Any way you look at it (from underneath is my personal preference), this week is all about penis. The modules spend an inordinate amount of time pretending to have them, plus I spend my usual amount of time thinking about them. They're put to the test(icle) in an awesome challenge in which an almost unbelievably hot lady in a cafe asks them for a newspaper, but more of that excellent, excellent shit later.
Adjust your genitals and forget to call when you’re going to be later than you said you were going to be, it’s the ‘Walk Like a Scrag, Talk Like A Scrag’ episode of Australia’s Next Top Model.
Turn your head and cough.
Make no mistake, I am almost unspeakably bored with finding out What. Will Be. Reality Television’s Most Overused Cathphrase, or at least I was until the currently-winning phrase, ‘Oh My God’, reached a grand total of 69. That’s a sex thing, you know.
I guess with fewer girls in the competition, there’s less conversation, so fewer catchphrases. Mind you, there’s also fewer attempted stranglings, so swings and roundabouts I suppose.
The scrags are in the kitchen fulfilling their on-camera morning healthy-food-preparation obligations, when Melissa goes to the fridge and finds a Jen Mail nestled next to the milk, causing an Oscar-winning amount of perplexed surprise. I took a screen shot of it, but I should warn those with dodgy tickers or high blood pressure: it is VERY SURPRISING.
See? I can only think of three things that you could find in the fridge that would be more surprising, and one of them is, of course, Bindi Irwin.
Or like, Michael Jackson.
Or like an Australian one cent piece, because you totally can’t get those any more.
The Jen Mail says “Even the most feminine model needs to man up once in a while. Let’s just hope you can handle what’s thrown your way today”. So basically, it says this:
|Eight years at art school finally pays off.|
The modules have a guess as to what it might mean.
“Maybe it’s like boxing or something?” proposes Dajana.
“BASKETBALL!”, says Duckie, because she’s black.
|I know it is, Adamant Little Guy. It's week ten. I'm tired. Let's move on.|
The Glamour Nissans squirt the modules out onto Trumper Park, where Screamin’ J. Hawkins greets them dressed for being indoors in the dark. Considering the circumstances I would’ve expected a cheerleader outfit, but oh well, live and learn. She tells the girls that androgyny is a thing.
Really, Jen? Four syllables? Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?
“Androgyny is a fashion designer”, proposes Dajana.
“Adroj… aggro… I can’t even say the word”, says Duckie, because no doubt her schooling was sub-par.
|YES I KNOW, I'M DOING IT IRONICALLY NOW SHUT UP|
Shanali knows exactly what ‘androgyny’ means, because all of my very best friends are smart, see. All of my very best friends also get this week’s trophy, see.
|She's the prize-weiner. WEINER YOU GUYS|
In order to help the modules mutate into males, Screamin’ J. Hawkins has enlisted the help of male module, presenter and ex-rugby babe Kris Smith. As soon as she sees him, Dajana gets an instant lady-boner, thus effectively completing half of the transmogrification process already. YEAH THAT’S RIGHT, JEN. TRANSMOGRIFICATION. SIX SYLLABLES RAAAA-IIIIGHT. Might celebrate with a bit of cultural stereotyping.
The scrags get changed into rugby gear, and Kris runs them through some football training drills in order to show them that…um… to really bring home the fundamental principles of… er… to teach them how to… nup. Got nothing. Zip. Dry. Any guesses what they’re doing this for, William?
|Always with the wordplay.|
Abbie warms up with her usual eye exercises…
…and Kris tells the girls he expects them to pass a football backwards, which really sounds like it would hurt.
|And generate some especially disgusting spray-off.|
They tackle. They do burpees. They go left when they’re supposed to go right. They get spread-eagled under the sprinklers. They ram each other in the pads. They get down and dirty. They slide through the spray. Also I am having so much fun making this sound disgusting I may start a separate blog just for sexy mud euphemisms.
Their final task is to do the most retarded Anchorman jump they can manage.
|Milk wasn't the only bad choice.|
Suddenly and miraculously clean in the Module Mansion, the scrags find their loungeroom rearranged into some kind of shoe-and-facial-hair halfway house. They see hair-and-make-up people. They see clothes. They see Dawso. They see a man standing next to Dawso.
