Well, it’s a gorgeous morning on The Biggest Loser and as our favourite fatties troop out of the house, none other than Hayley and her ever-mysterious buddy The Fridge materialises out of the bracing, misty air.
‘Fuck yeah!’ roars Caitlin, because she’s fresh from knocking the most kilos off at the weigh-in and that means the power of the fridge is squarely in her Cal-hating hands.
‘You now have to decide whether to open The Fridge or – ‘ But poor Hayley’s too late, because Little Hamlin has already chugged up and ripped the door off its hinges.
And the power is: Swap Teams! Which means agro Cal can barely suck in a furious breath before he’s being shoved over to the Blue team where the only advantage he can see is that standing next to Big Kev makes him feel like Nicole Ritchie.
To the cameras Caitlin says that she loves him, but that that’s a lie because she actually hates his fucking guts and given the chance to send him straight to hell she’d drop kick him with every ounce of strength in her power-spewing guts. When asked what Commando will think of her decision she snaps:
‘Commando? Oh, I’m sorry – is he the Biggest Loser of the week? He isn’t? Well then he can SUCK MY FUCKING DICK!’
Other black team members who don’t share the love for this choice include Jane, who reckons this could potentially be a fucking stupid move because now their challenge winning prowess rests on the shoulders of an alcoholic, a keg-woman hybrid and Caitlin, and unless the next challenge involves spewing your way out of an empty well, she isn’t liking their chances.
Anyhoo, Cal’s a member of the blue team now and that means it’s time for a training session with Shanny, who wastes no time tossing over a pair of gloves and telling him they’ll be engaging in a good old fashioned bash-a-thon where the strongest prevails and the weakest gets a new face handed to him courtesy of his opponent’s fist.
The bout ends with Cal nursing a bleeding nose and Shanny nursing bleeding ears from being screamed at through his ear piece and what follows is a curiously sincere-looking chat where Shanny declares the blues have ‘gone from chumps to champs’ and Big Kev, Nat, Shannon and Katrina vow to spike his next salad with Ebola virus.
After a brief session with Commando’s blacks which features Shaz wailing that no-one will let her be happy and Commando snapping that she’s not happy, she’s fucking Bi Polar, it’s back to Ararat where Bloody Mary has reached the Seventh Level of Hell at the hands of Michelle Taylor Hayes Forrester Bridges.
‘We’re training in a jail because I want my team to understand just what it feels like to get imprisoned for a crime they didn’t commit, and then have to become the girlfriend of a seven-foot ex-weight lifter called Brenda.’ gushes Michelle.
Rico says it’s always nice when we get a bit of an insight into exactly what events have lead to Michelle evolving into the terrifying creature she is today, and that Commando’s ability to accept her past shows either an admirable strength of character, or the sort of pervy nature that sees him attend the Boxing Day Sales just so he can watch women fist-fighting over cut-price toasters.
Moving on though because Bloody Mary is the focus and, sure enough, she’s promising Michelle the same 100% she promised Shanny which, as we all know, is about as solid as the promise of a redheaded child.
‘You gotta stop with the games, Mary!’ urges Michelle. ‘I promise you, as soon as you do, the weight will fall off and you’ll be able to go back to rooting your husband from the power position!’
After a bit of rubbish where producers try and make us believe Bloody Mary is gearing up for another uber-tantrum (but is actually just her doing as she’s told), Mary tells the cameras that it’s so great to be able to start again with a clean slate, because she’s sure now that she’s on the Red Team, all the people she told to fuck off and die back at the BL house will have followed her instructions.
But enough of all that, because it’s Challenge time!
So here’s a sandpit and here’s Hayley and she’s jawing on about how this is Rewards Week and that means that what they do here today could very well earn them something more enjoyable than a triple bacon sandwich.
‘Yeah right,’ murmur all the fatties, but still they are game and when Hayley tells them they have to root around in the sandpit like truffle hunting pigs, they fall to it with the kind of joy Rico reckons he hasn’t seen since 6.30 With George Negus got kicked off the air.
‘The first fatty – I mean contestant – to find the red chip must keep it to themselves!’ cries Hayley and, sure enough, when Katrina finds it she stuffs it in her bra and hopes to God it gives her the instantaneous power of divorce.
At the end of the allocated time, everyone’s found themselves a decent pile of black chips which, Hayley explains, can now be used to bid for certain exciting items in the ‘Inagural Biggest Loser Auction’.
Rico rolls his eyes and snarks that this is bound to be all about Letters From Home and home visits when, let’s face it, what the contestants REALLY want is a night at the All-You-Can-Eat and then a stomach pump to take it all away.
Anyhoo, first exciting lot off the block is a 500 gram weight advantage at the next weigh-in and, naturally, because Toni had immunity last week and didn’t have the good sense to water load, she’s going for it tooth and nail.
