I’ve sat through the second season of The Bachelor—like everyone else who has bothered to watch—with a sense of despondency, shame, bemusement and stupefaction.
It’s nothing like the first series, with the strapping, amusing Art Green who—despite being some sort of MediaWorks plant (probably)—at least had an inner spark greater than a Bic lighter.
Jordan is okay. At the end of the day, I am sensing that this is all there is: An acting hack who is a gigger. A punter. A player.
He looks bored and cattle-prodded.
Everything about this show has screamed ‘bad sequel’; everything ‘bad first date.’
In fact, bad dates were a feature of this series. They were horribly complex pre-mating meetings that were nothing to do with having real fun or getting to know each other. Instead, each party spent continuous hours strapped into crotch-splaying harnesses, or on an international flight to somewhere fanciful—to get into more harnesses.
Those dates were so inaccurate for New Zealand culture. In this land, we meet at parties, at work, sometimes at Mobil Corner of a Friday night…Unless I am missing some crucial slice of data about romance, do couples actually climb into the crow’s nest of someone’s private tea clipper for a standing spoon on the first date?
The word ‘private’ was repeatedly used, which for a reality show revealed just how stupid the producers think the viewers are (really stupid). Private boats, cars, secluded dinner locations, all away from pairs of eyes, apart from the glare of the camera broadcasting the date to the nation.
The real reason for the private dates was to amplify paranoia in the other contestants who wondered how far the other girls were getting with Jordan, and what expense was being
spent overall. This, too, served to reinforce the idea that the more money he spent of the production funds on you, the more desperate Jordan was to shag value you.
The dates became increasingly intimate but in reality, any New Zealand female might have pressed the ‘sex please’ submission wayyyyyy before this stage. And moved on pretty quickly.
Now Jordan must pick his bride slash promotions model. Is it bride? It’s down to Naz and Fleur, who represent the yin and yang of so many, many television production depictions of women Who Are Eligible For Marriage.
Naz is apparently the One You Wouldn’t Marry. But you’d fancy the Christ out of her. She’s ‘good for a laugh’.
Then there’s Fleur. She is the One You Would Marry. She is the one who will gaily wipe down the sideboards and pick up the kids. She’d meet the KPI of wife.
My prediction is that Jordan will choose Naz, because none of it is real anyway, Naz deserves to win, and this franchise should be discontinued as it is.
I’d like to think that the chauffeur in the first episode gets his own gig, though. The guy needs cheering up.
While we wait for the next TV3 series, The Block NZ, here’s DJ Jordan: