The Bachelor

Somehow, we’ve made it to the final week of this crap heap without busting a lung, and for what?

Welcome to another seventy minutes of every dermatologist’s dream.

Our favourite brain cell-crushing feature-length sunscreen ad is back for its fifth week.

To date, Jarrod’s developed more moles than love interests, Leah’s had more Corona’s than kisses, Simone’s lost more friends than job prospects and Apollo’s caught more eyes than volleyballs.

Welcome to another episode of Drunk Skunks Get Loose At A Ritzy Western Resort & All Drown Trying To Paddleboard. It’s nearly the end of the fourth week and we’re in the thick of it now. Poolside flings have turned into whirlwind romances, everybody’s hair has been bleached green from the chlorine and Wais has run out of tequila and has instead been quietly making metho and tonics to really spice things up.

Over in Paradise, tensions are building, mojitos are free-flowing and Channel Ten’s ratings are getting a cheeky nudge every time Megan talks about her sexuality.

What the flaming heck.

Week three of ‘Krazy Keira & Capsicum Jarrod Breakup Again In Paradise’ is drawing to a close and so far we’ve seen more romance between Tom and Wayne’s dogs on Gogglebox than in the entire duration of this show. The whole cast is dehydrated and high on chlorine, and Osh looks like he’s on the verge of a stroke every time he shows up in a twelve-piece dinner suit he’s clearly whittled out of an IKEA shag rug.

Previously on Getting White Girl Wasted On Warm Prosecco In A Solar Heated Lap Pool, the producers lobbed a fox into the hen house by throwing two ripped AF American hornbags into the mix causing Keira to go into heat and Jarrod to go into cardiac arrest.

Guys, stop everything, Channel 10 may just have redeemed themselves.

Who's coming through the Love Gate this week?

PSA: You have to be single to go on The Bachelor (we're shocked too).

We have a lot of feelings.

Somehow, through brutal karma or just dismal casting, Sophie has come out the other end of a flaw-riddled match-making competition with two absolute crumbs by her side. One wants to chain her to a superyacht, the other wants to wear her skin as a power blazer, both need a swift jab to the jugular. While six days of tv ads tells us that Sophie’s fallen head over heels in love, it’s clear that the only winner from this year’s season is the tourism industry of whatever subtropical Australasian island Jetstar was selling dirt-cheap flights to four months ago.

Somehow five weeks has slipped by since Jarrod made Sophie stomp on six kilos of Woolies white seedless grapes and already we’re being welcomed into the homes of Australia’s most eligible suitors/deranged psychopaths. Blake’s snuck in an extra round of his smile, Stu’s had the flares widened on his bootleg jeans, Apollo’s rescued a baby from a burning building and Jarrod’s built a moisture-proof dome over his shrivelled love fern. Basically it’s been another week in paradise.

We are already one month into this absolute shit storm of a love story and so far someone has pissed on a plant, a man cried over a dirty rag, a seven-foot bodybuilding wizard bent a fork with his MIND, a woman-hater punched a wardrobe and Sophie Monk said ‘condom’ on national TV. So while love may not be in the air just yet, the scent of dead love fern and testosterone is running bloody rampant through our nostrils.

We’re already two weeks into the third season of The Bachelorette and so far $6.45 has been spent on producing it. Sophie is loving herself sick in all the new outfits the designers have been digging up for her at the Salvos, meanwhile Osher is still learning how to talk like one of the boys without getting hit with a defamation case.

Crack out the footy franks and a tall glass of Tia Maria on the rocks because the Bogan Queen has risen and the days of archaic misogyny on The Bachelor are [almost] O-V-A-H.

After eight weeks of watching Matty road test eleven different sports cars, the moment we found out which womb he’s going to grow Wet Blanket Jr in finally arrived.

We’re only a week away from finding out which fertile womb Matty’s going to chain to his kitchen sink and the producers are pulling out all the stops to make sure he’s portrayed as a soulless schlep with washboard abs until the very end.

It has been nigh on five weeks since Matty first met all 22 of his potential prodigy incubators and though the first episode provided a few warning signs surrounding mansion moles, it didn’t even scratch the cervix of the drama that would plague the wombs this season.

We’re four weeks into the most drama-fueled season of The Bachelor Australia to date and the cracks in the unfertilised ovum are beginning to show.

We’re three weeks into the most dramatic season of The Bachelor Australia to date and it seems Channel Ten is pulling out all the stops in an attempt to unsuccessfully steal the Dance Moms crowd over on 9Life, but hats off to them for trivialising the sanctity of marriage during such a non-topical time in Australian politics anyway.

Episode three was a romanticised nod to historical adultery and the objectification of women for their rich reproductive currency.

We’re one week into Matty J’s pilgrimage to fatherhood and not one but twenty-two age inappropriate office administrators have thrown their hollow wombs at his rock hard fourteen-pack.

​Hello and welcome to another season of Australia’s Next Top Radio Host & C-List Television Personality. After a gruelling hour and 45 minutes of 22 women passive aggressively asking if they should ‘cut another woman’s grass’, we pulled together the first official power rankings for Season 5 of Jim’s Mowing The Bachelor.