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Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Australia's Next Top Westie Scrag Series Six #2

A wise man probably once said that there is nothing so soothing as the voice of a beautiful woman. Mind you, a wise man probably also once said “Shit, yeah! Lindsay Lohan!”, and look how that turned out.

Modules should be seen and not heard. Mind you, if they are going to be heard, it should all be ad-libbing, because that’s when it all falls to pieces and there’s bits of brain matter and mixed metaphors everywhere, like in Tarantino movies.
But no matter what they’re saying or doing – spokes-personing, television presenting, charity-figure-heading or filling out jeans, there is one thing that modules should always, always do. That’s right. Hang off some scaffolding in a harness.

Welcome, youse and that, to the ‘Scraggy In The Sky, With Levi’s’ episode of Australia’s Next Top Model. You’ll be crapping yourself.

Skin-Tight Budget

• Models dream of becoming successful so that they can travel to beautiful locations, posing in couture in luxurious surrounds, dripping with jewellery, glamour, and the kind of men you can bounce coins off. Yeah. What’s up, container yard.

• Once in the container yard, all the props are totally location-relevant though. Almost.

WTF, Golf balls?

Me Talky Proper And That
This is the bit where the modules take the triumvirate concepts of the English language, logic and book learnin’, grasp them delicately by the anus and shake them inside out like last week’s doona cover. YAY, MODULES.

• When a Sarah-Mail arrives containing a quote from Brooke Shields, Joanna admits that she doesn’t (one of the most famous teen models of all time) know (who went on to make movies, including that famous nudie lagoon one) who Brooke Shields (then moved on to a successful television career) was (dated Michael Jackson, then married one of the most famous tennis players in the world). Kimberly’s pretty sure she’s got her pegged, though: “Isn’t she the lady that spread her legs on that movie? And you could see up her skirt?”. No, honey. That’s just Miley Cyrus in the future.

• Chantal laments the departure of five girls last week, and says of the Module Mansion: “It just felt like ghost town, there weren’t that many people at all”. There are eleven people in the one house. Eleven. If I had to live with ten other people, I would stab at least ten of them.


This week’s lesson takes place in the Levi’s store at Chatswood Westfield, fashion mecca and possible site of the 2014 World Cup. The scrags are met by everybody’s favourite macho-pixie Josh Flinn and everybody’s favourite of all the people called Erin McNaught, Erin McNaught, and told they’ll be shooting a viral campaign for Jeans For Genes day. Kimberly crosses her fingers and hopes for syphilis, because then she’ll have the whole set. Erin stresses the need for modules to be three-dimensional, causing Kathryn, who is so thin you could pretty much cover your schoolbooks with her, to shift her feet nervously and look at the floor.

Now, Josh is wearing studded chambray. I just had to say that out loud.

Each of the girls is asked to stand in front of the camera, finish the sentence “I love my jeans because...”, and then hit a couple of poses. Oh, and Josh is wearing studded chambray.

• Amanda loves her jeans because they’re comfy, and because they make her feel like she can take on the world. Levi’s make Hitler jeans now. Awesome.

• Kathryn loves her jeans because they’re comfy no matter where she is. Bathtub full of broken bricks and triangles? Mmmm, denim.

• Josh is wearing studded chambray.

• Chantal loves her jeans because every time she wears them, she’s guaranteed a good time. New tongue-fly jeans, from Levi’s.

• Joanna, Kathryn and Kelsey all completely rock it. Now, watching people be really, really good at describing their jeans may sound interesting, but I’m momentarily distracted by white.

• Kimberly is picked on because she’s a bogan. This is like picking on Alberto Giacometti for preferring skinny chicks or, for the lowbrow amongst you, like complaining that your KFC Double Down has too much chicken in it. She is bogan. She is Gold Coast. She is Meter Maid. She is speaking with question marks at the end of her sentences. She is Kimbo. Embrace her, as so many have done before. She even loves her jeans because they maker her “butt look grabbable”.

Erin McNaught: “Make sure you say it properly. Grabbable”.
Kimbo: “Grabbable?”
Erin McNaught: “Yep, grabbable”.

