So for those of you who tuned in to The Bachelor last year, you’ll know that Tim chose squinty Anna, leaving flawed-skin Rochelle wondering if a quick tug-off in the hot tub would have swung things in her favour and how fast Osher would have scuttled to the rescue if she’d pulled out one of her cop dad’s Barettas on the After the Final Rose couch.
Speaking of our intrepid host, here he is! And Rico reckons it’s comforting to know that Osher has spent the last year carefully going over ways to improve his charisma, and not cruising the dye aisle in Chemist Warehouse looking for a less natural shade of Grecian 2000.
Anyhoo, it’s time to meet our new Bachelor and, as Bachelors do, there is he looking thoughtful on a cliff top, wheeling some random geriatic in a chair, and leaving us in no doubt whatsoever that that his mother will have the final say in whoever he marries – and will probably be shouting instructions from the sidelines on his Honeymoon.
According to the package, Blakey has had his tender heart crushed once before by a heartless woman, his mother got pregnant at the ripe old age of 16 (presumably because she was one of those slutty school girls who hung out at the docks waiting for the U.S.S Horny Sailor to slide into town), and the random geriatric is his grandmother – and not the sweet doting kind either, but the one who grills him over just how many women he’s dated and lets us know in no uncertain terms that her Gaydar has been going off ever since her prostitot daughter failed to keep her legs closed.
But let’s move on shall we because it’s time to check out some of the creatures Channel 10 dredged up from the bottom of the swamp for our viewing pleasure.
First up is netballer, Holly, who could well be this season’s Ally in that she has a rather fabulous, toned little body and a head that would look far better within the confines of a Jabba the Hut Halloween mask. According to the footage, she’s ‘never had a serious relationship’ and Rico mutters that that’s hardly surprising considering men don’t tend to marry women who terrify small children.
Moving on and it’s dog groomer, Anita, who seems to have auditioned for the wrong show because she’s from country Victoria and has a giant set of gnashers that only a desperado farmer with a taste for his neighbour’s pig could love.
Next is Sam and, even though she’s a bit zitty, she’s good looking in that way that only every man under the sun would love and has the act of walking down the beach looking attractive down to a fine art. According to Sam, she’s a giant whore who has rooted almost every man in Melbourne and is hoping being on The Bachelor will ferret out those last few who were looking down at their road map when she strolled past their vehicle.
She’s followed by another blonde, and a brunette who reckons a switch has flicked on in her head and, like a Terminator, that means she has no choice but to hunt down her quarry until they are a bloody smear under the wheel of a MAC truck.
But let’s get down to the meaty guts, shall we? because here’s Blake getting out of the limo and having a quick debrief with Osher about how the image of his mum in her Victoria’s Secrets is the only thing that will be getting him through pashing some of these sluts.
But before Osher can even find out if Blake could potentially be his own father, here comes the first girl out of the gate: Netballer Holly!
Rico sucks in a breath and hisses that this is NOT fair on poor old Blake and couldn’t they have eased him in gently with one of the girls who doesn’t have a head like repurposed meatloaf?
To his credit, Blakey does his best to keep the smile on his face and the urine out of his trousers and, thankfully, it’s not long before she’s heading into the house and replaced by a parade of women who have clearly been given a voucher for Sequins R-US and told not to spend more than twenty dollars.
Of the first lot of girls, Blake seems to like blonde Sam, presumably because she’s one of the better looking ones and carries herself like a woman who’s not afraid of an inferior brand of latex. He also appreciates that also-blonde Louise brings him a drink, only to be quickly horrified that it’s not a Jagermeister sunk into a pint, that she’s named it after herself and is one of those pushy girls who insists that he swallow.
And with not even enough time for a quick stomach pump – here comes Anita!
‘You must have a sore mouth!’ she blurts, while Blake stares in terror at her teeth and wonders if this is some kind of hint about her kissing style. But no sooner has he plastered the smile back on his face than she breaks into something that Rico is fairly certain is supposed to be a song and was probably penned by Alex Forrest from Fatal Attraction.
‘I want to booiiilll your bunnnieeeeees’ she croons, while Blake’s pallor fades from Halle Berry to Julian Assange. When she’s done it’s all he can do to remain in place and not run sprinting for the perimeter, but thankfully the producers usher her into the house and it’s time for the sequined blandness of Amanda, Alannah, Zoe, Shannon, John Travolta and someone who may or may not be called Jason-Louise.
Which means that Blake is pretty much recovered by the time Princess Diana arrives in town.
‘I brought you a crown!’ she trills, shoving it on his head and immediately reminding us that even a good looking man is just a cheap plastic crown away from looking like a bald guy at a Hungry Jacks party.
Next is some girl who brings a teddy bear, and another singer – this one with a voice that Rico insists doesn’t make him want to crawl under the dining room table and set fire to himself.
But – ooh! – what’s this? The last girl appears without sequins OR the regulation synthetic extensions! Her name is Lorena and apparently she’s a ‘fashion entrepeneur’ which Rico reckons is clearly just a fancy name for having an In Style subscription and looking classy enough not to have the sales assistants follow her around in David Jones.
