Alex Casey delivers her seventh power rankings for The Bachelorette NZ, where a group of intruders have herniated the competition’s intestines forever. Click here for previous instalments.
Welcome back to The Bachelorette NZ, where everything is made up and every man is suddenly named Mike. Intruders! Five of them! A whole boy-band’s worth! Mike! Micheal! Mac! Mork! Mindy! Chucking a few more piping hot fellas into this here man soup has caused more than a few dramas this week.
It began with ‘Operation Stingray’ which saw the oldies punk the newies in a huge way, telling them that they were going on a group date and then revealing that they were not going on a group date.
There was a lot of subsequent talk about “the culture” built up in the house so far, and even more time devoted to talking about how Elliott (returning Bachelor) had basically ruined it all because he thought the prank was too mean. I don’t know, boys, the culture seems stronger than ever from where I’m sitting (trust falls in the pub, Monopoly Deal with the lads, tie dye shirt supply flowing like yoghurt.)
On with the rankings.
ELIMINATED: Magic Marc
Marc didn’t seem too bovvid with getting the biff this week, I wish him all the best repairing all the shirts he has ripped on this show and trust he will give them a good alpha-dog ironing too.
Not overstating even a smidgeon when I say that Michael, the humble kūmara farmer from Dargaville, is the best thing that has ever happened to me. He is THE purest expression of Kiwi blokedom to ever grace our screens, he talks like his jaw is wired shut and he is “fully eh, fully” ready to find love.
If Michael is the classic Kiwi farmer, then Mike is the classic guy wearing linen on the Viaduct who looks like he owns a yacht and probably those fluffy Gucci slippers that Mike Hosking has. He’s an ex Olympic sailor and the ex-husband of Chelsea Winter, and if that’s not enough to get you a nice spot at Soul Bar then I don’t know what is. He survived Lesina’s probing questions and came away with an early rose, so I’d say she’s… on board.
As any Christopher Nolan stan will know, every great magic trick consists of three acts – the pledge, the turn and the prestige. Elliott’s limp tissue rose (the pledge) and subsequent disappearing act (the turn) in episode one was merely a distraction from his inevitable shock return (the prestige). Truly a master of the form.
And what a return it was, loping in like a “big drunk puppy” (Lily’s words, not mine) and immediately starting some shit on his single date. He made Lesina ‘block up his bald head, he gave her a nickname (Shoey, inspired by her last name Schuster) and inadvertently started a sick new drinking game where you have to do a shoey every time he calls Lesina ‘Shoey’.
Unfortunately there is about as much chemistry between these two as there is between a slosh of Baileys and a sneaker, but Elliott seems like he is gearing up to be Mole Pt 3: The Naked Mole edition. He spent ages talking about where Lesina was at with the other men, and his fierce loyalty (“pranking is mint, but that’s not on”) bodes well for his mole future.
Okay, is anyone going to call out the fact that we lost Mr Wedge only for him to be replaced by a guy who likes to be called MACCA???? KFC is quaking in its 11 herbs and spices at this level of brand infiltration, but not as much as this poor nervous cherub.
It’s like the old adage says, there’s no point crying over spilt milk when instead you can use the opportunity to launch a successful drop crotch pant company. Classic yarn. Everyone thinks Richie is hot, from Lily to Lesina, to the empanada overlord of Argentina. “He’s like a normal guy but in a non-normie way,” said Lily after their single date, where they spent a lot of time baring their teeth to one another in an act that I understand is called “smiling”
Nothing bigger boo boo than Tavita’s hernia coming out of the woodwork and starting shit again this week. “My hernia is on my mind too much,” Tavita confessed to the cameras before returning to the centre de emergencies once more. Noooooo herny lalas nooooo.
Tonight’s episode finished with what seemed a lot like an ultimatum for Lesina – send Tavita home for surgery or keep him here and have him (literally) spill his guts. Pray for Tavita.
This week Steve went off his absolute nut at Aaron again for interrupting his time with Lesina, and then decided to assert himself as top dog by wearing his coveted footy shirt won during the challenge last week. Get the man a bloody vape.
He got mercilessly owned after Lily called him Aaron during the “love tea” challenge, but that didn’t stop Logan calling 0800 KISSATHON and getting some crucial mouth to mouth with Dr Lesina. “It wasn’t as dry this time” said Lesina. Wow, is this Fifty Shades or what????
Lesina took Aaron on a single date this week to go and look at some art, but not before some saucy off-camera pashing in a hallway. Aaron loved to look at the art! Especially the art with the letter A on it! A for Aaron! A for Art Green! A for ‘Amazed’ by Lonestar! A for Acapella rendition! A for A declaration of love??????? A for Aaron has lost it and I am loving it. Here’s a perfect tweet btw:
— Cameron Nealie (@CameronNealie) February 16, 2020
To top off a perfectly intense date, Aaron gave Lesina her favourite print from their graffiti walk, and wow what a Piece it was.
Ever wonder where the Nirvana baby is now?
Jesse boasted about having a radio degree this week, which could come in handy because I fear that his frequency has recently switched from AM (amorous mon amie) to FM (friends, mates).
Liam got whisked away on a single date to concoct a “frozen hangover” gelato with Lily. He had some weird chat about how he has put pressure on past partners to change, but has then been annoyed that they changed for him. It culminated in the hottest pillow talk of all, which somehow still got him a rose???
If there’s one thing that ladies love, it’s a guy who never, ever, ever forgets that she owes him a kiss from a weird speedboat bet that happened weeks ago. Girthy ol’ Terence tried to shoot his shot on a rooftop above the cocktail party, hoping Lily would settle her debts. And she… did?
She must like him a bit, because it was truly a smoocherino so awkies that Tavita’s hernia woke up and phoned the hospitable on itself.
I used to think Quinn would be quinning the quompetition because of all the quissing. But now that Richie is on the scene, I’m not so sure. Quold be trouble afoot.
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