Well, I’d like to say it’s been an interesting couple of weeks on Masterchef, but that would give me a longer nose than Pinnoccio and Rico reckons he just couldn’t bear to be married to anyone who could be mistaken for Daniel Day-Lewis.
Last week we said goodbye to Pip, who put the bomb in Bombe Alaska, and massive-toothed Liliana, who decided to take the day off from being a chef and instead take a cake mix and get it slaughtered in the lolly aisle. Rico reckons the judges were a little harsh on ole’ fang face and that how was she supposed to know it would get her booted when that giant ponce, Adriano Zumbo, gets away with this shit all the time.
But this week it’s all about Fast Food and Rico says this is brilliant news because if there’s anything more fun than watching Kelty freak out over another offal challenge, it’s watching health-conscious Daniel tie a bandana over his face so he doesn’t accidentally ingest any calories from the deep fryer splatter.
Day one starts with Gary, Georgie and Matty in a slather over their favourite trash foods – which turn out to be fried chicken, burgers and the kind of kebab you shove down your throat and then puke up in the taxi ten minutes later. The contestants are then divided into teams of three, their task being to put up their own version of each dish in the time it takes fatty Matty to burn a trail to his local drive-thru – a time that is apparently only 45 minutes.
Rico snorts out his port and mutters that this is junk TALK not junk food because the idea that Matty would order his food and leave rather than park his fat can in a Perspex booth and snap his greasy fingers for seconds is about as realistic as George taking a leak and pausing to wash his hands.
Anyhoo, Samira is on a team with leathery Jules and Rishi and she’s pissed because she’s stuck with the kebab and isn’t that some kind of fish? Still, she takes on the job and hustles to the pantry with Jules barking for her to MOVE her fat ass, because that 2am slopper isn’t going to assemble itself!
Over with Christina and she’s teamed with Mad Irish Kelty and Vern and she’s also pissed because her constant bragging about how she’s part Penelope Cruz has gotten her lumped with the chicken.
‘Why the FUCK do people always assume hot chicks can cook chicken?’ she bitches to the cameras. Rico commiserates and suggests that maybe if she put less effort into matching her lipstick to her headwear people might assume she can do more than crack open a box of nuggets.
Rounding up the shat-off threesome is Noelene, who’s stuck on a team with tearful country boy Lynton and weird-talker Neha. She’s doing the kebab and had wanted to do a prawn one until Lynton burst into sobs and Neha smacked her down with a side of lamb and hissed at her to cook it.
Cue to the judges on the sidelines talking about the food and fingering their willies and,of course, Georgie is hoping for something ‘different’ from his kebab. Rico giggles that Noelene should fill hers with some stewfry and really test out George’s desire for difference – but then he reconsiders because he’s developed a sweet love for his little butch four-eyes and Stewfry The Sequel would no doubt send her home.
The final team is made up of Lucy, Hot Dan and Immunity Pin Emma and Lucy says it sucks to be on a team with the pin-wearer because if they go into elimination that smug bitch will whip it out quicker than Curtis Stone in the vege aisle. Rico says this is a disgusting thought but that a measuring contest between a snow pea and Curtis’ crotch hammer might be just the ego-crusher that big-chinned git needs to develop a personality.
Anyhoo it’s a cooking frenzy interspersed with footage of Chubbers Preston collecting greasy bags and flirting with underage counter staff.
Interesting developments include Noelene reverting to her prawn idea and telling Neha to open her fat mouth and SUCK it; Neha boiling her mince, to Gary and George’s horror, and then telling them how this shit was designed for a toothless king who could blow a dick harder than a slutty Hilton; leathery Jules doing a deep fried rice ‘bun’ that Rico reckons has been done badly before and doesn’t look to be an improvement; and Vern gushing that the judges are so hard for his meat he’ll have to keep his fly zipped and one hand on the cleaver.
As Matty gets closer, leathery Jules gets a grip on her rice buns but is pissed that Samira has her feet up and is flipping through a copy of Lazy Bitch. Up stroll the judges and Gary tells her it looks a bit normal and Samira snaps that she’s not here to impress him, but rather to rue the day he dragged her from the loving embrace of her shoe closet.
