That’s right, Matty P – you can stop whoring yourself out to radio shows for prostitute pin money, because Masterchef is back!
So here we are, gluttonous gatherers, it’s 7.30pm and we’re poised on the precipice of 12 weeks of food fuckery hosted by a toad, a testicle and a giant member in a scarf.
Rico reckons he’s very excited that it’s boys vs. girls because there’s nothing more fun than watching a pack of the fairer sex bitch the flesh from each other’s backs while the men-folk on the other side of the room have surreptitious dick-measuring contests while assuring one another that they aren’t gay.
The show starts and there’s lots of fun footage of our trusty trio of judges – Gary Somethingorother, Georgie Clumpybaris and Matty Preston – knocking on doors and delivering the super news that they’ve made it on the show and that their souls (and reputations) now belong to Channel 10.
Masterchef’s own version of Voice Over Man tells us that some of these poor bastards will ‘push themselves to breaking point’, and the producers happily press out some footage of cattle, a rather brusque campsite wake-up and – shudder – Maggie Beer, who has Rico muttering that he’d happily snap himself like a twig if it meant getting away from that terrine-making bitch.
A future Matty P says that ‘if you have a flaw, we will find it’ and then there’s one of those super snippets of Gary saying that this is possibly the worst thing he’s ever laid on his tongue – with the exception of that runner-up from Season 2.
But then it’s the Katy Perry intro sequence and we get a good look at all the fresh Masterchef meat – including the fascinating factoid that one of the contestants is called ‘Lynton’.
Rico freezes in mid-quaff and bares his teeth like a garlic-sensing vampire.
‘Hipsters!’ he hisses, and next to him I have to agree because there’s also a guy called ‘Totem’ and an awful lot of creatures who look like they’d feel right at home in loafers without socks and a skinny tie.
Anyhoo, intro sequence complete, the real show starts and they’re all gathered in front of the MCG because, as Matty P puts it, this season makes no fucking sense.
But hang on! We’re getting our first inside glimpse into some of the contestants! Kelty – yes, Kelty – is a stay-at-home dad who describes his life as a pie because he’d like to eat the guts out of it and then bitch that there wasn’t enough sauce.
Noelene is 58 and has the luscious golden locks of Ivan Drago from Rocky IV. Unlike Drago, who was faithful to his cold bitch of a wife, she’s been married three times, pressed out five children and looks like she could split a bitch’s face with her tongue for looking at her side-ways.
Samira is also a stay-at-home parent who confesses to cherish shoes and handbags above the lives of her own children. She also wears one of those head scarf thingamadoodies and Rico reckons this is highly suspect because if we learned anything from Ratatouille it’s that headwear in the kitchen is the perfect hidey-hole for culinary-skilled vermin.
But back to the main business: Matty P says that every journey starts with one step and that their first step will be into the MCG locker rooms to put on their MC aprons while he and Gary kick the ball around and reminisce about the time they let George play fondle games with their testicles.
In the locker room there’s a lot of putting on of aprons and complaining about the stench of unwashed foreskin while the producers give us an introduction to some more contestants.
Michael is 41 and has the gross misfortune to hail from Adelaide. He describes himself as speaking ‘the man’s’ language’ which Rico and I hope means he enjoys a salty vocabulary, rather than just a lot of jawing about football and Anna Kournikova.
Kelty takes this opportunity to tell the cameras that the guys seem to fall into two categories: hotties and fat bastards and that he hasn’t been this excited since he realised he could slip vodka into the baby bottle and watch back-to-back episodes of America’s Next Top Model.
Aprons done, they all report to the middle of the field to find a giant pile of eggs and the first task of the competition. Matty P tells them that they will be cooking a ‘family dinner’ for the opposing team but that the team who manages to offer up a kilo of eggwhite first will get an extra pile of loose change. He then adds that it is important to view the other team as ‘family’ and that Georgie is Big Daddy, Gary the brow-beaten wife and he – Matty P – the ‘disreputable uncle’ who drinks from the bottle and always tries to steer the dinner conversation to his penis.
Rishi from the boys’ team reckons he knows exactly how many eggwhites will make a kilo because he’s an anal math-tard who gets hard when he holds a protractor. The girls’ pick, Clarissa, is a ‘classically trained singer’ who reckons she knows the right place to crack an egg because one day she hopes to bust up a skull and this is the shit she’s been practicing on.
Rico reckons she will be one to watch – not because he thinks she’s a particularly good cook, but because she may just be delusional enough to give us some MKR Lisa-and-Candice-style horrors courtesy of her lungs.
