So it’s Day 2 of Masterchef 2013 and as Rico and I settle down with the goon bag, Voice Over Man tells us that yesterday the ‘girls took first blood’ and that ‘tonight it’s personal’.
Somewhere in a homely kitchen, MKR’s Kerry is FURIOUS because she signed up for blood on MKR and the best she got was a lamb scuffle in a supermarket and a couple of bitches who hogged the damn wok.
Anyhoo, it’s early morning in the house and our contestants are slowly waking up and showing Australia why a product called ‘Morning Bag’ would really be a best seller.
Pip, who we haven’t been properly introduced to yet, says that there’s a rumour ‘round the station that the boys like to snore but who gives a fuck for that because – ooh! – there’s Xavier wandering around with his tits out.
Back to the snoring and Kelty is blaming Michael and saying he sounds like a freight train. Michael reckons he’d be a fool to deny it and that he’s been nicknamed ‘hurricane’ because when he takes a dump he uses a sprinkler attachment.
Flash to some pre-show footage of Michael where we discover that he likes to make fires in the kitchen and if he comes across a damsel in distress or a granny in need of a road-crossing, he certainly won’t interrupt a wank to help out.
‘Manners don’t matter’ he tells the cameras – which Rico reckons is fair enough considering one of the judges is Georgie talk-with-a-crammed-chow-hole Columbaris and that Matty Preston isn’t exactly known for hand-holding (unless there’s a root at the end of it).
Anyhoo, because Michael has a face like a poorly maintained vagina, the producers then give us a bit of mostly-naked Daniel footage and justify it by telling us he’s a part-time model and ‘strength and conditioning coach’ which Rico reckons is really just fancy talk for someone who can do an at-home scalp-treatment without YouTubing the instructions.
Back to the competition and our contestants are all dressed and assembled outside the Masterchef Kitchen. Classically-trained suckhole, Clarissa, does a little ‘bow down’ motion which Gary likes, because he approves of a submissive woman – even if he prefers his not to have a head like a rear-ended bumper.
Gary also wants to know if it was the boys’ testosterone that got in the way of winning and one of our other yet-to-be-introduced contestants, Totem, takes the opportunity to say that it had nothing to do with testosterone and everything to do with food that tasted like morning breath.
Michael is shocked, because while he knew he’d be under the scrutiny of the judges, never in his hairiest dreams did he imagine falling under the critical eye of someone who may or may not have a valid Australian passport. Kelty is also unimpressed – mainly because Totem isn’t one of the ‘modelly’ ones and if he’s going to get shanked, he’d rather it be done by a hot bitch.
But back to the winners and their prize – which happens to be the super advantage of ‘picking the protein’ they get to cook with. But hang on, there’s eleven different kinds and it’s a race to the bench because no-one wants to end up with the offal, right?
Wrong! That’s right, fans of the elderly, our resident old bag, Noelene, wants braaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiinnnnnsssss.
Rico reckons this isn’t too surprising because she looks like she grew up in the sort of rough where a pig carcass would last a year if you made the most of all the innards and breastfed to the age of twenty.
Anyhoo, no-one wants to fight her for it, so she gets her prize. Others who are happy include Samira with the snapper-that’s-not-snapper, and Faiza who has managed to tear the ribcage out of a billy goat. Those who are less than happy include Neha, who got eel, and Clarissa who happened to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror.
In come the boys and they take their positions opposite without knowing who’s got what. Kelty, who has taken the bench opposite Noelene, reckons there’s something in her eyes he doesn’t like and he’d hate to think she’s got a crush on him because his bitch wife would probably laugh her ass off.
Mannerless Michael reckons the girls are all ‘grinning like Cheshire Cats’ and he’s fresh out of bait. But before he has the chance to check the pantry for Ratsac, Matty breaks the news that they’ll be cooking off against the person opposite and the worst six will go straight to elimination.
Out come the proteins and Kelty breathes a massive sigh of relief that, even though he has to cook with a plate of shit, he won’t be expected to service a geriatric with a flat-top. Garry reckons he’s being too precious and reminds him that he’s Irish and an Irishman would root a muddy field if there was the promise of a hot toddy.
Samira, who thinks she has snapper, is soon surrounded by the judges and Matty breaks the news that the fish she THOUGHT she had is giving her the finger from the ocean, and that the cold bitch in front of her is actually barramundi. Samira is horrified – she likens eating non-snapper fish to eating something cooked by Clarissa and, besides that, her opponent is Totem who spent his precious teenage years with his rod in one hand and a fishing pole in the other.
‘You’ve got 90 minutes!’ hollers Gary ‘GO!’
What follows is the usual pantry scrum where new contestants – with the exception of Samira and Clarissa – haven’t yet learned to loath one another enough to do any serious damage. Christina says the pantry is ‘a mad house’ and Rico snarks that she’ll know the true definition in a few weeks time when the flower gets ripped off her scalp and she emerges with a basket of radishes and a donkey dong, when she really wanted the chicken.