When time runs out, Christina is worried that her chicken isn’t cooked and Emma has sacrificed her burger in order to make thrice-cooked chips that she’s still only managed to cook twice.
First up for tasting are Christina, Kelty and Vern and – miracle of miracles – Christina’s chicken is cooked and Vern’s little burgers are delicious. But it’s not all good news because Mad Irish has wreaked his personal brand of lunacy on the kebab and Georgie reckons that he missed the mark so thoroughly you’d think he was aiming with his ass.
Next up are Samira, leathery Jules and Rishi and Rishi’s chicken gets the finger-licking treatment while Samira is spanked for being an imagination-less bitch. But it’s Jules who gets bent over so hard she slips disc because her rice bun disintegrates and none of the judges’ stubby fingers are up to the task.
Samira gushes that she’s made a traditional yoghurt drink to go with her kebab but the judges offer not a single fuck-swallow and Gary adds that if she makes it through she’ll need to give her socks a good, hard yank.
Onto Nehas’s team and there’s much love for tearful Lynton’s chicken and Noelene’s prawn souvlaki but Neha’s boiled mince burger gets the thumbs down and Gary says it’s about as close to his cup of tea as the dinner they serve at Feltch Camp.
And lastly it’s Emma’s team and again the chicken, this time cooked by Lucy, is a winner. Calorie-phobic Daniel has made the kebab and the judges have some special fuckery in store for him because – that’s right folks – they want him to eat some too! He does, but the barest fragment, and Matty says you can tell a lot from what’s left on the plate and the fact that he didn’t even eat his own share means that he’s a vain little creep who’ll probably spend the rest of the day on the treadmill and worrying about how his ass looks in his pants.
Emma’s burger doesn’t do much better because she’s forgotten everything other than the chips and Gary reckons the only saving grace is that the bun came pre-cooked. To the cameras Emma says she doesn’t want to take Lucy to elimination because Lucy might see that as their third date and there’s no way she wants to go down on Big Bird.
But at the end of the day, it’s Samira and Jules who’ve cooked the biggest crap and poor Rishi is dragged into elimination with them.
The big day dawns and Jules is having a go on Daniel’s treadmill and talking about how this is the serve of humble pie she deserved but that it tastes like poorly refrigerated crap. Rico reckons they should have saved the pie and served up some dermabrasion because, sweet lord of Australian sun damage, that face needs HELP!
Elsewhere, Rishi reckons he’s a bit sad to be in the elimination and that Jules has apologised to him ‘fifty times’ while Samira has just been sitting in her room screaming the word ‘cunt’.
Into the Masterchef Kitchen and there’s fuckery afoot in the form of an Ingredient Auction. Matty P seems rather pleased with himself as he explains the rules and what follows is a lot of stupidity which leaves Rishi with everything he wanted and tonnes of cooking time, Samira with a bit of each and looking pissed and Jules with fuck all and the idea that she might just have rode the dopey donkey into doom.
Rishi, who has a full hour to cook, starts first and reckons he’s happier than that Larry guy who discovered his wife had a hidden penis. He’s doing seared rabbit with pickled vegies and a turnip puree and he’s got the whole crew on the balcony helping him along as Jules frets from the sidelines and Samira vehemently prays for his death.
After ten minutes, it’s time for Samira to start and Vern reckons you can see the pressure is getting to her. Rico reckons she’s not the only one feeling the pressure and he sympathises with the floor after watching her thunder her way across it in search of some pans.
Samira reckons because this is elimination, she’s going to steer away from her Middle Eastern strengths and try to fuck up the judge’s taste buds so thoroughly they’ll be screaming for an amputation. Up on the balcony, Noelene raises her eyes to the heavens and snarks that that shouldn’t too hard, but that if she’s smart she’ll plate it to look pretty so that the judges take a good, hard mouthful.
Over on the sidelines and Jules is getting increasingly agitated because she still has no clue what to cook! As the tears start, little Georgie plods over to give her a sweaty hug and remind her that, when she gets the boot, she’ll have a house full of ungrateful foster children lining up to rifle through her wallet.