• Ladies and mostly gay gentlemen, welcome to Sophie’s Institute Of Drama Studies And Foundation-Coloured Lipstick. Today we’re looking at emotions. Let’s look at some of Sophie’s emotions, and see if we can guess what they are.

Sophie is happy, because her jeansss sssuit her unique ssstahl, and she can ssstrut her ssstuff.

Sophie is concerned, because at the end of the news bulletin she’s presenting, there’s a story about a kitten stuck up a tree.

Sophie is uncomfortable, because Sophie is sitting on a thistle.

The challenge this week takes place at Channel V, where, under the scrutiny of Charlotte Dawson, hosts Danny Clayton and Renee Bargh test the girls’ presenting skills by asking them to read from an auto-cue and answer questions about astrophysics and advanced Chaos theory. They do their own hair, make-up and styling, which has about the same chance of success as asking a hungry lion to transfer a buttered piglet safely through traffic in its mouth.

• First of all, I’d like to take a moment to avoid discussing Danny Clayton’s hair.

Also, what the fuck, guy on the far left.

• Amanda says that she almost crapped herself. Stay with me. There’s a theme.

• When asked if she’s into collaborations, Chantal says “A little bit, yeah. Here and there, sometimes”. Sweetie, “collaboration” doesn’t mean “threesome”. At least, not always. Asked what her favourite collaboration is, she answers “Rock”. Don’t ever change, Chantal. By like, learning anything.

• Brittney doesn’t seem to know what a collaboration is, either. When asked to assess her performance, Danny says “She’s tall”.

• Joanna played a bit of guitar on the weekend, apparently. She’s in a trio with Grace Kelly and Brooke Shields.

• Charlotte compares Amanda’s mank side-plait to an over-used bungee rope. I pour a gin and put my feet up, because apparently Dawson will be taking care of all the choice burns from now on.

• Kelsey says “Woo woo” and “waa waa”. It’s impressive. I KNOW. EVEN THOUGH SHE’S SHORT. Imagine.

• Ssssophie, who appears to have plugged in her hair crimper with wet hands, causes Charlotte to comment that she “looked like she’d been electrocuted, or was auditioning for the Muppet Show”. I pour another gin and order pizza.

• Kimbo, to the derisive sneers of her peers, doesn’t do well. Not being able to read (the autocue without her glasses), she stuffs up her lines, and, when asked how she spends her leisure time, says “On the weekend, I’m usually jamming it out at my nightclub. Bit of house electro kind of stuff. Moshing pitting, whatever. Jamming out”. For the information of members and guests, the phrases “jamming out” and “moshing pitting” are getting married on the weekend. To me. Kimbo saves her increasingly dire situation the only way she knows how. She says “fuck”. The girls in the green room barely notice.

• Jessica, who actually knows what a collaboration is, wins the challenge prize, which is to do it all again with film in the camera. The thought of it, she says, “definitely makes her want to wee herself”. THEME.


• While the other girls all scoff ice cream, chocolate and muffins, Kelsey, Jessica and Megan all decide to go on a “Jiet”, meaning that they will only eat what Joanna eats from now on. Think of a centipede that has ninety-nine broken legs. The Jiet is lamer than that.

• The girls start to hate on Kimberly, because she’s the world’s most adorable misunderstood bogan. Or at least, I think she is. It’s sometimes hard to tell when she says things like “All the girls literally ganged up on me and was just bagging me out something chronic”.


A Sarah-Mail mentions something about a photo shoot, and something about heights, causing Amanda to mention crapping herself. When Josh tells the girls they’ll be hanging off a six metre tower, Amanda says “I pretty much poohed my pants”. Seriously. You’d think a theme in this show would be something to do with editorial posing or hair care, not loss of bladder and bowel control.

The girls are instructed to harness up and make denim look edgy whilst facing almost certain death on top of some scaffolding. This is only not awesome if you’re dead.

• Josh is wearing a different studded chambray shirt to before. Which means there are at least two studded chambray shirts in Sydney. I may need aspirin.

