Married at First Sight NZ Power Rankings – Our first conscious uncoupling

Alex Casey power ranks the fourth week of Married at First Sight NZ, including new living quarters, a tonne of counselling and one very overdue breakup.

This week, the cocktail party continued well past that tipping point in an evening where any reasonable person would have already left to get a McChicken and sob to their Uber driver about how they are the only person on Earth who really understands them. Instead we got another dramatic toilet cry, we got swearing, we got more of the gossip ring from hell.

Everyone knows that being so hungover is the ideal time to talk about your feelings and how unhappy you are, so luckily our experts were there to help our couples in their first counselling sessions the following day. Tony even came straight from his Blue Man Group rehearsal, which I thought was generous of him.

Luckily he’s a counsellor, coz these shoes got the blues

Just like our couples trying to figure out who gets which drawer, let us further unpack the individual baggage of week four. Also for the hardouts out there (that’s you) I implore you to subscribe to The Spinoff’s own reality TV/MAFSNZ podcast or listen to our latest episode in the player below:


They spent the whole cocktail party canoodling and laughing at anything that moved, only to retire early to watch Stranger Things while the others hit the town. Brett and Angel seem absolutely too good to be true and I think I’ve finally figured out why. Theory: Brett is not a McLeod’s Daughters loving man, but actually three labradors standing on each other’s shoulders wearing human skin like Buffalo Bill. His energy and relentless positivity simply cannot be borne of human DNA.

Brett and Angel had a balancing competition, ate a nice picnic and generally strolled around on what Google Maps can only identify as Cloud Nine. “They’re lost in their bubble,” says Tony, “and what a beautiful place to be lost.” At their counselling session, their forever-love was potent. “I’m just gutted for the rest of New Zealand, because I’ve got him now” laughed Angel. Brett thumped his tail, and then got distracted by a laser light darting across the room.

Back at their apartment, it became clear that this pair indeed has built a foundation that could, one day, turn into a skyscraper. Angel cooked fish and kumara chips for Brett, and they bantered back and forth about the best way to crisp up the chips (Brett has the cool tip to put them in a plastic bag with the oil). They remain a lovely palate cleanser compared to the rest of the relentless shit we are forced to eat from the real-life Human Centipede that is basically everyone else on this show.


Pipe down global warming, the biggest natural disaster facing the world right now is that Dom is going to drown us all in his relentless tsunami of unbridled emotion. Build the arks, assemble the animals, make sure Brett and Angel are in the preservation chambers and ready to repopulate our grim new Waterworld with tiny children who don’t know how to feel pain. At the cocktail party, Dom orbited the room watering all the indoor plants with his tears, only to wait until the droplets crystallised and he could use them as salt on his pizza.

Please, my tears. They won’t stop.

I have simply  never, ever, in my life, seen a person cry more than Monsieur Fluffy. He whipped out a few more “come to Poppa’s” as the night progressed, sobbed on a chaise lounge and finally returned to sit next to his beloved Claire. She would understand his glass case of emotion, right? She’d be there to meet his emotional needs and empathise with his sadness, right?

Turns out Claire was just lashing out because she has some kind of gallstones problem and was hospitalized not long after. Luckily, the medical professionals knew exactly how to get her back to good health, attaching her promptly to a drip filled with Mr Fluffy’s tears. That should do it.

Meanwhile, the Fluffer found himself alone in their sumptuous new apartment, and slowly but surely the grand space began to consume him like The Shining. He shouted “look at that Viaduct Bridge!” before cheersing his cup of tea to nobody in particular. Later still, he poured himself a brew and sat on the couch alone, cheersing yet again to nothing. Get well soon Claire.


Andrew is still touching Vicky more than Mr Tickle and camouflaging himself with his vest better than this stunning owl, but there were some distinct ups and downs this week. Firstly, he adopted the nonsense phrase “happy wiff, happy liff” as a part of his everyday beauty routine. Secondly, it was Vicky’s birthday, so Andy prepared a glorious ride on Auckland CBD’s rickety Skyscreamer, presumably hoping to reach the dizzying heights of Brett and Angel’s spiritual skyscraper.