They start and immediately Rishi is powering ahead while Clarissa takes so long to crack her first egg that the other girls start oiling up their back-blades.
‘Just crack the bloody eggs!’ one girl with a particularly frightening overbite shrieks to the camera, which causes Rico to suck in his breath and mutter that he hasn’t seen teeth this scary since Gary Busey.
Back with the boys and Rishi reckons he’s done so he takes his bowl up to be weighed. But he just falls short and has to start again and even though Clarissa has barely busted her second egg, he starts to panic and suddenly there’s yolk in places there shouldn’t be and the girls start screeching that they’ve got a shot!
They don’t, of course, because Rishi may be a panic-merchant but he’s also capable of moving faster than the speed of paralysis and his second weigh-in makes the grade.
Matty P hands out the cash, including the extra for the boys, and then explains that they’ve got four hours to plan, shop and then cook their three course meal – and not to bother using any of Curtis Stone’s Meals For Under $10 because those bitches wouldn’t feed Nicole Ritchie and don’t be expecting to find any pre-opened bottles of Grange under your bench top.
Over with the boys and someone’s got to be leader and Nicky puts up his hand because – just like Rico’s beloved Moral Katie – he’s got a sweet love for the military and this is his chance to issue a few Code Browns. The producers take this moment to show us some pre-show Nicky and there’s a particularly moving segment where he brags about his mouth being a giant slut – but that he won’t swallow unless there’s an extra twenty on the night stand.
The girls, on the other hand, have someone called Jules as their leader. Rico reckons she looks like a no-nonsense type which probably means she’s just chock full of it and we will either love her or wish her in a one-bedroom flat share arrangement with Hamber.
Anyhoo, Jules says that the mums of the team are in charge of the meals, which means scary-teeth woman is doing pasta, Samira her ‘signature dish’ of chicken and nuts and some blonde with a rather stern fringe a lemon tart.
Back with the boys and they’ve hit the shops and Kelty reckons he feels like a rock star because he got to travel in a jeep rather than on foot fighting with eight toddlers. They’ve decided on pumpkin soup for entrée, a chicken pie for main and some sort of cake which is apparently going to be special because it’s being cooked by someone called Dan who is, apparently, the Adrian Zumbo of his Little League. Michael reckons there’ll be no dicking around in the shop and model-type Daniel – not to be confused with Dan – gushes that they’re like cavemen because they used to do the hunting and he’s thinking of growing a little goatee.
Over with the girls and they’re starting to bicker because Faiza is an actual Coles employee and reckons Curtis Stone is a woman. They get to the cash register and they’ve gone well over their budget which leads to a clash between Clarissa and Samira because Clarissa doesn’t see the need for nuts and Samira thinks she’s a cunt. They bicker it out but they’re still 40cents over at which point Faiza steps in and uses her Coles-clout to do a dodgy on the cash register and convince the teenager on duty that she won’t get fired.
With 2 hours and 46 on the clock, the girls arrive back at the MC kitchen and there’s lots of jawing about how they ‘can’t believe’ they’re there because was that whole MCG palaver really just so they could crack some eggs?
The boys arrive and Nicky gives them a pep talk designed to get the other boys to view him as a respected commander and stop singing Gangnam Style behind his back.
‘We cook as a family!’ he bellows and Rico comments that this is disturbing because if they cooked anything like his family there’d be knife-fights at the table while one harried bitch slammed down fourteen plates of beans.
Over with the girls and toothy Liliana reckons this pep talk crap is wreaking havoc on her ability to focus on fucking up the entrée. She says she’s Italian and, therefore, the smell of too much fucking garlic is ingrained in her genes. She also says she is a ‘tigress mother’ because her kids’ teachers are scared of her and this has everything to do with her assertive parenting and not the fact that she’s basically a giant set of fangs with a bit of skin clinging around the edges.
58 year-old Noelene is working with Liliana on the pasta and reckons she needs to stop talking and start rethinking the amount of oil she’s pouring into the pan. Liliana is above such advice, though, because if there’s one thing she knows, it’s pasta – that and that Noelene is an interfering old bitch.
Back to the boys and Lynton reckons he’s shit at cooking pastry and, therefore, he’s working on the pastry. The producers then treat us to some footage of Lynton’s horse background and how he’s a ‘third generation horse lover’ which Rico reckons is really inappropriate for a family show. He also has a sister who is now a paraplegic because of an allegedly non-sexual incident with a horse, and that, he says, is the reason he’s on the show.