• While Amanda’s legs are busy making me cry while she’s climbing the scaffolding, photographer Harold David tells her that she doesn’t have to go to the top if she doesn’t want to. BUT WHAT ABOUT THE THEME SONG, HAROLD.

• Sssophie does pretty well in a pork pie hat, looking for all the world like she’s posing for Dolly magazine around the time I was in high school. Pretty sure they did an issue about tanning and flesh-coloured eyelashes once.

• Kathryn becomes suddenly amazing when she’s in front of the camera. Unless she turns side-on, in which case she becomes suddenly invisible.

• Megan needs a lot of direction and frustrates Harold, which is a shame because I’ve only just noticed how amazingly gorgeous she is. But that’s okay – she’ll have weeks and weeks to improve, right? RIGHT?!

• Ashton has trouble with face relaxation, and almost takes over Series 5’s Lola in the scary-face-relaxation-stakes, but not quite. Sorry, Ashton, but nobody looks like they can swallow whole ruminants quite like darling old Lola.

• Whilst climbing, Chantal shouts gleefully “I feel like a monkey!”. Josh reassures her with “You don’t look like one!”. I’m sorry, Josh, but the appropriate call-and-response line there is “And you smell like one too”.

• Kimbo alerts Harold to her readiness for the shoot by telling him “I’m from the Gold Coast, but I grew up on a sheep station, so I should be alright”. She then proceeds to chatter all the way through her shoot, including alerting everyone to the fact that she has a wedgie. Josh comments that “Kim’s worst enemy is Kim”. Except for, y’know – everybody else in the house.

• Brittney does amazingly well, even though she claims “I am petrified of heights. When I stand on a table, even, I lose balance”. Babe, you’re like, nine feet tall. Find a way to deal, pronto.

• Most of the photos are truly gorgeous. Most of the photos also make the modules look like they’re mid-fart. Coincidence?


Eventually the scrags are dragged to the Eliminarium, where they’re met by Saint Sarah, who is still a little frazzled after an intensive door-knock campaign raising money for the Buy Tony Abbott Some Board Shorts For The Love Of God Foundation. She’s a humanitarian.

She lists the prizes, which I think this year include a two-week membership to Fitness First and a Chapstick, and then introduces the judges. Bettina Liano is guest judge, and contributes a very important comment about arses and jeans, or something. Charlotte Dawson greets the girls with sparkly shoulders and a man’s voice, and Shiny Alex Perry, in black shirt and black tie, looks like a Mafioso who specialises in smuggling chrome. Chest Smith is there in a deep v-neck, but he looks like he might have a cold. I’d better massage some Vicks VaboRub into his… um… a bit… mounds… uh…

I’m desperately disappointed to report that I like most of the outfits the scrags are wearing. Like, what’s with that?

Photos are looked through, and some deliberate deliberation occurs, with the usual a la carte menu of zingers:

• Charlotte tells Sophie that she “got stuck into the crimping irons better than Bindi Irwin”. Big call.

• Shiny Alex pops a vein over Amanda’s shot, calling it “flawless”. Jez asks if it looks expensive, and Perry confirms “It looks expensive”. If “expensive” becomes this show’s “Touchdown!”, I may have to consult my doctor. I hope he does lobotomies.

• Chest Smith says of Megan’s shot “You look like you’re in the moment”. Dawson pipes up with “Oh, it looks like she’s in the moment – she’s saying ‘get me off this scaffolding’”.

• Of Kelsey, Charlotte says “Usually with the height thing, Perry would be squinting and pointing you to the door”. Perry responds with “Thing is that you are beautiful, and that’s why I don’t have so much of a problem with it. In the past we’ve had short girls, and coupled with that I just thought they were ugly”. If you are a hyper-sensitive bleeding heart or a journalist with a deadline, you may start typing your frothy-mouthed body image tirade….. NOW.

• Shiny Alex says that Kimbo is so annoying that “I actually want to stab myself, so it can be over”. In his will, Shiny Alex will be leaving his sunglasses collection to the entire population of India, with the leftovers going to landfill.

