Bland Canyon

Australia's Next Top Model Wrap Up: Series 5/FINALE

2009-07-13T14:44:00.035+09:30

"OMG can you believe she did it again?"

"Petstarr's not blogging the Top Model finale. Bitch."

"That is SO Jodhi of her."

"She has TOTALLY sold out to Foxtel. Did you hear she gets paid like, a million dollars specifically NOT to blog the finale?"

"That is SOY disappointing."

WELL FEAR NOT, KIDDIES! I'M BACK! What, did you think I'd leave you in the lurch again after what you guys did to me last year? I think the whip wounds are still healing after that one, sheesh.

Contrary to popular belief I have NOT "sold out" to Foxtel (although given I still don't even own a Foxtel connection at my house the day they offer me something I swear I'll come a-running). No, the truth is - I'm a lazy cow. And I work. The combination of the two resulting in today's SIX DAY LATE FINALE WRAP UP! HURRAH!

Better late than never, eh peeps?

As some of you may know already, I flew all the way to Sydney to be in the audience of the live finale at Luna Park (and YES, I paid for the plane tickets myself - such is my rampant obssession with this show). I was accompanied by my delightful partner in ANTM blogging crime, Jo Blogs, who looked a vision in a very short silk frock and shoes she borrowed from Identity Dawson. I kid you not. NEXT TIME YOU WANT TO CLEAR OUT YOUR WARDROBE, DAWS, I'M RIGHT HERE. (not that I'd ever fit into anything in Dawson's wardrobe, but I could have it framed and sell it on Ebay. Or stuff it and keep it as a pet, whatever.)

It was a dark and stormy night on the banks of ol' Sydney Harbour, the giant gaping mouth of the Luna Park face appearing to swallow whole the hordes of over dressed pre-teens that had won tickets through radio competitions to be there. And as the winds howled and the rains pelted down, the two intrepid bloggers handed in their tickets to the ever so slightly smelly bouncer and took a few steps inside the auditorium, inching ever closer to their destiny as they... What? Oh alright, fine.

Present tense = engage. Dot points = engage. GAME ON, MOLLS.

It's the glitziest, most glamorous night of the Fox 8 calendar, and all of Australia's A Grade celebrities have turned out in their droves - Anthony Callea and his boyfriend I forget the name of are in the front row, which is a good indication of the calibre of the crowd. The man from Project Runway who wears glasses and wants to be Tim Gunn but isn't good enough is also there, plus some random scrags who didn't win last year and OH MY GOD IT'S LADY DI! Oh no wait, that's just Clare's mum. Funny, I thought maybe they'd dug her up for the occasion.

All the judges have decided to go classy, simple and elegant in all black attire. Except for Pease, who is boldly fighting those nasty rumours by wearing pink.
Demelza is there too (what do you mean "who?" - the Ferrero Rocher ambassador, remember?), looking like a cross between a teenager going to her first prom and your mum. Squinty McSquinterson aka Jordan from season 3 is also there, still looking like you could plug an appliance into her face. All is normal.

Wth a flourish of angel's trumpets, Blondie McPins descends from the heavens in a dress that makes her look like a delicious (yet somehow slimming) wedding cake. God's OWN wedding cake. That can reduce cellulite AND cure cancer.

Pezza shrieks my own personal philosophy on life: "IF THERE'S NO BITCHING, WHAT'S THE POINT?"

Cut to Australia's most over exposed Gen Y-er, Ruby Rose, who is backstage looking much more awesome than she sounds. Thankfully she's wearing a fabulously over the top sequinned number with pretty sparkles to distract me from the godawful interviews she's stumbling her way through. Sample: "And here we have Joh Bailey from..... Joh Bailey."

Not to be confused with Jo Bailey from Sale of the Century.

Clearly Cassi and Tahnee have both signed lucrative contracts with Oral B, which is why they can no longer show their faces on camera.

"These women are dentists..."

On the other hand, would Oral B really cast Cassi in an ad?

Probably not.

LOSER PARADE: in what seems like a particularly cruel decision on behalf of the producers, all the loser models have to come out and stand around in the outfits they were wearing when they got kicked off the show. Laura T lucks out, having to wear a hot pink 1950s bathing suit, Madison limps along the catwalk in that godawful metallic bikini and lime green blouse looking like something that just crawled out of the Cross at 3am on a Wednesday, but the cruellest blow of all is saved for Georgie (who?) who looks ooh, about 18 weeks, courtesy of the worst ruffle in the history of mankind.

This photo proves that all examples of this top everywhere should be hurled onto a giant fashion bonfire, along with harem pants and anything involving velour.

Further solidifying my suspicion that Laura M's boobs are too big to fit into Chanel, Laura M is not wearing Chanel despite being voted off after the Chanel challenge.

Lola lurches down the runway in a dress like... well, Lurch. In a dress. Gorgeous smile though. Could swallow you whole.

Little Oz Idol Jess "Muffin Top" Mauboy sings a song, wears a skirt so short the front rows are automatically temporarily employed as her gynaecologist.

Gee it was nice of Fabio to turn up... oh wait, that's Russell James.

The most beautiful man in the cosmos?

Claudia Von Strange Accenten from Harpers Bazaar starts to say something, approximately three weeks pass, Dawson's has a touch up botox injection, Pezza polishes his noggin, I make a roast dinner banquet for 30 people and wallpaper my spare room, Claudia finishes her sentence.

Back to Ruby in the audience for another scintillating interview, this time with the world's least excited Tahnee fan. If only she were as excited as Alice Burdeu:

I AM THRILLED TO BE HERE.

Oh good, Ruby's got another little poppet to talk to in the audience, this should be good. Aaaaaand, it isn't. Let's move on.

"Mummy, why is the scary tattooed lady talking to me?"

Time for a fashion parade (at least, that's what they're calling it - it looks a bit more like "toddlers break into the dress up box" parade to me).

In what would seem to be a ploy by the producers to get more votes for Tahnee, Tahnee is dressed in a spunky miniskirt and jacket, while Cassi is forced to limp down the runway in a tablecloth.

Stealing the prize from Up-The-Duff-Georgie for worst outfit of the night is Adelaide's own Eloise, in a hideous underwear-as-outerwear catastrophe that makes her look like an extra from the porno version of the musical Chicago- Cockago.

"I'm gonna rip my top and pull my undies down - and all that jazz!"

In other news, this is the most interesting thing Eloise has done all series.

The combination of a flared, floral pantsuit and a black sequinned bolero jacket makes Laura M looks like a character who wandered off the cover of a Mammas and Papas LP and straight through the back door of Studio 54, before drinking one too many pina coladas and winding up in the gutter choking on glitter.

Mikarla, meanwhile, is forced to wear her own clothes in the parade because of the GFC.

Thankfully Tahnee is there to put the "fashion" back into "fashion parade" in her completely stunningly mindblowingly amazingly gorgeous Alex Perry gown. She looks SO HOT she should be illegal. Actually, at 17 years old she probably IS in several states.

And then there's Cassi, making a hot dress look lukewarm because THE GIRL CAN'T WALK, WHAT THE HELL??!! Trust me - it does NOT look better in person.

Blondie makes the mistake of asking Claudia what she thinks of the final two. "Let's start with Cassi," she drawls, as I gently slip into a coma and await the end of days.

Approximately 53 years later, when Claudia has eventually stopped talking about Cassi, we resume the telecast, the show having been renamed "Australia's Next Top Geriatric Model" and hosting duties having been taken over by Ruby Rose's grandchild.

Back to Ruby Rose (oh goody...) who is backstage talking to contestants from Project Runway, who have apparently designed dresses for the models to wear to the show's after party. Here's some insider information: NO ONE WORE THESE DRESSES.

Ruby stumbles over Lola's name, leading to many hilarious joke possibilities about Ruby not being able to get her mouth around Lola. This then leads to many other hilarious jokes about Lola being able to get HER mouth around ANYTHING.

Pezza and Dawson attempt to wring some comedy out of 13 models without putting them in tight pants and pushing them over, or dangling hamburgers on fishing lines in front of them, which is quite a feat, really.

Dawson announces Mikarla has put on 10 kilos, at which point I know I'm in a parallel universe because Mikarla smiles and says "thank you" instead of throwing a Maccers bag full of fag butts at her face and screaming "SHUT UP, SCRAG!" What the hell is going on here?

Proof that the ANTM editors cut out any footage of Clare that showed any semblance of a personality is revealed when Blondie shows a video of Clare in a boy's wig shouting "I'M CRANKAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!". This is never explained.

Blondie comes out in THE MOST AMAZINGLY GORGEOUS SILVER SEQUINNED DRESS I HAVE EVER SEEN, BETTER EVEN THAN TAHNEE'S SUPER-CORSETTED GOWN, OH MY GOD I WANT ONE WHERE CAN I GET ONE (FOR FREE)? I sincerely hope they suspend her from the ceiling and shine strobe lights on her at the after party.