According to Blake, Lorena makes his ‘jaw drop’ – partly for her stomach muscles that look creepily like a stashed penis, and partly for her uncanny re-enactment of the ‘Poof! He’s gone’ scene from The Usual Suspects.
Anyhoo, back in the house and Osher is jumping up and down on the coffee table trying to get everyone’s attention because it’s in his contract to explain about the roses even though it’s totally fucking obvious.
Even the ‘White Rose’ is just a lame sack of crap in that it’s given to ‘whoever makes the best first impression’, saves them from the first two eliminations, and clearly won’t be going to Anita.
Enter Blake because it’s time for what the producers like to refer to as the ‘cocktail party’ but is more like dangling a piece of bloody flesh over a pool of Great Whites – yay!
Poor Blakey looks either like he’s going to puke, or he’s just been puking – a natural response, according to Rico, to Osher’s inability to accept that his Colourist has fucked him up the ass. Still, he’s got a job to do and, proving that he’s no stranger to tackling the tough jobs first, goes straight for netballer Holly for the first one-on-one.
In a truly fascinating exchange of wits, Blake pretends he’s never known the thrill of finding a crisp fifty in his G-string, and Holly gushes that she may have a decent netball career and a face like a pressed lunch, but what she really wants to do is get into real estate and leave bitchy notes for renters about how to clean their ovens.
But before she can get too carried away, some haggard creature with a fringe that could stand to be about eight inches longer joins the party, and from there the desperate floodgates are OPEN!
Over on the sidelines, giant chompers, Anita, hatches a cunning plan to steal him away, only to be presented with a NO, rather than the coveted White Rose. Blake, you see, wants to talk to super-slut, Sam, who wastes no time sharing the news that she comes from a BIG family, because none of those fuckers could keep their legs closed either HAHAHAHAHA!
Done with Sam, Blake goes in search of the elusive Lorena who has clearly settled on the strategy of a complete fuckwit by handing her one-on-one time to another girl.
‘I like to make a short nice impression rather than a long shit one’ she murmurs to the cameras, while Jessica, the other girl in question, gives her a giant smile of thanks and makes a mental note to write ‘dumb cunt’ on her locker when they get back to the dorms.
Anyhoo, Blake and Jessica are chatting along happily when another creepy, sequinny creature shows up looking for a cut-in and the whole horrible procession moves along.
Elsewhere in the gardens, Princess Diana is on the hunt, but misses out in favour of the girl who sang and didn’t shatter the eardrums of Australia.
‘I’ve never been serenaded before’ Blake lies, without a thought for the power of rewind, and she giggles and suggests his perfect girl has blonde curly hair just like hers, which has Rico snapping ‘Bitch, please!’ and trying to remember the deaf sign for peroxide. Anyhoo, Blake seems not to care and rewards her with a red rose which has Anita cackling in the background in the background and cackling ‘The white one’s mine, biiiiiiiitch!’
Speaking of Anita, her second attempt at one-on-one is a success, but barely has she sat down and opened the awkward lines of conversation than the Jaws music cranks up and another stalkie appears on the fringes looking to intercept.
The crazy in question, Samantha, doesn’t give a fuck for Anita’s attempts to move her along and makes it clear that if she has to stand there picking her teeth with the rib of her last boyfriend ALL NIGHT, goddamn it that’s what she’ll do!
Watching on, the other girls in the house think she’s one blade short of a knife rack, but her freaky strategy pays off in the end when she gets to sit down with Blake and explain that the reason she’s still single has NOTHING to do with all the bodies in her basement.
Next person to get a non-white red rose is Louise-who-brought-the-grog, while the other girls yack amongst themselves and speculate what would have happened if one of them had brought him bucket bong or an amenable Asian prostitute.
Slutty Sam who brought nothing but her considerable array of STIs, however, still thinks the White Rose is hers, only to be horribly disappointed when Blake bypasses her completely and delivers it to the girl with the body for sin and the face for Marge Simpson: Holly.
‘I just felt a connection’ Blake recites, under careful instructions from the producers who want the Australian population of ugly girls to think they too have a shot with a guy who pretends to be an Auctioneer but actually lets sweaty fat girls lick salt off his navel for a living.
Into this beautiful moment comes Osher, who tells Blake it’s time for him to scrub himself in a scalding bath and think about the upcoming Rose Ceremony.
And so, after some charming footage of Blake sitting by a roaring fire staring at pictures of his mother, the time arrives and as the pile of flora dwindles, slutty Sam is left to wonder how in HELL she can be in the same boat as the three psychos, the girl with the floppy tits and the one who looks like John Travolta in a Zena wig.
She’s not, of course, because Blakey hands her the second-last rose, leaving the final one – the one that counts – to Australia’s new favourite ten car pile-up, Anita.
Oh Blake, we promise you will not regret this!
Until next time, lovers!