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Turns out Hilary Barry is a bloody legend no matter what channel she’s on

Tara Ward dives into a delicious, piping hot serving of all-new Breakfast, and breaks down the key changes in TV One’s revamped morning show. 

A fresh day dawned in New Zealand yesterday and with it a new era of breakfast television. “This is your Breakfast, this is New Zealand’s Breakfast” said new co-host Jack Tame. “I’m Hilary Barry – I know!” waved the Queen of the Newsfeed. So far, so good.

There were big questions to be answered, and Jack sensed the fear of the nation. “The heart of the programme is exactly the same as it’s ever been,” he assured us, as he sat behind a strange new desk with that woman from the other channel.

I wasn’t so sure. What would this new and improved but apparently still the same Breakfast really be like? Would it be a delicious fruit platter that would give us a quick energy boost for the day ahead, or would it be a cold bowl of lumpy porridge that would make our stomachs heave?

With these pressing worries and my stomach rumbling, I dived face first into the Breakfast smorgasboard to find all the answers, or at the very least, the weather forecast for Hokitika.

No need to panic: it’s the same as it ever was, only a lot different

New set, new desk, new faces, but otherwise it’s exactly the same, apparently.  Gone is the relaxed couch with the dodgy cushions, because news is serious business. But not too serious, because the team call each other by their initials, like members of a secret but completely inclusive club. I’m down with that, BK.

JT and HB are here to tell us the important news, but in a sleek, stylish, no-sharp-edges-to-cut yourself-on way. Trust us, they implore with their kind eyes and warm smiles, don’t let this big desk get between us being friends. We love you! But also, don’t forget about Syria.

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Hilary Barry is a bloody legend no matter what channel she’s on

Oh Hilary, how we’ve missed you. Your warmth, your charm, your ability to move smoothly from discussing the shitstorm that is the UN in Syria to the news that Mel Gibson is to be a father again at 97, without blinking an eye. Hils grooved to music, waved to the cameras, and rebuked Dr John for using the word “penetration” when discussing immunisation rates of girls against the HPV Virus. Brodie Kane said it best: “HB, yo, in the house.” Indeed.

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Jack Tame looks sensible enough but still has some batshit crazy stuff to say

JT is bloody thrilled to be back. He’s “bunged up a few different pieces” – sounds terrifying – including a visit to East Harlem to interrogate the locals about their thoughts on Hilary. The Americans think he’s asking about Hillary Clinton when really, he’s talking about our own Hilary Barry. It’s a hilarious play on the name Hilary! What a hoot!

With jokes like this, Jack should be doing the weather.

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Other ground breaking revelations from JT:

  • “Calvin Harris is not James Joyce.” You can put Ulysses down now, as it does not contain the innermost secrets behind the Taylor Swift break-up.
  • “Athlete Liam Malone is the love child of Usain Bolt and Steven Adams when it comes to ‘the chat’.” Wait, is it scientifically possible to be the love child of two men? Asking for a friend.
  • “Kanye West is the John Lennon of our generation.” “He’s bonkers,” replied Hilary. I think she was talking about Kanye, but I’m not 100% sure.

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There was an alarming amount of body shaming

Bloody hell, Breakfast, what’s with the hate on the ol’ bod? The morning was filled with questionable remarks about female facial hair, dangling man chests, and feeling like the back of a bus. “I’d never thought I’d see the day when you looked good with a goatee!” Sam chuckled at Hilary’s expense.

Worst of all was Jack’s introduction of Brodie. Twenty-four seconds into the show and Jack introduced his colleague as “squeezing into her Spanx this morning”. Fairly sure I heard the entire nation gasp in horror, or was that just me? I’d have turned off my screen in indignation, if I wasn’t already cramming myself into my own full-body suit of Spanx armour while simultaneously bleaching my goatee and winching my droopy chest up from my dad-bod navel.

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There’s a new Breakfast Club but they need Emilio Estevez dancing in the background to make it interesting

The ‘Breakfast Club’ segment features two guests – today’s were psychologist Nigel Latta and filmmaker Roseanne Liang – to discuss “what keeps them awake at night”. For me, it’s the gate banging against the house every four seconds, but for Nigel it’s Donald Trump and for Roseanne it’s rape culture. After 30 seconds of discussion, both these complex issues were solved to Jack’s satisfaction. Just as well, because he needed to revisit the Great Cash Tradie Debacle for the ninth time this morning.

That reminds me, I need a cash builder to fix my gate.

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The weather guy is still a plonker 

Weather presenter Sam Wallace has been the constant force in the Breakfast team for what feels like centuries, hanging around like a dense fog that refuses to move offshore no matter how hard the wind blows. He remained more focused on goofball stunts than the weather, and only had time to describe the forecast for Christchurch as “ho-hum”, an official meteorological term if I’ve ever heard one.

“I don’t know if you’ve seen buses before,” Sam began, as he pitched his new Breakfast marketing campaign to the nation. It mostly involved handing out pamphlets and drawing on the back of a bus. Who cares if it worked or not because hell, Sam was having the time of his life.

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“This is desperate!” shouted Sam. “Nobody wants a leaflet!” shouted Hilary. “What the hell is ho-hum weather?” shouted the people of Christchurch.

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Paying Your Tradies Cash is the new housing crisis

Jack’s going to wang on about this ‘crisis’ until we all come to our senses and realise we’re being incredibly selfish by doing the IRD out of more paperwork.

Apart from Hils, who doesn’t give a shit that she’s paid tradies for cash jobs. She claims she’s no rule breaker, but I bet sometimes she parks in a five minute loading zone and stays up to eight minutes. New segment idea: ‘Rules Hilary broke that one time’. Maybe I could stand in the background dancing like Emilio Estevez. Hilary, call me.

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It’s best when they drop the schmooze and relax

We made it out alive, HB. See, we all love change, whether it’s on the back of a bus or behind a shiny big desk.  See you tomorrow.

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