Tahnee and Cassi talk about their favourite moments from the series, a segment which is memorable only for the fact that Cassi actually looks decent outside of a photo shoot for the first time ever, and for the moment where she explains that she has an "hourglass figure". Unless she's talking about those special designer hourglasses shaped like a chopstick, I don't think I agree.

Russell James tells Cassi she has "an erratic curve" - maybe he owns one of those hourglasses too?

Pezza says "amazing". Pease says "amazing". Dawson says "amazing". Anyone still playing the drinking games from the 2007 finale should check themselves into rehab IMMEDIATELY.

Tahnee reveals she has "a body that can relate to most teenage girls". Teenage boys across the nation weep in despair, wailing "WHAT ABOUT US? RELATE YOUR BODY TO US!".

Cassi reveals she is "the most matured" out of all of the models on the show, mainly because she's stopped having strops, saying "fuck" on the runway and punching people.*

*NB: Cassi may not have actually stopped any of these things.

Pease votes for Tahnee. Claudia takes a deep breath, tries to say something in less than 20 minutes, fails, votes for Cassi. Russell James says it's like having to decide between one model you've never heard of and another model you've never heard of, which is fairly apt considering most of the world has never heard of Tahnee OR Cassi. He votes for Cassi. Boo.

Tahnee's mum comes out, looks nothing like Tahnee. Cassi's mum comes out, looks nothing like Cassi. What a moment.

Muffintop Mauboy returns, sings a note so shrill that Tahnee's nose starts to bleed. Either that, or Cassi headbutted her backstage.

Australia's Next Top Headbutting Victim!

Blondie "calls on herself" to deliver her vote. Then thanks herself and says "you're welcome" before voting for Tahnee.

Everyone craps on about how beautiful Tahnee is while pretending not to notice the litres of blood spewing out of her face. It's like a fucking horror film up there, seriously.

Priscilla votes for Cassi, little knowing that less than 24 hours later the "boganista" would be flipping her the finger while fanging it back to Sunbury with her bricklayer boyfriend, never to bother the world of modelling again...

Dawson gives Cassi a half hour lecture entitled "Dating a Bogan Boyfriend and How it Can Adversely Affect One's Career". Meanwhile, Cassi's boyfriend hoons down to the Sunbury servo to buy her flowers, chocolates and a card that says "Don't Leave Me".

Dawson votes Tahnee. Pezza votes Cassi. 82% of the viewing audience vote for Tahnee. You do the math. (Hint - the answer equals Tahnee plus a lot of confetti).

And there you have it kids - Tahnee the size 10, big boobed, monotone-speaking lust-bomb is our winner for 2009. AMAZING! Thanks for joining me, it's been a blast. God knows what I'm going to do now... when does Idol start?

ANTM live Twitter updates

2009-07-07T14:40:00.002+09:30

Hey Y'all.

This is the rarely-heard-from-these-days Raoul Duke for PetStarr, who's currently en route to ANTM headquarters for tonight's SOY exciting (did I get it right?) finale!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

As part of a fashionably post-modern (but higly risky) experiment, Petstar will be live-blogging tonight's antics via her twitter page so by all means tune in.

In other news, I will be at home on the couch with our puppy-childlive-blogging very exciting developments there, that may or may not include eating fruit, watching higly depressing music documentaries I'm not allowed to watch when Petstarr is home (Morrissey, Jeff Buckley) and "researching" various "sites" on the "internet".

Australia's Next Top Model Wrap Up: Series 5/Ep 10

2009-06-30T20:30:00.000+09:30

OMG IT'S LIKE, TOYTALLY THE PENULTIMATE EPISODE!!! We are like, SOY down to the final three scrags and by the end of the night we'll be like, SOY TOYTALLY down to the final two! OMG!!1!1!111

Have a random picture of Adele to celebrate.

Given the importance of this event, coupled with the fact that the only remaining episode in the series is next week's TOYTALLY LIVE FINALLY which I will be personally attending (if my boss gives me the day off... fingers crossed), I thought it was appropriate to have a quick look back at the loser modelettes who paved the way for our top three - Tahnee, Cassi and Adelaide's finest, Clare.

Laura T.

As yes, Laura T - most memorable for being the one that wasn't Laura M. Remember that time she... no wait, that was someone else. Er... moving on.

Leah.

Leah - the girl I initially thought looked rather like Sam from season four but who actually ended up looking more like Paloma from season three. Or like a busted sandshoe, as she does here.

Laura M.

Laura M - the one Pezza thought was a dead ringer for Lucy Liu solely because she was Asian, was dismissed in episode 6 with Blondie's immortal words: "You have a career in front of you." Unfortunately she also had two massive knockers in front of her which precluded her from ever modelling Chanel.

Lola.
(Was it mandatory for all contestants to have a name starting with L this year or what?)

Lola, aka "The Jaw", had a mandible the size of a Mini Minor and could accidentally swallow small children whole when sneezing. Sadly she never accidentally inhaled Cassi, so we've had to put up with her for the whole series.

Adele.

Adele - possibly the spawn of Alamela the Ranga Modelbot and Alexandra the Goot-Loving Manchild from season 4, this rather stiff little number had about as much facial range as Harrison Ford on Botox. But WOW was she good at maths.

Mikarla.

Mikarla - the season's undisputed bogan queen until Cassi stepped up, put down her Bacardi Breezer, puffed Winnie Blue smoke in her face and yanked her crown away, this Claudia Schiffer lookalike fell victim to the patented ANTM "after school special - teach them a moralistic lesson" campaign in episode 4 and was booted due to "bad attitude". Meanwhile, Cassi remains as yet undefeated... Go figure.

Georgie.

Er... um... Anyone? Anyone at all remember this chick?

Madison.

From the first hair flick of the opening credits we knew we were going to get something special from Madison. Despite the fact that they've made her look about 45 years old in this sequence, Maddy turned into quite a looker. Apart from the frizzy hair. And the bad skin. And the... oh look, I'm sure she's a nice girl.

Franky.

Franky wasn't the most reliable model on the block, which perhaps explains why they got Deni Hines drunk and used her in the opening titles instead.

Eloise.

She was from Adelaide and... stuff.

Ahem, right so with that trip down nostalgia lane over and done with let's get into it - this week's episode kicks off with a visit to Priscilla's modelling agency, where Blondie McPins has arrived to show off her new chest tattoo:

Blondie's bitchin' chest ink makes all the girls swoon.

Blondie and P-Money tell the girls they'll be doing totally-real-and-not-already-predetermined catwalk castings for "top designers" for Australian Fashion Week. Cassi has her fingers crossed for Supre.

And so off they go in their shiny blue advertisement to Ginger and Smart, where they... Sorry? Ginger and Smart. No, Ginger and SMART. They're designers. DESIGNERS, I said. GINGER AND SMA - look, it doesn't matter, they're at a casting, OK?

Either Ginger or Smart (I can't tell which, as neither of them is visibly either) tells Clare she needs to "embody" what the label is all about, which apparently is being "modern, polished and effortless".

Like a doorknob.

Clare pulls off a perfect doorknob impression which scores her a place in their show, and she rushes out to tell the others who are crouched on the floor on the sparse G&S hallway. Soooo maybe don't expect a paycheck anytime soon, Clare - times are obviously tough round this company.

Meanwhile, next week's models will be asked to embody "wooden, four-legged and comfortable".

Next up is Tahnee, who fails to get a guernsey, followed by Cassi, who is sure to impress.

How could this girl NOT be a model?

In a big purple sack dress she limps through the office like Grimace on crack, almost tripping up on her own shoes, and finishes off with a big, gummy smile. It's obviously a shock when she doesn't get the gig.

So it's off to Wayne Cooper for the next casting. Monsieur Cooper describes Clare as "smouldering" and Tahnee as "all woman" which , apart from being completely creepy, given she is 17, I think means she has hips. Cassi once again does her Boris Karloff impression down the catwalk which is about as impressive as her Grimace impression, and somehow still lands the gig. Guess Cooper's not being too choosy these days, what with the GFC and all.

"Clare had booked two shows and Cassi had booked one and I'd booked none," explains Tahnee, who has clearly taken over from Adele as the resident maths brain of the group.

Off to Nicola Finetti, where Cassi decides to try out a new catwalk impression: that of a wonky supermarket trolley.

It was nothing like this - but don't you think this girl looks like a wonky supermarket trolley? Best clip ever.

Actually it's more like a WHINY supermarket trolley, as after she slips over in her high heels which AFTER 10 WEEKS SHE STILL HASN'T LEARNED HOW TO WALK IN she blames it on her "weak ankles". Weak excuse? Yes. Weak ankle? No.

Tahnee throws on a hideous dress made out of what Nicola found on the factory floors at Inghams and does her best to make it look good, but only elicits a murmur from the man himself that sounds a little like "She's very perforated I think". I have no idea what this means, but his assistant seems to think it's funny. Er, how about some subtitles? The man sounds like an extra in the Godfather for god's sake.

