In an all-new Bachelor group think, the Spinoff knights meet at the television roundtable to discuss dreaming of Art, praying for Mike and where the love story all began.
Paul Williams on the Origins of The Bachelor
A lot of people think The Bachelor franchise began in 2002 with season one of the American show. These people are idiots who don’t know anything. One stormy night, I did some digging down at the library and discovered that the show in fact dates back to the early 17th century (the word ‘dates’ is in italics to denote that it is a pun).
The year was 1710. The location: Weimar, Germany and 25 year olde composer Johann Sebastian Bach was on the lookout for love.
The Bach-elor ran for seven seasons (nearly all the winners fell victim to various plagues except for season four winner Angelika, who filed for divorce 3 months after the show and was later struck down by a plague). Before the invention of the television, the show was held live at the local opera house and followed a very similar format to what we see today.
Johann wrote the theme song (‘Toccata and Fugue in D minor for Organ’) and played it at the beginning of every episode. Most of the dates involved listening to Johann jam out on the organ. During one of the longer episodes, he improvised all six of the Brandenburg Concertos much to the annoyance of his date Karla. If he liked you he would gift you a blue cornflower, the national flower of Germany. If he didn’t like you, you were killed.
The season finale of the seventh and final season ended in controversy when Johann gave his final cornflower to music, the only true love of his life. The show was then cancelled until it’s eventual reboot in 2002.
Julia Hollingsworth on Art’s Situation Room
Art Green watched wistfully as last night’s date lumbered up the stairs, dragging her gammy leg behind her. The moment she disappeared into the mass of blonde hair, his brow furrowed. How bloody dare she, he thought.
It wasn’t Art Green’s first rejection; he knew what to do. He pressed a panic button hidden beneath his chair and the deck creaked open, revealing a fireman’s pole. Holding the rejected rose in one hand, and grasping the pole in the other, board short model and outdoor exercise enthusiast Art Green slid down into the purpose built situation room below.
Inside the cavern (which looked shockingly like the United States President’s situation room as seen in the West Wing), four producers wearing red polo shirts emblazoned with the Bachelor logo were panicking.
“More Old Spice!” screamed one producer as she sprayed the musk over Art Green’s suited body, standing on a ladder to get a better vantage point.
“More puppy dog eyes!” said another, and she began closing and widening her eyes aggressively only centimeters from Art Green’s face.
“Less bloody mooning over Matilda! They’re supposed to believe you love them all!” said another, who was frantically shuffling the script.
Art Green looked crestfallen. Not because sunscreen seductress and adept floppy hat wearer Danielle B had broken his heart, but because earnest old Danielle – who took the show more seriously than anyone else (even pink-haired Dani) – had managed to catch him at his own game.
He stared down at a crumpled picture of his mother that he kept in his breast pocket at all times.
“Of course it was a fucking friend zone rose,” he muttered.
Jack Riddell on Ten Questions for The Bachelor
1) How did Danielle B, LLB (Accordion Law) last 10 episodes? Watching her and Art interact made me feel like I was watching a reality tv version of the fish slapping dance.
2) Are the Invercargill Rolled “R’s” considered attractive?
3) Will Alysha eventually marry Steve Broad?
4) Will there be a Bachelorette NZ and if so who will it be?
5) Will TV3 create it’s own Rock of Love or Flava of Love style show with a well-known New Zealand rock star? The Luck of Love with Jordan Luck? Doom’s Day Dome of Love with Jason Kerrison? Rock Music From The Heart with Jeremy From Rackets? I dunno TV3, you tell me.
6) What kind of lawyer is Danielle B?
7) Did Natalie get the rose tattoo on her back while they were shooting?
8) Has anyone else really felt like they’ve needed a chat with someone as much as these girls in the history of New Zealand?
9) What does Mike Peru do on the show except for ‘show up’?
10) Can it be a French Country House if it’s in Tauranga?
Tara Ward on a Letter to Art’s Mum
Dear Arthur’s Mum,
Consider this note as a hearty round of applause. You appear to have raised a very decent young fellow. So decent, in fact, I heard he was recently awarded* The Nicest Bachelor In The History of The World. He’s so polite, asking for kisses in the breathiest of voices (fine-tuned by your weekly bonding sessions watching the Sunday omnibus of The Bold and the Beautiful, I expect), and wooing his women with lyrical poetry like “I have thoroughly enjoyed this date,” and “that was a really nice kiss”. After that silly and thoughtless (though mostly wise and courageous) Danielle dumped him in front of the nation, Arthur praised “her honesty and openness”.
But most impressive of all, Arthur’s Mum, was when he tripped in front of Matilda (a.k.a Your Future Daughter In Law) and not one bad word like ‘carbohydrate’ or ‘refined sugars’ fell from his rosebud lips.