The scrags are picked off one by one, until only Megan (who sparkles in life but not on camera) and Kimbo (whose commitment and professionalism is questioned) are left. Eighteen years pass, and Megan is pushed off the cliff. Ker-splash!

Bye, Megan. Mind you don’t be all unexpectedly and suddenly gorgeous and stuff on your way out.

Next week, emotions flare as makeover week finally arrives, and I fall in love with everything on this show for total reals for ever. Searing. Shearing. Endearing.

Don’t forget to swing by the Canyon for Petstarr’s take, y’all.

Monday, July 26, 2010

Every Day For A Year #5

(If you haven’t been following the adventures of Frosty and his enigmatic machine of clicky-magic, you can see what it’s all about here. If you like Stormtroopers in a contemporary public transport setting (and seriously – who doesn’t?), visit here. But come back quickly. I cry real tears, y’know.)

Frosty continues his photographic odyssey with some further nods to Sydney architecture, a sweet close-up (probably my favourite of this batch), and some general hovering. Interestingly, we’ve recently had to ask Frosty to stop hovering in public, as it frightens the magpies.

Some of that is a lie.

Enjoy a couple of weeks of Frosty's life! He does.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Australia's Next Top Westie Scrag Series Six #1

It’s here. It’s finally, pant-wettingly, split-endingly, what-are-you-wearingly, my-primary-language-is-screamingly here. Thanks to Saint Sarah Murdoch’s holy uterus and its recent contents, we’ve had to wait for months more than usual, so now we’re gagging like a vegetarian at an abattoir for Series 6 of the best show ever to gallop unsteadily onto our televisions.

So welcome, everybody. Welcome to the ‘Been A Long Time, Been A Long Time, Been A Long Scraggy, Scraggy, Scraggy, Scraggy, Scraggy Time’ episode of Australia’s Next Top Model.

Goodbye, Tuesday nights. Hello, dumb skinny broads in bunk beds. Sigh.

The Judges

Saint Sarah

We first see Saint Sarah exactly as we should – in super slow-mo, with a halo of sunlight illuminating her from behind. She may have three children now via the traditional method, but she stands before her sixteen foster-scrags in all her glory, via Immaculate Misconception. Seriously, if Australians don’t want boat people to flock to our shores, they need to make sure that images like this don’t go public:

Where the bloody hell are ya?

Charlotte Dawson

Ms Dawson is like a silk purse full of baby echidnas – smooth on the outside, spiky on the inside, but endearing enough to get you to the zoo in the first place. Just as that simile is exactly like Tom Cruise in Born On The Fourth Of July – lame.

Alex Perry

I’m a bit cross with Shiny Alex, as he doesn’t seem to have buffed his cranium to the high blinding shine we’re so used to. The ubiquitous sunglasses are perched atop it, though, and the shirt is unbuttoned to the ankles, so he wins a couple of points back. Still. Mate. Get out the Mr Sheen, would ya? Waaaaiiiit… are you two related?

Jez Smith
We haven’t seen Jez since Series 3, after which he left to spend more time developing his pectoral muscles. Seriously - they’re like two muscular puppies fighting under a chamois. Henceforth he shall be known as Chest Smith, and I will unsuccessfully endeavour to notice any part of him other than his nipples. Unless he does this with his neck, of course.

Honestly. He just can't wear drop earrings anymore.

Josh Flinn

My feelings are mixed about the departure of Jonathan “George” Pease, but you can be sure the automotive industry is breathing a sigh of relief now that there is no longer a truck windscreen shortage, as was necessary to provide him with sunglasses week after week. Mincing in boldly in his place is the immaculately-groomed and compact-bottomed Josh, noted for his envy-inducing pants and his history playing B2, one of the Bananas In Pyjamas. He obviously comes from good stock, as ANTM is not his first role playing a fruit. Pretty impressed so far.