Cassi doesn't get the gig because her walk isn't "sexy and 80s" enough.

What about "sexy" and "in her 80s"?

Remembering he can claim all charitable donations back on tax, Nicola reluctantly gives the perforated Tahnee a go, and obviously Clare also gets in because she's an awesome, arse-kicking fairy princess who can do no wrong. CLARE FOR PM!

Then it's off to walk for a swimwear designer called Something and Something (aren't they all? Doesn't anyone work ALONE anymore?) which Clare fails because she doesn't have boobs, Tahnee fails because she does have boobs and Cassi wins, despite looking like a bogan chopstick wrapped in a couple of bandaids.

Finally they all troop off to a big advertisement for Diet Coke where they meet Pease (what the hell? Has he been absent for like, five episodes or what?) and do a catwalk audition for what feels like the 500th time this episode.

"You can't just be a skinny, hungry-looking bitch model, you've got to be bubbly," says Clare, who has clearly been studying her Diet Coke commercials in preparation for this very day.

Diet Coke. It's got bubbles.

In an event as unpredictable as the jokes in Rove's opening monologue, all three modelettes get the job. Yay. Are we finished with go-sees yet? THANK GOD.

It's time for the Ginger and Smart show - Clare stands backstage, wide-eyed and amazed at all the goings on of a real, live fashion show.

"There were models, and photographers and DRESSES," she gasps. Next episode: Clare goes to a library, and marvels at all the books.

She slinks down the catwalk in a naught but a test pattern and a tuxedo jacket, and somehow looks a million dollars. Not only does she look great but she manages to break several laws of physics by, as Blondie says, both fitting in AND standing out. IS THERE ANYTHING THIS GIRL CAN'T DO? (Apart from gain a natural tan?)

Then it's off to Wayne Cooper - or is it ALICE Cooper? Judging by the makeup, quite possibly:

She's in the department of youth.

"Not only did he have the judges in the audience, but he had MASSIVE VIPs in the audience too," says Cassi, a valiant attempt to suck up to Wayne Cooper that is rather undermined by the accompanying footage, which shows Kerri-Anne Kennerley and two miscellaneous 20-somethings I've never seen before in my life.

Sadly, other massive VIPs couldn't make it.

Meanwhile, Cassi prepares by going through her mental checklist of things not to do on the catwalk: stack it, swear or look like a retarded eight year old from the 70s.

Two out of three ain't bad.

But as usual Cassi's biggest challenge is walking in a straight line, which she fails by making a beeline for the front row halfway down the catwalk. I blame the sunglasses.

"I have no idea what to expect," monotones Tahnee as she gets haired and madeup for the Nicola Finetti show. Here's a hint, Tahnee - lots of people sitting around a catwalk that you walk up and down. Think you can handle that?

Tahnee takes to the runway and... woah... I mean... JEEZ. GOOD LORD - do they have no bras backstage for the girl to wear? It's like the opening sequence of Baywatch, for christ's sake. Who knew Tahnee's knockers were that big?

Tahnee turns at the end of the runway and one side of the audience quickly ducks to avoid being knocked out by her nipples.

"There's something about Tahnee," says Blondie. Two things I think, actually.

The next day, lovely models Tahnee and Clare decide to do their bit for charity by bringing a young homeless boy along with them to Fashion Week and... oh, hang on.

Nice to see she dressed up for the occasion.

And it's off to the Anna and Boy show, which is being held in a corridor somewhere in the outer suburbs of Sydney. Cassi stomps up and down in bathers, white socks and brogues (well what do YOU wear to the beach?) and everyone calls her Christmas, despite her looking like a car accident victim who's only just learned how to walk again.

"This is the tightest top three ever, I don't know how to eliminate a girl," frets Blondie.

Here's a tip: why not eliminate the girl who only booked two shows, can't walk in a straight line and has teeth like a picket fence that's been through a hurricane? Just sayin'.

And finally we wind up with the Diet Coke little black dress parade: Like a big, gorgeous, fired up lust-bomb, Tahnee almost explodes out of her black Alex Perry dress which is littler than most (or maybe it's just that her boobs are so big); Clare looks fab despite having a spear sticking out the back of her head for the whole show (perhaps Cassi put it there); Cassi earns a heap of compliments by managing to NOT walk awkwardly (she's had 10 weeks, you'd think that'd be a given by now).

Blondie, Pezza, Identity and Pease heap praise, Cassi has a cry about not being good enough and viewers around Australia simultaneously repress the urge to headbutt their televisions.

"I don't play those sorts of games," snips Pezza, which makes me wonder - what sort of games DOES Pezza play?

Monopoly?

Kerplunk?

Definitely Twister with Dawson.

Everyone wanks on about how difficult it will be to eliminate someone this week. IT'S REALLY NOT THAT HARD, LOOK:

CLARE: Can walk in a straight line.

TAHNEE: Can walk in a straight line.

CASSI: Can't walk in a straight line. And complains and cries all the time.

Simple maths. If only Adele were still around.

The next day at the... well, not at the model mansion, which they've been seemingly turfed out of since returning from London (clearly Fox 8 spent all their rent money on shitty plastic Sarah Mail props). At wherever they are, Blondie turns up to announce the prize for the winner of the fashion week challenge - via television.

"Woah, it must be big if it's on television!" gasps Tahnee, who I'm guessing still wonders how TV stars manage to fit inside such a tiny box.

Unsurprisingly the winner is Clare, who wins a trip to Cable Beach. Unsurprisingly, Cassi has a cry about losing. Unsurprisingly, viewers everywhere start balling their hands into fists of rage and muttering "Shut up, just SHUT UP YOU COW."

Next thing you know there's a Sarah Mail delivery courtesy of Clare's mum (don't ask, the explanation is really not worth it) and all the girls are shuffled off to a beach with an improbable amount of friendly dolphins in it for their last photo shoot.

"We pulled up to Garie Beach, and when we saw that it was a beach we all thought 'Oh no'," says Clare. Would have thought the name was a bit of giveaway myself, but there you go.

"Duh, and when I saw Ayers Rock was a rock I thought 'Oh no'."

It's an extremely windy day down at the seaside - fortunately Cassi has rugged up in THE ONLY JUMPER SHE HAS WORN IN EVERY SINGLE EPISODE FOR THIS ENTIRE TRIP. She's also decided to do her best Elmer Fudd impression as an innovative way of keeping warm.

"I weally, weally want to win."

But it's not as hot as Pease Porridge's tribute to the late, great Michael Jackson - even if he has forgotten the sunglasses and bandaids.

Not such a smooth-shaving criminal.

"Today you're going to have to produce pure magic in front of the lens," says Pease.

Sadly for Tahnee, who stayed up all night learning card tricks, he's talking metaphorically, and all three modelettes are chucked into some flimsy bridal gowns and thrown into the surf for a group shot.

Bitching brides on the beach shoot in a nutshell:

Cassi displays a sad lack of understanding of how STIs are transmitted by exclaiming "Sure I'll put my arm around Clare - it's not like she has herpes or anything".

Just like in a 1980s beer commercial, a wave knocks Cassi's dress clean off. Somewhere, John Singleton is smiling.

Meanwhile, flimsy white dresses + crashing surf = exactly what you'd expect. Somewhere, a pervy old man is smiling. Probably in the dunes. With a long range camera.

The photographer describes Clare as "comfortable with moving", a skill which should come in handy if she ever wants to go from one place to another.

Cassi lies down in the surf, does a passable impression of a piece of driftwood wrapped in discarded toilet paper.

Tahnee, who in three years will clearly be the next Megan Gale, causes steam to rise from the waves, she's so hot. In other news: Tahnee is 17, and I feel a bit wrong.

And with that, it's off to the elimination warehouse where one model faces the prospect of being kicked off the show to be slaughtered, skinned and turned into a race day hat for Charlotte Dawson.

Each modelette is asked to say why they should win and what their weaknesses are.

Tahnee says "Er, um... oh.. I want to cry" and then lists her weakness as her body, which makes ME want to cry.

Cassi takes her Bogan hat off and puts her Big Fat Bitch Bogan hat on, claiming the other girls are just in it for the money and she's not, and she really needs a job because she doesn't live at home and her mum's overseas. Ever heard of Coles, Cassi? Maccers?

She then goes on to say how she no longer punches walls or people, at which Blondie exclaims "That's amazing!", as if learning NOT to punch people is a real achievement that should be rewarded. Never mind the thousands of formerly calm and passive viewers around the country who are being driven to violence by Cassi's weekly bitching and moaning.

Clare does an impression of a Year 10 debating team captain by "starting with a quote", which turns out to be something Blondie's agent made up and emailed in a statement to Foxtel magazine. It's a polished and impressive start, which she then ruins by crying about being called prissy all the time.

"I'm never going to apologise for having a good education and therefore being well spoken," she declares, a statement which has me all ready to wave my "CLARE FOR PM" flag even harder from the couch until she bursts into tears and ruins the whole performance.