And… She get’s it, which leaves us to move on to the next item which happens to be a set of vintage scales from 1972.
‘Ooooh! gasps Caitlin, who adores anything even remotely Stepford and can’t wait to hop on them and find out that the reason we all moved to big digital numbers is because no fucker can read those things without bending over and fucking up the read-out.
Next up is – wait for it! – a Letter From Home. While the Dog licks between its legs in a show of disapproval, the soft piano music starts and it’s a bidding race between the mothers, with Nat ending up the winner and gushing to the cameras that she hopes she’ll be able to write a letter back and tell them all about the gastro spew she did that looked so much like pizza she was tempted to save it for later.
Next up is – oooh! – the Mystery Prize. Immediately Shaz is rubbing her paddle against her saddlebags for luck because, if this is what she thinks it is, that kiss that she gave Commando in the gym a few weeks ago is about to go to second base!
After a rather heated set of bidding, Shaz is the victor for the grand total of 63 chips, and when the lid is lifted and she realises that all she’s got is a platter of the free socks that Biggest Loser gives them anyway, her F-bomb can be heard detonating in New Zealand where the poor fuckers are still watching season 2013.
Next up is a one-on-one session of hardcore sex with the trainer of their choice and agro Cal bids like his dick depends on it and ends up the victor. Commando, who is grinning on the sidelines, soon has it slapped off his face when Cal turns down the opportunity for a reunion, and instead opts to take to the sheets with new girlfriend, Shanny.
Next is – ooooh! again – another mystery prize. While Rico yawns in his port, Kerry and Kat bid against each other only for Kat to fold at the last minute and send Kerry to a win of $3000 cash.
‘The person holding the red chip’ twitters Hayley ‘has the opportunity to speak now and take the money!’ But Kat doesn’t do it, reason being, she tells the cameras, is because she’d feel like a thief and the only thing she’s stolen in her entire life was another woman’s man – HAHAHAHAHAHA EAT ME BITCHES!
Next is, to Nat’s horror, a video message from home.
‘The FUCK did I just waste all my shit on a letter for!?’ she snaps, throwing it to the ground and baring her teeth at Hayley.
‘Better luck next time BITCH!’ giggles Hayley before directing events back to the actual bidding.
And the winner is… Shannon! Who looks chuffed for all of three seconds before remembering that her kids didn’t exactly win the Bonds Baby Search and she would have been much better off with the sonofabitching letter.
Next is… Another Mystery Prize! This time Kat bids hard and ends up the proud owner of every edition of the town newspaper The Ararat Bloater published since their arrival in the house.
‘Fantastic!’ she squeals. ‘Now I can catch up on the public sex and footy scores!’
‘What?’ asks a confused Hayley.
‘Well,’ explains Katrina. ‘We get all this attention for being the world’s fattest town, but in actual fact we’re actually also in the top five for public rooting! Yay us!’
Moving on and finally Immunity is up for grabs which, Hayley explains, can be purchased BY you FOR you, or for someone else! After a fair bit of laughter, Cal outbids the others and has to wait while Hayley invites the mystery red chip holder to snatch it off him, just like he snatched $30 000 from the town kitty.
Once again, Kat declines, and Shannon says it’s good that Cal has got Immunity because being new to the blue team he’s ‘got a target on his back’ and, come to think of it, FUCKSHITFUCKSHIIIIIIIIIIIT!
Next up is the good old Family Visit Pass and poor letter-holding Nat looks so pissed Rico reckons if Shanny took that moment to wander on by, his ability to father children would suddenly become rather painfully comprimised.
Red chip-holding Kat gets all blubbery at the thought of her giant-necked husband coming over for a conjugal, which gets all the other fatties giving her their chips and the producers in a veritable RAGE that their precious red chip that was supposed to create so much delicious drama and in-fighting was wasted on fucking KATRINA.
The next day dawns and naturally the topic of the day is how long Katrina will have to wait before her husband arrives and she has to break the news that her diet prohibits blow jobs
‘Hold on a second!’ says Shanny. ‘I’d better go get the rest of the team!’
And, sure enough, said ‘team’ is Kat’s two sons and her husband who, now that Rico thinks about it, bears a rather horrific resemblance to the guy who turned that nice young backpacker into a Head on a Stick in Wolf Creek.
Anyhoo, because Shanny doesn’t want Katrina to spend the whole day on her back, he’s organised for her to put her husband and boys through a training session and prove that she could now put them over her knee and snap them like a deep fried chicken wing.
So in they go wearing their own set of Biggest Loser socks, and Kat immediately tells her boys to ‘go get on the treadmill or something’ so that she can shove her husband on the rower and put all her focus into breaking him into jowly little pieces.
‘Go harder you weak cunt!’ screams Katrina. ‘HARDER!’
