PREVIOUSLY ON THE BACHELORETTE AUSTRALIA: A nondescript bunch of blokes arrived at Dude Manor in the hopes of winning the hand of Georgia Love. But that part’s not important for today. Because all I need you to do is remember this bloke from last year:
Remember him? The INTERNATIONAL MODEL? Keep him in the back of your mind. This is important.
AND NOW, LAST NIGHT.
Holy tap-dancing hell it did *NOT* take long for shit to get bananas this season. It’s episode two, and I swear we’re already about to see a donnybrook.
Before we get into the really good/bad/frustrating bit of the episode, we need to quickly gloss over the first solo date of the year, which is awarded to Jake, even though he looks like the jock lead character in every teen movie.
“Sure, you can date Georgia. As long as you BEAT ME IN A GAME OF ONE-ON-ONE BASKETBALL WHICH IS THE THING YOU BROKE YOUR LEG DOING AT THE START OF THE MOVIE AND SWORE YOU’D NEVER DO AGAIN.”
At some point Georgia’s gonna rock up to a date with him in paint-speckled art overalls to show him that beauty is only skin-deep and there’s more to life than being Prom King.
She asks him to come “hang out,” which manifests itself very literally as an abseil down from a stricken cable car high above the Blue Mountains. Jake mentions that it’s lucky that he’s not afraid of heights which is funny because HAHAHA I SURE AS SHIT AM.
It’s 10 minutes in and this episode is already my literal nightmare.
After successfully thumbing their noses at death, the pair decide to consummate their new-found lease on life by locking lips, breaking the proverbial seal on smooching for season 2016.
That’s fine. That’s all well and good.
But goddamn, we need to talk about Sam.
THIS.
FUCKING.
GUY.
HOLY GODDAMN SHIT. What a knob.
The fact that he willingly reps a Los Angeles Kings cap – the hockey team for bandwagoners, douchebags, and people who don’t like hockey – aside, the literal entire episode is him whinging black and blue about how much he doesn’t like Rhys.
THE ENTIRE EPISODE.
Sam, along with Rhys, Clancy, Courtney, Cameron, Ben, Matt, Ryan, Aaron, and Lee all score the first group date, which is features the keyword “shoot” in the clue. Immediately Sam assumes this means it’s gonna be paintball. Y’know, that super romantic activity where you put that woman you’re all chasing in a position to be shot with a fucking gun.
Instead, it’s a PHOTO shoot for Mills & Boon, wherein the boys will all be gracing the covers of the world’s most iconic thinly veiled literary porn series.
Rhys, who has gleefully owned up to being a model, begins dishing out advice to the other boys who need it. Sam does not like this. Sam does not like Rhys. In a confusing series of thoughts, Sam at once asserts that he doesn’t want to “own up” to being a secret model himself, and then chastises Rhys for giving out shitty information.
Mate, if you’re not gonna talk about it, don’t get shitty when someone else does. I don’t particularly want to own up to being an avid reader of Babysitter’s Club books in my younger days, but I’m not about to flip the table if someone else misquotes it.
In world-record time, Rhys gets his formidable rig out for the shoot, which simply involves chucking a bucket of water on his head.
Check out Georgia in the background there, while I’m at it.
Rhys is laying down a fierce rig game, and my girl is picking. that. shit. up.
Sam finally cops to being kind of a model when pressed by Georgia, and in the face of a very shirtless Rhys, admitting that he’s done some little campaigns for things like Big W and Aldi which is deadset one of the biggest lols this series has ever produced. Now I get why he was trying to hide his modelling career. THE SHAME.
The problem with Sam’s CONSTANT sooking about how much he doesn’t like Rhys – seriously guys, did you hear he doesn’t like Rhys? Because he really doesn’t like Rhys – is that Rhys is one hundred percent oblivious to it. He gives so few shits about Sam, he’s such a non-factor in his Bachelorette experience, that Sam’s blind, seething rage that permeates every little thing he says to him doesn’t even register.
And that makes Sam fucking furious.
Check him out when Rhys ambles in to interrupt Sam’s one-on-one chat with Georgia:
That’s the look of a man who’s very confused as to whether he wants to punch his nemesis, or kiss him square on the mouth. My money’s on kiss.
At this point last season, when the great villain emerged in David the INTERNATIONAL MODEL (a man who models internationally, as it turns out), Sam Frost summarily turfed him out on his arse in what was the arguably the greatest single-episode implosion in reality TV history.
So now, with SECRET MODEL Sam losing his ever-loving shit over a petty feud with a bloke who doesn’t even know he’s in a petty feud, you’d think Georgia might pick up on his constant insecurity, his raging inferiority complex, his incessant bickering, snide remarks, bitchy quips, and general douchebaggery; you’d think given all that, now might be the perfect opportunity to dump him out on his just-here-for-a-root jealous buttocks.
But instead, it’s Ben who fails to score a rose. Sweet, adorable, bug-eyed, hilarious Ben who always looks like he’s either on the way to, or on the way back home from Defqon.1.
Go figure.
Osher arrives to officially demob Ben, and gives Georgia the kind of side-eyed wink that both reassures her and lets all of us know that he’s watching all this too, and he feels our pain.
Osher gets it, y’all. Osher always gets it.
NEXT TIME:
Honestly, if Sam spends another episode sooking about Rhys I’m going to jump into the freaking ocean.
It me.
Photos: The Bachelorette/Channel Ten.