But then the emotional guitar music starts which, as we all know, cues the start of a possible Oscar winning performance:

"My dad's a train driver and my mum was homeless at my age," she continues.

"They've had to drag themselves up from the gutter to get everything that me and my sister need, and that includes a good education, so if that makes me a prissy princess THEN I'LL WEAR THAT BADGE WITH HONOUR."

YES YOU CAN, CLARE!

It's a truly inspiring speech and actually, I think good on her. There's nothing wrong with being quiet, well spoken and intelligent - apart from the drawback that you'll probably always get served last at the bar - and just because Aussies love to glorify braindead, beer-swilling, fag-puffing bogans doesn't mean you have to be one.

Gosh, I've come over all motherly... best get on with the picture bitch.

The group shot is completely and utterly gorgeous, which means there's nothing funny at all to say about it. Pity, that.

Identity Dawson, who has either just had a new bionic arm installed or is entering the Guiness Book of Records for "Most bangles worn on one arm", outs Tahnee as a Scientologist by claiming that another being is inhabiting her body.

If only she didn't have to use her wrist she could have crammed another one on.

Cassi looks delicious, which is rather annoying as I was kind of hoping they'd get rid of her this episode. Sigh.

Blondie declares that after 10 weeks they've finally broken Clare, at which point Dawson exclaims "WE'VE BROKEN THAT BI... prom queen!". Niiiice cover up, Daws.

Blondie chooses Tahnee as her favourite, the guest judge from New York picks Cassi and Pezza chooses Clare, which means Dawson and the photographer have the deciding vote. Can we vote for Pease to leave the show instead?

As always, someone has to leave. But not Tahnee, who goes through as the first TOP TWO candidate.

"Good luck," says Cassi to Clare.

"Don't worry about it," replies Clare. Er...?

As it turns out, Cassi doesn't worry about it at all because it's Clare who's given the boot. Clare celebrates her loss by trying on Cassi's Big Fat Bogan Bitch hat before going home, telling Cassi she's got a bad attitude and doesn't deserve to win and imploring viewers not to vote for her. Then she throws her stuffed animal in the pool. Fair cop, I say.

And so it goes - Tahnee big boobs and Cassi small brain are our final two. What do you think? Was Clare robbed? Who will win? Will my boss give me the day off next week to attend the show? All these questions and more answered at next Tuesday's GRAND FINALE!

Australia's Next Top Model Wrap Up: Series 5/Ep 9

2009-06-23T20:30:00.000+09:30

OH MY GOD, we're down to the FINAL FOUR - can you feel the excitement? Or actually, as this is ANTM - can you fee-eel the chay-aay-aaaange?

There may be four left standing, but as Adele has no doubt already calculated in that gorgeous, gigantic brain of hers, only one can win. Fortunately all the losers who aren't picked up by Priscilla's (what, you think you actually have to WIN this thing to be a model?) will be able to find work in the Clash cover band Cassi is putting together - after several weeks of highly irritating rehearsals she's almost perfected their first song, Should I Stay Or Should I Go.

And she's already got the Joe Strummer teeth, so she's halfway there with costuming already.

Despite not even having an album out yet, the band is already preparing for its first tour to the UK - Cassi is so excited she Googles the lyrics to London Calling so she can practise on the plane.

Suddenly Blondie McPins turns up to give the girls a parting present - a 10 year old Nokia 5110 she got from Cash Converters so they can keep in touch with the motherland while they're away. That's right - just the one. What, you think the ANTM budget would allow them to have one EACH?

I don't think so.

"It's really good to see Sarah before we go because she's kind of like a mum type thing to us now," says Cassi.

I'm not exactly sure what a "mum type thing" is, but this is what Google Images suggests:

I can't guarantee this is what Blondie's look like.

Clare farewells HQ as she loads her luggage into the car: "Goodbye mansion, goodbye pool, goodbye gym..."

"Goodbye!"

The band arrives in Abu Dhabi after what is a presumably uneventful journey (given that there is no footage of Adele vomiting in the aisle or Cassi bumpressing the windows on takeoff) and enjoys some ~~hard-earned pampering~~ advertising dollar-funded and completely undeserved wining, dining and beauty treatments at the Etihad VIP lounge. Unfortunately it seems none of the girls got fresh with a stewardess either, which could have led to a thrilling "Arabian jail" themed photo shoot.

"Wow, Cassi looks hot in that photo!"
"Isn't that Adele?"

Finally the girls arrive in the middle of some amazing establishing shots of Heathrow airport (Arrivals! Departures! TOILETS!) and are snapped by a "paparazzo", ie: some pov tourist the producers have bribed with a phone call home and a pack of duty free smokes to pretend to take photos of them all.

But he's nothing compared to the faux-sunglasses-wearing specimen of manhood that is Gerry Deveaux - Stylist, who is there to meet them. He's like an English version of Pease, but with less 1980s influences. And more American accent. He bundles them into a mini van and they all hoon off to the city.

"There's heritage sort of castles everywhere," muses Adele intelligently as they drive past Big Ben. Yeeeees, sweetie.... castles....

Meanwhile, Cassi says London reminds her of her boyfriend because there are a lot of brick buildings, and her boyfriend is a brickie. Yeeeees, sweetie... bricks...

One of the many fab postcards you can buy in swingin' London!

On the other side of the MENSA bus Tahnee somehow ignores both the castles and the bricks to marvel at how London is full of "really white people"...

Meanwhile, Clare and Adele can't see what all the fuss is about.

...while Clare is busy ogling an "English couple" who are more than likely Belgian tourists, possibly trying to find historic Big Ben Castle on their "Amazing Brick Buildings of London" walking tour.

After this comprehensive look at London the girls arrive in the middle of a rather large advertisement for the Sanderson, a five star hotel they immediately lower the tone of by walking through the lobby. They are given the keys to the penthouse, which prompts lots of girly squealing - if they throw in some dicking about with blusher brushes they'll have a passable imitation of last week's Telstra advertisement.

"This is the best hotel I've ever been in," says Clare, who at 16 years old shouldn't really have any authority on these sorts of matters but seems to anyway.

Just as Cassi's about to nab the biggest bedroom (with a stainless-steel plated ensuite that looks like it could double as a water torture room in a mental institution)(so probably quite apt for Cassi, then) she is pipped at the post by Tahnee and Clare who invoke the watertight "Shotgun" rule.

"Whatever - I wasn't really in the mood for an argument," says Cassi.

In other news, Satan's heating bill increased by 75% this week.

"I ended up sharing with Cassi which is fair enough because the other two don't get along with her as well as I do, so I would have been sorry for them if they'd been stuck with her," says Adele, the newly crowned Queen of the Backhander.

"I FEEL LIKE JULIA ROBERTS IN PRETTY WOMAN - but after she was a crack whore," says Clare, who has clearly never seen either Pretty Woman or a crack whore in her life. Let's hope there's one at this week's photo shoot for her to pose with.

Suddenly the Nokia 5110 bursts into life and it's Blondie video-calling from Australia - what, you think they could afford to send her to London too? Actually I don't think she's even calling them - HELLO, do you have any idea what international video call rates are?? - it's a pre recorded clip stored on the phone. Sigh. Sadly no one decides to skip forward and view all the clips at once so we can find out who's being booted off this week already - we're instead forced to go meet Gerry Fauxpease to discover "the London look".

Which I think is this.

They arrive on what looks to be the set of the next Austin Powers film - Austin Powers: Fashion Assassin - in which Fauxpease is clearly playing the villain.

"Hey ladies," he swaggers ominously as he swings around to face them in a strange transparent bubble suspended from the ceiling, before whisking them away to the high street for some shopping.

"OHHH, TOP SHOP!" squeals Clare which, for those of you who are unaware, is rather like squealing in excitement when you see SUPRE.

"I have a really European style, and these are all European clothes which is what I like," she continues in an impressive display of her geography knowledge.

While they're shopping, Fauxpease gives them some really useful fashion tips such as "team a gorgeous $5000 Burberry bag with the cheap stuff you buy at Top Shop". Cassi tries to take notes but all she gets down is "BAG CHEAP STUFF AT TOP SHOP" which rather suits her anyway.

They press on to Selfridges where a giant sequinned Wookie is there to meet them, straight from the set of the new disco-themed Star Wars film and... oh hang on...

That's no wookie!
(You're making the noise in your head now though, aren't you?)

Yes, it's Elle McPherson, who takes them into a tiny room to talk to them in a decidedly weird accent that can only be described as "Amerenglian" crossed with a six year old retarded child. Lucky she's got those legs.

The Big Mac craps on a bit about loving yourself and looking after your body, and tells the girls how she likes to meditate to "connect with her core light". Apparently this also helps her to strengthen her vocal cords for more efficient yelling at staff too.

"I don't know if I 'inspire' young girls," she says coyly, conveniently ignoring the fact that she hasn't been a role model for about 20 years and young girls all idolise Miranda Kerr these days.

