayley who reckons they all got fab new looks – with the exception of Janet who is still getting snapped at every time she reaches for her straightener. She then moves on to the The Alliance and how Richie and Hamber proved that the make-overs were only skin-deep and that the style team really need to invest in some sort of cunt-spray to make any lasting changes.
Speaking of the Blues, they’re up first and Richie makes the comment that he’d love to have immunity again because treading the fine line of water-loading is always super-exciting. Hamber crosses herself and Rico mutters that, even if there was a God, he’d be more likely to bestow His favours on a tax agent who has a hard-drive filled with hamster porn and likes presenting clients with a large bill and an exposed dick.
And the water-loading pays off with Richie getting 3.9 and Hamber landing a 2.1. Hayley puts Richie on the spot and asks him if The Alliance has shifted. Richie spins out the same rubbish about the Greys in the challenge and then tells the cameras that, if Mandy and Brett are under the yellow line he’ll be writing their names down so hard he won’t be able to wank for a week!
Next up are the Greys who manage 2.3 and 3.8. Brett reckons he’s done better than the last few weeks but – goddamn it! – he’s still being schooled by his menopausal mother. Hayls asks him how it felt to have his dad says he was proud and Shanny wants to know if the pat on the back made up for lost time. Brett tells them to shut the hell up because his dad was about as sincere as a hard dick in a nunnery and if they get kicked off tonight that fucker will be greeting him at the door doing his I-fucking-KNEW-it dance.
But now it’s the Greens’ turn and Gerry confesses that, because he lost his key to the dorms on Monday, he’s been bunking down in the gym using Hamber’s treadmill pillow.
But – goodness! – sleeping rough appears to have paid off because Gerry ditches a whopping 5.5 while Todd manages a decent 2.5. Over on the sidelines, the Blues look grim and Moral Katie purses her lips tighter than Shanny’s in a burger bar. Gerry waffles a bit about alliances and how they can be a bit of alright if the least baboon-looking woman hadn’t been snaffled by that soft-on-on-legs in the first five seconds, but that the yellow line is the main event because nothing makes his heart sing like Delta Goodrem than the thought of smearing Richie’s name on a voting card using his own shit.
Speaking of shit, the oranges are next and Robyn is worried her number is going to reek like a tradie’s outhouse on a 40 degree day. And oh she’s right, but with Moral Katie’s 3.9 and their half kilo advantage the percentage isn’t too shabby and the Greys are pushed below the line. Rico reckons Moral Katie’s fist-pump was a thing of beauty and that her being under a 100kg will do wonders for her relationship with non-elastic-waisted pants. Personally I think Rico has developed a semi-crush on Moral Katie ever since she sent us that message of love and I’ve told him that if I catch him mooning over the mandarin section at the supermarket, his port ration will suffer.
Next up are the Pinks and Hayley breaks the news that, with their half kilo penalty, they need to lose 5.3kg together to be safe. Little K starts tearing up because, even though she’s only ingested the equivalent of a knat’s lunch since the challenge, her mum’s been playing the victim and she’s sure martyrdom is loaded with carbs.
And, sure enough, they just fall short and Michelle grabs her hair while Hayley gently rubs acid into their wounds by letting them know that the half kilo made all the difference. Over on the sidelines Richie is grinning and the sound technicians bust their humps to get the snake music pumping so that no-one can miss the point that he’s a giant douchelord who would mug his own wife for a $2 Instant Scratchy.
Janet grizzles that she would have preferred to lose based on their combined laziness rather than their stupidity, while Little K says that ‘what happens happens’ and that if her mum keeps whinging the ‘happening’ in question is going to be her fists in Janet’s face. This makes Hamber grin because they don’t allow cock-fights in the house and these bitches are the closest to raging bloodsport that she’s going to get!
But it’s elimination time and – ooh! – tonight everyone gets a vote and not just whichever team-member managed to squeeze their bulk through the door first! Hayley starts off the proceedings with a bit of a chat about old allegiances vs black-hearted cuntery and Richie again opens his grease trap about the Greys being the ones to back out of The Alliance first and how it’s backfired worse than a Korean car fuelled by bowel movements. Hamber then adds her ten cents – but it turns out to be two cents because she’s a lying little whore who reckons they stuck to their word and if a court of law ruled that she owed anyone anything then she’d pay them back NEVER BITCHES! – or when Satan starts wearing a blouse to work.
Moral Katie reckons that the Greys saved her and Robyn once but that Brett is the biggest threat because he can’t even lose four fucking kilos and – hang on… Robyn tries to save face by saying that even though the Greys have helped them and they all promised to keep each other in to the end, the Pink’s stupidity has immeasurable value and, besides, whatever Richard just said.
Janet makes her plea by saying that she and Little K are ‘at the end of their weight loss’ – a statement that causes Hayley to snort so hard her earpiece pops out, and causes Rico to lurch off the couch because his resulting Hayley-love-boner makes sitting uncomfortable.
Brett responds by yanking out a piece of paper with the ‘Final Four’ teams written on it. Mandy says that they will be able live with their conscience and that, besides, when the Greens first came to her aide she slapped at Gerald and told him to keep his happy hands for likes of that giant slut, Robyn!
Voting time comes and Moral Katie is first out of the gate with the names of the Greys clasped in her slavering jaws. Gerry is next and he reckons he likes to be pushed in the gym, not listen to a couple of fishwives squealing like branded piglets and so he’d like to say a cordial ‘get fucked’ to the Pinks.
Richie is next and he drawls that this is certainly one of the most ‘interesting eliminations’ and that it’s ‘got me in sixes and sevens’ but at the end of the day he had to choose based on who he’d be most likely to have sex with and, even though Janet now has a head like a hippy’s bikini line, Mandy’s a bit geriatric for his taste and he suspects Brett might be a bit of a dud root.
Todd’s turn comes and he says that, since his make-over, Little K’s glad eye has been getting progressively gladder and, frankly, he can’t get rid of her fast enough.
And then it’s down to Robyn, because one more vote for the Greys and they’re outer than Hugh Jackman the day he married a woman with a face like a Vet bill. Robyn says things changed with the challenge and she’s voting to keep the Pinks because she’s tired of putting out for Richard and Janet might just be dumb enough to take her sloppy seconds.
And so the Greys are out! Mandy says they expected it, but big Brett starts bawling because these were ‘the happiest days of my life’ and the only thing he won’t miss is being woken up at 2am to a bucketful of Nature’s Way vitamins being shoved down his throat.
Flash forward four weeks and there’s Brett playing basketball and Mandy using the ‘home gym’. Rico reckons Mandy’s cheekbones are sharper than Hamber’s favourite back shank but that Brett is in need of some serious contouring powder or perhaps some sort of camouflaging beard. Brett reckons there’s no way in hell he’s going back to eating the bad food but that ‘bad’ is such a subjective thing and he sure as shit hasn’t heard of a McChicken burger short-changing a granny!
The show ends with a tantalising montage of Face Your Fears Week which appears to include open mouths, Hamber grinning and Janet and Little K doing the Liam Neeson trick from The Grey with some busted glass, their fat fists and a whole roll of duct tape.
Happy Week 10 snark-lovers!