Australia's Next Top Westie Scrag Series Eight #10

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.

Penis.

Housekeeping

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.

Learnment

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.

OMG

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.

OMG

Or like, Michael Jackson.

OMG

Or like an Australian one cent piece, because you totally can’t get those any more.

Mercy.

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.

Challenged

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.

Sort of.

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:

Oooh, political.

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.

Phoy-Toys.

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.

Hot.

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.

Eliminationosity

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.

Pew pew

Double-gafloomsh.

Bye, Dajana and Jade. You were both outrageously awesome, particularly when you were pretending to be European.

Any last words, Dajana?

Exactly.

Any last words, Jade?

Oui, mate. Oui.

.

Australia's Next Top Westie Scrag Series Eight #9

I’m so glad that this week’s episode addressed the issue of shapes, especially in an election year. I mean, now that we’ve addressed smiling, walking, painting and strangling, it was only a matter of time before making shapes came to the forefront of the nation’s consciousness.

I’m especially passionate about hexagons, but that’s probably a deep-seated offshoot directly related to how I feel about bees.

God, I crap on in this beginning bit, don’t I?

Find your angles and calculate your area (it's okay to round down) for the ‘It’s Hip To Be Scrag’ episode of Australia’s Next Top Model.

Triangles.

***

Housekeeping

I’m pretty sure the only reason I’m doing the catchphrase log to discover What Will Be Reality Television’s Most Over-Used Catchphrase is so that I can be one day known as That Girl Who Kept A Tally Of All Those Catchphrases That Time. If someone could alert the Vice Chancellor of my old university that this is what my life has become, that’d be great.

Also ‘Oh my god’ is winning. Alert the media.

Learnment

It’s early in the morning at the Module Mansion, and four things are happening.

1. Dajana is cooking eggs.

2. The girls are trying to guess what their lesson and challenge will be this week, guessing either sailing or martial arts classes. To their credit, sailing and martial arts classes are as much to do with modelling as fishing coins out of a jar full of maggots or lime-dancing.

3. Jade has terrible hair. 

Like, terrible hair.

4. A golden dinosaur has laid a giant egg in the corner of the living room and nobody has noticed. Maybe Jade is an alien? I forget how far away Blacktown is.

The phone squawks a Jen Mail, and the Logies board add a new award category for Best Pretending To Be Surprised. Nobody wins.

Screamin’ J. Hawkins, through her weird perma-smile, mysteries “It’s time to shape up, because your world is about to be turned upside-down”.

Because, no remember, we mentioned Lionel Richie a few weeks ago when things were upside-down. Continuity, people.

Jen continues “Be prepared for your next challenge to come at you from all angles”.

Dajana shouts “Skydiving!”.

Shannon exclaims “Rock climbing!”.

Jade squeals “Trapezium!”.

Melissa, to camera, says “Dude, trapezium’s a shape”.

If I ever get good at Photoshop, you guys will be the first to know.

Finally the scrags all agree that it’s likely they’re going to be suspended from something. PROBABLY FROM SCHOOL, SINCE YOU HAVEN’T BEEN IN LIKE, TWO MONTHS.

They walk away from both Dajana’s and the dinosaur’s eggs to get in the Glamour Nissans to be whisked off to House Of Yoga in Redfern, where they find this:

And suddenly all I can think about is Christopher Atkins’ junk sling in The Blue Lagoon.

The lagoon wasn't the only thing that was blue, geddit.

Yep. That’s Dawso sitting in Christopher Atkins’ junk sling. She says to the modules “I bet you’re hanging to get into the swing of things today”, which obviously earns her this week’s trophy.

Dawso tells the girls that they’re about to do anti-gravity yoga (probably not a thing) with instructor Evangeline (probably not a name), and the bendy American-accented perkiness begins, with a brief nod towards the week’s ‘shapes’ theme.

Evangeline tells the modules that anti-gravity yoga is a combination of dance, yoga, pilates, and gymnastics, all things that Duckie has spent nine weeks telling us she’s bad at. “Co-ordination and Duckie don’t really mix that well”, she says, which is confusing because if she’s not co-ordinated, how would she be good at basketball? You see, I’m making an assumption about Duckie’s ability based purely on a stereotype which in turn is based solely on her skin colour.

