Oh, lovers, look at their faces. It’s like they’ve just finished a high pressure clean only to have a toddler open up a Code Brown from a right angle.
Rico reckons as fatties they were already fighting an uphill battle to serve any food without teeth marks, but who knew the ‘rainbow nation’ could produce such rubbish food? He also says he’s got nothing against South Africans but, like Americans, they’re a little too gun-happy and, unlike Americans, their TV shows are worse than the Germans’.
Anyhoo the show starts and Tony is banging on about how, in Africa, it’s all about inviting people to your table and encouraging them to stuff their faces.
‘If people are hungry we give them food!’ he exclaims, while Lynn jabs him in the ribs and mutters that ‘people’ is a little broad and they wouldn’t want that nasty Mandela family turning up.
Anyhoo, aside from scrubbing people’s windows for a living, their dream is to open an African restaurant that actually does decent business and doesn’t close it’s doors after three weeks.
Off to do some shopping and things are off to an auspicious start when Tony nearly turns the fishmonger into a drive-thru. Incredibly, the man behind the counter still sells him prawns and off they go to the butcher.
Onto the butcher for something called ‘bolo’ which, according to Tony, is ‘a muscle that’s had to work’ and, no, not always a penis. Unfortunately for our safari-loving friends, the butcher is in no mood to sell them a cut of meat he’s never heard of and instead offers them something without a bone in it that has Lynn declaring the main ‘a disaster’.
While Lynn howls her disappointment, Tony likens the experience to being up the creek in a barbed wire canoe with a piece of barbed wire lodged in his rectum. In other words: exciting!
Anyhoo, next on their shopping route is good old Coles and unlike the other teams, these two decide to buy their fresh produce there and rely on the fact that Curtis Stone has been abiding by the ‘no wanking in the vege aisle’ rule. And finally it’s on to some South African food shop where Lynn stocks up on oddities like ‘Mrs Balls Chutney’ because, yes, this competition is all about who can best bust open a particularly surly jar.
Back to the house and they’ve already gone into ten minutes of their cooking time which means they’d better set up their IR in a hurry.
One hour and twenty minutes of shuffling animal statues around later, and it’s into the kitchen to put the unsatisfactory meat in the oven and exchange some swear words in Afrikaans.
While Tony gets onto cleaning seventy prawns, he starts going on again about what a ‘warm’ and ‘comforting’ people Africans are and how Oscar Pistorius isn’t really an African, he’s a cyborg.
Lynn, meanwhile, is trying to talk herself into feeling confident about the non-bolo by telling a story of how her mother always used the cheapest cuts of meat, not because she couldn’t afford better, but because she thought scurvy was good for the developing brain. In to the oven it goes and Rico mutters that if this is traditional South African cooking, someone burn his passport.
With only four prawns cleaned and 18 minutes left , Lynn and Tony hustle off to get dressed in animal-themed outfits in readiness for their guests’ arrival. And they aren’t the only ones because as the other teams come strutting down the road, Steve appears to be wearing a cheetah shirt and Katie is wearing a fat suit.
Or IS she?
While Rico and I wrack our pitiful brains, the Dog explains that we’ve all been too busy watching the idiot-flavoured water flow out of her mouth to give any thought to how many calories she packs in it. And anyway, would any of us look good in a satiny red peplum-style mini dress with too small arm holes?
Into the restaurant they go and Will is thrilled by all the animal statues because, if they’re lucky, Glen McGrath might appear at any moment and start shooting. As they sit down, Lynn brings out a tray of sherry because apparently it’s a pre-dinner custom that started in the wilds of the Congo and, according to the Dog, should have stayed there.
Back to the kitchen they go so that Tony can finish his prawns and Nikki can entertain the table with little-known facts.
‘Did you know that potato crisps were invented by a chef!?’ she exclaims.
‘Noooooo!’ breathes Rico, who always thought they were the thing God made before Adam and Eve.
With the prawns finally finished, it’s time for more talk about Africans being so ludicrously hospitable that they still prefer not to share public transport with people of colour. Speaking of people with bugger all colour, here comes Colin ‘Fergus’ Fassnidge, and in a salute to their Serengeti-theme, he’s wearing a beige jacket that definitely isn’t safari.
