Shebangabang's Next Top Model #2

I was seeing this guy once – he was hot, smart, talented and dressed well, and I was smitten as a kitten (New Zealand readers – please say out loud). The relationship lasted a few months, then he moved overseas. I missed him. I wished he’d come back. I started hanging out with his brother. The brother wasn’t as good-looking, a bit on the thick side, had almost no discernable talent, and dressed like he’d picked clothes at random from a blind man’s washing basket. DAMN, he was good in bed, though.

Okay, so that’s not strictly true, but you know what New Zealand’s Next Top Model is? It’s an ex-boyfriend’s brother with a big penis.

The Judges.

Sara Tetro
Moment of silence, please. It seems another Kennedy has died, and Sara is on her way to the funeral as soon as this shoot wraps. She’ll be fine, though – she’s hiding a triple-pack of tissues in her beehive. Woman is incapable of dressing for day.

Chris Sisarich
Whether he’s wearing a close-fitting black t-shirt or a pork-pie hat, I still think he’d look better wearing my legs. You want a pork-pie hat, Chris? I’ll give you a pork-pie hat. Without the pie or the hat. Apparently in this episode he says some stuff, too.

Colin Mathura-Jeffree
Colin Mathura-Jeffree, you are BREAKING MY EYES. When you stand in front of a wind tunnel wearing a cape (and let’s face it, who isn't), you look like an intensely gay bin liner that’s been blown against a tree-branch in a storm. From his Wikipedia page: “His acting debut was as the sword wielding Prince of India in ‘Xena: Warrior Princess’, where he played the reincarnation of Gabrielle into a powerful and handsome warrior willing to sacrifice himself to save his Kingdom“. Right, so he played a reincarnation of a chick who was okay with dying. COINCIDENCE?! PS: I’m okay with you dying too, Colin. And I bet your eyeliner will be the last thing to decompose, and will be found thousands of years into the future by robot archaeologists who I’ve given you more words than you deserve already so now I’m going to stop.


The Icksint.

A few pearlers this week:

• Sara’s voice-over recap of last week’s episode alluded to the girls who didn’t make the cut, saying ‘Before long theer shups hed sailed’. Except by ‘shups’, she means ‘jit boats’.
• Sarah, the ex-junkie epileptic, takes pill-popping to the extreme in the kitchen. Now, let’s just make a bit of a list of words and phrases that sound brilliant in a Kiwi accent:
o ‘ex-junkie epileptic’
o ‘pill-popping’
o ‘kitchen’
o ‘anti-depressants’
She’s not sure that the judges will be impressed with all her ailments, though, adding that “Un theer eyes, ut wull probably be a nigatuv”. I love that pasty, frail, morphine-shooting gal. She’s a hut et parties for difunut.
• Colin Hyphenated-Surname introduces the modules to their weekly challenge by asking them to “guv me your bist top model pose in a suxty-kulometre wind’. Thank you for not making it forty kilometres, producers. Thank you so much.
• Colin tries to make Teryl-Leigh look angry in the wind challenge by shouting “Scream! Someone’s stolen your kuds!”. Um... Colin? That’s kind of a prucky thing to say.Go touch up your kohl.
• I’m calling this week’s aeroplane-themed photo-shoot Chucks On The Wung. Because I’m hilarious, and because taking the piss out of the NZ accent hasn’t gotten old yet.
• Photographer Jackie Meiring uses the word ‘aviatrix’. Clearly Jackie Meiring is now my favourite person in the entire universe.


Budgetirry Lumutations.

One of the weekly challenges is to strike poses in front of a big fan. So basically, this week the production budget can afford air that moves really fast. I believe that is all that really needs to be said.


Bist Buts.

• Teryl-Leigh is goddy as all get-out. From naming one of her kids ‘Zion’ to attributing her self-styling challenge win to god’s intervention, to calling the house’s stripper pole ‘dirty’, she’s like the world’s hottest happy-clappy. I’m a bit concerned about her belief that god is looking after her kids while she’s away, though. I sure hope he knows where they keep the fruit roll-ups.
• In the wind-tunnel, Victoria says that her outfit is a downer, because she can’t move her legs apart. I pour a gin and put my feet up, as this shit clearly just writes itself.
• We get it. Olivia and Lucy are sisters. There’s rivalry. Until there’s some blood spilled or some hair pulled out of someone’s head, can we move on please?
• A word, Rebecca-Rose? I was kind of hoping you’d let us know if you’ve ever had any modelling experience. Oh, you have? In that case, could you please mention it eight or nine thousand times? Also – just something to look out for – I think there’s a chance that your disproportionately large head might actually be getting bigger each week. If you stay in the competition long enough, we may have to convert part of the house into a Ginger Containment Unit. Just a heads up, is all.
• Ho(sanna) is labelled a bit of a try-hard, which I have to at least partially agree with. She’s trying hard to close her lips over her giant boogie-board teeth.
• Rhiannon’s body and Teryl-Leigh’s face make me cry. Like, good, supportive tears. Totally different to they’re-not-tears-my-corneas-are-just-melting-from-looking-at-Colin tears. DIFFERENT.
• Chris, I’ve installed a lounge, pillows, and tea and coffee making facilities for you in my underpants.
• HOT PHOTO SHOOT. Most of the modules scrubbed up decent, the actual photographs were artful and dramatic, and I’m waiting by the ‘phone for you to call and tell me how I can get almost every outfit delivered to my house by the weekend. In my size. Which is.. er.. totally the same as they used in the shoot. Carry on.

Anyway, Tiffany is the last one to have her name called in the Eliminarium, so she can leave Auckland and go back to Awkward. See, because they sort of sound the same, and so it... no, but they’re... I’m talking homophones, peop – forget it. E haere ra, Tuffany! There. I learned a word. I am letting this show educate me. You should too.

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