Dawso says “Today you have an enormous challenge ahead of you”. And by ‘challenge’, she means ‘penis’. She introduces Rocco D’Amore, a drag king, who tells the ladies they will be transforming into mans using props, facial hair, clothes, shoes, and wigs. Charlotte earnestly entreats the girls to be good, fashionable, and believable.
|And by 'believable', she means 'penis'.|
Invited to come up with their own characters to consistently portray, each girl has to walk like men, talk like men, and presumably not be able to see little dribbles of urine on the toilet seat like men.
Of her sunglassed, goateed, beanied character, Jade says “I kinda ended up as a Parisian artist hipster kind of lost soul, maybe”. Please note: CANNOT SPEAK FRENCH. She adds, in a terrible, terrible accent “I need a baguette and a skateboard”. Further, and in the third person (that’s ‘troised homme’ in French), she says “I think that’s the awkward bit about this situation. That Jade’s never been to France and she’s impersonating someone that supposedly came from there". It’s like Georgia O’Keeffe trying to paint flowers that don’t remind people of vaginas or, for the lowbrow amongst you, like a Kardashian asking for privacy. Not likely to work. Still, just think about it really hard and you’ll manage it, Jade.
|Eet ees le tower?|
God, all I want to do is jump through the screen and try to get her to say things in French. BUT THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE THAT WOULD NEVER HAPPEN.
Duckie’s character says he works in construction, or more specifically the construction of a character that looks almost exactly like a homeless wino.
Shanali dresses up as a man who is a girl who unsuccessfully dresses as a man in a suit.
Abbie is Gussy from Byron, who seems to have a dual focus in his/her motivation:
|She's so stoned she's not even looking at her own penis.|
Melissa, or ‘Matt’, is the world’s least convincing drummer. She’s pretty convincing as an ultra-feminine pixie who’s been dipped in glue, stonewash denim and iron filings, but that’s about as far as it goes.
Dajana, dressed and acting like a combination of her woggy male relatives and Concentrated Essence Of Tony Montana, suddenly becomes my every reason for breathing and maintaining my faith in the human race. She is RESPLENDENT. She is MAGNIFICENT. She is WALKING AROUND THE HOUSE TO BALALAIKA BACKGROUND MUSIC. I may have a boner myself at this point.
Dawso is impressed with everyone’s efforts, and says “Now let’s see how the public react”. The girl-boys are terrified to learn that they have to walk individually into a café, sit down, and order a beverage, because we all know how terrifying that can be.
I only wish I could be there in that café to help you guys OH WAIT A FUCKING SECOND.
|Don't you hate it when you think you've imagined what I look like and then find out that I'm actually super-hot?|
Charlotte and Rocco sit in the window of the café while Diddles busies himself nonchalantly flapping a paper and checking he’s brought everything he needs.
|As long as you stop counting at one, you're all good.|
Shanali is first up, with her ponytail and her cappuccino order ensuring that everyone in the café suspects she may even be two small girls standing one on top of the other. She says “I was sitting at the table and I was flicking through my newspaper thinking it can NOT be this easy, something has to happen”.
DAMN STRAIGHT IT DOES, GIRLY MAN BOY.
I invite myself to sit down, suggest she tries the fish sometime (ew, not like that) and tell her she has a very delicate handshake because BOOM bitch storm sick mad acting skills.
Next is Dajana, completely absolving me of stereotyping her heritage every time the breeze lightly picks up some of her chest hair. She orders “Turkish coffee, four sugar, and if you have it, the baklava”. DUDE, BAKLAVA WAS LIKE TWO EPISODES AGO, KEEP UP.
I ask Dajana where she got her sunglasses, because NIDA are totally about to knock down my door. She says “I gotta them from the Europe, I’m from Europe” and goes on to say she’s in the import/export business, but REFUSES to go into detail because she’s shifty as fuck which is obviously a giant turn-on. She asks if I have a husband and then flatly denies that she’s hitting on me. We shall be married in the Spring.