‘It’s like a Principal walking into a noisy classroom!’ gushes Jane, quickly tucking a Mars Bar and her mobile back into her knickers. Colin, meanwhile, just wants to know everyone’s thoughts on the bolo.
‘I think it’ll be like a casserole’ says Will..
‘We work in a butcher shop and have no idea!’ trill Katie and Nikki.
‘I think it will be full of flavour but deserving of a really, really low score’ hisses Bianca, because Bianca.
Back in the kitchen and Tony has fucked up the first lot of mayo by tipping too much vinegar in it and he’s on to round two.
‘Just one teaspoon!’ hollers Lynn from across the kitchen.
‘Yes dear!’ agrees Tony while slopping another great bucketful into the sauce.
While Lynn’s face tells the story of a stomach who threatened mutiny by smashing its way through her spine, Tony dumbly agrees that they’ll have to leave it off, so out the plates go with a bit of salad and a couple of sad prawns.
‘Can you smell peri-peri? I can’t smell peri-peri!’ Bianca hisses the minute the plates hit the table.
‘Shhhhh’ replies Drasko because it’s better he do it than Lynn or Tony’s fists.
After yanking out some prawn meat and having a dab of salad, Fergus says it was alright, but he left all the flavour on the plate when he took the shell off, and his mother always threatened to beat him if he ate the tail.
Elsewhere around the table and a more horrible surprise is lying in wait, twined around one of English Will’s prawns.
‘It’s a hair!’ he gasps.
‘It’s blonde!’ shrieks Rico, who immediately wants to know when Bianca yanked it out of Katie and how she snuck it into the kitchen.
Speaking of the kitchen it’s all about the bolo which, despite cooking for more than two hours, is tougher than the Dog’s stance on queue-jumpers.
Still, they’ve got all the vegetables to prepare, and the hope is that the meat will mysteriously soften if only Tony can miscount enough of his ratios.
Out at the table and the wait is taking it’s toll with Colin going on walkabout and Emma hitting on Steve with a vengeance.
Rico reckons there’s no way she could seriously be interested in Steve – and if she was, well, Will would make her bleed.
When the plates finally come out, Colin is so pissed he’s reverted to his native tongue: drunk.
‘Tha fooooook is dis!’ he slurs, because just like so many fools in this competition, Lynn have Tony have tried to tart up an ugly dish into looking pretty.
‘Is it chicken? I have no idea what this is!’ calls Bianca, while Drasko keeps muttering how this is just so deeply, deeply
Anyhoo, the outcome is that it’s so chewy there should be a law against swallowing. And on that sad note, Tony and Lynn slink back to the kitchen.
‘This is store-bought pastry – how hard can I fuck this up!’ brays Tony in an attempt to cheer up Lynn.
‘I’m sure you’ll manage’ she grumbles, and sure enough he does by lathering so much butter into the money bags they come out of the oven floating in their own golden pond.
Meanwhile in the dining room, Emma is still trying to root Steve, unaware that Will has wrapped the handle of his steak knife in his napkin.
‘I’m here to cook, not date!’ insists Steve, before adding that she’s not exactly Miranda Kerr but even if she was he’d still pass her up for a ride on Robbie Williams.
Back in the kitchen and they’ve plated up and what they end up sending out is a spoonful of filling with a tiny crust of pastry that managed to avoid murder at the hands of the butter.
Fortunately for Lynn and Tony, however, Fergus has now reached his peak of drunk – a phase that usually has him feeling extraordinarily pleased with everything, right before falling unconscious in the nearest abandoned supermarket trolley.
‘Thissshhh focken shuperrrrrb!’ he gurgles happily, while Bianca snaps her fork in half and Drasko goes whiter than a newly bleached anus.
Of the other teams, Rob and Sweet Baby Dave don’t particularly mind it just to mess with Bianca, while Steve thinks the flavours really came through even though he doesn’t want to have sex with Emma.
Team scores are understandably brutal, particularly Emma and Jane who earn Rico’s Unexpected Cunt award for seeming rather sweet and voting with filed down middle fingers.
Their total is 22 and not even sloppy Fergus’ drunk generosity can help them much, and they end up with 48 and a rather hefty chance of getting the boot from the competition.
Next up are Jane and Emma and Rico says while he hasn’t exactly taken a shine to Katie and Nikki, they won’t be alone in rubbing their hands if there’s a major kitchen fail.
Until next time, lovers!