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The Mole – Who in Casting Couch Blow Jobbery is Shura Taft?

3 Jul

The Mole - An Introduction

Wow! What an interesting little show that was! Rico reckons Channel 7 have worked very hard to assemble a cast of the biggest douchelords since the Kyle and Jackie O version of Big Brother and what better way to spend an evening than watching a fat man convince the rest of his team that there’s no reason to carry his own luggage?

I enjoyed it because it was fun watching three teams of Special Bus kiddies bitch their way through the desert – plus it kinda reminded me of The Biggest Loser and I’d place money on the fact that, somewhere in a military-themed apartment, the Commando was getting off on it – and probably all over Michelle Bridges’ face.

But let’s move on: the show starts and it’s all very Hunger Games only instead of Jennifer Lawrence and one of the Hemsworth brothers, there’s a mixed group of fools wearing Matrix-style goggles and trying to convince the cameras that they are The Mole’s answer to Dexter Morgan. Rico immediately singles out Ally for attention, because her face is like a giant sneer fashioned out of latex – but then he turns to the other blonde because her face is buried beneath a veritable trench of foundation and her legs are so muscly that, if she doesn’t end up winning the cash, she can probably hire them out to anyone needing a PLANET lifted off a small child.

Which brings us to a very, very important question:

Who in C-Grade Darren McMullen fuckery is Shura Taft?

I mean – are we supposed to know who he is? Recognise his name? Because I have no fucking idea and Rico reckons the only thing about him that looks vaguely familiar is his Hayley-Lewis-style gesturing and the fact that he doesn’t have a giant tarantula growing out of his FACE.

And what sort of name is Shura? Rico reckons it was clearly supposed to be She-rah only something went wrong in the filling out of the birth certificate and the result was a non-Greyskull name and a TANK of a hangover.

Anyhoo, because The Mole is all about completing challenges for money while trying to work out who The Mole is, there’s a fair amount of side-eyeing and muttering which finally brings all three teams together at the flag-pole where She-rah drops the tired bomb that the ones who called a cab have lost them some cash – as has Mr Guts who dumped his luggage and convinced the others to go along with it.

Rico’s initial favourite, Ally, reckons she is so pissed by this development that her head has the potential to explode and rain moist chunks of anything other than brain matter on the other contestants. This only gets worse when they nominate red-eyed Kerry to be Treasurer, only to have her sacrifice half the cash for the Exemption Card which will get her out of the weekly elimination quiz.

Mr Guts is also pissed and tries to cajole the others into performing a Julia-Gillard-style shanking. Unfortunately for him, with the exception of lizard-face Ally, no-one gives a single still-warm dump and Kerry gets to stay in charge of the money while they all head off for the next challenge.

It’s at this point that Rico turns to me and asks me quite seriously if this IS actually The Biggest Loser and isn’t it possible that Shannon Ponton is going to spring out of the shrubbery and start shoving Natures Way vitamins down everyone’s throats? The reason, of course, is because the challenge has been lifted straight from the fuckery-filled pages of the face-your-fears file and, just like the afore-alluded to fatties, there’s a fair amount of wobbling and worrying before they even put cloven hoof on the wire.

Treasurer Kerry – who Rico reckons was only voted for because she has non-threatening cellulite – is in the front of the Queue of Terror but it all seems rather… Rehearsed? And when she starts crying ‘somebody help me!’ Rico reckons she’s either putting in the Neighbours performance of her career, or she fell asleep watching Penelope Pitstop and that shit sank in.

Personally, I’m convinced she’s The Mole. But then again, I’m also convinced that getting a Pizza Hut leaflet in our mailbox is a sign that I should hock my stove and make a lifelong commitment to the worship of fast food. Rico reckons my first impressions are about as trustworthy as George Michael in a public restroom and that if anyone is in with a chance of guessing The Mole’s identity it’s him because he’s never mistaken red wine mouth for lip-liner and he can sniff out a boxed wine special from a locked trunk in a drive-thru.

xo Flawless

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