OK, let’s preface by saying this: we LOVE Martino. He’s sexy and gorgeous, he’s not always sobbing over his chef’s whites and he seems to understand that his vocal chords are better served in non-musical pursuits. Rico reckons sometimes when Martino looks at him, his nether regions dissolve into a pool of lava that eats its way through his pants and does serious damage to the notion of ever selling our couch on Gumtree.
Luciano wouldn’t be too bad either if he’d just leave his singing voice in his other pants, give his tear ducts a break and stop pretending he doesn’t want to whip Martino’s buttocks with a spatula.
Anyhoo, the point of all this Italian-love is to show that this is not about favouritism or bias or just being a pair of frustrated drunks. No. This is about Gianni and Zana cooking the living, breathing, rooting SHITE out of them.
Yes, yes they DID, lovers. So what if some of the judges were vampires and recoiled at the taste of raw garlic. So what if their dessert wasn’t a chocolate mud cake violated by giant orbs of floating poached pear. Did they overcook their white bean stew, lovers? Did they under cook the bread it came with, lovers? Who cares if Zana’s face makes funny shapes and Gianni is a grown man with the dental work of a fourteen year old. Who cares if Zana doesn’t bounce around the kitchen shattering the eardrums of unsuspecting children. Who cares if pizza, plus stew plus baklava sounds less fancy than squid, plus lasagna plus cake. That lasagna filling looked like soup! The scampi was still screaming!
The rest of the seafood would have been screaming too if not for the fact that DISINTEGRATED POWDER CAN’T SCREAM.
Australia may hate you, Zana and Gianni, but we here at Flawlessvision adore you. Actually, come to think of it, we have a rather inconvenient history of loving the people Australia hates (with the exception of Matthew Newton because, Matthew Newton). Is it because we’re the meanest of the mean and just flock to our own kind? Conceivably. Or is it because we say NO to being spoon fed by Channel 7 and feel it’s our duty to support those who get edited so hard they walk bow legged for the rest of their lives.
You know, recapping reality TV has always been our special way of saying WE SEE YOU producers. We always used to get a special kick out of parodying the show narrative; you know, making the ‘good guys’ the ‘bad guys’ and vice versa. But, right now, we’re just tired.
Don’t get us wrong: we’ll always be watching. We’re far too old and ugly to consider a new career that involves sobriety and shifting off the couch for longer than a four minute ad break. And anyway, Rico reckons we’ve been like rats struggling inside a hessian sack for the last four years and we’ve earned ourselves a little break to catch our ratty breaths and hopefully eat some garbage.
So this is where we leave you for a while, lovers. To those of you who cackled along with us and really got what we were trying to do: we love you. To everyone else: we love you too – but less in a sexual way and more in the way a mother still loves a mildly stupid, spotty child.
xo Flawless, Rico and the Dog