Australia's Next Top Westie Scrag Series Six #5

Britney Spears shaving her head and using an umbrella as a weapon. Mel Gibson talking about anything. Latoya Jackson just being alive. Nothing in this world excites me and gets me to sit up and take notice more effectively than freeze-dried, bat-shit crazy in its pure, unadulterated form.



So let’s not pretend that this episode was about go-sees, Melbourne or body spray. This episode was about crazy that can be seen from space.


Put your feet up and loosen your straightjacket – it’s the ‘I Found My Thrill On Alannah Hill’ episode of Australia’s Next Top Model. Now with no sharp edges.


Skin-Tight Budget

There’s a special, sneaky way for producers to mitigate the crippling costs of television production. It’s a subtle, barely noticeable thing called product placement. See, “sponsors” pay a lot of money to have their products appear in a show completely coincidentally and accidentally, which helps pay for gaffers and clappers and other things that sound like venereal disease but actually do stuff. Now, I’m not completely convinced that there was actually any product placement in this week’s episode, but if I do notice any, I’ll give you a hoi and let you know.


Me Talky Proper And That

• Kimberly’s turn of phrase is as lilting and whimsical as a bikini wax. After being in the final two last week, she shows her gelatinous resolve by saying “My plan is to keep doing what I’m doing and take on board what the judges are saying, and not give two flying fruitcakes what the other girls think”. Flying fruitcakes, people. Two of them. This makes me happy.


• When the girls enter their luxury hotel room in Melbourne, Amanda describes the experience: “Your eyes are just assaulted by all this... like, glass, and like posh things sort of”. This is akin to Jeff Koons saying “Y’know, I might make this next installation a little bit about pop culture”, or, for the lowbrow amongst you, like saying that people who work at Boost Juice are “mildly irritating”. Still, I’d like to see that on the Langham Hotel’s website. Stay at the Langham. It’s all kinds of glass and posh crap. Plus the buffet is fucking awesome.


Learnment

• For this week’s lesson, Josh turns up at the Module Mansion in a t-shirt, suit jacket and white shoes, looking for all the world like a wee gay little Don Johnson. Wait – I’ve just had a name idea for a character in a cop-and-crime-themed porn flick. DONG JOHNSON! No, because they’re both euphemisms for penises, see, and there’d be jokes about “cocking your pistol”, see, and yes, I’ll get on with it because you clearly have no imagination. God.


• Josh tells the girls that they have twenty minutes to do their hair and make-up, and to choose outfits that make them “look like models” for an important impending guest. In the resulting flurry, Kelsey comments that “there were clothes flying everywhere”, which along with the flying fruitcakes makes the airspace above the Module Mansion very crowded indeed.


• The guest turns out to be Priscilla Leighton-Clark, head of Priscilla’s Model Management and nominee for Best Slow Evil Chair Turn Around And Greeting In A Non-James Bond Production. She surveys the girls’ outfits one by one and OH GOD SOPHIE YOU JUST KILLED MY RETINAS. Okay, we’re going to pause for a multiple choice question.


Question: When is it okay to wear a dress with chains on it?

Is it:
a) When you’re trying to get signed by a modelling agency;
b) When you want to look like the daughter of a metal merchant who has turned to prostitution;
c) I’m sorry I didn’t hear the question because there’s eight centimetres of foundation between me and the world; or
d) Never. That’s it. Just never. Like Neverland, except without the llamas and allegations. Burn it, burn it now. Also please throw Kelsey’s hat into the fire.

• Priscilla, showing super-human restraint, says that she’s “quite disappointed” with how the girls have kitted themselves out. Except for Amanda, because she’s all perfect and crap, and she and I can be besties and make brunch pancakes and talk on the phone about boys and shit. You know. Stuff like that. The scrags head upstairs to change, and Josh suggests to Sophie that she remove her excessive make up with this moist PRODUCT PLACEMENT DING DING DING!! Everyone tromps downstairs again dressed a little differently, which I know may sound interesting, yet I’m momentarily distracted by two flying fruitcakes. Not the cameraman, though. He’s pretty much solely distracted by crotch.

Oi. My boobs are up here, buddy.

• Before she leaves, Priscilla tells the modules they’ll be heading to Melbourne to meet some designers, which causes Jessica to remark “When we found out we were going to Melbourne, I was just jumping out of my tiny little shorts”. Mind you don’t bump your head on the flying fruitcakes and clothes, Jess. Joanna suspects that they’ll be doing some castings or go-sees while they’re in Brown Town. A little boy trapped down a well in an outer suburb of Vladivostok stops crying, looks up for a second and says “You think?”. Except he says it in Russian, obviously.


