Making last year’s cheating scandal look like a primary school drama, the new series of Married At First Sight defies expectations with Monday’s premiere culminating in the outing of an adult virgin before a cancer survivor is accused of faking it.
Outing adult virgins and yelling “liar!” at cancer patients are two of our favourite past times.
If you’ve never seen this esteemed series before, it’s a similar story arc to that Netflix doco about the disastrous Fyre Festival. Both basically conclude with battered mattresses blowing around an abandoned parking lot and desperate people blaming everything on Ja Rule.
Last year’s series had it all: cheaters, a texting scandal and Tracey being blime-fibe-eb.
Oh Trace. She’s an impossible character to top.
The lips, the facial expressions, the delusion.
You just can’t find another Tra-
Guys, meet Elizabeth. She’s a 27-year-old retail manager who enjoys watching DIY YouTube tutorials about winged eyeliner.
“Guys are very intimidated by me,” she informs us while walking into the girls’ hens night.
We’re not surprised. Store managers are very intimidating. They can check your bag and confiscate merchandise that accidentally fell in there. And only they can authorise the use of an expired gift card. It’s a level of power unmatched in this country and it’s no wonder guys are scared of Elizabeth.
“I can talk the talk and if I’m bored with you, you’re like a wet wipe and I’ll push you to the side,” she tells the other girls with an abundance of facial expressions.
Why someone is just pushing around wet wipes instead of throwing them in the bin seems a little gross. But Elizabeth does seem like the kind of girl whose Hyundai Getz is strewn with used wet wipes — a mountain of them tumbling out of the centre console and onto the floor, scrunched-up and dried-out and stained with makeup.
You know, with all the crap being pumped out on Netflix, it’s just great to get back to basics with good honest television about real people. Decent people. Authentic people.
People like Ines.
“On my wedding, it is important I do look hot,” she informs us when we meet.
And honestly, who doesn’t want that?
“One of my hobbies is just being in my bikinis,” she shrugs.
SAME, INES.
“Being attractive does have its downsides — like, some girls won’t like you,” she sighs.
Girl, we get you. I have the same issue with my boss. She tells HR her problem stems from the blog I made that features candid photos of my co-workers’ poor outfit choices, but her matter is clearly rooted in the fact I got flicky layers over the Christmas period and she’s seething she didn’t think of it first.
Ines could not be more relatable.
“When I walked in, everyone was … AT ME. It was a bit much,” she says, clearly flustered by the inferior people she has been cast alongside.
I yell the same thing when I arrive at work and one editor starts berating me with phrases like, “Where have you been?” and then the other editor who’s jealous of my flicky layers comes at me and starts stating pointless facts like, “It’s 3.30 in the afternoon!” and it’s all before I’ve even had a chance to take off my rollerblades.
Ines has no times for these losers. Particularly this one.
It’s so irritating when people write this show off. It’s an incorrect assumption to make that the contestants involved are just superficial and fame-hungry. These people work hard and deserve to have their accomplishments respected.
In the kitchen, we pull another bottle of Yellowglen out of the fridge and meet some chick called Jess.
“What do you do?” we ask, accidentally popping the cork into the glass pane of a cabinet.
“I do a little bit of modelling on the weekends,” she says, scrunching her nose and shrugging.
After referencing our own made-up modelling careers, we jump the fence and head to the house next door where the boys are having their bucks party.
We’re moments away from sacrificing a virgin, but first I want to talk about hot farmers.
Mick is a hot farmer from Gympie and, if you excuse me, I’m just opening up a different internet tab to book a REX flight and purchase a bunch of Troy Cassar-Daley CDs.
OK, now let’s talk virgins. His name’s Matt, he’s 29, he only drinks tap water and he buttons his shirts way too high.
“I’m at that point where it feels like there’s … something missing in my life,” he tells us.
“SEX!” we yell at the television.
“And I can’t identify exactly what that something is,” he confides.
“It’s sex! Sex is what is missing from your life!” we reply.
We welcome everyone with open arms on this program. Personal issues and shames are treated with the utmost sensitivity. But sometimes in life, you’ve got to act for the greater good. And in this case, that means bullying someone into admitting they’re a virgin on national television for our personal entertainment.
