Shebangabang's Next Top Model Series Two #1

So there I am in my lounge room, lounging. Quite gracefully, as it would happen, considering the heat, the humidity and my usual penchant for sitting like a brickie with a burr in his jocks. Just eating some pineapple, listening to the neighbours argue, trying to be all witty and contentious on Twitter, and all but ignoring the television.


And then I heard it.

Sara Tetro's steely, urgent voice, asking me a question.

Asking me who.
Wull be.
New Zealand's Nixt Top Model.

SHUT. UP.

I didn't know it was even screening in Australia yet, otherwise I would've prepared myself for writing recaps. Just the usual - keyboard, snacks, gin, a fact-checking pencil, a thousand typewriters, a thousand monkeys. and a thousand tiny little nappies.

But I didn’t prepare myself. So this is going to be a bit shit.

Or of course, for my New Zealand readers:

A but shut.

The Judges

Sara Tetro
I don’t want to alarm anyone, but I think this series, Sara Tetro might have stopped dressing like a sixty-year-old maiden aunt attending a funeral. UT’S THE APOCALUPSE!. Well, except for the leopard-print scarf. And the exaggerated jacket shoulders. And the yellow blouse. And the – look, we’ll just see how it goes, okay? Consider yourself on notice, Tetro.

Chris Sisarich
Don’t try to fool me with your dinky driving cap and waistcoat affectations, Chris. Even if you started wearing stonewash overalls, you’d still make me smile in a minimum of four different places. Welcome to another couple of months of being salaciously objectified, darlung.

Colin Mathura-Jeffree
At first, I was too busy being thrilled/horrified at seeing Colin Hyphenated-Surname on my screen again – out on the pier, with his hair blowing in the wind in its own wantonly follicular way – to notice that he was wearing a duffle coat. A DUFFLE COAT. With toggles. So I’m going to give you a choice, Colin. I would normally insert a picture around about now to help illustrate your usual magnificence/terror-inducing ensemble, but if you’re only going to make half an effort, then so will I. I Googled “duffle coat”, and just picked the first two things that came up.
Take your pick, Colin. Who’s it gonna be?

Bear or trainspotter?

LIFT YOUR GAME, SON.
The Icksint
I see that those New Zealanders are still insisting on doing that vowel-origami thing. STULL. Oh well, as long as they keep speaking like they’re sucking on a lozenge, I’ll keep coming up with the lexiconographic goods. That’s a ‘ductionirry’, for those of you playing at home. We’ll start with some words and phrases that you’re sure to hear quite often during the series:

“I’m not here to make frinds” = I have no friends. Fuck, I’m skunny, but.

“I dudn’t know what to ixpict” = I’ve never watched a reality show in my life. There are so many twusts!

“The suspinse us kullung me!” = But the malnutrition and cigarettes’ll probably get me first.

“Guv her a clep!” = Give her some applause and/or gonorrhoea

Budgetirry Lumutations
This is the section where we look at New Zealand’s Next Top Model under the fiscal microscope, carefully and painstakingly choosing the moments which illustrate that the show’s budget is perhaps stretched a little thin, like the last bit of Vegemite in the jar, or Kyle Sandilands’ career.

This week, one of the leisure activities organised for the girls was this:

Throwing knives at a board.


I believe that’s this section done for this week.

Bist Buts
It’s all such a blur. I promise to take actual notes next week, but for now the buts that stood out for me were:

• Holly’s chin. One could engrave glass with her facial features, overstuff a couch with her confidence, and feed exactly one ant an underwhelming morning tea with all the flesh on her bones.

• Darling little Dakota claims that before she auditioned for the show, she was ready to start working in “adult entertainment”, so dire were her straits. All three judges gasp, and Sara offers her a hug. “No, no”, she says. “I just mint I was go-ung to call the bungo down the bowlung club”.

• Aafreen is gorgeous, haughty, emotional, and sounds like a brand of air freshener. I give her three weeks tops.

• Courtenay has, putting it nicely, fairly wide-set eyes. Putting it less nicely, she can see what her hair looks like at the back without using a mirror.

• Does anyone remember that series of America’s Next Top Model where they had twin contestants, and we were all like “they’re only there because of the storyline”, and they’re like “no they’re not”, and we’re like “yes they are, because they’re fugly and stuff”, and they’re like “you have a point?”. Yeah. That.

• Colin Hyphenated-Surname says of one girl “If she was chocolate pudding, I would eat her with no spoon”. Compensation claims for trauma due to mental images of Mr Mathura-Jeffree with brown smears around his mouth can be addressed to:

Make The Lambs Stop Screaming, Clarice
Rotorua
Because That’s The Only Kiwi Place Name I Can Think Of Right Now
New Zealand.

• If I had a Rottweiler, that Rottweiler would be scared of Danielle. I suspect she may be awesome, but it’s hard telling that to the little bit of wee that comes out every time she’s on the screen.

And yes, we all know that this series has already screened in NZ, so we all know that the internet is full of information about who has already won.
Let’s just live in blussful ugnorance and enjoy the ride, eh?

Looking at you, Sisarich. Looking at you.