You must be very proud, Art’s Mum. But since we’re such close friends, let me speak frankly: I feel slightly nauseous from all the niceness. Is there anything that annoys your son? Is he even a tiny bit naughty and wicked? When will Arthur reveal his wild side? I know it’s in there, hiding beneath that fine RJB Design suit, like a wild tiger waiting to burst free from its cage. I am Arthur: hear me roar.
*by me at 7.48pm tonight. No correspondence will be entered into.
Duncan Greive Dreamed of Greenie
On Sunday night I had a dream about Art Green. It wasn’t a sex dream, but it was definitely about Art. I don’t want to read too much into it, it’s probably just super normal for me to have had a dream like this.
In my dream I was in some kind of annoying worn-in pub that I secretly quite liked, like the Portland Public House but not the Portland Public House. I felt comfortable there and was enjoying drinking beer with my friends. Then I saw Art Green stroll in with (I think) Alysha. I whispered to my friends that he was ‘a long way from Kohimarama’ as he approached, by way of showing that I knew where his eight person flat was and asserting some weird ownership of him.
Then he caught my eye, and wandered up and said hello. I have met Art, and in fact spent 15 minutes interviewing him a month back. He remembered my name! Probably used that dorkily sweet rhyming technique on me even. Pumpkin, probably. That’s what most people go for.
We talked for a couple of minutes about the show and how it was impacting his life, and I maybe made some great joke about how he was livin’ la vida loca at the moment by way of reference to his favourite Ricky Martin song. He laughed I think? Then he excused himself and headed deeper into the pub. I want to say that I thought nothing more of it, but when Art Green leaves the room that’s the signal to talk about Art Green for at least an hour.
We eventually finished our drinks and made our way out. Art saw me again, and asked me to wait there. Was he going to get me a rose?! No. Instead he wanted to show me his reptile collection. He retrieved a case from a lime green Lamborghini Huracan (this seemed an entirely natural car for him to be driving in the dream), and laid it on a section of grass outside the bar. He sprung the latches, and inside were a monitor lizard, a large frilled gecko and a poisonous snake.
We just sort of looked at them for a couple of minutes. With Art Green, you don’t ask why you’re doing something. Maybe this was a group date? Maybe I would get my rose?!
Suddenly something spooked the reptiles. Art leaned down to shush them with some of his trademark gentle stroking, when another loud noise sent them into further frenzy. He whipped back his hand, and I saw a fleck of blood on the webbing between his thumb and forefinger. The snake had bitten him!
He was calm, but firm. This was a very poisonous snake, he told us, and he needed immediate doctoring. I had to drive him to hospital in his Lambo. Alyssa and my wife leaped in the rear. I drove swiftly but within control. We made it in time. Art lived. I saved his life in a medical emergency. Then I woke up.
Hamish Parkinson on the Endless Pain of Puru
It was demeaning work. Mike was paid to watch a gaggle of drunk middle class ladies lounge in a spa while gossiping about how desperate Art is to smooch all of their red lips (lipstick free thanks to the gallons of free red wine), not fill a bathtub with frozen rose petals. “Whatever…” Mike thought as he watched the rushes, not one petal making it to the screen, “…at least I’ve got my rewarding job in the morning, this is just a one off gig”
He consoled himself further by reminiscing back to the previous night. Art was eating up precious air time trying to decide what gal to send home. The blonde one the producers wanted him to, or the brunette one he wanted to. Mike sided up to Art, he had to act but with no notes or script, he had to improvise, and fast. “Are you okay?” He blurted out with lightning speed. Sure he asked a question, but really Mike had made a bold statement: Here I am, I have a job on this show, to make this man who gives no F’s about this show to look like he does, and damn it, he nailed it. Mike Puru proved to the nation, that deep down beats the heart of a ‘get-the-job-done’ journalist right up there with the mighty Mike McRoberts or even John ‘the voice of the underdog’ Campbell. No one online has ever watched One News so who knows who their equivalents are.
Mike Puru, wakes at the crack of dawn to hone down the day’s ideas for the popular morning show on the Edge. He has some pretty good observations on how the media treat the relationship between Taylor Swift and Lorde that is both interesting to his demographic but also thought provoking enough to get the sleepy cog’s whirring. He’s nailed it again. He storms into the office brimming with confidence. His colleague and equal throws his phone in Mike’s face showing his crowning achievement of a tweet along with a boisterous “Hahahaha, I got twenty set-ups for you to do to this” Mikes eyes glaze over as he reads…
Mike reaches in his pocket, feels the 41st rose petal and prays for season two.
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