Cue Nelly and Kelly Rowland’s banger Dilemma because gosh darn, these couplings are turning on each other. Charlie’s gone, Kim has a new love, Tayla and Grant are finally comfortable flinging their limbs across each other… who would have thought throwing a bunch of horned up 20-somethings together would result in drama?
Also, I hate myself for recognising these people on sight now. Welcome to Week Two.
All the girls have taken Cassidy’s side, with Tayla describing the situation as “The Great Wall of China” because I guess the Berlin Wall was too accurate. To be fair Cassidy also says she “hates segregation”, referring to either the rift in the villa or just general race relations.
Later, Tarzan Elias receives an important text message, disappointing everyone who only tunes into this show in the hopes that Sophie Monk actually hosts some part of it.
DING DONG, NEWBIE ALARM! Welcome Francoise: and what a surprise that she is long-haired, slim and conventionally attractive!
Francoise then goes on a date with Johnny Joey Joe Joe Junior Shabadoo, and they both agree that in a male-female pairing the man should be taller. Heterosexuality is a prison.
Frenchy-Poo sashays over to the villa where the group begin ceremoniously chanting “fresh meat! Fresh meat!” while leaking saliva all over each other’s torsos.
The group welcome Nicoise Salad with open arms and even more open legs. She confesses she had already stalked Elias on Instagram, the modern-day version of standing outside someone’s house holding a boombox. (Does anyone understand this reference or are you all tiny children? Go away.)
Tragically, mind-numbing conversations among contestants wasn’t spicy enough for producers so they decide to force everyone to shove bananas in their mouths and walk around the pool. No, it’s not a game. Yes, I also want to leave this earth.
After that insanity, everyone tucks themselves in for bed to hopefully feel immense shame and reflect on all their questionable life choices that led them to this point.
We viewers, too, settle in for the evening and allow a large blanket of indignity to cover us as securely as our winter doonas, for we have allowed this world to exist… but only until tomorrow of course, when we begin it all over again.
Goodnight, sleep tight, don’t let the existential dread bite!
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