‘That’s why I need to stay!’ Jules sniffles, before muttering that George really needs to invest in some deodorant because she’s having trouble seeing through the fog.
But it’s time for her to start and while Georgie guides her hand to his trousers and urges her to ‘find the steel’ she snatches it away and races for her bench in the hopes that when she arrives a plate of lobster, yoghurt and Asian vegetables that doesn’t taste disgusting will be waiting for her.
But there isn’t, so she has to cook, and when in doubt, says Rico, cast your eye back to previous seasons of MC and copy that shit! Jules agrees because she starts making the lotus flower chips that Kirk Pengelly fried to glory in the first episode of Celebrity Masterchef. On the balcony, Emma is worried that Jules hasn’t diced her shellfish into tiny pieces and that Kirk Pengelly used to go out with Deni Hines and isn’t she related to that muscly bitch from Australian Idol who really didn’t need shoulder pads?
Over to Samira and she’s decided to use the cream in a herb tart. Over comes Gary and he’s full of advice as to how to handle the pastry but Samira wants him to shut his fat mouth before he finds a fist in it. Flash to some footage of Samira bickering with her mum in the kitchen and Rico makes the sign of the cross and mutters that these two are like doppelgangers and he’d hate to be the meat in that foul-tongued sandwich.
Samira reckons she’s the only one of her mum’s kids who was too thick to make it through University and that winning Masterchef will help win her mum’s pride because her mum is a whore for cash and when she gets home she’s planning to bribe the shit out of her. Rico reckons this is just talk because the minute this bitch sets a trotter outside the show, she’ll be hoofing it to the most expensive shoe shop on the strip so she can play Pretty Woman with the shop keepers.
With fifteen minutes left and Jules’ lobster is not cooking and Samira blows the top off her blender and storms off to have a cry about it. Tubby George looks horrified but at Gary’s prodding he makes his way over, muttering that if she tries to collapse in his arms his back will be holding out its hand for a compo cheque. But Samira isn’t up for a cuddle and snaps at him to keep his hairy paws for someone who doesn’t have a hot husband and two ungrateful children.
Back to Jules and she’s hoisted her lobster out only to find it still raw in the middle. She cuts it into chunks and decides to pan fry it, bitching the whole time that it’s like she’s had a lobotomy without the benefit of the post-op hairstyle.
When time runs out, it doesn’t look too bad – unlike Samira’s which is still wearing the tin foil and has all the aesthetic prettiness of an unflushed toilet. And, for once, she seems to know it because when she moves away from her bench she performs the slow-wall-slide-of-anguish which Rico reckons is pretty impressive given the force of gravity.
Tasting time comes and Rishi’s is first and not only does it look pretty but it tastes pretty and Gary says this is the best dish he’s put out in the whole competition. Matty agrees, says it is a ‘wow of a dish’ and is still sucking sauce off his trotters when Samira plods in with her efforts.
Samira starts in about how she is the family ‘drop-out’ and while George makes a stirring speech about her mother being proud, Gary mutters that if this bitch came through the doors of HIS cooking school, she’d be drop KICKED.
Anyhoo it’s so obvious that Jules is going home even before she brings up her plate because matty is making a sloppy fuss over Samira’s tart, despite the fact that Georgie’s lamb is bluer than a booted testicle.
But here’s Jules and she’s already apologising and blubbering that she’s let ‘her kids down’. And – ooh! – she just happens to have a letter from one of them in her pocket which she proceeds to read out:
Where the FUCK is the key to the goon cupboard? Either you Express Post that bitch ASAP or I’m using Hayley’s face because she’s got braces and that shit is heavy metal!
P.s – I broke your dog.
Matty wipes a tiny tear from his bloated eye-socket and murmurs that that was beautiful. Jules gives each one of them a special look and mutters that if they can send her home on the back of that, they’ve got spines of steel and the cold, black heart of that child-hating whore, Samira.
The food, however, is utter shite and Georgie says he never thought he’d say these words, but he’s not going back for a second mouthful. Matty says the positive is that she actually used her ingredients, but that the negatives are laughing so hard they aren’t keeping still enough for him to count.
Judgement time comes and they immediately let Rishi off the hook to sashay back to the Masterchef house and place a collect call to his parents. Foul-tongued Samira, they say, served up the equivalent of her non-love for her children on the plate but because Matty likes his lamb the same shade as a James Cameron Avatar, it’s Jules who’s going home.
Over with the other contestants and there’s an awful lot of hand-in-front-of-mouthing – especially from Dan who really does look like his lips are having a smile party behind his palm. Rico reckons he doesn’t blame him and, with the exception of horny George and sick fucker Kelty, this will be the first time he might actually be able to go to sleep without worrying about a leathery hand creeping into his sleep onsie.
Leather Jules reckons she’s ‘walking out with more gratitude than anything’ and if that little slut Amy has busted into her drinks cupboard, she’ll be thanking the living SHIT out of her.
So with Jules gone, it’s on to the next day and the super team challenge. Rico reckons we need to admit that we only kept half an eye on the show and the rest on Ebay and that’s why we aren’t planning on writing much. I reckon there’s no need and anyone who actually sat through that mess will be glad that we skimmed over it because does anyone really want to read about Kelty assuming the goat position for George’s pleasure a second time around?
Anyhoo, it’s two teams and they have to navigate the countryside and perform three tasks in order to secure their ingredients for a Club Sandwich challenge. The first challenge is to cook an omelette and the Blue team get there first and leave the Reds to navigate like two carloads of Helen Kellers and finally wind up with the turkey.
The second challenge is for the potatoes and involves milking a goat. Emma of the Blues takes to it with gusto, aided by Lynton who is familiar with the exquisite art of bringing a goat to climax. When the Reds finally make it, Rishi jumps in the pen – but he’s not exactly interested in foreplay and that’s when George’s hideous Kelty demonstration comes into play and leaves Rico to lose all past, present and future lunches.
The final challenge is for the bread but the Ebay wine auction we’ve got our eye on is ticking to a close so we miss what happens and only tune back in when the cooking has started. The Red team who took so fucking long to get anywhere have ended up with the multigrain bread, turkey and shitty potatoes, but Captain Christina reckons this is ok because they’ve got a plan for the chips and that poultry undercooking fucker, Michael, was eliminated weeks ago.
Over on the Blue team and they’ve got sourdough bread, chicken and good potatoes and Emma – who fucked up her chips just days ago – is going for thrice-cooked again because she’s got motherfucking IMMUNITY!
Anyhoo it’s a rather dull cook-off made slightly less dull and infinitely more poncey when the silver foxes in their fancy cars arrive to be fed. Vern, in particular, is impressed with the cars and as he hands out the plates things get awkward because he wants someone to take him for a ride, and no-one wants a blow job from a snagglemouth.
Lots of chewing later and the judges love the Blue team’s sourdough club and are less impressed with the Reds. Emma’s chips have worked out for the Blues, as have the vege chips for the Reds, but the real clanger is Samira’s bland turkery which went up against more of Lucy’s crumbed chicken and some roasted tomatoes a la Hot Daniel.
So off to elimination for the Reds and Rico does a fist pump because this means more of Samira under pressure and the potential for another wall-slide that this time might crack the tiles and reveal a magical world underneath where port runs like water and public drunkenness is rewarded with a seven-figure salary.
Anyhoo, because it’s Fast Food week what better dish for a Pressure Test than a gourmet hot dog designed by a guest chef who had nothing better to do with his week than invade bread rolls with cylindrical pieces of meat.
Apparently it’s some porky, bacony, mapley, cucumbery mess in a fancy fucker of a bread roll and there’s a lot of fuss made out of the fact that Samira doesn’t eat pork, but is required to cook with it. Rico reckons this is a whole heap of fuss over nothing because Samira obviously doesn’t eat salad either and that hasn’t stopped her chopping vegetables. Guest chef agrees and tells Matty and co that all the measures are in the damn recipe so providing she can actually read, her pig-hatery shouldn’t be too much of a handicap.
Anyhoo, the two hours kick off and straight away it’s Christina who’s in trouble because the last time she ate a hotdog she was drunk at a park and someone had left one on a BBQ. She’s trying to read the recipe but the fucker is three pages long and the only thought that makes any sense is that this chef is a complete and utter wanklord.