Yes, Adamant Little Guy. It is.

The lesson begins, and Evangeline tells the girls to “say hello to your hamstring”.

Um… h… hello, hamstring?

Sorry. I do that.

They all do some sick mad suspended yoga moves, and all I can do is imagine that they’re farting because I am exactly twelve years old.

Feel the burn.

Jade feels like it’s an out-of-body experience, which coincidentally is exactly how I like my farts. Abbie is an anti-gravity yoga prodigy or ‘little monkey’ in Evangeline’s words. Duckie’s knee pops. Dajana’s medical opinion is that “Your eyes are literally coming out of your eye socket ‘cause all the blood is like rushing to your face”. This a) makes me angry, because:

And b) makes me happy, because I turned the screenshot of Dajana being upside-down upside-down, and it looks like she’s really, really surprised to see Lionel Richie.

Fullee dancing on the ceiling. Sick.

At the end of the class the hammocks are turned into little relaxation cocoons, reminding me instantly of the people farm in The Matrix where they grow babies.

Either way, everybody emerges from their cocoons looking relaxed, refreshed, and a little bit like Keanu Reeves.

Hot.

Challenged

The relaxation doesn’t last long, and soon the scrags are back in the Glamour Nissans and whisked off to meet Shiny Alex Perry at the Cellblock Theatre in the old Darlinghurst gaol, wearing what I’m reasonably certain is a tablecloth from an Italian restaurant.

Bongiorno, honey.

He tells the girls “I’m not going to lock you up, but I am going to put you in a confined space”. Is… is it your shirt, Shiny Alex Perry?

NO! It’s two telephone booths, where the cramped scrags must compete in a quick-change race, two at a time, including hair, make-up, Alex Perry frocks and incredible but where-the-fuck-would-you-wear-them thigh-high cross-laced boots. This is to mimic the tiny changing areas at some photo shoots and fashion shows and oh, I don’t know why we’re even relating it back to the fashion industry any more, this is AMAZING.

Because Abbie was the best at sky-yoga, she gets an advantage in that she’s allowed to compete twice. This is like telling Stelarc that he gets to be lowered down an elevator shaft on skin-hooks twice or, for the lowbrow amongst you, like telling Thicke to dry-clean his stripy suit because Miley’s coming back for an encore.

Shiny Alex Perry has one final warning for the girls: “Ruin my clothes, and jail’s gonna seem like a party”.

Raise the roof, y'all.

Duckie is exactly this happy about being paired in a confined space with Abbie, “the girl with the long limbs”:

Maybe you should use the phonebooth to call someone who cares.

At the other end of the spectrum, Dajana is happy she’s in the booth with the comparatively elfin Shanali. Most of the rest of us are happy about this because, when the girls complain about the difficulty of boot-lacing in such a small space and Shiny Alex Perry responds with “A bad tradesman always blames his tools”, Dajana and Shanali ARE ACTUALLY IMPERSONATING TRADESMEN AT THE TIME.

Smile, gentlemen.

Shiny Alex Perry offers instructional advice such as “suck it up honey”. The non-phonebooth girls offer actual advice. It’s a frenzy of lace, eyeshadow, eyelets and suede until suddenly some shit. Goes. Down.

Dajana, frustrated and confined, shouts to Shiny Alex Perry: “YOU KNOW WHAT, IF YOUR CLOTHES WERE OF BETTER QUALITY, YOUR SHOELACES WOULDN’T BE FRAYING!”.

It’s fine. I’m sure she’ll get over it and everyone will forget about it in a minute or two.

Shiny Alex says to camera “Say anything about me, but don’t slag my clothes”. Alright, Shiny Alex – this is what I’ll say about you: WHY HAVEN’T YOU GIVEN ME ANY OF YOUR NO DOUBT HIGH QUALITY CLOTHES. No slagging, yo.

Everyone competes, zippers get stuck, dresses are awesome, people are boot-strategic, Abbie wins twice. Duckie LOVES it that Abbie won.

Yaaaay.

Shannon, who I probably should’ve mentioned before now likes to win stuff, is also bummed. She says “We missed out by THAT much…..”

“…..LITERALLY that much”.

Mr Perry has a very stern view of tearing clothing, Mr Hulk.

