Wahoo! It’s Tuesday night and time for another instalment of The Batchelor! The show where the ladies of New Zealand get to compete for absolutely no prize at all, but the one with the power to remain appearing ladylike while surreptitiously undermining all the other ladies gets to have sex with a guy who has just discarded twenty three obviously defective ‘girls’. I’m so excited I might just go out to dinner and make everyone eat really fast so I can get back to my motel in Whangarei and watch the show. Oh FFS! I missed the show. I could still be at the pub relaxing over my seafood platter and ordering some brandy snaps. For some unknown reason the show has been put back on at 7.30 and no bastard thought to tell me. A sensitive soul might think conspiracy but I’m not paranoid and therefore think it was probably just I’m an oversight.
I think the earlier time of 7.30 is a much better time slot. It means the target audience for the show and the really hardcore fans will still be able to make their eight thirty bed time. They can still have a big sleep, dreaming of Paleo Princes in compact and economical Suzukis, choosing them after they manage to smash all their competitors , and yet still be bright eyed and bushy tailed for school.
I arrived back just in time for the rose ceremony. Shit. Well that’s not great. I have made a commitment to #WatchingThisShitSoYouDontHaveTo. Bitchelor Junkies will go into free fall, how will this manifest? O M G ! It’s a catastrophe.
No one got sent home. WTF is going on. Has he changed his mind and just wants to keep them all? That’s a great solution. They can all win a piece of his ass. I can get Tuesday’s and Wednesday nights back and start blogging about things that matter and all the tweeny fans can see what a shit idea competing for a guy is. Why compete when you can just compromise yourself a little further and just get a share?
Then I remembered the Plus Chanel. The Chanel that sometimes I put on by accident and then get really confused about the time (what do you mean you have been waiting at the train station for an hour, it’s only just after six the news is on). Watching the show knowing that no one is going home does not make the show any better or any worse. It just makes it even more tragic.
Waterfall, swimming, picnic, blah blah. Date with a lady that asked Art to do something so he asked her if she was bossy. She said maybe she was. He doesn’t like bossy in a lady. Well no shit Sherlock. Obviously he likes to be Boss! If the competitors started making demands it could all quickly turn to custard. Imagine if all the competitors decided they wanted Arty to do stuff like challenges and tricks. They might send him home. Then what would we be left with. A group of women, staying in a house not being told what to do and what to wear by a man. This is an important point for the younger viewers to remember. Men like Arty don’t want you to ask for stuff. They get to call the shots and if you ask for stuff you will get demoted.
Someone fell off a horse. It was Matilda. An ambulance came and parked up, only just long enough for the crew to light up and then shoot a scene in the ambulance with Art, admiring her bravery, while Matilda holds her floppy wrist, bravely. Thank goodness it was a broken wrist and not something that required an ambulance.
Hopefully the younger viewers will learn from Matilda’s accident. Dating shows are dangerous. People will laugh at you when you fall and run around with a broken wrist. The others who you are flatting with won’t rush to your aid. They will stand by secretly hoping it’s something really debilitating and disfiguring. Art won’t languish by your bedside. Mr Green hasn’t got time to let the grass grow while you sit on your broken arse. Arty will just keep on looking for one with better balance. Unbalanced is no more attractive than bossy.
The best part of watching the show backwards, in a polar blast, in a motel, was my inability to remove the subtitles. I’m going to make it a permanent feature. They say things like ‘dramatic music’ ‘chuckles’ ‘long pause’ and ‘tense music and my favourite ‘whimsical music.’
For one night I would like to write the subtitles. Imagine how much more educational we could make it?