All the boys start talking about sleeping with girls on the first night. Matt visibly cringes and the boys just know. They’re going to bully it out of him.
“Matt, I kinda get the vibe you haven’t … gone there with someone before?” Nic inquires.
Shrewd observation, Nicholas. We appreciate your candour.
“No,” Matt whispers, doing up one more shirt button around his neck to protect his innocence.
“One of my biggest fears coming into this was being in a room with a bunch of guys all talking about sex … and telling them I’m still a virgin,” he says.
We rub his flushed cheek with the back of our hand and tell him we’ll do all we can to ensure he’s paired with the right, special girl.
We endure two weddings tonight. Of course one is boring and the other one is also boring but just slightly more interesting by comparison to the first one.
Our first couple is Jules and Cameron.
We RSVP yes to this wedding and immediately regret our decision. Jules and Cam are too nice and they actually like each other. Clearly the experts are off their game.
If that’s not bad enough, Jules then quotes Carrie Bradshaw in her vows and we realise she’s one of those girls.
We pass a bottle of poppers around the church and then bounce.
Things finally get a bit more interesting when we meet our next couple: Cyrell and Nic.
Well, Nic’s not interesting but we thoroughly enjoy stepping into the home of Cyrell’s family who are the Filipino Kardashians.
Kris Jenner and Cory Gamble are looking fresh as per yoush.
Cyrell sits the family down to tell them she’s marrying a stranger.
Her brother Ivan is a total Rob Kardashian and makes everything about him and his socks.
“You do shit without telling us!” he yells. The word “redemption” is tattooed in large cursive writing down his forearm. Despite the spiritual implications, he refuses to afford his sister any acceptance.
As Cyrell screams, he stands up and storms out the screen door to the patio.
Kendall and Kylie are mortified.
But Ivan isn’t done. He whirls back through the screen door but is dragged back out again by Khloe.
“F*ck,” Cyrell yells.
That’s where Kris draws the line.
“Don’t swear in front of the food!” she scolds. I can imagine the real Kris Jenner yelling the same thing in the kitchen of her Calabasas mansion only it wouldn’t be in front of a stir fry but rather those salads in really big containers they all eat.
Ivan declares he will boycott the wedding but, like Robert, he’s just a drama queen and is all talk.
He sits in the front pew judging everyone and mumbling to himself, which is just rude because that’s our job. In the end he just tries to outdo our trolling.
First Cyrell recites vows that rhyme and we say “ew” loud enough for her to hear. And then when they kiss, Ivan tries to derail the wedding by yelling, “That’s disrespectful!”
At the reception, he decides to drag Nic out the back for a really lame chat. It’s around now he starts making unfounded Belle Gibson comparisons.
“Why should I give you a chance? I’m telling you now, you’ve got to earn your respect,” he spits in the dark, because a producer has turned the flood light off to add drama.
Ivan demands to know why Nic has never been in a proper relationship before.
“I’ve had a lot going on in my life … and I wasn’t really ready. I was sick,” Nic says, hesitating to gather his emotions.
“Sick!” Ivan scoffs. “So every time you get the flew you’re just gonna say, ‘Sorry Cyrell, I’m sick. I gotta go my way now. That’s not a good enough excuse.”
Nic is in a corner. He has his reasons and they’re personal and sensitive and he’d rather tell Cyrell first — away from the camera. But just when Ivan is about to roll his eyes and tell Nic to pop a Nurofen, Nic interrupts.
“Look … I … I … four years ago I had cancer. A form of testicular cancer that developed in my stomach. I went through chemo. Had surgery. I went through a lot. And I wasn’t ready. It wasn’t just a f*cking cold,” he shoots.
We zoom in on Ivan’s face and watch the blood drain as he slowly realises he just publicly berated a cancer survivor on national television and compared the killer illness to the flu.
He feels like an idiot. But Nic’s completely rational about it and tells him not to worry.
After all, he’d rather be called a liar than a virgin.
For more observations on rollerblading and Troy Cassar-Daley CDs, follow me on Twitter and Facebook: @hellojamesweir
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