Skin-Tight Budget
Alex Perry might throw the word “expensive” around ad nauseam, but the same might not be said of the ANTM production budget. Sure, the camerawork looks a bit more fancy-schmancy this year, and the whole thing is certainly shot at a high enough resolution to make sure that each of Kathryn’s pimples are visible from space, but I sense some corner-cutting in other areas...

• It costs a lot to spray cameramen all over the country to shoot footage of the modules kissing their families goodbye. Obviously, due to the fact that most of these scenes are shot from behind bushes and through windows, this year they’ve just strapped Handy-Cams onto the back of a couple of possums and let them loose in each girl’s backyard. GENIUS. Except for the droppings. Ew. Droppings.

• Happily, all of the girls are picked up from their houses in chauffer-driven limos and whisked to Sydney to make their dreams come true. Except for the ones who are driven there in Ford Fiestas. And the ones who ride the ferry. And of course the ones who catch the 8:15 CityRail express from Mount Druitt.

Me Talky Proper And That

Oh, my darling scrags. The English language wants its dignity back.

• Kimberly (who utters sentences like they’re questions): “In my modelling career, my best asstribute, would probably be my eyes? But if I was doing something more... y’know, men’s orientated, it’d be my backside. It’s very round and… squishy”. I dunno, Kimberly. I think maybe your best eyestribute is probably your ass. Because... because of the squishy thing. Um, what?

• Brittney wants to “make it to the top one hundred, fifty-five thousand percent”. Which is clearly what she got on her last maths test.

• Kimberly: “When I first saw Sarah Murdoch, I didn’t click who she was? She has longer hair now, and apparently she’s had a baby, too. Didn’t even know she was married”. Sweetie, you should really pay more attention to the media. Because, like, Sarah’s husband kind of owns it.

• Megan: “As soon as I saw Josh, I saw his pants”. Clearly, Josh has a magical skill that most men would like to master. THE ART OF PANTS PROMINENCE.

• Claudia Navone, listening to you talk is like diving head-first into a vat of chocolate, honey and twisted vowels. If you ever lose your accent I will cut you. My ringtone this week will be “Unforrrrchoo-nutly tonart, you... you are not going to wowk”.

• Amanda, to camera: “I said to my mum before I left that I’d be really bummed if I didn’t get any free stuff. I know, that sounds really bratty, and I hope to god this doesn’t go on TV”. Um... Amanda? That thing in front of you isn’t a tree. It’s a camera.

• When a Sarah-Mail comes through containing a quote from Grace Kelly, Brittney says “I was like, who’s Grace Kelly? Apparently she’s... or he... I didn’t ask that one”. Yep. Grace Kelly, who later married into royalty and became a prince. That’s him.


The scrags’ very full stop first full stop challenge is to walk in a Haper’s Bazaar show at Rosemount Australian Fashion Week, because we like to ease them into the industry slowly, and because we also enjoy the sound of sixteen girls all crapping their daks at the same time. First they try on outfits and demonstrate their walking skills, ready to have their moves criticised, and their souls crushed. Okay, first of all, the challenge casting director’s name is Nikola Koke, so there’s already several kilos of Koke backstage at a runway show. No surprise there. Then Claire has a little trouble with her gait, presumably because carrying those teeth around has left her pretty much a cripple. Mr Koke tells her that she has a problem with her shin-bones, and she says “I might try to stretch it. I might get on the rack tonight”. You and most of the audience, sweetie. I heart a gratuitous drug reference. Alison, Kathryn and Ashlea are also passed over for inclusion in the catwalk show.
The remaining scrags walk up a storm on the runway, and as soon as I remember any of their names, I’ll be intensely proud of them. Even the stumbling giraffe one, and the one whose eyebrows are exactly the same colour as her skin, and the short one, and the one... you know... with the thing.


Look, I don’t wanna be a bitch or anything, but BAAAAHAHAHAHAHAH! I can’t believe I even got that far through that sentence. Of course I do.

• As a very wise, very shiny man with sunglasses on his head was once overheard saying, “Honey, foundation is not a lip colour”. Sophie. Talking. To you. You’re less catching a plane to Sydney than knocking on my door with a bag full of Avon.