Next is Jade, who is the Frenchest person ever to both say ‘please’ and order a green tea in Spanish. I ask her if she’s French and invite myself to sit down, ensuring my appearance at the next Logies in the new category Best Newcomer In A Poncho. She tells me that ‘Je Suis Avec Stupide’ means ‘I love all French people’, but we fail to actually find any in the café. To camera, she says “And so I went with it, and I still seemed like an idiot, but… a committed idiot”.
No, Jade, you were magnifique. A committed idiot holds on to their idiocy despite science, decency, and overwhelming public opinion indicating that they’re wrong. THIS is a committed idiot:
Finally, I ask Jade to read a newspaper headline in French, and I’m preeeetty sure she just says “France france france france france france france”. I couldn’t understand a word of what she was saying, but I think I understood her face perfectly.
|We all have, Pierre|
Next up is Duckie, who completely rejects my obvious advances, even though I nearly cause the International Awesome Acting Satellite to fall out of the sky when I ask her if her name is James. I mean this when I say it, Duckie: if I wanted single word answers, patchy facial hair and dismissive, soul-crushing rejection, I’d just talk to a real guy. Thanks for nothing.
Melissa, who introduces herself as the hybrid MelissaMatt, doesn’t talk much, although I should thank her for letting me get a lot of nodding practice in. Thank you, MelissaMatt. You are an inspiration to everyone except real drummers everywhere.
Abbie, or ‘Gussy’ is next. Guss. Gusso. Gussaaaaaay. Let’s all count down to probably the best thing that happens in this entire challenge in three… two… one…
|She's gonna pull that thing clean orff.|
Gussy has bare feet because ‘Feelin’ the nature’.
Gussy orders a green tea because “green tea, y’know like, green?”
Gussy discusses the Waterhouse scandal because “Peace, love, all about that maaan”.
I say “You seem a bit sleepy, maybe you should have a coffee”, because I can hardly even move in my house for Hollywood scripts right now. Gussy says ‘Naaah’.
When asked whether he has a girlfriend, Gussy responds with “Nah, man, y’know, I do have my loves, and I love who I love, and so I just share that love”. While Gussy goes off to finish his PhD, I’m inspired to design a best-selling Valentine’s Day card.
Duckie wins the challenge but who cares right, because my bit’s over.
Back from the ad break, we’re swamped with relentless reminders of the competition prizes, which I think this year include four packets of medium silky-cover tampons and a slingshot.
We’re down at the beach for a photoshoot, where Shiny Alex Perry is waiting for the scrags dressed in an uncharacteristically understated tablecloth, so it’s probably from a French restaurant or something, although don’t ask Jade because she wouldn’t know.
|Make no mistake: bonjour.|
Shiny Alex talks about committing to a character (like he has to his Mr Sheen character) and says they’ll need that commitment to “bust out an amazing photograph”, albeit without their bust out. He introduces photographer Georges Antoni, a man small enough to keep in my pocket, but hot enough that I would insist it was the front pocket with a hole in it. Georges reveals that they’ll be shooting in black and white, channelling 90s cool, and that they’ll be dressed masculinely, which is a massive surprise in this masculine-themed episode, man. He also says “It’s not about posing, it’s about being centred, cool, and making the photo interesting”. I tell you what, if that meant a goddamn thing, it would be poignant as all get-out.
The girls get to hair, make-up, and styling, and are basically given heavy twill large-shouldered suits and bowl-cut wigs. Make no mistake: it is tres vilain.
Hey, wait – I know somewhere else you can find outdated suits and terrible hair in extended mix, Jan Hammer form!
Dance the male pattern baldness away, Jan.
Of her get-up, Jade says “I probably wouldn’t wear this outfit on the street, but that’s the good thing about modelling. You get to become a different person”. Unfortunately for Jade, that different person in this instance is Dwayne Dibbley from Red Dwarf.
|Tell me I'm wrong. Or that I'm eight times geekier than you ever imagined for using this as an example.|
Jade does well but thinks too much, which is generally quite rare in modelling. She’s better when she’s listening to Shiny Alex Perry than when she’s actually posing, so as long as she just thinks “shut up, squinting tablecloth” for the rest of her career she’ll be set.