The Big Mac throws some more advertisements at them before they're packed off to a random cafe in the middle of nowhere where they "receive" another "video call" from Blondie. She tells them they were all "secretly photographed" at the airport - er, do you mean by that very obvious lone paparazzi all the girls pointed out in the arrivals hall? THAT secret photographer? - and because Adele managed to look the least retarded, she's won tickets to a movie that night. Or something Sarah found down the back of the couch, I can't remember which.

As it turns out she HAS won tickets to a movie - the UK premiere of Fast and Furious, otherwise known as That Film With Heaps of Broom Brooms and Half Naked Chicks and Vin Diesel I Think. Adele is like, heaps excited cos like, it's her favourite movie like, EVER, and she takes Cassi to go with her and have a fully sick time.

They get dressed up as two bag ladies from the East Suffolk County Players' production of Oliver Twist (not sure if this was a requirement of the evening or if they were just trying to get "the London look") and have a great time walking the red carpet and seeing all the stars, and ruining people's photos by standing in front of those stars on the red carpet - it's an awesome night.

Meanwhile back at the hotel, Tahnee and Clare are whooping it up by prancing about in bathrobes pretending to be Adele and Cassi.

Just 99p.

When Miss and Mrs Bagsalot get back to the hotel room there's a Sarah Mail awaiting them, which I'm guessing wasn't mailed at all (do you KNOW how much international postage costs??) but simply placed there in one of the least interesting Sarah Mail deliveries ever. What, no bottle? No plastic toy animals? NO BOTTLE?

The GFC is clearly taking its toll.

"Tomorrow could be one of the most toughest days of your life," reads Adele. So at least they saved money on proofreading, then.

As it turns out, tomorrow won't be anywhere near the most toughest day of their lives as it's "go sees" day which, as everyone who's ever watched Australia's Next Top Model before knows, is about as tough as walking in a straight line. Er... I mean jumping up and down on a trampoline. Oh, er... I mean lying motionless on a slab of ice. Um, er... Well anyway it's pretty fucking easy. Which explains why the girls arrive at their first agency with a minimum of fuss.

"Take a seat and let's have a look at your box," says the director, as I wonder just what kind of agency this is. (OK so she said "books" - whatever.)

"So, who entered you?" she asks Tahnee, which is rather a personal question for a first meeting, I think. Fortunately Tahnee knows nothing of innuendo, so doesn't take any offence.

She deems Clare and Tahnee both "gorgeous" and Cassi a "no-brainer", which is possibly the most accurate description of her to date.

"She needs her teeth fixed, but she's great," she says.

NO, really?

But she's most overjoyed to hear Adele got good marks at school - which possibly doesn't bode well for what she thinks of her future as a model. They might as well have DON'T GIVE UP YOUR DAY JOB, ADELE running along the bottom of the screen while she talks. Meanwhile, at the next agency Tahnee is asked if she's considered acting - as DON'T GIVE UP YOUR DAY JOB, TAHNEE scrolls across the bottom of the screen.

Back at the hotel, Fauxpease has paid off a hungover tramp to break into the girls' room while they're at breakfast.

"Oi, this isn't the Old Kent Road...?"

As it turns out, he's a photographer, and they're going to be traipsing around London with him posing with stereotypes and cliches for the day - like boring tourists with too much makeup on.

Adele is plonked into a dress supposedly worth $100,000, which I could more easily believe if I thought you could buy garbage bags worth that much. Cassi is given a boring sundress that could easily have come from K Mart, Clare looks like Madonna from 1992, while Tahnee resembles something you'd buy at a craft fair that's filled with cloves.

The London look.

London cliche photoshoot in a nutshell:

Tahnee hangs out in front of Big Ben, makes Adele jealous for getting to pose in front of a castle.

Cassi hangs off the side of a bus, makes public transport look attractive.

Adele hangs out of a telephone booth, probably because the girls only have one mobile phone and she needs to call for help to get out of the hideous dress she's been forced to wear.

Clare hangs outside the front door of Number 10 Downing St looking like a call girl trying to escape News of the World photographers and gives everyone a lecture on sexiness which, coming as it does froma 16 year old girl, is neither interesting, useful nor enlightening.

To complete the London cliche cycle the girls take a London black cab back to the hotel.

"'Ere girls, I've got somefink for ya," says the cabbie as he reaches into his pocket - something many a young girl has heard at the end of a cab ride they're not paying for. Fortunately this time it's just a Sarah Mail. Whoopee.

Next thing you know the girls are back in the elimination warehouse in Sydney - which indicates they spent something like three days in London, two of them travelling. That was worth it.

It's such a HUGE elimination day, everyone is SO pumped to be there - especially guest judge, former winner Alice Burdeu, who is so thrilled she can barely contain her excitement:

I AM JUMPING OUT OF MY SKIN JUST TO BE HERE.

So without further ado, let's picture bitch - LONDON STYLE:

Clare's decidedly uninspiring photo flashes up on screen and the most positive thing anyone can say is "Well, there you are!". Negative comments are, however, in abundance.

Adele's photo makes her look like a hooker trying to call her crack dealer at 3am from a phone booth with a broken door that she has to keep open with her foot. Either that, or it's a poster advertisement for pap smears. So much for the $100,000 dress.

The photo of Cassi hanging off a bus makes her look, strangely enough, like she's hanging off a bus. Sadly, fashion and buses don't mix.

Tahnee manages to not look fat, ugly, retarded or boring in her shot and so is deemed the best of the day. Until the judges remember this guy:

THE LONDON LOOK!

And award the prize to him instead.

As it always does, it comes down to just two - pale brunette Tahnee and pale redhead Adele. And given that there's already one pale redhead in the room making shitloads of money from walking up and down a catwalk wearing pretty dresses it's fairly obvious who's going to get the boot this week - bye Adele. She packs her bags and checks out of the hotel and... hang on, hotel? What the hell happened to the model mansion?

Uh oh, did Cassi leave a fag burning...?

Seriously though, what DID happen to the model mansion? Why are they staying in a hotel? Leave your thoughts in the comments, why don't you. And before you go anywhere else, head to Jo Blogs for more model fun times, LONDON STYLE.

I realise I'm letting you all down, but...

2009-06-23T19:14:00.002+09:30

ANTM episode 9 recap will be up tomorrow morning (that's Wednesday, June 24), instead of tonight.

I'd explain why, but I'd have to use excuses that involve red wine and friends and they're not the kind of excuses that earn one any sympathy.

So - Wednesday morning, I promise.

x

Australia's Next Top Model Wrap Up: Series 5/Ep 8

2009-06-16T20:30:00.002+09:30

Just like the Jacksons without Latoya, Randy and Janet, we're down to the most talented five - can you feel it?

"Lola's gone. Who cares, not a big fuss. I was expecting her to go a hell of a lot earlier so it was like 'Finally she's gone!'," spews Cassi in an outpouring of emotion so heartfelt, Hallmark immediately commissions her to write a series of greeting cards.

Only $4.95!

"I don't really mind who leaves now, as long as it's not me," says Adele, as Captain Obvious dances a jig behind her.

"I would have preferred Adele left because I find her boring," monotones Tahnee, as the pot and the kettle dance a jig behind her.

"I can't stand Clare, Tahnee can't stand Adele, and we all don't like Cassi," explains Franky helpfully. For those of you still struggling with this complicated set of relationships, here's a venn diagram to help:

Next week's lesson: Jungian mandalas.

In celebration of all this intelligent posturing, the girls are woken up at Model HQ the next morning by the most highbrow Sarah Mail delivery of the series so far (yes, even including the plastic toy farm animals with their photos stuck on) - an Asian opera singer in their backyard.

"I'm not used to seeing an opera in our backyard, so it was a bit of a shock," says Tahnee without a hint of comedy. Other things Tahnee isn't used to seeing in her backyard: 50,000 screaming fans dancing to The Who, 43 chefs baking a giant cheesecake and black conjoined twins playing the banjo.

"Life isn't a dress rehearsal - make sure you're the main event, not a shadow watching from the wings," reads Adele.

"OPERA SINGING!" shrieks Tahnee, seemingly forgetting that she is in A MODELLING COMPETITION.

Despite all historical evidence of the fact that models make horrific actresses, the girls are shunted off to the National Institute of Dramatic Arts for their first ~~bullshit challenge~~ highly informative and useful class for the day.

"Immediately we saw the NIDA sign I think everyone knew we were doing something to do with acting," explains Franky in a show of such intelligence MENSA recruitment agents fall over themselves rushing to the phones.

Inside NIDA they meet Pease Porridge and two actory looking types, one of which I hope is from the wardrobe department because Adele has forgotten to wear pants today:

How embarrassing.

"There are plenty of beautiful women in the world, but what sets a model apart is her ability to play a role and make us believe," says Pease - a sentence that would be completely correct were the word "model" replaced with "actress".