For her prize, Abbie gets to pick a friend to go to high tea and a tea-leaf reading at the Langham Hotel with, so she and Duckie take the Posh Express to Poshtown and eat pretty much all the food they threw in the bin in Episode 3.

Lyndall the tea-leaf reader arrives, seemingly unable to predict for herself that she’d run out of conditioner fifteen years ago. From the mass of earthy gunk left in her cup, she tells Abbie that she might be going somewhere with a colder climate than here. Hmmm… let’s see, a colder climate than Sydney… THAT’S LIKE ALMOST EVERYWHERE ELSE! This chick is goooood.

I did two tea-leaf readings of my own, and it turns out I’m WAY more accurate than Lyndall. The first one predicted that at some point Abbie would look diagonally upwards.

Spot on.

The second one, though, was really spooky.

Uncanny.

Meanwhile, the other girls get pretty much exactly the same prize except at home without someone who lies about wet leaves. As a bonus, they get Dajana reminding us that she made a bad comment in front of Shiny Alex Perry. But that’s probably the last time anyone will mention that.

Interlude: Fish and Crying.

Back at the Module Mansion that evening, all the modules sit miraculously in the same room reading quietly when they suddenly hear an American accent saying “ALRIGHT ALRIIIIGHT!”. It’s Diddles! With sushi! Lying about having a night off and wanting to spend it hanging out!

Aside, to be read in either David Attenborough or Sandra Sully’s voice: Those of you familiar with America’s Next Top Model in particular may recognise this ritual as ‘Getting To Know You Night’, in which Tyra (played tonight by Didier Cohen), asks the girls questions about their lives and ‘what makes them tick’. The process involves, almost without exception, stories of hardship, illness, teasing, and sorrow. But mostly crying.

SHIT THAT IT IS ALMOST IMPOSSIBLE TO MAKE FUN OF.

So instead of unbelievably witty satire, let’s just settle for this.

News for teenage boys - they also make these for when your face ejaculates.

RIGHT! Let’s get back to the good stuff I can hang shit on. GO!

Phoy-Toys

We’re back from the break/opportunity to splash water on our faces and we learn about the prizes, which I think this year includes a year’s supply of blackhead-removing strips and a shoehorn.

The modules are plonked into a photographic studio with Diddles, Cosmo editor Bronwyn McCahon, Cosmo fashion director Nicole Adolphe, and photographer Richard Freeman, who is the only person in the room who spells his name like a normal person.

Nicole explains that today’s shoot is all about angles, and that they’ll be working with mirrors.

Wait. I get it. They’re reflecting. JUST LIKE THEY DID LAST NIGHT WITH DIDDLES. This show is multi-faceted postmodern genius, I tell you.

If you don’t count the standard duck-mouth selfies, obviously, I’ve taken exactly two photographs in a mirror before. One was shortly after my housemate had left the bathroom….

He was an avid supporter of the arts

…and one where I made myself look like a bishop crapping an eyeball.

Yeah. No caption.

Make no mistake – this is a brilliant photo shoot, and a dog turd with bits of glass and Smarties in it would look good with this set-up. That said…

I would like to own Abbie’s pants (not a euphemism, actually own and actually pants), and she shoots really well albeit with a small case of deadface.

Duckie is MADE for this shoot, and sits on the floor making me desperately want all eight of her shoes.

Jade looks absolutely unbelievably adorable with a high ponytail and poses insanely well, impressing Mr Freeman and anyone with eyes.

I CANNOT stop staring at Melissa. Diddles and Nicole aren’t that impressed with her posing, but the entire world gives less than negative four of a shit because she looks mesmerising.

Shanali has a bit of an odd scowl and goes for more of a floaty-nymph-on-Quaaludes vibe rather than a sharp-angled-power-yogi one, and poses unusually poorly. She’s still totally my new best friend, though. What she does in one shoot might not work in another. Because, like, the world don’t move to the beat of just one drum. What might be right for you, might not be right for some. WHICH REMINDS ME OF AN EIGHTIES SITCOM THEME, OBVIOUSLY.

What you talkin' 'bout, Shanali.

Just before her shoot, Dajana takes a moment to worry about her phonebooth comment again, which is replayed so often I’m seriously thinking of adding it to the Catchphrase Log. Consequently, she wants to kick ever-lovin’ arse in her photo shoot. Consequently, she succeeds her fucking arse off.