With 90 minutes left, the surfy model type with the backwards cap who has received an inordinately large amount of the camera time thus far wants to know what Captain Nicky is actually doing. Rico reckons it’s obvious and that Nicky is putting on a show because he’s clearly been watching The Biggest Loser and this is his way of making a play for Moral Katie. I ask Rico if this bothers him and he mutters something about wanting Katie to be happy and wipes away a tiny, black tear.
Back to the action and Gary is also wondering why Nicky is strutting around like a fat kitchen mascot. Nicky says that they ‘needed someone to take charge’ and who better then the man who’d suck the nuggets out of a low-slung dog? When Gary questions why he is sweating he barks that Gary reminds him of the evil toad in Danger Mouse and nothing good ever came from a conversation with that bitch.
Over with the girls and Samira is talking about how she was 12 when she first cooked this dish because her parents believed in the benefits of child labour. She says that she’s glad she won the Battle of the Nuts at the Coles cash register because now her dish will taste the way it’s meant to and that whore Clarissa can suck a full 12 inches.
Back to the boys and Kelty is doing his Irish-style mushy peas which Rico reckons is probably just peas smashed to fuckery with a whiskey bottle. Whether or not this is the case, Kelty is running into problems because he hasn’t had overnight to soak them and they’re not nearly as soft as they should be. Grainy or not, there’s a stream of guys giving their advice and Kelty reckons that if one more of these fuckers opens his mouth, he’s going to stick a dick in it.
Back to the girls and their lemon tart isn’t setting so Emma with the fringe decides the only option is to assume The Position in front of the oven and wonder why the guys are forming an orderly queue. Rico reckons Emma should save her prayers, because this is the Masterchef kitchen, not a church, and if God lives here, he’s the nasty version who talks when he eats and runs a sodomous eye over all the boys.
But – uh oh! – there’s serious trouble brewing with the boys’ dessert because Dan thinks instructions are meant to be swallowed and Andrew can’t read oesophagus!
Dan is making meringue layers that are supposed to be joined by sour cream – problem is that Andrew has whipped it to fuckery and the cream in question is now runnier than a bad curry bowel movement and their only option is to jam it in the fridge and join Emma on all fours.
With fifteen minutes left, Matty is enjoying the ‘trash talking’ from the girls because nothing ruins his pants party than Downton fucking Abbey. Noelene – who looks like she could talk the trash out of skip bin – reckons Lillian is struggling with ‘her creation’ because she’s a giant set of dentures with hair follicles instead of brain cells.
Out comes the pasta and it’s breaking apart and Gary on the sidelines mutters that if that shit is el dente then his wife could blow the chrome off street car. Liliana moans that she is feeling like crap and Noelene tries to make her feel better by rolling her eyes and pointing out that if she gets the boot from this show, she’d be a shoe in for Embarrassing Bodies – The Dental Edition.
Back to the boys and Andrew has taken the sour cream out of the fridge only to discover that the only way this shit is going to hold the cake layers together is if it comes with a side of nail gun. But things are set to get worse, because Dan – who’s thus far found sweet comfort in laying the blame at Andrew’s door – has managed to fuck up the meringue and it comes off the baking paper in busted chunks!
‘Make it work!’ barks Nicky in the background, before coming up with the stellar brain-fart that if you’ve got a sliver of meringue in ten kilos of shit – you can still make an Eton Mess. Andrew reckons this is a disaster waiting to happen, but that this disaster has no manners because it’s just jumped the queue!
Elsewhere on the boys’ side the pie’s coming out and, because they’ve yet to hear about the dessert, they reckon they’ve got it in the bag!
Rico reckons the only bag the boys have any right to is the sick bag – and even that will have to be passed to the judges once dessert comes around.
Back to the girls and their lemon tart has finally set and the girl with the flower in her hair, who may or may not be called Christina, is chuffed because all their dishes look ‘feminine and delicate’ despite the fact that they’ve got a razorback with a bad peroxide job helping with the entrée.
But time is up and first up for tasting is the girls’. Out comes the pasta and as the boys and judges tuck in, Liliana is in the waiting room wishing she’d been born German because then she’d be cooking a fucking schnitzel and not even that Biswa bitch from MKR could fuck that up
And sure enough, it’s overcooked, but then Nicky drops the bomb that he’s found a piece of bandaid and the show has to cut to a break while Matty roars for a stomach pump. Nicky murmurs that this isn’t the way he wanted to win but that the thought of not dobbing was worse than the thought of actually doing any cooking.
Onto the main and it’s Samira’s chickeny, nutty, yoghurtty thing and in the waiting room Clarissa’s eyeballs are on a permanent rotation while Samira gushes that now they all know why she needed those nuts.