For reasons that are best left unexplained, the next three minutes are filled with footage of the girls walking up to one another and saying "pussy pussy pussy pussy".

Let's move on, shall we?

This is followed by an improv exercise in which the girls have to give a prop-inspired eulogy at a funeral for a friend, a potentially dull activity that is livened up considerably when Clare turns it into an episode of CSI.

"Jenny - always the popular girl, the head of the clique. Well NOT ANYMORE, AND THIS IS THE BOOK I READ BEFORE I KILLED HER!" she gasps triumphantly, while everyone around her bears the facial expression equivalent of this:

Oo-ee-oo-ee-ooooo...

Not to be outdone, Tahnee grabs a bra as her prop and gives a stirring speech about her dead friend's perky breasts, while Cassi stares at the lights to get the ol' tear ducts working. Ah Cassi, she's come a long way since that face scrunching incident in episode five.

But, without a doubt, the Oscar goes to Franky, who manages to conjure up more fake tears here than she did when Joh Bailey cut her hair. Waterworks in full swing, tears cascading down her cheeks, she wails about her poor, dead friend Jenny and how she's going to miss her so much... I can't help but think how useful all this training will be when Italian Vogue calls and asks them to model the latest in waterproof mascara while reenacting a scene from a mob funeral. In a cow suit. But actually it's really quite an amazing performance from Franky - so at least she's got a gig on Neighbours when this is all over.

Back at Model HQ and the highbrow hijinx continue, this time with a Shakespeare performance in the living room - by puppets. So, actually probably more lowbrow then.

"We heard these weird Shakespeare noises coming from the living room," says Tahnee.

Before anyone gets a chance to work out what that delightfully mental sentence could possibly mean, we find out by way of the crappiest Punch and Judy show ever, to which the girls react in the most appropriate way:

The face says it all.

After the puppets hand over another Sarah Mail (hey - at least it's a step up from a bottle floating in the pool) the girls trundle off to an advertising studio to meet Pease Porridge and Dicko's younger brother, who obviously caught a bit of that Punch and Judy show too:

Methinks the puppet doth protest too much.

Pease tells the models they're going to be starring in a television commercial for "Australia's most valued brand", Telstra. For the record, it's currently most valued at about 25 cents.

"This could be the start of your professional modelling careers," says Pease, neglecting to mention that his definition of "professional" doesn't include the clause about money changing hands.

"Just don't overact," says Dicko Jr, as Cassi and Franky try to think up ways they can involve hysterical crying in a Telstra advert.

Split into teams of two for their auditions, the girls have to pretend to be friends in a hotel room getting ready for a ritzy night out on the town. This involves lots of girly noises and dicking about with blusher brushes.

Clare and Franky are up first, and do a passable job with a squeal factor of 2/10 and a blusher brush dicking about factor of 6/10.

"It's really believable at the moment, I really believe you guys are friends," says Pease.

Remember.

Cassi and Adele fare less well, upping the squeal factor by 7 to 9/10, but not scoring quite so high on the blusher brush dicking about factor with just 3/10. Also, it seems Adele has once again forgotten to wear pants.

Is she a nevernude...?

Franky goes back in for round two with Tahnee, scoring a clear 0 on both the squealing and blusher brush dicking about factors and producing something that's actually believable and cute. Predictably enough, the other scrags label it "fake" with "too much acting".

Coincidentally, the same thing was said of Casablanca upon its release.

Tahnee gets the gig, Franky is made her sidekick and Clare is given an extra role on the condition she drop her pussy. Pussy pussy pussy pussy. Er, sorry - got a bit distracted there. I meant on the condition she drop her "prissy" act by the next morning - or Cassi gets her part. Although given that the next thing we see is a rather surprise-killing piece of footage of Clare, Franky and Tahnee hamming it up in front of a television camera accompanied by the words "COMING UP AFTER THE BREAK" I think it's safe to assume she succeeds in this endeavour. Good one, editors.

At the shoot it's all hands on deck as the three chosen modelettes set about getting haired and makeupped. Franky squeals with excitement, Tahnee jiggles about in nervousness, and Clare decides to out herself as either a) a racist or b) an adult contemporary music fan by sitting next to Franky on the couch and singing Ebony and Ivory for no apparent reason.

"Clare's still being a bit prissy," snipes Cassi once the shoot is underway, in the vain hope that someone will hear her and drag Clare off set. Unsurprisingly, no one is paying any attention to Cassi at all, possibly because she is standing next to the personality black hole that is Adele who is sucking in anything within a five metre radius that is even vaguely interesting.

"That would be so emebarrassing to watch on TV," she continues, trying in vain to convince herself that being in a national ad campaign for Telstra would be a bad thing.

Yeah - it's not like you get national recognition or anything...

"Oh well, I've got better luck getting it out there than in here," slags Cassi. As she's not pointing to any orifices at the time we assume she's talking about scoring television work.

"I'm really not jealous, because I know I'll be able to get that type of stuff when I get out, so I'm really not jealous at all," she continues, before adding "You got that? I'm not jealous - NOT. JEALOUS. AT ALL. Jealous? Not. Me? Not jealous."

"I'll just go for another ad and I'll probably get it then," she finishes. As long as that ad isn't for humility, goodwill or charm she should be fine.

The commercial shot and in the can, and Cassi unfortunately neither shot NOR in a can, it's time for another Sarah Mail.

"Play the part and drive it home - put your emotion into motion" is the extremely cryptic and not at all completely-obviously-about-shooting-a-car-commercial message. Naturally, the girls are totally surprised to turn up the next day to a shoot for a car commercial. But not as surprised as they are to be greeted by the fourth member of Bros:

When will I, will I be famous?

Not to mention actor/comedian Steve Martin, who will be their photographer for the day:

You might remember me from such films as...

Long time ANTM watchers will remember Steve was responsible for the best Top Model photo shoot ever last year, in which he asked models to dress up as ostriches, pretend to play violins to fairies and swat flies while blowing and jumping on one leg. Let us all pray he has not yet given up his crack addiction.

But before we go any further, Blondie McPins is there to up the ante with a few plane tickets to London for the lucky four who survive the next elimination.

"Oh my god, I want to model overseas," blahs Adele, seemingly forgetting that she's ALREADY modelled overseas - about three metres over seas standing on a pylon in a Chanel suit two episodes ago.

Part of this week's shoot involves each model being assigned a historical "style icon" to emulate while hopping in and out of a Ford - sadly, no one is assigned Britney Spears, although Cassi is cast completely against type and given the equally classy role of Victoria Beckham. Somewhere in the distance, Mikarala can be heard screaming "DON'T LET THEM GIVE YOU A FARKIN VICTORIA BECKHAM HAIRCUT!"

Clare is made up as Twiggy and Tahnee is given the role of Elizabeth Taylor, which is great seeing as she's never heard of her before. Yes: Elizabeth. Taylor. Ten bucks says Tahnee can name all the Jonas brothers, though.

Pease reaches into the big bag of obvious and pulls out the biggest, most obvious card of them all for Franky - Grace Jones. Despite no one under the age of 30 having a bloody clue who Grace Jones is, the ANTM producers always find a way to work her into at least one photo shoot because it allows everyone to wank on about "masculine femininity" and it gives the makeup artists a reason to use orange blusher. Plus Franky's female, she's black and she has short hair. Duh, who else could she be?

Not really an "icon"...

Too political...

Too... er...

Adele, meanwhile, is handed the role of Greta Garbo.

Or is it Gretta THE garbo?

It is about this time we start to realise Adele may not be going to London.

Car commercial shoot in a nutshell:

Looking like a strung out Cyndi Lauper on a hair gel binge, Adele almost breaks her neck trying to drape herself over the Ford's bonnet but still ends up being outshone by what is essentialy an inanimate object. "What a CAR!" Pease yells enthusiastically as the car sits there, doing absolutely nothing.

Tahnee looks amazingly, ridiculously, creepily like Elizabeth Taylor - or as she understands it, some woman who used to be big in the movies and stuff - and all form of thought exits my mind in a puff of smoke as I am completely captivated by the utter gorgeousness of what I'm watching.

LOL.

Steve asks Clare for some ideas about "some really 60s stuff" she could do, and she suggests "leaning on the bonnet", completely missing her opportunity to do anything involving psychedelic drugs and/or free love. Oh well.

Cassi attempts Posh but ends up more Scary after being outshone by a pair of oversized sunglasses and a bad wig.

Despite looking like Dwayne Wayne from A Different World without the flip glasses, Franky completely rocks it as Grace Jones, a venture that is helped rather amply by crazy makeup, a gold glitter jacket with shoulderpads and some crazy facial expressions.

Back at model HQ, the girls excitedly discuss the possibility of going to London - while Cassi sneaks away to call her boyfriend and bitch about the exact same thing.

"Yeah it'd be exciting, but it means I won't be able to call you," she whines.

