I am really feeling for the families of the TVNZ show, Our First Home, tonight.
After the shit storm of X Factor (which it clashes with on several nights), I was thinking how such a show — one that is ostensibly quite asinine, family orientated and tedious — at least has warmth, unlike the pit-viper infested environment of the glittery TV3 talent fest.
But in the end, it’s still not enough to sustain my love of white high heels and the female New Zealand accent, screeched at 1000 decibels, over a flute of sparkling Kardonnay.
Those single roses intrigue me, mainly because I have never received one and I yearn to discover what the cool girls do, what smoke-and-mirrors schtick they pull, to get the guy. Or is it just as simple as ‘tits’?
It’s begun. What do we know about the show already? We know that 21 female New Zealanders, including a convicted felon, are forming an orderly queue to be picked as a mate by a dude they have never met. All hail, liberation from the patriarchy!
I’ve been drinking, I’ve been drinking
Off to a good start. Is it Ido Drent’s body double? He struggles to find a life partner with the body, Paleo lifestyle, and good-to-very-good portfolio. He’s okay looking but not amazing. He’s close to his mum … cue tumbleweed and crickets. He is called … Arthur.
Feeling like an animal with these cameras all in my grill
Matilda is up. A bit too smiley. Nice. Harmless. She’ll get culled like a lamb early on.
Danielle plays the accordion. Yes, there is scope for ‘she likes to play an instrument’ joke here, but we shall not, for we have high standards.
Chrystal. Worldy? Exotic international boyfriends? It reminds me of that Charlene song.
Rosie wants to date a sniper. This is Nu Zillund, Rosie. In terms of armaments, we have some old display Skyhawks and one taser.
Kristie is a rare good-looking teacher. Most are ugly and unfashionable. Hot for teacher.
“How the hell did this shit happen?”
The first girl is arriving. It’s Matilda. She’s smiling. Have a few drinks love, the mean girls are coming.
Danielle is talking about her kayaking dog who wears a life jacket. She’s worn him down already into a heap of commitment. I can tell.
Chrystal is a confident lass. He likes her. He’s exhaling. Panting even.
Park it in my lot 7-11
Now the cultural mix-up. I’d love to explore this further. Rosie is getting some serious air time but only because she cannot stop talking. Clinically cannot stop.
Poppy is a lively lass. She’s teaching him yoga. ‘Position’ is one of my least favourite words along with moist and crevice.
Brigitte “is up for a laugh”. Steady on, Arthur.
Lisa represents the cultural wonderland of the redhead. Let’s see how this one goes.
Kristie has a good to very good chance of winning this gig. He likes her, long time.
And they stream into the drawing room in long gowns, some already with a very good chance of getting a Warehouse stem, and others, zero chance in hell.
At this point in the show, there’s going to be a cull of four losers. How cruel and unusual this is.
I still cannot fathom why these capable, beautiful girls would fight for this rather ordinary guy. I’m rooting for the sisterhood, but it’s getting all Lord of the Flies up in here.
It’s good, restful viewing, but makes me feel like we are in 1986 at the Mandalay, Newmarket at our school formal.
These girls are getting drunk, drunk in love, or drunk in something, possibly fame and popularity and this is modern televised entertainment.
Next time on The Sane Companion: Episode Two. Will it involve a jet ski? I bloody hope so.