Elsewhere in the kitchen and there’s the usual fun and games and the judges confer and agree that the people who do the best will be the ones who follow the steps and stop assuming that they are the second coming of that rat from Pixar. Samira quickly demonstrates that she is firmly in this category by ignoring the bread dough oven instructions in favour of leaving it on top of the microwave.
Over to Mad Irish Kelty and he’s having trouble fitting the sausage skin over the nozzle because condoms are an unnecessary invention when you’ve married a woman who refuses to have sex with you. Rico reckons it’s difficult watching him struggle, but that if lesbian Christina can manage it, he’s got no damn excuse.
Speaking of lemony Christina, here’s some footage of her at home and Rico perks up because he’s a firm believer in putting two women in the same room and waiting for them to start kissing. Unfortunately for Rico, it’s just some film of Christina feeding her family breakfast and, unlike The L-Word, doesn’t devolve into thrashing pool sex once the kiddies are off to school.
Back to the cooking and Rishi is streets ahead while everyone else takes it to second base with the hot slut of panic. Noelene is having a hard time and when guest chef comes over and tells her she better get her sausage blanching, she barely keeps a civil tongue in her head because she was planning to skip that step and lob her meat straight onto the fire!
When time runs out, it’s worse than a dog’s breakfast and more like the remains of a Canine Sizzler Salad Bar that got knocked over and then rooted by a giant Rottweiler. Elsewhere in the room, the only decent-looking one is Rishi’s, and though Christina’s looks infinitely better than Samira’s, she worries that her inability to say ‘I do’ to a penis, will bring about her booting.
Tasting comes around and, of course, Rishi’s is a great success and Matty is so impressed with the state of his meat, he and George engage in a brief tussle over who gets to gobble the knob-end. They also like Kelty’s meat and his buns aren’t bad either – despite Rico’s protests – but because he’s managed to squeeze bugger all sauce onto the plate, he’s not exactly a sure-thing.
Then it’s on to Samira and there’s a whole heap of jawing about how incredibly difficult it must have been for her to slaughter a pig with her hands tied behind her back and pictures of her hated children glued to her eyelids – or something like that. Anyhoo, they like her sausage but describe her bun as a ‘disaster’ and as she shuffles back to her bench, Rico mutters that the real disaster is the advertisement her ass is making for elasticated trousers.
Next is Christina and she’s also rather sauceless, but George says her sausage tastes of sweet lesbian tears and that makes it go down a treat! Vern’s also goes down without too much of a fight, but his bun is another ‘disaster’ and it’s only his ability to add some of the relish to the dog that drags him above Samira-level.
And finally it’s Noelene and she’s carrying a plate of components that she didn’t manage to cobble together in time. Gary describes it as ‘a deconstructed hot dog’ and the consensus is that all the elements taste super, but how to award someone who took a Pressure Dump and didn’t bother to flush?
Noelene says it’s easy, they just need to open their food-filled gobs and say ‘you’re safe’, and surely this can’t be too hard for three people who’ve managed to turn overeating into a six-figure salary.
But she needn’t worry, because even though they dangle her briefly into the bottom 2, it’s trash-tongued Samira who failed to sufficiently grease up the judges’ shirtfronts and is being sent packing back to her massive shoe closet and the two children who better not have laid a finger on them in her absence.
As she leaves, Samira gushes that she’s happy to be returning home, because it’s too hard to track down Clarissa and disembowel her with all the damn cameras around.
Rico reckons this is distressing news, because he’s holding out hope that Clarissa will get to try for a comeback, and he doubts she’ll cook to the best of her ability if she’s having to worry about not stepping on her entrails.
Until next time snarkers!
p.s – we have just seen the snippet where Matty P says that Curtis Stone is ‘like Brad Pitt but younger’. Rico wants to issue a stern objection to this statement because, to the best of his knowledge, Brad Pitt’s chin is not the size of the Titanic iceberg and he doubts Angelina would be happy to bear the children of a man whose crotch always smells suspiciously like poultry and who likes to stalk grannies in the toiletry aisle and invite them to ‘pull his finger’.