Gary says ‘rock and roll’, which is apparently a good thing, and the boys concur because even though Nicky’s up to his elbows, he can’t find any more bandaid.
Dessert comes out and Dan whinges that ‘it looks better than ours’ to which Andrew snarks that that’s probably because the girls opened their mouths and didn’t save their breath for discussing cardigans vs.vests.
Matty wants to know why there’s no cream and Jules says that they couldn’t afford it and not one of these gutless bitches volunteered to smuggle it out Thailand-style.
‘Do you think it needs it?’ he asks and she says ‘no’ followed by ‘maybe’ followed by ‘fuck yes – now can I be excused so I can make my boys-needing-tart joke that I’ve been practicing for the last 4 hours?’ Matty says yes and out it comes and Rico reckons that shit would be gold at a comedy festival frequented by no-one.
Anyhoo, the consensus is that it was too lemony without the cream and Nicky takes the opportunity to say that the pastry blows harder than a storm ship’s cabin boy.
But now it’s their turn and the girls have gotten comfortable with the judges while the guys get twitchy in the waiting room. Matty, being a pot-stirring little bitch, wastes no time in telling the girls that the boys compared their food to undouched vagina and if anyone has ever harboured the desire to drop the C-bomb, now’s the time!
Out comes the pumpkin soup entrée and – sweet lord of bowl chunder – the boys are bringing chunky BACK!
Georgie dips in his spoon and then holds it up and I swear it’s a good ten seconds before it thuds back into the bowl and takes Georgie’s breakfast with it. Good old lawnmower-face, Liliana, reckons her jaws are up for the challenge, but even she finds it hard to swallow and as there’s only one bucket for their table, she’s forced to let it dribble down her front and hope the judges assume she’s teething.
Out comes the main and Matty is excited because the last time he sliced into a pie a stripper popped out! And – ooh! – it looks good, but Kelty’s mushy peas are a miss-fire and Gary mutters that if you combined them with the soup you’d have something so foul it could have come out of the MKR cookbook.
As dessert arrives, Matty says the teams are ‘neck and neck’ which confuses Rico because was a sliver of blue bandaid really as bad as pumpkin-flavoured gastro?
In the waiting room, Nicky is still talking – this time about how families don’t lie too each other and how that dessert was ‘a bit of a mistake’. Unbeknownst to Nicky, the girls are taking the little mistake and calling it a giant cock-up and blonde Emma even goes so far as to frisk her cleavage for tooth fragments.
But it’s judgement time and Gary is at his oily best congratulating the teams for surviving their first day.
The boys are up first and, for some unknown reason, their chunder chowder is spun as ‘safe and tasty’ and the boys are spared the knowledge that there’s now more soup in those bowls than first went out.
Matty says he loved the pie and wonders if it made Samira nervous. Samira – who is busy letting her fat fingers do the talking in Clarissa’s direction – snaps back to attention and mutters something about needing to clean the ear-section of her headwear.
The dessert, though, says Matty, was a disaster – mainly because it was like chewing granite and yet Liliana’s mouth quarry is still intact.
Onto the girls and Georgie starts with the dessert which he says looked pretty, even though it needed the cream. Samira’s main, though, was dish of the day and Samira stops giving Clarissa the finger long enough to gush that it was a group effort – and that it took practically the whole group to convince Clarissa that she is a dead set cunt.
The entrée, however, was ‘not a great pasta’ and Liliana immediately gets weepy because she’s always wanted to make George’s tastebuds sing and – not that it’s anyone’s fault – but that old bitch Noelene was the one with the bandaid!
Blue band-aided Noelene tells her to eat a dick, because self-harm is her way of coping with an oil-obsessed bitch who could bust the top off a pickle jar with her FACE!
Overall, Georgie continues, both teams had one pretty dish, one average dish and one dish that was so ugly it gave Gary the soft hope of one day finding someone who’ll have sex with him – but that in the end, the girls took it out.
Michael from Adelaide says it’s possible they were cheated but that when all the evidence points to fuckery it’s best to bend over and take it.
The show ends with a promise from Gary that the girls will find out their ‘prize’ on the morrow, and lots of exciting footage of the next competition which shows Kelty holding a plate of offal and Georgie howling for a bucket.
Rico reckons that it’s too soon for him to be able to see a bucket and not get sentimental over The Biggest Loser, but if it’s Georgie who blows, he hopes they’ve got a big one because if the way he eats is any indication, he won’t exactly be fearing for other people’s shoes.