Australia's Next Top Westie Scrag Series Seven #2

Might I just start by saying that there is little to no chance that this episode will be known as ‘The Good Hair Episode’.

Instead, I’ll just say SACRE BLEU! that was a good episode (which means ‘Holy Crap! That was a bon episode’ in French), although I suspect that without the montages of images of buildings and pastry products, it would be about ten minutes long (which is like, twenty-five minutes in French). Here, and looking like a million Euros, is the ‘Sank ‘Eaven For Leetle Scrags’ episode of Australia’s Next Top Model. Baguette!

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Firstly, apparently this is Shannon. I have never seen Shannon before in my entire life.

Don't worry. You won't need to get too close.

Secondly, we’re in le-fucking France! I can tell because of the pictures of French shops, the Eiffel Tower, the Arc De Triomphe, a constipated guy on his telephone and a dude who kicks his dog.

Can I call you back? I have to see a man about a merde.

I'd call the RSPCA, but I think it's a whole different acronym over here.

Our scrags arrive at the Hotel De Crillon (which means ‘The Hotel That Sparkles Like The Eye Of A Pigeon’ in French)  and Caroline shows how surprised she is at the luxury:

Surprised enough to swallow a pumpkin whole.

The most surprising thing, though is that there’s a Sarah Mail on the bed! Oh my god, etcetera! The last sentence reads:

‘So get a good night’s sleep because tomorrow you’ll need to be a tower of strength’

 to which Doik Simone immediately cries:

“OH MY GOD, I CAN’T BELIEVE THEY STARTED THE LAST SENTENCE WITH A CONJUNCTION!”

I’m just kidding. She doesn’t know what the word ‘sentence’ means. She exclaims:

“THE TOWER OF PEESAA! The Tower of Pisa’s in Pisa, in Italy. Isn’t it? Or Rome? I don’t know, I don’t do geography”.

Which is like not knowing the difference between Monet and Manet or, for the lowbrow amongst you, like not knowing the difference between a chubby unemployed person and any of the Kardashians.

Challenged.

Charlotte Dawson meets the modules at the foot of the Eiffel Tower so that they can go up the Eiffel Tower, hear what their challenge is, and then come down again. Dawson and Shiny Alex Perry tell the girls that they’ll be split into groups, given some cash to style themselves at four different shops, and required to be back at Next Model Management at half past Merde (which is quarter past Merde in French).

You’re sending the girls shopping in Paris? YOU HEARTLESS BASTARDS.

Anyway, you know how much fun it is to watch your friends shop? Because this is even less fun than that.

Some of the girls are given dodgy directions by a bunch of teenage boys (because they were pointing with their penises), Rachel stumbles over something in the street and then thanks it (thank you, no seriously, thanks), Amelia is generous enough to give her new friends advice they hate, Caroline speaks a little bit like she’s trying to get peanut butter off the back of her teeth, and Cassie doesn’t like her shirt because she says it’s the same sort of thing jockeys wear.

That’s called ‘silk’, sweetie.

Not everyone makes it back to the agency on time, and Montana remarks that “Alex and Charlotte had like, a disapproving look on their face”.

That’s just what they look like, sweetie.

The late group is disqualified, because this is really, really important and may change the face of global politics forever.

And how does Teary Tayah feel about being disqualified, you may ask?

A little teary, to be honest.

The prize is a Gap voucher and a glass of water with ubermodel Natalia Vodianova, which I know should be interesting, but I’m momentarily distracted by two different types of cardboard.

Meanwhile, it’s good to see that Madeline has toned down the make-up a bit.

Subtlety. It's Fronch.

Phoy-Toys

The scrags drag themselves onto a bus which drives for a day or two until Rachel remarks “i don’t think we’re in the centre of Paris anymore’.

WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CLUE

Luckily, Cassie lets everyone know where they are by announcing “Oh, we’re here somewhere!”. I’m starting to think that Cassie might be the kind of girl who would suffocate if she didn’t write the words ‘breathe in and out’ on the back of her hand in biro.

The here that they’re at is the Chateau de Vaux le Vicomte, because I looked it up. Chest Smith is there to meet them and tell the girls that they’ll be modelling couture gowns for today’s shoot, and also to wear a v-neck. His moobs won’t just tan, flex and glow all by themselves, y’know.

The scrags are overwhelmed, with comments like:

Doik – “This is so crazy, I was just thinking like, what was I doing this time last week in Wollongong?” (Answer: not geography).

Cassie – “I’ve come to the shatoo to get a photo shoot with a contour outfit” (And to speak Anglosh in a Jan Gollyano frick).

Sarah – “You can’t even purchase this couture in shops” (That’s outrageously close to the definition of ‘couture’ which is.. y’know... good).

And

Rachel – “Thank you so much. Thank you. Merci. Thanks. Thanks a million. Ta”.


And how does Teary Tayah feel about wearing a dress once worn by Beyonce?

A little teary, to be honest.

Izzy and Yolanda are both goddamn, get stuffed, my-nostrils-are-flaring amazing, although I think Yolanda might need to look into treatment for her peculiar arrangement of pubic hair.

Amelia, who is dressed as The Black Swan, tells us that she’s always been interested in fashion. I'm putting a crisp fiddy on her reminding us of that every fucking week.

Doik Simone does pretty well, but is amazed that the girl on the other side of the window keeps doing exactly the same things she does.

She doesn't do geography either.

Neo gives Chest Smith a bit of attitude, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because of the thing.
You know.

The Caroline thing.

The thing where Caroline doesn’t like the frock that the stylist puts her in.

The thing where Caroline calls the stylist a bitch.

The thing where I award Caroline this week’s special trophy.

Now, if only there was some way that the stylist could get some sort of revenge.

Except I can't see her behind that angry bear.

Eliminationosity

Suddenly we’re back in Sydney in the Elimination Barn, where the modules are met by Saint Sarah, who only just arrives in time from organising a rally for the Society For The Prevention Of Kicking Puppies. She introduces judges Chest Smith (who is covering his chest and is therefore dead to me), Charlotte Dawson (who looks a little bit like the madam of a brothel where requests for riding crops are not unusual) and Shiny Alex Perry (who has come today dressed as a highly polished cowboy with an astigmatism).

One by one the judges call the scrags forward and let them know what they think of them. I’m trying to figure out what their opinion of Caroline is just by the looks on their faces, but I’m just... not... sure...

Dawson and Perry let a few zingers rip, French-style, particularly:

·         “The fact that you’re a nice girl is just the icing on the French tart” (LE ZING!)

·         “I gave her a hard time about looking like a tranny because she wears more make-up than Alex Perry” (TRES ZING!)

And of Teary Tayah:

  “It looks like someone’s kicked her puppy” (JE M’APPELLE ZING!)

WAIT A SECOND. Was it this guy?

Anyway, eight years pass (that’s two world wars in French), and four girls are given le boot – Sarah, Shannon, Lauren and that one that pretty much only gets one use out of any lipstick she buys.

Bye, girls! We totally remember who two of you are.

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And of course, as promised, verse two of the yet-to-be-named country song summary:

When yoooou’re

In Paris france and you wet your pants ‘cause you think that you’re in Pisa,

Then it’s lucky you’re hot because if you’re not they would confiscate your visa.

If you make a fuss in the mini-bus there’ll be disqualification;

Then they’ll kick you square in the derriere (that means ‘arse’ in the translation).

When you take photos in a French chateau then a tip for your success is:

Either have pink hair or be almost bare on the bits where your lace dress is.

Then it’s time to fly and the nerves are high cause it’s all about catharsis;

It’s not one but four that are shown the door and they’re straight out on their arses.