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Pop CultureNovember 6, 2017

Married at First Sight NZ Power Rankings – Feeding time at the zoo


Alex Casey power ranks the sixth week of Married at First Sight NZ, including an explosive dinner party, wank confessions and an exciting makeover.

The reunion was supposed to be a chance for growth, the experts told us while barely stifling their own laughter, a time for the couples to come back together to share experiences and put on a united front for the last time. But this is Married at First Sight NZ, where everything’s made up and the science doesn’t matter, and the contestants took it upon themselves to turn a lovely dinner party into complete carnage.

“Tonight, we dine in HELL,” screamed Ben, piercing his nose with the butter knife. “FREEEEEDOOOOM,” yelled Vicky, smearing pumpkin purée on one side of her face. The Pretty Committee came out in full force to tear down Haydn, The Genetic Pitbull, for talking shit about them or their mates or sending a bad text or something. The details aren’t important. What is important is that things got so heated a producer had to intervene… 

… and that Brett and Angel were finally faced to plumb the depths of human despair for the very first time in their lives.

TFW you realise hell actually *is* other people
Real life Fallen angel caught on camera

Welcome to the void mates, I hope you brought your travel ping pong because we might be here a while. Speaking of void, why not subscribe to our own NZ reality TV podcast or even listen below ya filthy animals? 

Anywho, here be the power rankings, ft. some very expert analysis of the couple’s FINAL therapy sessions.


In the words of Truebliss, I’m saving all my love (you’re my number one, my number one), saving all my love (because you’re my greatest love). Brett and Angel have weathered shitstorm after shitstorm whenever they have to hang out with the other MAFSNZ goblins, and this week some of the effluent finally wormed its way beneath their sparkly veneer.

Angel wanted everyone to ride the same rainbow – take her back to the rainbow, that rainbow kind of magic. Alas Angel, the magic is over. The pirate ship has been shut down, the log flume doesn’t have elves in it anymore and everyone is screaming and pointing violently at each other. God bless Brett for his commitment to small talk, even when things went thermonuclear.

The next day, the pair remained chipper despite having seen and heard unspeakable acts committed over a blue steak and a CC & dry. Almost… too chipper. “LIFE IS 12/10” cheered Angel. “THE KEY TO A MAN’S HEART IS THROUGH HIS STOMACH” shrieked Brett. FFS, they wouldn’t even act out the sad emotions in a game of charades because it made them feel bad.

Brett re-enacts a yawn, one of the saddest emotions he has ever felt.

This is some honest to god Pleasantville shit, it’s almost enough to tip someone over the edge and take a KNIFE to some FLOWERS like a florist Norman Bates. 

Gotta let the rage out somehow

Final counselling session:

We know the story: it’s all smooth sailing on a rainbow ocean made of unicorn spit. The pair were praised for defusing the situation at the cocktail party, solving world hunger and bringing about peace on Earth. They left the session hand in hand – a practically pornographic display compared to everyone else at this stage.


“I hate drama,” says Vicky, twiddling her ringmaster moustache before the curtain rose on The Greatest Drama on Earth. Her master manipulation was largely conducted from a toilet stall in the restaurant – perhaps inspired by Neil – with her minions feeding her juicy pieces of gossip in the style of this looped video of Jabba the Hutt eating a frog.

Move over Aaron Smith, there’s a new toilet tryst in town.

Word to the wise: if Vicky says “just a quick question” over dinner, duck under the table and burrow down as fast and as deep as you can. Rip through the carpet, break through the floorboards, dig past the Earth’s crust, mantle and core and you will still not be far away enough from her deadly wrath.

Meanwhile, Andrew was kind of lurking with his sleeves pushed back dramatically – perhaps ready to jump back on Tinder? – and generally seemed to be pinging out at the drama. His weak attempt to “back up” Vicky in her tirade got him in her good books, and the next day they played an intimate relationship game about feelings.

I mean, what is that lotion for?

It’s like they always say: it’s all fun and games until your husband admits that he texted another woman saying that he masturbated to photos of her. “SORRY MUM” he said. Mate, a reminder that you’ve got a bit more to apologise for now.

Final counselling session:

In therapy, Vicky insisted she was a Nice Girl, which is exactly what Nice people do, and exactly why Nice biscuits have to tell you on the packet that they are Nice and not Yuck and Without Chocolate. Look, she may not be a Nice Girl but at least she’s a Sensible Girl, using her magical Topaz necklace to fend away any vengeful Neil turds.

Andrew has taken time out of his charity wankathon to attend as well, and is still convinced that they will last outside of the experiment. “New Zealand hasn’t heard the last of Andrew and Vicky,” he declared. Well, at least not till next week.


Aaron was feeling flat before the cocktail party, which I’m told can happen when you are legally married to Medusa. Ben, on the other, was royally rarked at all the hypothetical outcomes from him and Haydn’s pending showdown about some texts. “Never pick a bitch fight with a gay guy,” he said, embodying the nail polish emoji, “we invented this.” Indeed, E=mc2 and Ben = good at a “bitch fight”

Also, check out this subliminal messaging… does this mean Ben is the Prime Minister now?

After his toilet tryst with Vicky, Ben came in hotter than the Pretty Committee in a tanning bed. “SHUT IT” he yelled at Haydn, baring red wine-soaked purple people eater teeth that not even the finest Mr Pigglesworth Optic White could fix

Despite the tooth problem, Ben was happy with how the night went and convinced he had won the argument that was about texts or something. “He’s like a toddler that’s shat his pants,” he said of Haydn, “He’s a gorilla who has been cornered by two hotties”. The joy was not to last however, as Ben awoke the next day in a right mood with a whole new aesthetic / nose ring / haircut. 

Dear boy, you are supposed to go through the identity crisis AFTER the breakup, not before it. Aaron was in the dog box again because he didn’t back Ben up during the dinner attack, and made the mistake of doing an ambulance shift with his ex to give Ben space. “It’s a red flag… it’s a dealbreaker” whinged Ben for the 1300th time. BTW: Geoff’s Emporium is fresh out of red flags, because they all below to Aaron now.

As Duncan pointed out on The Real Pod (new episode coming tomorrow!), how grim is the situation when your partner would rather tend to a violent car crash than to your relationship? The next day, Aaron was all alone when the experts delivered them their relationship ‘question game’, resulting in the saddest solo player image I’ve witnessed since I saw Matthew Ridge playing Space Invaders by himself at Burgerfuel.

Final counselling session:

Ben is super concerned with trust being rebuilt, I am more concerned with his decomposing jeans being rebuilt.

A distressing scene to be sure


It didn’t matter how puffy he made his chest or how much he stuck his enormous arms out, Haydn got nailed to the wall over dinner. Bel couldn’t even back him up because she was so busy trying to untangle her own web of lies, and wishing for simpler times in Thailand with Zac and Viarni (RIP) and the gang. As he was calmed by producers and she sobbed silently in the foyer, it was clear this relationship had finally become as unsalvageable as a mince pie dropped in a wet sink.

Rest in peace, Haydn and Bel, may you now join Mr Fluffy and the gang in MAFSNZ couple heaven. With vows being renewed next week, I have a feeling you might need room for a few more.

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