Taking out the Trash (TV): The Bachelor Ep 1 & 2

Folks it's one minute into this beautiful ivy-strewn dumpster fire and someone's already screamed, "THERE'S THAT BIT OF MEAT!"

Whilst I'd like to tell you that it was an unhinged contestant or Osher finally cracking under the pressure of his vegan lifestyle, it was instead a sports commentator losing his mind as we get our first glimpse of Nick "The Honey Badger" Cummins, his brawny buttocks in shorty shorts quivering as he slides over mud and grass.

Yep, he's "The Flaming Bachelor". After Channel 10 hit gold with polished bogan Sophie Monk, they've decided to cast aside the bland beautiful boys in favour of Cummins, who looks like Michael Cera, if Michael Cera woke up one day and decided to guzzle beef rissoles 24/7.

Please Google 'Michael Cera' and then 'Honey Badger' and share my pain, I beg you.

Please Google 'Michael Cera' and then 'Honey Badger' and share my pain, I beg you.

In the inevitable montage of season highlights, we go from blissful dates (yawn) to what everyone really wants to see. Public intoxication! Screaming! Tears! It's like the wee hours of the Taste Festival on steroids.

Other things we learned during our first five minutes is that some dates are going to be spicier than an Istanbul street kebab, and that Nick Cummins has decided to invent the English language as he sees fit. Why is a tuxedo called a bag of fruit? Who knows! Who cares! He's the Honey Badger, baby!

Lookin' rooty toot in his bag of fruit.

Lookin' rooty toot in his bag of fruit.

HB - that's his name now because I'm lazy - has a quick pep talk with Osh. It starts off pretty nice and then takes a weirdly grim turn when HB declares that dating is just a matter of pushing through at a fast pace until you succeed, or you're dead.

Mate... this is a trashy game of smeckin' and roses. It's not bloody Mad Max: The Road Warrior.

ANYWAY, here's chick number one. She paints and skateboards. She's like that dusty plain scone that nobody has the heart to eat at the CWA so next thing you know it’s unceremoniously chucked to the chooks. NEXT.

Chick number two, aka Brooke, has the winner music (OOO) but drops a hot fib when she says that she doesn’t know who HB is when clearly a footy chick like her does. This is like when I’m shocked on a Monday that I haven’t dropped that 10 kilos I’ve been meaning to budge when I know damn well that my little Toyota undid my diet when it wheeled itself into the Maccas drive thru on Friday night. WE BOTH KNOW WHAT WE KNOW BROOKE. AND WE BOTH KNOW THAT WE ARE TREACHEROUS LIARS.

Brittany is here for the buffet. Haha jokes on you Brittany, nobody ever eats on this show. Every season there’s elaborate cheese platters left uneaten on dates, yet every episode there’s massive glasses of goon being quaffed. Enjoy your liquid diet.

Cayla is an energy healer who has brought Nick a massive chunk of rock. You read that correctly. It’s bizarre. Is this a thing now? The last romantic gift I got my fella was a six pack of coldies. Is the millennial thing now to give each other massive pebbles as if we were demented tropical birds in the Galapagos?

Cat looks like an even ruder version of Lucy from Peanuts, and that Lucy Van Pelt was a pretty rude little beggar to begin with.

Let Charlie Brown kick that football ya grub.

Let Charlie Brown kick that football ya grub.

More gifts continue, as if HB was an ancient deity that demanded tributes from village peasants to give them good crops and ward off the plague.

Ah, then there’s Cass. Cass has only been on the screen for a couple of seconds and I’m already getting Fatal Attraction vibes.

Look, I’m not saying that she’s going to eventually snap and kill a rabbit whilst screaming “I WILL NOT BE IGNORED, NICK!” but I wouldn’t drop money on Sportsbet saying that she won’t.

Most of the women are pretty forgettable at this point, except for Ursula and Dasha. Ursula insists on being called “Ursh”. I think she was going for a Cool Girl vibe but really just ended up making a noise like a bird puking up bugs for its young.

And Dasha, in the words of our Lord and Saviour Kim Craig, is “a bit of a hornbag”.

ESCANDALO.

ESCANDALO.

The cocktail party then descends into a hellish blend of teeth, staring, norks, and plonk.

A Completely Normal Party.

A Completely Normal Party.

My favourite Bachelor girl is currently Alisha, who is simply here to stir the pot. Honestly why would you compete for HB when you could recreate the Stanford Prison Experiment live on camera?

With Completely Normal People.

With Completely Normal People.

And I think some chick jumped in the pool but I’m a bit bored at this point because it’s clear that Brooke is going to win. But seriously, someone check on that pool chick and make sure that she isn’t having an existential crisis:

Who am I? Why am I here? Why am I judging my worth based on a piece of foliage dutifully handed to me by a human labradoodle?

EPISODE TWO.

This recap has to be a bit shorter as I had to squish two reviews together due to time restraints. But there is still room for highlights and lowlights as I stare into my phone with my glass of cheap goon and wonder about my life choices. 

SHANNON'S DATE: The resident Plain Scone dresses like she's off to have a picnic at Hanging Rock, but instead gets dumped in the ocean. HB annoyed me by making fun of her shoes when he is dressed like a bloke ready to choof weed on the couch. 

Also this horrific idea of a 'date' is precisely why I love The Bachelor. It's not romance, it's an opportunity for the producers to be twisted sickos. They get their ideas from Saw rather When Harry Met Sally.

Ugh, she doesn't even smeck on the first date. What a scone.

NICK'S FLIMSY GRASP OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE: Episode Two and I'm already becoming desensitised to this. By Episode Five he'll be saying completely unhinged things like "Corr, I'm hungrier than a fanny pack in a dishwasher!" and I'll just chuckle and nod as if it makes perfect sense.

SECOND DATE SNIPPETS: Cassie has 110% had a restraining order filed against her at one point. Cat is rocking the tan body/pale face combo I like to call "The Cadbury Topdeck". Vanessa ignoring the horniness just to glower with her axe is a vibe. Cayla glaring at all and sundry whilst dressed as Mr Hanky the Christmas Poo is also an iconic vibe.

ROMY'S DATE: HOOOOO BOY, Romy has revealed herself to be a Harvey Weinstein-style sexual predator. 

Gross.

#savehoneybadger #metoo

#savehoneybadger #metoo

At the cocktail party there were more norks and tears, and two blondes I didn't even know existed until now were voted off. Next week, join us as the delicious car crash of people desperately seeking their fifteen minutes of Instagram fame continues.