Over to Clarissa, who the producers again remind us is ‘classically trained’, and she’s got trout and is cooking it in a Coles bag because she’s hoping the product endorsement will disguise the fact that she couldn’t cook her way out of one. She’s opposite Nicky I’ll-eat-anything-that-fits-in-my-gob and he’s pin-boning the fish which sends her into a panic because the last thing she expected coming onto Masterchef was going against someone who could actually cook.
Pip has the mince and she’s cooking some Vietnamese dish because she just came from a sex holiday there with her mother. She’s opposite Michael who reckons the mince is ‘a gift’, but because he’s a thankless fucker, he’s looking that gift horse square in its hay hole and cooking a cottage pie.
Back to the offal cooks and Noelene is really flexing her creative muscle by taking a plate of offal and cooking… a plate of offal. Kelty is freaking out because the taste of liver makes him bellow the sonata of a thousand chunks so he’s hoping to disguise the taste with a hefty mash and some onion gravy.
Elsewhere in the kitchen, Christina is against surfy-type Xavier and fringey Emma wants to make sweet love to Lynton.
‘He’s niiiiiiiice’ she gushes, unaware that as he’s tipping his imaginary hat, he’s wondering how she’d look in a saddle.
Back to Samira and she’s fretting because yesterday she had ‘dish of the day’ and if she follows up with a lemon Clarissa will laugh so hard she’ll sick up a lung. Opposite her, Totem is unsympathetic, and the producers chime-in with some pre-show footage which suggests that, like Michael, he’s also a fan of ‘the mans’ language’, but unlike Michael, isn’t crafted in a scrotum’s image.
With 60 minutes left, Neha is still experimenting, while her opponent, bald Andrew, is more comfortable than a pig on a recliner. He reckons she must know how to cook it – because why else would you pick it? But across the way Neha proves he’s a presumptuous wanker by tasting her own cooking and then presenting her palm with her stomach lining.
Over with goat-rib-loving Faiza and she’s bragging about how this was her mum’s ‘favourite thing to cook with’ while her opponent, short-haired, less-modelly Dan is worried that his goat was addicted to Tim Tams.
“I’ve never cooked with something that had this much fat before’ he mutters, before adding that if this bitch rolled into his bed, he’d give it a swift foot ticket OUT.
Back to Samira and she’s demonstrating some serious technique by cooking the fish way too fucking early. Totem tells her she’s battier than a Transylvanian church, but Samira reckons it works with snapper and even though this ISN’T snapper, she doesn’t give a single, scaled fuck.
Over on the sidelines and Matty reckons he’s excited by the mince because he’s been eating pretentious fuckery for so long now, he’s thinking of spelling his name with a ‘Z’. Georgie says he’s looking forward to the offal – particularly the sweet breads – because he was just watching The Walking Dead and DAMN if that show doesn’t make him hungry.
Back to Neha and Gary is hovering because he heard she nearly chundered and he’s one of those perverts who gets hot at the thought of gastro. Home-footage shows Neha loving her curry and so even though she thinks eel tastes like ‘fish gone bad’, if she chucks in enough turmeric she might just convince the judges it’s chicken!
Over with Michael and he’s battling with a piece of high-tech kitchen equipment known as a ‘masher’. He reckons his potato chunks are ‘bouncing around like ping pong balls’ and because he isn’t at a Thailand titty bar, he’s concerned that something’s gone awry. Matty P, who’s favourite pastime is brushing imaginary crab meat from a woman’s cleavage, sidles over and questions whether the spuds are cooked and whether he managed to catch any of the balls. Michael says no, because there was some giant cravatted twat in the front row, and, yes, he thought the spuds were done. Matty mutters that he can’t be blamed for his lightening reflexes and perhaps he’d better think about a Plan B.
To the cameras Michael says his motto is ‘live by the sword, die by the sword’ and if he had more than twenty minutes he’d cook some new spuds AND skewer that fancy git like a kebab.
Back to Noelene and she’s confident because she’s using all the offal – and not just the bits that are shaped like testicles. Kelty tells her to shut her crap crevice because he’s just pulled out his liver and it’s swimming in a pool of blood! ‘That’s a lot of blood’ he mutters to himself, before resolving that if the mash doesn’t soak it up, he can always ask Georgie for a tampon.
Over to Nicky and after an early set-back with his croquets, they’re working better and he’s decided to whip out his experimental cap and bust out a mozzarella foam. George wonders over and then wishes he hadn’t and Rico reckons if this shit actually works he’ll turn over a new leaf and stop trying to convince people that Delta Goodrem is the Devil.
With five minutes left, Samira’s in tears because her barramundi skin is soggier than a new bride’s wet spot and she has to listen to Georgie telling her that Totem was right.
Michael, meanwhile, has managed to cook his new spuds – he’s also managed to pull out the blowtorch because he likes a bit of colour and he’s heard that Matty P marks higher on butane.
When time runs out there’s a mixture of smug fuckers and sad bitches and Clarissa gushes that she’s ‘amazed by the standard of the other girls – except for Samira because that bitch couldn’t cook her way out of a burqa’.