• Valeria likes to cry. Well, water comes out of her eyes, anyway. Blinking occasionally might be helpful, Valeria.

• Charlotte Dawson confirms something that I always suspected to be true. She and Alex Perry fight each other with Botox needles. I imagine it’s just like the knife West Side Story except with less jazz ballet and more risk of secondary infection.

• Real estate agents should totally take the modules with them when they’re valuing or showing property. If they open the front door and then hear constant squealing for half an hour, they’re on a winner. The girls seem to love the fact that the Module Mansion is situated right on the edge of a cliff, little knowing that every time one of them gets eliminated, they’ll be pushed off. The first morning in the house, they walk into a room to find it crammed with free gifts from sponsors. Now, I know that watching a bunch of borderline teenagers discussing bathrobes should be interesting, but I’m momentarily distracted by bin juice.

• I’m enjoying that whenever Josh is introduced to a scene, he’s shown in a studly stance from multiple angles, with brooding, manly music playing. It’s like butching up a pixie. It’s awesome.

The first full stop photo full stop shoot full stop has a Mad Men, 50s-inspired theme, which basically just means sex with a cinched waist and the lingering smell of fresh scones. I would like the make-up artists from this shoot to follow me around for the rest of my life, especially if they were also making some of the bras from this shoot available.

• Chest Smith comments that some of the girls “really got the sense of period” during the shoot, which may explain some of the pained, grumpy expressions.

• Amanda truly has the spirit of the 50s dwelling within her, as after she’s shown her outfit she composes herself, flutters her eyelashes and says “Sick”. That’s as incongruous as a picture of a hotdog on the Sistine Chapel ceiling or, for the lowbrow amongst you, like seeing a Kardashian reading.

• Kimberly doesn’t do too well when it’s her turn, because you see, as she explains, she’s not from the 50s. Because of course everything you see in photographs is totally real, like Power Rangers and Big Macs that look like they haven’t been made by a spotty Dungeons & Dragons aficionado with an attitude problem.

• Generally, though, all the girls look stunning, pose well, and don’t do or say anything stupid. Way to kill my buzz, guys. Thanks a frigging buncherooni.

As the scrags tromp their way into the Eliminarium, Kimberly announces that she’s “crapping bricks”. I am certain that I am going to love Kimberly, just as I am certain that Sophie should take that flower-adorned headband and throw it in a fire.

The regular judges, plus Priscilla Leighton-Clarke, are all there – Charlotte, who with no room left in her boobs has opted for pointy shoulder implants, Shiny Alex Perry, whose open-necked black shirt makes his chest and head look like a lone maraca, and Chest Smith, who nipples nipples nipples nipples nipples.

Saint Sarah, who is obviously still flustered having rushed directly from a bootie-knitting drive to support the Silver Spoon Institute For Media Empire Neo-Nates, lists the prizes, which I think this year include a seven-day supply of sports socks and a semi-deflated balloon animal. She then reveals that five girls will be shoved off the cliff this week. FIVE. That’s, like, all the fingers on one hand! Still, I think Valeria takes the announcement pretty well.

Photos are looked through, Charlotte says “boobies” and “dick”, Shiny Alex says “arse” and “suck” (not in that order), the photos are gob-smackingly gorgeous, and the judges deliberate.

My favourite barbs:

• Charlotte: “I was really keen to shunt Alison”. Everybody, please use the word “shunt” today in a questionably-phrased sentence.

• Shiny Alex: “She’s competing with the couch, I mean I keep looking at the couch, going ‘it’s quite a fabulous sofa”. No need to make reference to any loungeroom furniture tomorrow, though, people, as Perry has used up all the words currently available.

• Shiny Alex: “I’m telling you, she looked like she worked at Hooters”. Sarah: “She does work at Hooters”. I LOVE THIS SHOW.

Eventually, Saint Sarah narrows it down to five scrags, and Alison, Claire, Valeria, Ashlea and Sally are pushed off the cliff. Splash, splash, splash, splash, splash! Sleep with the fishies, my darlings. Sleep with the fishies.