Shanali is extremely determined after being in the bottom two last week, so she gets on set, runs her hand through her bowl cut, and is finished. Shiny Alex is impressed, saying “If you can get your shot in three minutes, that’s kinda like in the modelling hall of fame”. Special note: there is no snack bar in the modelling hall of fame.
It’s Dajana’s turn. Dajana does not look good. She should’ve just kept her confidence-inducing Tony Montana rig on, instead of fidgeting like a grumpy mushroom.
|Really, really not.|
She says “I was trying to move, but not move, because the brief was to be really really subtle”. Darling Dajana, you are many, many things, but subtle is fully not one of them oh my god.
Georges LOVES Abbie, which I gathered from his body language, his facial expressions, and when he says “Oh my god I love this girl”. We all do, Georges, but we can’t figure out why (thinks about why, rolls eyes diagonally upwards).
Shiny Alex Perry tells Melissa that she’s ‘The prettiest boy that I’ve ever seen”, and it’s hard to tell if that’s a good thing or not. Georges comments that “immediately she’s model-worthy because of how interesting she is”, and it’s hard to tell if that’s a good thing or not.
Duckie steps on set and she’s totally still bringing an intensely masculine vibe, and it’s hard to tell if that’s a good thing or not. She does do a weird thing with her shoulders, although considering the shoulder-pads in these suits are like two badly-parked giant cuttlefish, everything looks weird.
I am not happy with this shoot. It probably needs more ponchos.
Quick as a flash, we’re in the Eliminatorium and Screamin’ J. Hawkins is all dressed in white, presumably because she's ready to marry peplums. She says “Hello girls, I mean boys” because her comedy act is really coming along. Sure, it’s no “You’ve got a really delicate handshake”, but she’s in on the first floor.
Jen introduces Dawso as “all woman”, although part of her is admittedly bontoxilysin. Diddles is “the boy next door”, as long as next door is a shop that sells waistcoats and industrial-strength side parts. Shiny Alex Perry, the “main man” is wearing a shirt that doesn’t look anything like a tablecloth, so there goes that joke. Let’s start a new one, then, and show him as we really see him.
|Le Specs, Jade.|
So! Let’s look through some pictures and say ‘swagger’ nine or ten times.
Dawso says that Melissa’s photo is “like Linda Evangelista’s had a little cute offspring”, and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. Diddles tells her “You actually look like just a young boy here”, and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. He goes on to say “Take that as a good thing”, and I still don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.
What do you think, Amazing Psychic Desk? Is it a good thing or a bad thing?
|Yeah, that's what I thought.|
Abbie’s photo causes unprecedented gushing. That's a good thing.
Duckie’s shot is highly appreciated, albeit with mutterings that it took a bit of effort to get there. That's a bad thing.
Of Dajana’s picture, Diddles says “I think the suit looks great”, and I DON’T KNOW IF THAT’S A GOOD THING OR NOT, GOD.
Shanali is commended on the effortlessness of her speedy shoot, and Diddles tells her that she looks masculine, adding “Don’t take that as a bad thing” and I give up.
Scrags depart, judges deliberate, Shiny Alex Perry tells Dawso that if she doesn’t have any good angles on her face she just gets them put in, Screamin’ J. Hawkins moves the photos around on the communal tablet until she’s absolutely certain we’ve seen and admired her rings, and the scrags re-enter, as nervous as a French goose in a French place where they serve things made out of geese.
Abbie gets photo of the week, followed by Shanali and Melissa, and suddenly we’re all aware that there’s TOO MANY GIRLS AND NOT ENOUGH TIME AND MATHS AND DOUBLE ELIMINATION!
Duckie is safe.
Dajana and Jade get the laser-eyes.
Bye, Dajana and Jade. You were both outrageously awesome, particularly when you were pretending to be European.
Any last words, Dajana?
Any last words, Jade?
Oui, mate. Oui.