"If I was to weigh up the odds I'd probably prefer to go home than to go to London," she says, in a watertight case for why Cassi should never become a bookie.

Yes, I see why she'd want to stay home now...

This is followed by the 12 inch dance remix of "I'm going home, I don't want to be here anymore and I don't care what you say cos I don't give a shit" by DJ Cassi Van Den Dungen feat. Franky and Tahnee. No one dances.

Over at the elimination warehouse and after the success of last week's toothpaste fancy dress it looks like they're at it again! This week Franky has come as Cassi, Clare has come as no-pants Adele, Cassi is masquerading as a tablecloth while a rather confused Tahnee has come as a garbage bag after a misunderstanding about "Greta Garbo". Adele has come as anyone you've ever seen walking down a mall ever.

Top marks for all concerned.

So, without further ado let's picture bitch:

Franky looks rock and roll with a twist of psycho (even if her legs aren't QUITE as bangin' as Miss Jones'), and damn I want that jacket.

Clare looks rather like a trout caught in a fishing net. A beautiful, Twiggy-esque trout. God knows where the car she's supposed to be advertising is.

"You lok like you've got a knowing in your eye - which is really an oxymoron with you," says Identity Dawson to Tahnee who nods, smiles and wonders what "oxymoron" means.

Adele looks like the lovechild of Cyndi Lauper and Cynthia Nixon that's been attacked by an airbrush. Needless to say, this is not quite the look anyone wants to see, ever.

After spouting off all week about wanting to go home, Cassi flips the record over and plays the B side, "The judges liked my photo so I reckon I'll stick around a bit longer, thanks". No one dances.

"We've really got to make the right decision this week," Blondie instructs the other judges, who all carefully cross "make wrong decision" off their TO DO lists.

And so it goes, down to the final two: Franky and Adele. Or, if you're Clare: ebony and ivory.

And as it turns out Franky WON'T be going to Hollywood - or London, actually - as she's kicked out the door in favour of the one-look-wonder-ranga Adele. Never mind Franky - if you work on that egg rap a little bit more and nick that gold jacket from wardrobe before you leave, you've got a bright career in front of you as a Grace Jones impersonator.

What are you doing? Don't go! Leave me a comment, and then head over to Jo Blogs for more model mayhem.

Australia's Next Top Model Wrap Up: Series 5/Ep 7

2009-06-14T10:09:00.116+09:30

Just like the slab of Coopers Pale Ale in my fridge, we're down to the final six - and what a nailbiter it's been so far. Who would have guessed that the girl with the bad attitude, the girl with the frizzy hair and the girl no one could remember would be out of the competition already?

Fortunately, the modelettes are remaining philosophical about the situation. Particularly Adele, who once again furnishes us with a head-scratcher comment to kick off the episode.

"It's now more about feeling good that someone's gone rather than feeling sad, because it IS a competition and we DO want someone to go every week," she says, as if any of them have a choice.

Cue the next segment, which involves some royalty-free music that sounds like a direct rip-off of Third Eye Blind's Semi Charmed Life (because if you're going to rip off a song, you might as well choose a band that disappeared in the mid 90s and probably can't sue) in which we're expected to believe that Tahnee, Franky and Lola spontaneously decided to throw on some gym wear for a trek through the bush down to the riverside, so they could plait each other's hair while they gossip about the other girls.

While I don't believe this for a second, I must concede it makes for good television. FINALLY, THESE GIRLS HAVE STARTED THE BITCH SESSIONS, WHAT TOOK THEM SO BLOODY LONG?

"Clare is like Marcia Brady, probably brushing her hair 10 times on each side, it'd be like a routine," slags Tahnee, in a way that suggests she hasn't actually seen Clare do this at all, ever, but is simply guessing that she does because she has long blonde hair and is quiet.

Fortunately though one of the ANTM producers has asked Clare to stand in front of the mirror brushing her hair, so we have some stock footage of her to back up Tahnee's claims. OMG SHE TOTALLY DOES BRUSH HER HAIR!!111! CLARE IS WEIRD!11!!1

How about springing for some anti-adhesive cleaner to get those letters off the mirror instead?

"You know what I reckon Adele's doing right now? Picking at her ingrown hairs," blurts Lola.

Sadly, this isn't a joke, as we cut back to the mansion where it seems Adele is doing exactly that.

"Here's one I did last night, it came out and it was THAT long," she says, compelling thousands of viewers around the nation to forcibly hold down their dinner as she shows us her scabs.

Another redhead that makes me feel sick.

"In the beginning I think Adele was a bit nervous and shy but now she's been getting good feedback every week it has GOTTEN TO HER BIG FAT BORING HEAD," shouts Tahnee back at the riverside, in a once-in-a-lifetime display of actual personality that may or may not be an indicator of the onset of Tourettes. If she keeps this up I might actually start to like her.

The bush bitches move on to Cassi next, describing her as having a walk like a "praying mantis in heels trying to walk through the bush in a straight line drunk". Yawn. You'll never get your own blog with clumsy comparisons like that, girls. Fortunately, Cassi manages to save the joke by being her own punchline in some footage of her dancing like an utter dickhead. Hooray.

Back at Model Mansion and the production values we've come to know and love on this show skyrocket into the stratosphere with a completely mindblowing new Sarah Mail delivery - A BOTTLE FLOATING IN THE POOL.

A lesser production would have probably floated the bottle in the bath - NOT ANTM!

"IT'S IN A BOTTLE!" shrieks Franky in a manner more usually reserved for such statements as "I'VE WON 50 MILLION DOLLARS!" and "JOHNNY DEPP IS LYING NAKED IN MY BED!". No wonder the budget is so low on this show - it's not like it takes much to impress these girls.

After reading out the message and going through the obligatory "We had no idea what the message meant, we were totally stumped, we couldn't tell what we'd be up to" comments from the show's unofficial narrator Adele, the girls head off to the Sheraton to meet Identity Dawson who tells them they're going to be ambassadors for Virgin.

"How ironic!" "Huh?"

Really, sometimes these jokes just write themselves.

The girls are made to memorise a list of dot points on a press release featuring such tough information as what Virgin does (hint: it involves flying) and how many wings their planes have (hint: more than one but less than three), are shoved into a uniform and sent off to talk to a bunch of journalists who couldn't give a stuff about what they have to say because IT'S ALL IN DOT POINTS ON A PRESS RELEASE.

Assuming the journos will hang on their every, poorly-rehearsed word about Virgin's fascinating new international service to LA, the models are quite perturbed when it turns out all they want to do is ask them about THE NATIONAL TELEVISION SHOW THEY'RE ON.

"Are you serious? But I've learned all this shit about duty free!"

Virgin in the headlights challenge in a nutshell:

Lola seems surprised when a Woman's Day reporter asks how she feels about being a "plus sized model", despite being told at least three times each episode that she is "manly", "solid" and "statuesque".

Tahnee gets her Vs in a twist and bangs on about Victoria's Secret instead of Virgin, leading to one of the most delightfully mental exchanges I think I've ever heard in a press conference or otherwise:

REPORTER: "Do you think that, as an ambassador for V Australia, you should have been talking about Victoria's Secret for half of this press conference?"

TAHNEE: "Victoria's Secret underwear comes in nude colours, so you can wear it under your uniform."

Tahnee - I think I'm beginning to fall in love with you just a little bit.

In an effort to dispel her "prissy" image Clare tries to appear cool and nonchalant by rolling her eyes and saying "whatever" a lot, but ends up coming off more like the title role in Good Girl Gone Bad, an after-school teen drama in which a straight-A high school student turns to shoplifting and smoking in an effort to fit in with the cool crowd, but eventually sees the error of her ways and returns to the comfort of her family, her faithful dog Slippers and homework.

Not to be outdone, Franky threatens to kill one of the reporters before answering a question about lighting on the plane with "Well, that's pretty darn obvious." Exactly right Franky - tell those lazy journos it's on the farken press release.

"You shouldn't lie to a journalist, because a journalist's job is to find out the TRUTH!" shrieks the reporter from Woman's Day, that bastion of journalistic integrity.

Cassi turns her presentation into a therapy session, revealing that she's quitting smoking after six years because it's... hang on, isn't she 16? CASSI HAS BEEN SMOKING SINCE SHE WAS 10?

Or maybe even earlier.

The slaughtering session finally finished, the modelettes rock downstairs to find another budget-busting Sarah Mail deliver - this time the envelope is sitting on top of some marked-down Priceline Christmas decorations.

"HOW AWESOME DOES THAT LOOK?" shrieks Cassi, proving once again the producers' thriftiness has paid off - for the models at least, if not for the completely unimpressed viewing public.

"A designer is only as good as the star who wears her clothes," she reads, before experiencing a brainwave and gasping "We'll be wearing clothes, maybe?"

Tahnee is clever.
(And yes, I know I've made this joke before, but isn't anyone else disturbed by the way Tahnee talks? THE GIRL CAN'T BLINK.)