But it’s tasting time and curry-loving Neha and bald-Andrew are up first. Georgie reckons Andrew’s eel croquets are super and says that Neha’s eel curry would have been excellent – if she’d left out the fucking curry. Neha is horrified – not just because her curry sucked, but because she’s managed to lose to a eunuch!
“For the tenth time – I’m not a fucking eunuch!’ Andrew barks, but Neha is untouchable in her private world of eel pain and Andrew has no choice but to accept his victory and give her the finger.
Next up are the trouters – Nicky and Clarissa. Nicky admits to the judges that the mozzarella foam was ‘a gamble’ and, because of that, he’s borrowed Michael’s blowtorch! The judges think this is hilarious – until they remember that they actually have to eat it. George goes first, followed by Gary, but it’s Matty who lets Nicky know the true horror of his creation by loading up a serving spoon and barking at him to EAT! Mouth-slut Nicky, who brags that he’s eaten a cobra’s beating heart and the franger off a slow-moving prostitute, swallows that shit with difficulty and admits that it’s like eating sperm regurgitated three-ways.
The judges then taste Clarissa’s, which they say is good, and Clarissa starts to cry because Matty P’s breath is like toxic waste and she still doesn’t know which one is Gary.
‘Welcomesssss to Massssssssterchefssssssss’ hisses a suddenly Golem-George, and Rico reckons if this is meant to be reassuring he’ll eat his own crap.
Needless to say, Clarissa’s Coles bag fish wins and Gary consoles Nicky by saying that just because eating his dish was like trying to choke down used cat litter and just because Matty P is doing that finger thing across his fat neck, doesn’t mean that he’s necessarily in the bottom six.
“The fuck it DOESN’T!’ yips little George and Gary shushes him with an elbow to the throat and some threatening gesturing towards the mozzarella foam.
Of the next three duos, long-legged Lucy, Rishi and Lynton all prove victorious, with Georgie gushing that Lucy is the ‘pastry queen’ because she cooked a soufflé that didn’t sink like a lead-booted turtle.
But then it’s Samira and Totem’s turn and Samira is still going on about how embarrassed she is – not because she couldn’t tell the difference between barramundi and a charter boat floater – but because the rat under her headwear is keeping his trap SHUT!
As expected, Totem’s gets a lot of love while Samira is chided for being a fish-hater and producing a fish that is rubberier than Gary’s girlfriend.
Up next are Pip and Michael and George gushes that Pip took them to Vietnam – which is really generous even though he felt like a hand job. Of his cottage pie, Michael reckons he’s happy with the taste, but not the looks – a sentiment NOT shared by the judges who think this is the equivalent of heating up a Lean Cuisine – and then setting it on fire. Matty P gets particularly stern with Michael and tells him that if he continues to cook this way, he can expect an early exit and a McDonalds reference that says ‘too ugly for front counter’.
Another three teams are then sped through with Christina beating Xavier, Faiza’s goat ribs beating Dan’s and giant tooth-woman Liliana beating model Daniel.
And then finally it’s time for the offal-off!
Noelene’s is up first and she really should get a job in marketing because she’s named her plate of offal a ‘platter of offal’. The judges love it, but Rico reckons it looks more like a platter of chicken nuggets and if Kelty had realised it was that easy, he could have saved himself a pair of knickers.
But it’s too late for that because his dish is on the table and though Gary wrestles with the sinew and Georgie has a number of false starts before he gets the fork to his face, it finally goes down.
Unfortunately for Kelty, it doesn’t stay that way.
‘Bucket for Mr Columbaris!’ bellows Matty P, who hops out of the way and places his fat hands protectively over his cravat. Gary says it looks insipid, Matty says it was ‘bad cooking, bad flavour, bad dish’ and Georgie, who has still got his head bent over the bucket, says:
‘Did he win?’ snarks Rico as the cleaners rush in and the contestants gather in a semi-circle for the bottom-six reveal.
But he didn’t – and neither have the boys because the girls have done it again! Not that that makes them all safe, announces Matty P, because fish-and-Clarissa-hating Samira and crap-curry-making Neha are in danger, joining mouth-whore Nicky, fat-shy Dan, cottage-face Michael and wishes-he-was-drunk-or-dead Irishman, Kelty.
Rico wonders if Gollem-George is about to make a comeback but, no, instead he tells them to ‘forget about what has happened’ and come into the elimination with a full arsenal of firearms ready to take out your closest competitors.
The show ends with a preview of the elimination which includes our contestants all in black and a bunch of refrigerators that the contestants claim to own – except not one of them has a rust stain down the side or a close-up school photo of an unfortunate-looking child.
Voice Over Man announces that ‘if home isn’t where the heart is, home is where they are headed’ and Rico reckons this means they are either cooking with their at-home foods, or continuing the offal theme with human sacrifice – and frankly he knows which one would bring more ratings.
Until tomorrow, snarkers!