Challenged

• The scrags are greeted at the airport (Good morning, and welcome to PRODUCT PLACEMENT airlines), and we see shots of planes taking off, obviously only after the control tower has cleared the sky of flying fruitcakes, clothes, and Jumping Jessica. Four minutes later they’re in Melbourne. At least I gather it’s Melbourne – there’s an awful lot of people with good shoes and asymmetrical haircuts, and I’m pretty sure it’s the only city in Australia that has an origami dog tur... er, Federation Square. A man who has clearly dipped into Alex Perry’s personal stash of buffing wax and Claudia Navone’s bag of spare vowels welcomes the girls to the PRODUCT PLACMENT hotel, in particular the Press-a-dentol Sweat. It’s luxurious, apparently.


• A video Sarah Mail from Saint Sarah herself arrives, informing the modules that they’ll be going on go-sees to three designers tomorrow morning. Brittney isn’t quite sure who Sarah Murdoch is, but thinks she might have been in that movie with the people and the kettle and the man wearing pants and stuff.


• Josh (sharp-shouldered bolero jacket, grey pants, white shoes, because I know you were about to ask) tells the girls they’ll be visiting Life With Bird (edgy, street), J’aton (high glamour couture) and Alannah Hill (milk and two lumps of crazy thanks) for castings. Kathryn vows to be confident, “even though I don’t have a reason to be confident”. You seem to have a reason to still be wearing that tam o’ shanter though, huh.


• In Life With Bird, the girls walk, Jessica, Amanda and Joanna are asked to wear items from the Spring/Summer collection, Amanda is awesome, everybody has a fine time.


• In J’aton, the girls walk, Joanna, Kathryn and Sophie are asked to wear gowns including a gold lace one that makes me convulse with lust, a very fancy bin liner and a hot doily, Sophie nearly makes one of the designers die just by sitting down, everybody has a fine time.


• In Alannah Hill, the girls crawl, the girls meow, the girls impersonate things, and crazy rains from the sky in fat, crazy drops. Firstly, Alannah Hill looks like she’s been rolling around in one of those bins of discounted nailpolish you see near the registers at the chemist. Secondly, she makes the girls act like cats. Thirdly, the instructions and advice that flood frenziedly from her mouth are little nuggets of fucked up gold. I can only list them here, with my own confused, bewildered comments. Try to keep up.


o I’m looking for a girl who’s a little bit like a sexy kitten (The term is ‘sex kitten’. People who think kittens are sexy end up in jail).


o (Holding up a cupcake) Sort of like this, but you open up the cupcake and inside it’s all sort of… sexy and pink (You’re saying the cupcake is a vagina, aren’t you. You’re holding up a vagina. Thanks, Alannah. I will never have cupcakes or sex again).


o Pretend you’re a little kitten. Like a pussycat. Look at me and go ‘meow’. Maybe get down on all fours. (Correction: I will never have cupcakes, sex, or pets again).


o You can’t be giggling, dear.Cats meow. (You know they’re people, right?)


o Good god, I’ve got a Persian! I’ve got a Persian! (If that’s the opposite of a Brazilian, I just threw up in my mouth a little bit).


o Have you got a pussy? (Oh god. Oh god. Oh god).


o I sort of want to ride you. (Okay, that’s it).

• Brittney, Jessica, Kathryn and Amanda are singled out to wear Alannah Hill outfits, and given the instructions “You’re gonna walk for me like a lovely snow bunny that’s gone wrong. And you’ve got very bad thoughts going on in your head the whole time. Sort of sex thoughts. Give me that sex bunny look”, and “Lady luck with a sense of naughtiness. Like a bad naughty air hostess”. Right. It’s not enough that you ruin cats and cupcakes, now you’re throwing in air travel and bunny wabbits. Damn you, Alannah Hill. Damn you, you awesome, awesome woman.


• Amanda wins the challenge because she is awesome the end.




Besties
• None of the girls want to share a room with Kimberly at the Melbourne hotel, because she’s “too intense”, “talks quite a bit” and “has a lot to say”. These girls are clearly pussies. I could listen to this girl wax boganisms all day long. I want a Kimberly doll that talks every time you pull a string in her back (most likely a ring-pull from pre-mixed Bundy and a tampon string). Her bedtime word-vomit-of-awesome is several of the best things I’ve ever heard. In fact, I want a week’s worth of t-shirts with the following slogans printed on them. There are only six, though, because I go topless on Thursdays:


“Touch me in my sleep, and you’re going to get a backhand”


“I’m freezing my gonads off”.


“Did you just call me a lesbian?”


“We’re gonna be covered in fluff”.


“Favourite ice cream of all time? Golden Gaytime”.


“Icy Poles – are they the ones with sticks in them?”


• You’ll be pleased to know that I’ve finally figured out what it takes to be a module. Sure, as established previously, meticulous attention to one’s crotch and saying “gonads” count for a lot. But clearly the most important elements are the wearing of roadkill on your head, and leaving your mouth hanging open for hours, sometimes days, at a time.