Next week, the modules have a television-presenting challenge, a scaffolding photo shoot and a bit of a go at Kimberly. Banging on. Hanging on. Ganging on.


Thursday, July 08, 2010

Every Day For A Year #4

(If you're not sure what's going on here, and you're used to lots of wordy-wordy rather than this picture malarkey, head over here for the lowdown. If you just like gettin' down, maybe this is more your speed.)

Frosty's been out and about again, getting all up in Sydney's bidness with his camera ready for some clicky-clicky awesome.
Sydney has dutifully indulged him, too - providing shiny white tent-tops, ice-skating, trees, religious iconography and those big plastic balls you can walk around in. I love those things, mama.
Our mutual mate Russ also got a look-in. There's a very real possibility that he's still drunk, though, so best to wave at him quietly.

Enjoy looking through Frosty's eyes at the last twelve days, and please remember to wipe any smudges off the corneas before returning them. Thank you.

Monday, July 05, 2010

Australia's Next Top Westie Scrag - The Whoreses Are On The Track

Like Nostradamus, Athena Starwoman and Steven Jacobs, there’s nothing I like more than making desperately inaccurate predictions based on tiny pieces of borderline-useless information. For example, I predict that you’re on your way over to my house now with midgets and gin, purely because I kind of wish you were.

Consequently, as has become tradition here at Jo Blogs, I’ll be having a gawk at the new crop of modules about to feature on Australia’s Next Top Model (check ‘em here), and, based only on the website information and that found in my Foxtel magazine, taking wild, flailing guesses at their personalities, chances of success, and likelihood of stabbing other contestants in their sleep.

It’s also become tradition for the modules and their family and friends to Google their names, find these predictions and leave comments accusing me of being fat, friendless, petty and cruel. Hello and welcome! I secretly love you.


Kathryn Lyons, 20
Long neck, kick-arse brows and an unfortunate habit of leaving her mouth hanging slightly open. Has the veneer of an educated sophisticate, which leads me to think she just might be the unmitigated slapper of the series. A glint of bitchiness in her eye, which may make up for her inability to fill a bra. Will be eliminated near the middle of the series for making a photo-shoot for fragrance look like Debbie Does Deodorant.

Brittney Dudley, 16

Aw, Britney – why the long face? Tall with gorgeous eyes, pouty lips and killer hair, Brittney looks like she excels at school in the twin areas of P.E. and recess. Keeps an extra ‘T’ in her name and an extra dictionary in her handbag – you never know when you might have to read a road sign or something.

Sophie Van Den Akker, 19

Blessed with an incredible face and body, the main thing that stands out to me about Sophie is the fact that I’ll be able to make fun of her surname. The Top Model gods keep sending me multi-syllabic Dutch names, and for that reason I will keep a vitriol-scented candle burning in my shrine to them forever. Still, she’s amaaaazing-looking, so I’m predicting a win. Unfortunately for Sophie, almost every girl I’ve ever predicted as the winner has been booted by the third week.

Jessica Moloney, 19

Jessica has the kind of beauty that makes you suspect she’s concealing a weapon. Her nostrils narrowed through years of looking down her nose at people, she strikes me as both haughty and hungry. When making her, Mother Nature sculpted a gigantic forehead, impressive cheekbones and two massive eyes, and then said “Dang. I’ve run out of clay”. Looks smart. Looks dangerous. Looks like she’s got six weeks max.

Alison Boxer, 16

Alison seems upset about something, and not just the fact that her surname is “Boxer”. Her face is on the edgy side of the fence, whilst her hair sits uncomfortably on the let-me-find-you-a-hairbrush-honey side. I’m predicting quiet, brooding, and stabby when she doesn’t get enough sleep. Her suitcase will contain a minimum of three hoodies and one packet of menthol cigarettes.

