Do Channel 10 know they don’t have the broadcasting rights to the Olympics?
Tonight was all about the sport, including faux-Olympic flames and podiums, which leads me to believe that the big guys at 10 are trying to pull the wool over our eyes. That, or jump on the Rio bandwagon without having to pay royalties.
The bitches are all casually chilling in their Tuscan kitchen in their black chokers and faux leather skirts lamenting their lack of Banana action. Keira’s lady parts are particularly frustrated when she asks, “Am I just here to look good?” Yeah babe. That’s what you’re all there for. Well, that and make fools of yourselves every couple of days in animal suits. Obviously.
Chandler Gunsberg rocks up in his best khaki shirt and, SHUT THE FRONT DOOR! He has TWO date cards at once! No one can take it. You would have thought he’d just produced a live bunny rabbit from his shirt sleeve. How does he DO it?!
GROUP DATE
In a fantastic display of Bachie logic, my new spirit animal Keira complains about having to go on the clearly sports-themed group date. She wonders why they can’t just sit around and chat with their communal boyfriend instead of competing against each other? Which seems a legit question considering this show is precisely about 25 women competing against each other for their communal boyfriend. (Are you getting as sick of this joke as I am?)
The competitors arrive at some place where I’m sure sport is played. There’s an actual funking podium erected in the middle (lol, “erected”) and of course the bitches get super excited about it. They woo-hoo and cheer enthusiastically as if they’re not there to humiliate themselves for a ginger.
But perhaps to placate commentators/feminists/general logically-thinking humans, the producers decide to make Bachie Bananas perform a slightly embarrassing task as well. He appears at the top of the stadium, running in with what appears to be a very poor imitation of the Olympic flame that one of the interns put together with sticky tape and tissue paper.
Career goals.
However, no-one dares say the word Olympics because Channel 9 will just shut this sh*t right down. Anyway, Richie gleefully runs in to light all the bitches’ flames. Again, more woo-hooing and jumping up and down. I can’t handle it. Srzly, this guy could take a dump and those girls’d throw him a parade.
One would think that all this unspoken Olympic-ness would mean relays and hockey matches. Mmm close, but add in humiliation aids such as inflatable balls and kangaroo suits. The first game involves the bitches getting into aforementioned giant balls and racing each other to the finish line. Faith says what everyone is thinking – “It made my day seeing those giant balls.” Also, every girl on Tinder, ever.
Bachie Bananas gifts us all with his imitation of the ladies running in their inflatable balls. Personally, nothing makes me want to take my clothes off more than the man I’m already competing for doing a smart-arse impression of me.
How did they get SO lucky?
If running like a hamster on a wheel wasn’t enough, they also have to put up with many Cupid jokes while shooting arrows at each other a heart target. Worse still is Bachie Bananas’ awkward yet overly enthusiastic commentary from the sidelines. “Awwwesome shot! Ha ha ha!” “Oh WOW! That was SOOOOO close! Ha ha ha!”
The final, grand installment is a wrestling match. Yes people, it has literally come to this. The bitches are going to wrestle each other for the chance to touch Bachie’s banana. Throw in Usher’s 2001 album and some Smirnoff blacks and you’ve got every guy I went to high school with’s fantasy. BUT! Because this is The Bachelor it would be unacceptable for them to just wrestle like common whores. No, they have to wear kangaroo suits. Like, I know I mentioned it in my last post, but seriously this show is basically It’s a Knockout with fake tan and roses.
“It’s a knockout! That’s the name of the game!”
Another reason why Keira may soon replace my regular spirit animal, (Professor McGonagal if you were wondering), is that she does not try one iota to mask her intense dislike for this whole exercise. She stands on the sideline with a sourpuss face that would give Queen Lizzy a run for her money. Bachie Bananas checks that she’s okay -“I’m not nervous. I just don’t wanna do it,” she replies. You can literally see all the f***s she does not give.
Above: Keira. (Also this was from the actual Olympics. Double reference!)
