It’s a not a wedding of two complete strangers unless there’s a party of weirdos at the reception. Tara Ward reviews the most memorable guests (so far) on Married At First Sight.
There’s nothing better than spending Valentine’s Day watching a Married At First Sight marathon. Forget all that love and flowers bullshit, give me six hours of clumsy kisses and awkward silences as brides and grooms meet for the first time at the altar, their loins firmly girded in the hope of finding The One.
Bless them, Eros, for they are fools, and everything about this show warms the cockles of my cold, dead heart.
Married at First Sight couples entrust a panel of ‘experts’ to find their perfect match — the Kim to their Kanye, the George to their Mildred, the S Club to their 7. If that doesn’t make your palms sweat in dizzy anticipation, each bride and groom comes with a tribe of entertaining weirdoes charmingly referred to as “family and friends”.
Most of whom spend the entire wedding wearing this expression:
Let’s take a slow walk down the aisle of failed hopes and dreams to meet this season’s most memorable wedding guests.
The psychic bridesmaid
If there were an award for Bridesmaid of the Year then Amanda would win, hands down. Hands down the toilet, in fact, because not only did Amanda voluntarily fish a wedding ring out of the loo, she was also ‘slightly telepathic’. This sounds like being ‘slightly pregnant’ or ‘slightly dead’, but who am I to scoff, the woman threw her arm into a public toilet bowl in the name of true love.
Look out Kelvin Cruickshank, there’s a new wizard in town. The groom visited Amanda’s dreams to reveal he was ‘an Aussie bloke’ named Simon. If only Amanda could have foreseen that she’d hate Simon because he was a vertically challenged clown with a bad perm. Slightly paraphrasing, but you get the idea.
The mother in law from hell
Marie is the new television legend of our age. As bride Scarlett vowed to protect her new husband from zombies, her mother sat in the front row, fuming like a blocked chimney over groom Michael’s refusal to make eye contact with her.
“Am I invisible?” she shouted. Nobody replied. Was Marie another of Bridesmaid Amanda’s slightly telepathic projections? It was hard to know, but Marie banged the hate drum until someone caught her beat. “He’s got no manners!” she moaned to the groom’s family. “I was going ‘Oink! Oink!’”
“Neigh! Neigh!’ might have been a better animal impression, Marie, going by this screenshot. (Chillax, Mr Ed. Scarlett didn’t marry you for your gums).
Each of Marie’s facials was a different shade of “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING”, and we should be all Marie when we grow up.
By the night’s end, Marie and her cacophony of animal noises had shimmied along the Arranged Marriage Moodometer, warming up from ‘Hypothermic Hatred’ to ‘Tepidly Mediocre Acceptance’. “I’ve seen worse unions,” she declared, a blessing so sincere that I cried tears of pure sodium.
The awful father in law
Imagine you had an old Scottish tool in your junk drawer. A dirk, perhaps, or maybe a spurtle — whatever, my metaphor is poorly made and not picky. Wrap that tool in a kilt, chuck on a ginger wig and tartan cap, and ta-dah, you have Cheryl’s father.
Cheryl’s Dad is no Jamie Fraser. He’s not even an Outlander extra standing in Jamie Fraser’s shadow. He’s more like one of those weird standing stones, annoying and time-warping and all “och aye, look at me” and “I’ll punch you out, you tiny dork of a son-in-law”. Ssshh, Cheryl’s Dad, so we can all travel back to a time before you put that stupid hat on.
In the world’s creepiest Father of the Bride speech, Cheryl’s Dad insisted Jonathan lift his new wife off the ground. I’m sorry, what? “Pick! Her! Up!” screamed the guests, hungry for blood and wedding cake. Save yourself, Jonathan. Cheryl has sweaty legs and I’m worried she’ll slide off you like margarine off a hot muffin.
The Pseudo Sister
Poor Emma didn’t know if she was the groom’s sister or girlfriend or just some random off the street. Bored shitless and making the most of the open bar, she cast her evil eye around the room, secure in the belief that this sham of a union would die quicker than the floral centrepieces.
Will Cheryl and Jonathan’s marriage survive? “Like, my Emma answer is like, ah, no.”
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This was alarming news. “You don’t judge someone by their book!” Cheryl’s sister squawked. She raised an important question: just what is Cheryl’s book? Sweaty Legs and Pseudo Sisters? Perhaps Who Invited Her? Or my personal favourite: My Da’s a Bawbag?
Bawbag or no, Married at First Sight is the wedding gift that keeps on giving, the gold-plated ring down the toilet that continues to sparkle beneath the filthiest of waters. Will the magic ever end? Like, my Emma answer is, like, ah, no.
Married At First Sight airs Monday–Wednesday 8.30pm on Three.
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