Kelsey Martinovich, 19

I’ll admit it – I’m a little bit frightened of Kelsey. She’s angular-beautiful, with the kind of face and eyes that say “change the charge to manslaughter and I’ll tell you where I hid the bodies”. Speaking of which, I’d probably kill for her eyebrows. Will use her pointy elbows to nudge her way through to the top 5.

Ashton Flutey, 18

Ashton has a ridiculously good body that she appears to have lost the instruction manual for. All awkward angles and (admittedly impressive) big boobs, she will have trouble posing but make up for it with her party trick of being able to scratch her ankles without bending over. There’s an excellent, excellent chance that Ashton has been hungover since she was fourteen.

Joanna Broomfield, 18

Joanna is woken each morning by a baby unicorn, who nuzzles her nose gently and whispers fairy secrets in her ear. One of those secrets is “Your mouth is a really long way away from your eyes”. Slender form and enchanting green eyes notwithstanding, Joanna will spend a good deal of her late 30s wearing pearls and drinking tea, reminiscing about her few short weeks in this competition.

Ashlea Monigatti, 16

My spell-check tells me that there is no such name as Ashlea Monigatti. Alas, it is also inserting a wiggly red line under her presence on this show. I have no doubt whatsoever that she’s the prettiest girl on her school bus, and that boys find her piercing eyes and adorable freckles irresistible. I, however, find myself distracted by watercress sandwiches (no butter). Bye.

Amanda Ware, 17

I don’t care what Amanda’s real voice is like – in my head, just from looking at a couple of photos, she speaks like a Venezuelan dancer on her first day in Hollywood. “Joo know ai have der lawng legs an der come-a-hitherr eyes dat are dark like der chocolata, yaiss? Ayayayayayayay! Less go and drink tequila, yaiss?” Gorgeous and exotic, but possibly not unique enough to go all the way. Ole!

Chantal Croccolo, 19

Chantal has an air of the sexy chanteuse about her, possibly because she’s the only girl with a tan in the entire competition. Everyone will want to be friends with Chantal, and the sun will shine out of every orifice (which might explain the tan). She’s exotic, sultry and girl-next-door all at the same time. I don’t smell winner, but I do smell a definite contender. And a little bit of coconut oil. Wait – doesn’t that mean I’m having a stroke? No, right – that’s toast. Sorry. Carry on.

Claire Smith, 18

Claire will prove invaluable when bottles need to be opened, or when there are small animals that need their heads bitten off. Those are some teeth. It looks like her body is the absolute bidness, but it remains a mystery why it doesn’t topple forward more often. Might make enemies in the house when she uses up all the toothpaste.

Megan Jacob, 17

Megan instantly reminds me of the old chestnut “it’s more afraid of you than you are of it”, in which case she must be pretty goddamn afraid of me. Her stunning green eyes stare unblinkingly into that bit of my brain that controls bladder weakness, which is right next to the bit that makes me wonder where her eyebrows went. Yet a part of her looks like she’d bake you cookies if you helped her with her homework. I... I just want her to blink and be happy.

Sally Geach, 18

“Mummy, why is that pretty girl so angry?”

“She’s not, darling, she’s just hungry”.
When Sally isn’t dotting her ‘i’s with lovehearts and smiling her impish grin, she’s nibbling on air and taming her eyebrows. I don’t really know what kind of a vibe I get from Sally, except perhaps “meh”.

Valeria Nilova, 16

With her tennis-player name, ice-blue stare and lanky, awkward stance, Valeria will definitely be in the top sixteen girls this year. She will go on to do reasonably well in her final year exams, and be the employee of the month at the cosmetics counter at least twice.

Kimberly Thrupp, 20

Blonder-than-blonde and with a figure that makes me want to end it all, Kimberly has already been in the news for being mildly disdainful of her previous employers, the Gold Coast Meter Maids. Thusly, I expect big things from her in the triumvirate areas of bitchiness, attention-seeking, and always having spare change available. DO NOT LET ME DOWN, KIMBERLY.

So there you go. I reckon my accuracy rating is at about 30%, but only because I tend to spell the names correctly.

Series 6 starts on Tuesday, July 20th.

Bring it, scrags. Bring it a lot.