Every time Shannon closes her mouth, her photos are strong, angular, and exactly what the photographer wants. I’ll just leave that there. I really, really like her skirt though.

Eliminationosity

As the scrags enter the Eliminatorium, Dajana worries aloud about her phonebooth comment to Shiny Alex Perry. A Clostridium bacterium lodged deep in the intestines of a fat man lost at sea stops producing neurotoxins for a moment, looks up, and says “Dude. We get it”.

Screamin’ J. Hawkins greets the girls, dressed as if she’s in the middle of being eaten by a disco crocodile. She introduces Bronwyn McCahon, a woman who nobody ever asks to blink less, Dawso, who is asked to show on the doll where the man with the needle touched her…

Diddles, who is wearing shoulder restraints to stop him jumping out of his chair with a plate of sushi insisting that he and the scrags hang out…

And Shiny Alex Perry, dressed as a tablecloth in a children’s restaurant.

Spooky Tim Curry in 'IT' costs extra. Tip your waiter.

Photos are analysed, with some notable moy-ments:

Of Abbie’s photograph, Shiny Alex Perry remarks “I saw her arse squashed up against that telephone box for about twenty minutes”, while Dawso mentions that she reminds her a lot of last year’s winner Montana. I’m sure the two comments are unrelated.

Melissa approaches the panel for her critique, but I don’t hear anything they say because I’m too distracted by her dangly ear cuff.

I can’t… I can’t help but think it needs something….

Better.

Still. Her picture is eight different kinds of the business. Shannon then approaches the desk and… OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE.

Of Shannon’s actually-quite-decent photo, Screamin’ J. Hawkins comments that perhaps she’s trying too hard. Yep. Shannon. Trying. Too hard.

What part of four hundred and twenty thousand percent don't you understand?

Jade’s shot is awesome, and all of the judges but one list the eight thousand reasons it’s awesome. Shiny Alex Perry, of course, says “You look like a drunk sliding down the wall at a nightclub. I hate it”. I have personally spoken to many, many drunks sliding down the wall at nightclubs, and they are universally excellent people. I hope to be one one day.

Shanali’s photo is too soft for the brief, but she’s clearly buoyed by the fact that this doesn’t affect our amazing friendship.

Duckie’s shot is outstanding. My sister, who I watched this episode with and who is currently in hospital after a pleasingly not-a-heart-attack heart attack scare (Hiiiii Shelley!) commented at this point “That is the best shot of someone sitting on the floor and squeezing a forehead zit I have EVER SEEN”. Duckie gets a double page spread in Cosmo. Also not a euphemism.

It’s Dajana’s turn for a critique, and we all wonder if she’ll mention the comment she made to Alex Perry during the phonebooth challenge. What do you reckon, Amazing Psychic Desk?

Fair comment.

Happily, her picture is outrageously and almost unspeakably excellent. Dawso, fresh from her previous pun trophy win, says it’s “The photo that saved the faux pas”. Shiny Alex Perry forgives her, but warns her to watch what she says. Then, just as she’s walking away, he mutters as a brief aside “Clothes look like they’re good quality, too”. Dajana laughs it off.

Scrags walk out, judges deliberate, scrags walk in, and Dajana gets photo of the week. She says “I was so happy, I literally almost burst into tears”.

When Screamin’ J. Hawkins calls Melissa, she tells her that while her photo was adequate, “there’s still some room for growth”. Allow me to predict the Australia’s Next Top Model facebook page comment response by saying YEAH BUT NOT IN THE FOREHEAD RIGHT LOL YOLO.

Names are called one by one until only Tracy Flick Shannon and Bestest Friend Ever Shanali are left. Jen wraps her mouth around eight or nine unique vowels and then….

….Shannon is out. Unfortunately Shiny Alex Perry is exhausted from his tablecloth work this week, so it’s up to the Barrel Of Monkeys monkey to administer the ol’ laser eyes.

Thank you, Barrel Of Monkeys monkey.

Bye, Shannon. You were beautiful, determined, long-legged, determined, articulate, determined, and determined. Any last words?

Exactly.

And hey, yeah. There's a reasonable chance I might turn up in next week's episode in a poncho. Wear your witty incisive postmodernism pants.