After thinking Vicky would be the scaredy cat on the ride, Andy then went on to deeply shart himself in a scene almost as funny as any other slingshot ride video ever made. Rookie mistake, she’s an air hostess mate! All she does is stay calm whence really, really high! Turns out that wasn’t the most dramatic ride for this week, as the pair went on to have a rip-roaring fight after it was revealed that Vicky had been messaging Haydn since their wedding. 

They went their separate ways – Andrew had to go home and feed the pig anyway – but came back together for a spot of counselling and dinner. They’ve had ups and downs and drunken disasters, but they both swear to remain committed. Andrew is still watching his back though – when the camo comes off the surveillance sunnies come ON. 


Cancel your plans, drop out of school and quit your job. The only thing that matters now is that Haydn wrestles under the name ‘The Genetic Pitbull’ and here is a very long video of him doing exactly that:

This week we found out that Haydn’s inbox is like bloody Piccadilly Circus 24/7. He’s matched with Vicky on Tinder, messaged her on Instagram, talked to Bel’s bridesmaid on Facebook, stood up Lacey’s sister IRL and put Pani in his top friends on Bebo. Seems weird he hasn’t accepted my request on Linkedin, but hopefully we’ll get there.

Stood my Linkedin request up too.

The rumour mill was a’churning at the cocktail party, and it didn’t take long for Vicky to tell Bel that Haydn had been spamming her more than a pornbot with some serious units of Viagra to push. He was in big, big trouble, so went for a big old walk in the park to clear his head. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long until he fell back into his wily online ways.

The pair tried to work things out in counselling, but it looks like The Genetic Pitbull is never (rightly) too far from the dog house. And when I say dog house, I mean plush cat apartment.


“It hasn’t been smooth sailing,” laughed Aaron, just like the captain of the Titanic as he sank deep beneath the icy seas. Yes, this relationship is on death’s door and clearly not even the most skilled paramedic can find a pulse. It’s almost not worth writing any more and just posting a bunch of Ben’s facials at counselling, which is exactly what I’ll do right now.

Ben spent the whole cocktail party dodging Aaron like Neo dodging bullets in The Matrix, forcing him to reduce his affection to weird hover hands and a single gnarled bird claw on a thigh. Even after they moved in together, Ben was still more occupied with tearing everyone down than looking Aaron in the eye. The experts aren’t good enough for him, the matches weren’t good enough for him. “We’re different people,” Ben snarled. “We’re completely, different people.” Here’s a vision board of what Ben really wanted:

Ben’s dream husband

Ben’s dream experts

Aaron finally unleashed after the cocktail party and admitted “it’s been a nightmare.” “It’s just been a crazy week,” says Ben, as if he’s about to tell of a family tragedy or perhaps returning from war, “I had to go camping.” At 10.10am the following day, Ben still hadn’t returned home after partying with the rest of The Plastics. As we learned during his beauty regime, he can’t let himself get too dry – famously “a dry skin means a dry life.” If that’s true, throw my parched corpse right into the sawdust pit tbh.

I know I’ve issued this sentiment before, but I firmly believe that Aaron needs to call an ambulance on himself.


Congratulations to our first unhappily married couple finally swallowing the decomposing rat that is their own hellish pairing. As the cocktail party stretched on and the martinis flowed like Dom’s tears, The Pretty Committee took it upon themselves to grill Luke about his intentions. “We’re not here to interrogate you,” said Bel, brandishing a small craft knife as Vicky held up a bloodied horse’s head.

I would not wish this dynamic on my worst enemy

These two couldn’t even share a hug let alone let alone a happy life together, and Lacey revealed at their counselling session that tomorrow she would be leaving the country tomorrow, travelling to the distant future when everyone wears elaborate bubble ponytails and nobody feels the need to mention it.

“I can’t have a relationship by myself,” Luke sighs. Or can you? He ended his time on the show by revealing his wedding ring on a beautiful woven harakeke necklace. We all know what to do with cursed reality romance necklaces by now, mate. I’ll start the bidding at $2.99.

Rest in peace Luke.

Take a peek behind the curtains of romance reality TV by clicking below to watch UnREAL, exclusively on Lightbox:

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