See? That's why Kimberly is in the bottom two this week.

Phoy-toys
For this week’s photo shoot, Josh enlists the help of Warren, representing PRODUCT PLACEMENT body sprays, and photographer Simon Upton, representing my pants. Each module will need to call on their acting skills to represent one of eight different fragrances whilst wandering around the streets of Melbourne. Modelling is so hard, you guys!


• Joanna is ‘New York Sass’, which is translated visually as 'Shorts and a Flannie', which is awesome, because it means that next time I can’t be bothered getting changed to go down the servo to get milk and bread, I won’t be a crumpled mess. I’ll be NEW YORK SASS.


• Kelsey is Paris Chic, which Kimberly thinks is appropriate due to the fact that Kelsey is already an “uppity, arrogant person”. Her shoot is cut unexpectedly short by rain. Kelsey is cut unexpectedly short by genetics.


• Amanda is ‘Goddess’, and has to walk away from the camera and look back, wearing a floaty, ribbony dress. Brain. Explodes.


• Kathryn is ‘Romantic Spark’ and can apparently control the sun, which appears just in time to back-light her into the realm of amazing. See what not wearing a tam o’ shanter can do?


• Simon Upton calls Brittney, who is ‘Into Glamour’ a young Jerry Hall. Which, you know, rhymes with ‘very tall’. Yes. I am the queen of rhyming. Here is my crown.


• Jessica comes over all hippie chic as ‘Incense’, although Simon does have to give her a fair bit of direction. “More!”, he shouts. “Throw your chin right up!”. It makes sense that she should throw her chin up, since she appears to have swallowed it at some point previously.


• Sssophie, as ‘Tease’, poses well in front of a shop sign that says “Little Cupcakes”. Thanks to Alannah Hill, we know that this shop sells vaginas.


• Kimberly has to try and summon ‘True Love’, even though she doesn’t believe that such a thing exists. My personal jury is still out on that one, but I’m certain it doesn’t exist wearing a fascinator and a hoodie next to some bins that smell like “urine and bin juice”. That’s more of a drunken midnight hook-up kind of a thing.



Eliminationosity
Suddenly we’re back in Sydney at the Eliminarium, where Saint Sarah, fresh from a strategy meeting at the offices of the Society For The Preservation Of The Innocence Of Cupcakes, Kittens And Snow Bunnies, awaits the girls with her customary patient posture. She introduces the judges – guest Alannah Hill, who licks her lips and winks at the camera, instantly reminding my genitals to die; Charlotte Dawson, who has come dressed today in Barbara Cartland’s wallpaper; Shiny Alex Perry, who is as round and smooth as a macadamia nut in a flying fruitcake; and Chest Smith, who is back in my good books again in cashmere with a v-neck cut almost to the scrotum. Sigh.


Prizes are listed, which I think this year include a glass of water and a bag of sequins, and I take this opportunity to remind Sssophie that headbands are not her friend. I’d also like to note that Joanna has stolen the roadkill from Jessica’s head and fashioned it into a natty waistcoat. See her vest, see her vest?


Photos are flicked through and the judges deliberate, with a bunch of glorious petty spats breaking out like pimples on darling Kathryn’s face, including:

• About Brittney – Alannah “I love her”. Dawson: “I don’t”.

• About Kimberly – Chest Smith: “I’ve been a big supporter of Kimberly”. Alannah: “Well you’re stupid”.

• About Jessica – Saint Sarah “You still don’t get it?”. Shiny Alex “I get it, I just don’t like it”.


Charlotte calls Brittney a lump, the girls are dragged back in, and names are called out one by one until only Brittney and Kimberly remain.


Saint Sarah tells Brittney that she had a good photo, and that Alannah Hill loved her, but that clearly Alannah is ape-shit bonkers, so no dice. Kimberly is told that she’s too fragile for the cut-throat world of modelling, like, for example, the gruelling schedule of standing up, sitting down, walking around, and mentioning one’s gonads.


Five years pass, and Kimberly is pushed off the cliff. Kersplash!


Kimberly takes the news well, thanks the judges, buys them flowers, and gives each of her co-modules three delicate kisses on the face, like at the end of Amelie.


Except of course for that bit where she fucks off without thanking or hugging anybody, says she’s done with modelling, and causes the judges to admit that she wasted everybody’s time. Except for that bit.


Bye, Kimberly! Mind you don’t offend everyone or wear a bikini on your way out! Oh, and Kimbo? THIS IS A CRYING PROBLEM.


Next week, some reptiles are introduced to a shoot, the scrags think they can dance, and clothes drop to the floor. Snaky. Shaky. Nakey.