‘I am!’ protests Spanner, his braless tits flailing beneath his new blue team shirt.
‘There is no I AM!’ bellows Katrina. ‘Only I WILL! Now row harder you useless motherfucker!’
Unfortunately for Spanner, he fails to beat Katrina’s time and has to stand there muttering ‘you’ll pay for this you show-off bitch’ while she hops on board and shows him exactly why next time he barks at her for chicken thigh in his sandwich instead of fucking breast, he’ll be cleaning his teeth off the windshield.
But let’s move on because, once again, it’s Challenge time and, once again, the BL producers have pulled out all the stops to plagiarise the shit out of Survivor.
‘Oooh nice torches!’ murmur the fatties, while Shanny explains that stacks-on challenges are a Biggest Loser institution and that one of these days they might even make the front pages for giving someone a serious spinal injury.
The challenge itself is basically three people from each team loading up with 10kg sandbags in the order specified by the lazy fuckers on the sidelines and, naturally, Cal puts his hand up for the blues, joined by Katrina and Nat, while Craig, Caitlin and Shaz sign-up for the blacks. And the reward? Letters From Home and the guarantee that Nat will be prowling around looking for someone to punch into their next life.
Things start off pretty typically with both teams opting to load up the boys first and although agro Cal does his best to whistle and pretend like he’s not whining inside like a beaten science teacher, he only makes it to 80kg before hollering for Shanny and Commando to make the pain go away.
‘I thought he was fucking JOKING!’ Katrina snaps to the cameras. ‘This bitch is as weak as my girl’s blouse husband!’
With Cal gone, the blacks start loading up Nat, while the blues continue stacking on Craig, and for a while it looks like Craig will go first, but then Commando whispers in her ear ‘looking forward to your Letter From Home?’ and she drops her load just so she can take a swing at him.
That leaves only Katrina for the blue team against three of the blacks – but suddenly Craig’s out, quickly followed by Caitlin who complains that standing in one spot makes her dizzy and that if they’d just given her the weight and told her to do the 100m hurdles, she would have been fine fucking FINE!
‘Oooh it’s battle of the mums!’ exlaims Shanny, because it’s now Katrina vs. Pig Hat Shaz, with Katrina already 10kg in the red.
‘Come ON Katrina!’ Rico shrieks, closely echoed by the Dog, because the thought of Shaz taking it out fills both of them with the kind of terror I haven’t seen since we all sat down to watch Child’s Play only to realise 3 minutes too late that it was actually the opening credits of The Wedding Planner.
Anyhoo, as the weight gets loaded, on a funny thing happens: Katrina, who we have previously kinda admired for tearing shreds out of Bloody Mary, but also taken the piss out of for having a husband with a neck like a fuel tanker, gets – how shall we put this? Fucking AWESOME.
That’s right, lovers, as the weight gets loaded on, hardcore Katrina lets not a single bead of sweat dribble down her face and Rico reckons if a Terminator were to come across her in a dark alley with her name beeping on its processor, it would take one look, mutter something about checking some shit out with Skynet, and then get the FUCK out of there.
You know, to Shaz’s credit she does hang in there far longer than we thought she would. Mind you, her centre of gravity is much lower and she’s used to wearing that ginormous pink hard hat so maybe this challenge is actually right up her alley? Whatever the case, when she gets to 110kg she’s sweating like a bare leg on a leather car seat and it’s only a matter of time.
‘I’m going!’ she bleats, as Commando hovers over her shoulder.
‘The FUCK you are!’ Commando bellows. ‘You drop that pole and I’ll turn your face into a hood ornament!’
‘Arrrrrgghhhh!’ she wails, desperately trying to hang on, because everyone knows Commando drives a Lada and that the interior smells like Michelle’s vagina. But it’s just too much and with a CRASH she let’s go, making Katrina the winner as well as all-round, stone cold SEXY.
‘Well Kat!’ trills Hayley. ‘You now have the chance to let the black team have their Letters From Home too!’
Once again the poor producer cross their tiny fingers and pray to the Gods of great television that Katrina can dig around and find a cunty bone in her body. But of course, she can’t, and Shaz immediately takes to the cameras and tries to salvage a bit of attention by gushing over her children and rubbing her eyes in the hope theres a bit of sand, or dog Katrina’s hair on her fingers, to make her cry.
The show ends with the pubic (that mispelling stays) reading of the letters, and a shot of the photo contained within Shaz’s letter that shows her husband wearing a Top Hat.
While the Dog barks hysterically, and I ponder the reason why a presumably sane person would wear a Top Hat in a photo that, judging by the other people in it, was not themed around Downton Abbey, Rico just rolls his eyes and snaps that the poor bastard has clearly had a lobotomy and a turban wouldn’t exactly go down well in a town where kids are frisked for Eddie Murphy movies.
Until next time lovers!