That’s how long it took for someone to go the smash pash on our Sam. But more on that later.
We open with the remaining 11 blokes having a very serious discussion about the “Bro Code” and its implementations, following the spectacular implosion of David, the International Model. I reiterate – He models. Internationally.
Sasha is holding court like it’s 3/4 time in the District Footy Grand Final and he’s trying to rev up the Wagga twos to get over the line against Leeton-Whitton (Go Tiges!).
Everyone agrees that the Bro Code is a legit waste of time – thank god – and everyone agrees to show some mutual respect t’wards each other. They all then cheers with mugs of tea, making this the most subtle Downton Abbey crossover of all time.
Osher then walks in wearing what I can only presume to be his “around home” cardigan, with a look on his face that’s like he only just remembered he went to the club last night, hoovered up the goey, and invited those 11 backpackers to crash in his lounge room.
“Oh! Right. That’s right. You’re all here.“
Sasha scores the solo date, and heads off with Sam, leaving the others to ponder their lonely fates.
The solo date, as it turns out, involves a pair of wildly attractive people teaching them the “Argentine Tango,” which ABSOLUTELY has to be some sort of sex thing ordinarily.
Together, Sam and Sasha are magnificently awkward, and it’s kind of adorable. But despite that, for a pair of people who just spent the better part of a few hours groin-adjacent, you’d think that wall between them and SnogTown would’ve been well and truly torn down, right?
Access fucking DENIED.
Meanwhile, back at Dude Manor, Will receives word of a group date. None of the other blokes are apparently keen enough to question exactly why he’s also been going through Sam’s clothes.
Just admit you didn’t pack anything, FFS. The production will get you a new shirt.
Will reveals a motley crew of eight who get the nod for the group date.
Will Himself.
Somebody LOVE ME Davey.
Michael the SocceRuse.
Budget Bradley Cooper/Kayne.
Dave the Plumber.
The practically interchangeable Kieran and Tony.
And finally Sir Not-Important-In-This-Segment.
And this is where things start to get really interesting, mostly because PUPPIES. PUPPIES EVERYWHERE.
Sam has them all paired up with a pack of pooches, which they must model with. Shirtless.
Everyone giggles and feigns humility but then is all…
Will wanders around with a fluffy white cloud looking like a blind hipster.
But then disrobes to reveal a disturbingly cut rig that pushes him even further towards Supervillain territory. Seriously, the dude’s jacked in the same way that you’d expect The Joker to be.
Meanwhile, Tony shows off his pecs to the other boys, along with an arm tattoo that looks suspiciously like a Juggalo gang sign. Fucking magnets. How do they work.
Michael the Socceruse impresses Sam the most and scores a little one-on-one time. Which is all well and good but can we please talk about Davey and his INCESSANT whinging for a moment?? Because it’s driving me straight-up nuts.
He doesn’t get a date? He whinges about not getting it.
He gets on the group date? He whinges about not getting enough time to show the “real” him.
He misses out on the one-on-one time because he was too busy trying to figure out how to present himself? He whinges again.
What happens if he gets a solo date? He whinges about not being able to show her how good at Yo-Yo he is?
“I haven’t had the chance to show her how I do the Walk The Dog yet, mate I am SPEWING.“
And while we’re on the subject, that hat, m8.
Either stick an air pump in it and blow it up to Pharrell-proportions, or get rid of it. You look like the world’s oldest Scout.
But then, we have the Cocktail Party.
And HOLY SHIT is it ever good.
After Sam whisks Dave the Plumber away for a quick chat, Kayne stalks the end of it and practices his greeting line.
“Hi. It me.“
And as Sam and Kayne settle in for a private chat, he unleashes possibly the single greatest sentence ever uttered on Australian TV.
“How do you feel about rap?“
Cue: The whole of Australia.
But it got better.
“I’ve written a rap for you.“
Cue: The whole of Australia.
For posterity, I have transcribed all of Kayne’s rap for you.
It is a thing of beauty.
Yo. Yo. Yo, check it.
Way back at the start of the year.
Through the hard times – tear after tear.
I saw an ad for The Bachelorette, Season One.
So I jumped online and filled the forms, it had begun.
Now here I am, which I never thought way back when.
But here I am sitting in front of a Perfect Ten.
I’m very grateful for the roses and my group dates.
I have more to offer. So I’ll grab the wine and you grab the plates.
I’ll give you the hot tip:
When I first saw you? You made me bite my bottom lip.
Happiness is on the top, I must say.
Treating people with respect. Everyone equal. That’s my life.
Namaste.
Seldom am I ever speechless about something on TV but that… I mean… Floored. Absolutely floored.
Rhymes in his mind embedded like an embryo.
Unfortunately for them both, the moment is cut short by Drew – aka Dr Sleep, who also veers into supervillain territory by lurking in the shadows.
Lurking.
Watching.
Waiting.
*SHUDDERS*
AND THEN THIS HAPPENS.
Sam grabs Sasha, because the pure animalistic heat of the Argentinian Tango cannot be denied.
Sasha admits he’s attracted to Sam. And Sam responds by turning into every single one of us after someone hot makes eyes at you.
AND THEN BOOM GOES THE DYNAMITE.
BACHELORETTE AUSTRALIA 2015 PASH COUNT: ONE REAAAAAAAALLY BIG ONE.
Pasha and Sam head back to the Rose Ceremony looking like flustered teens, Sasha eternally thankful the director asks they clasp their hands in FRONT of themselves.
Sam begins dishing out roses to everyone, admitting Kayne’s rap worked on her, which is very sweet. Although he does miss a golden opportunity to accept the rose by saying “I diggity diggity do.”
And ultimately, it’s Dr. Sleep’s insane voracious clinginess that does him in, and it is he who goes home flowerless tonight.
But not before probably the most frightening moment the show will produce all year.
Dr. Sleep.
The Joker.
Hugging.
Mother of god we are all fucking DOOMED.