The other bitches are OUTRAGED at her blatant disrespect for Bachie Bananas and the fact that she is giving them all a bad name. One of them (don’t care who) then provides the million dollar line of the night: “At least pretend to like it. The guy you like is standing right there!” I have never been so proud to be the owner of a vagina.
Overly bubbly blonde Faith wins the Non-Olympics and the three place getters are legit presented with Bachie-themed medals on the podium. After accepting the gold, Faith is whisked away to a Random Fancy Couch on the other side of the stadium where she and Richie talk about…sports? Feelings? I don’t care. She gets a rose. They kiss. It’s all very white bread.
SINGLE DATE
Goes to Kiki. All I know about her is that she did nude modelling. She also refers to herself as a bogan and says Straya a lot. According to the card, her date will involve a lot of “going up and then coming down.” Don’t quote me on that, I just wanted to make sexual innuendo.
Hello ploise, there’s a helicopter! I bet you $100 it’s going to take them to some Random Fancy Couch somewhere in Sydney Harbor.
Oh I’m wrong. But I’m not far off. They go to a Random Fancy Table. It even has a Port-a-Chandelier hanging off of the boom cable. Don’t say the Bachie production crew aren’t afraid to improvise.
But then nothing interesting really happens at all. They talk about being themselves and… love I guess? It’s the verbal equivalent of elevator music. Except Bachie keeps stressing that he’s gotta find out if “there’s a spark there.” Now look, I barely passed Chemistry in high school, but if something is going to “spark” isn’t it pretty damn instant? Like, I don’t ever recall casually waiting around for 20 minutes while electrons attempted to combust with an oxidizing agent. (I have no idea if that is actual science.)
The whole non-eventful date over, Kiki returns to the Mansion that Spotlight Built with a rose in hand. The other bitches crowd around their Tuscan benchtop to grill her about this controversial spark everyone’s talking about. According to Bachie Logic, sparks = kissing and Kiki straight up tells them the date was sans kiss. None of the women are any good at being shocked.
Oh? You didn’t kiss?
ROSE CEREMONY
My Spirit Animal Keira arrives in what is pretty much the most slayin red onesie I’ve ever seen. When her fellow prisoners tell her she looks super hot tonight, she be like, “Um…I look like this all the time, so…”
Do you need another reason to love her?
Buoyed by the recent shower of compliments, Keira cracks an actual smile when BB approaches her for some alone time. They go over to the swing set/Random Fancy Garden Couch and Richie tries to persuade Keira that she secretly loved wearing a kangaroo suit for him but they end up just doing their awkward waltz again under the wisteria. Meanwhile, a handful of the other girls congregate poolside and poorly pretend not to be watching them with their night vision goggles. Alex is in tears that her shared manfriend is dancing with Keira Farquardt – the Evil Queen Who Doesn’t Like Kangaroo Wrestling. The others agree emphatically and prove that no one ever told them that the acceptable way to deal with jealousy is to drink until you can’t feel your feelings.
This looks super fun.
The rest of the evening consists of Alex crying and the remainder of the lady buffet sitting around waiting for their f***boy ginger to ask them to go sit on a couch. Snore.
Eventually the actual Rose Ceremony starts and Chandler Gunsberg provides his always astute Bachie maths – something something roses, something something ladies. One lady will go home. By the looks of things, it’ll probably be another brunette, so I dunno what Alex has been sniveling about.
(*Side Note* It’s so nice to hear the Batman score still pumping away in the background like what what. It’s very comforting.)
Each time Bachie Bananas says another bitches name, you can almost see the arrows piercing through Alex’s already bleeding heart. Bet she wishes she tried a bit harder at the Non-Olympics, amiright?
But she really had nothing to worry about because, in the spirit of Olympic patriotism, Richie eliminates the Russian to keep his white Australia team together.
Soz, Russia.
Sasha goes home and Alex lives another day to cry over not using her White Sex Rose.
Ahhh… the spirit of the game.
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