Off they all pop to meet Pease Porridge and Blondie McPins, who tells them the photos from their next shoot will all be auctioned off on the ANTM website to raise money for Fashion Targets Breastcancer - a charity that will no doubt be thrilled to receive the $2.45 the models will raise in this way.

All of them get slapped into designer gowns, thrown on a trampoline and shot - which isn't half as exciting as that sentence makes it sound. However the session is made rather more interesting by the presence of the slightly creepy American photographer/director couple who spend most of the shoot barking at the girls before cosying up together all touchy-feely style and saying how great they were.

Shudder.

Meanwhile, is anyone else thinking this?

Weirdo trampoline shoot in a nutshell:

Clare gushes at the idea she'll be "sharing armpit sweat" with Nicole Kidman by wearing a pre-loved Collette Dinnigan dress - has Dinnigan never heard of dry cleaning? Gross.

Cassi manages to conquer the "jumping up and down on a trampoline" part of the brief but is continually reprimanded for not pointing her toes. "She had a hard time nailing the feet," says the photographer.

I guess that means her role in next year's Easter play will have to be recast.

Despite 40 minutes of jumping up and down on a trampoline bearing more than a slight resemblance to A GYM WORKOUT, everyone tut-tuts and acts unimpressed when Cassi finishes her shoot out of breath and sweating. "That's what smoking does to you," says Tahnee. Replace the word "smoking" with "exercise", and I think you've got it. Probable auction price: $0.75

Dressing Clare in soft pink Collette Dinnigan and diamonds and making her look like a floating spirit fairy results in a great photo. In other news: Lola is not going to do well at this shoot. Probable auction price: $10.

"YOU ARE TOTALLY OUT OF CONTROL!" barks the director at Adele who, sadly, is not collapsed in the corner with a half empty bottle of bourbon pashing some tattooed bloke while giving everyone the finger but simply flapping her arms around a bit. Clearly the definition of "out of control" is wildly variable. Probable auction price: $3.50.

For the 639th time this season Lola is told to "relax her mouth", which leads to a horrifying sequence of shots that I'm considering using as the trailer for my new horror film MOUTH OF HORROR 2: THE RE-LOLA-ING.

Run, don't walk from THE MOUTH.

Franky doesn't really nail the "ethereal, spirit-like beauty" feel of the shoot, but does nail the "blind spastic child who's just been giving a trampoline for her birthday" vibe. Probable auction price: $25, purely for comedic value.

After the shoot, Pease congratulates them all on a job... er... done.

"And you haven't seen the last of those dresses," he adds, probably referring to the fact that after sweating in them for 40 minutes they'll be forced to pay for the dry cleaning themselves. What, you think the ANTM budget's going to cover that?

I don't think so.

Back at Model HQ, Cassi walks downstairs and sees that there's a Sarah Mail there.

"I walked downstairs and I saw that there was a Sarah Mail there," says Cassi, in another brilliant piece of scriptwriting that describes word for word exactly what we've just seen Cassi do.

"Charity begins at home, but should not end there," reads Cassi.

"Well it's obviously something to do with charity, because that's what we've been learning about this week," blurts Clare, seemingly missing the dead giveaway factor that the word "charity" was actually used in the message.

The modelettes get into their advertisement and drive through several reels of stock footage of Sydney before arriving at another advertisement for their challenge.

Pease Porridge is there to meet them and explains the girls will be forced to sell their clothes for charity at a celebrity party. I can't wait to see how much Cassi's Snoop Dogg hoodie goes for! Oh wait, I think I may have gotten that wrong. Seems they're actually going to be auctioning off the designer dresses they jumped around in and sweated into earlier in the day. OMG: SOME LUCKY PERSON IS GOING TO GET A DRESS STAINED WITH CLARE AND NICOLE KIDMAN'S SWEAT!

All the girls are nervous about the upcoming catwalk show, but luckily Pease has brought in a transvestite Patsy Biscoe impersonator to give them all some runway tips.

"Hellooooo children!"

All the girls gather round for a sing-song but when Biscoe fails to produce a guitar everyone realises it's actually Mink and disperses, disappointed.

"There's tons of celebrities out there, this is your time to shine," enthuses Pease, and he's not wrong. Beyonce's turned up, as well as a completely coked-out Kate Moss!

Oh wait, hang on...

After the particularly uneventful catwalk parade, the models are sent out into the party to bore people about the dress they're wearing while simultaneously trying to avoid dropping canapes on themselves. Tahnee and Cassi pencil in "salesperson" right underneath "Virgin ambassador" on their evergrowing list of careers they'll never have, after Tahnee spends most of the party trying to convince a 50 year old woman to buy her bright yellow see-through size 6 dress, and Cassi works her sales pitch on a single man.

Franky is declared the best and Cassi the worst, for which she is punished by being made the house slave to Franky's queen for the day. This of course leads to many hilarious incidents in which Cassi is made to wash dishes, do laundry and tidy up which are all far too interesting to be detailed here. Excluding Franky's request that Cassi throw tampons on the ground in front of her as she walks, a bit where Cassi reads Franky a bedtime story from Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus and a sequence in which Franky and Tahnee rap about eggs (no, I'm not making that up) this segment is predictably mundane. I recommend Youtubing it for the egg rap alone.

And with the lyrical wizadry of the egg rap still scrambling in our ears, we're whisked off (get it?) to elimination, where Tahnee is proving that she's either

a) got a good eye for a knock-off
b) got more money than we thought
c) best friends with Beyonce

So, which one's the designer frock again?

The judging panel this week includes Ruby Rose, otherwise known as that good looking lesbian wot pashed one of the Veronicas and that, and Identity Dawson who always looks completely gorgeous except in this shot, in which she looks like a rare Amazonian rainforest frog eyeing off a dragonfly:

Sorry Dawson - I paused it and just couldn't ignore the comedic value...

As the girls have been learning all about how to project a clean image to the media this week, I'm so glad Ruby Rose is there to help them. Clearly her advice has not been lost on Lola.

Alex Perry meanwhile has obviously been reading my blog and has heard my impassioned pleas for a bit more fashion critique in the elimination warehouse (praise be!).

"Adele, did you just get out of bed honey? Is that your nightie?" he snips, as I squeal with delight on the couch.

"Franky, you and lycra need to stay away from one another for a little while.

"Tahnee, you stole that from some woman at Jupiter's Casino on the pokie machines.

"Cassi - trailer trash. Clare, sweetheart - underwear as outerwear is 'pole dancer', and Lola, at some point I'm sure you could string that dress up and turn it into a car seat cover," he finishes triumphantly without an "expensive" to be seen.

In spite of the fact that Tahnee's dress looks pretty much exactly like the one they just auctioned off for presumably hundreds of dollars at that charity auction, I'm going to have to give Pezza a standing ovation for this effort. REPLACE THAT MAN'S SUNGLASSES WITH A CROWN, FOR TRULY HE IS THE KING OF THE BITCHY FASHION COMEBACK.

"IT DISPLEASES ME."

Speaking of bitching, let's picture bitch:

Adele looks like a stick insect that's been caught on decorative flypaper and left to die.

Not sure how this works as an image for cancer fundraising but the judges seemed to like it.

Not to be outdone, Franky looks like a cockroach that's been caught on decorative flypaper and left to die.

I'm sensing a theme here.

Ruby Rose declares Tahnee's body "phenomenal". Lola feels jealous. The photographer says that out of 10, he'd give her an 11. "That means you did really good!" shrieks Adele, the resident mathematician.

Cassi does a great job of convincing the judges how hard she tried at the photoshoot because of how passionately she supports the fight against cancer - until it's pointed out that she's been smoking since she was 10 years old. Oops. Despite looking like she's half way through the chicken dance in her photo, everyone calls her Christmas and declares it shot of the week - so in the end it doesn't make a shit of difference whether she's a smoker or not. Glad we got that sorted out.

Clare looks like a cross-eyed, hypnotised angel on crack, which strangely enough is still rather beautiful. Damn that girl.

The hypnotised crack-addicted angel with a stigmatism look is so hot this season.

Roby Rose cements herself as one of my favourite guest judges ever by doing an impression of Clare with a knife at the end of her bed. I'm assuming she's referring to Clare's vaguely mad facial expressions (although who knows what sort of kinky bedroom shit Ruby gets into?).

Despite the judges raving about Lola's photo, and despite her being one of the few modelettes to actually give a passable performance in front of the media, and despite Cassi looking like trailer trash and doing the chicken dance in her shot, and despite Pezza describing Franky as "a lump", and despite Blondie admitting she "doesn't get" Adele, and despite Tahnee giving bizarre descriptions of Victoria's Secret underwear at a press conference about an airline, and despite a million and one reasons to get rid of anyone else but her, Lola is given the boot.

In one last act of defiance, Lola proves she's no gentle giant by shrieking "IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN CASSI!" and throwing Cassi's beloved stuffed toy into the pool.

"There goes next week's Sarah Mail idea," weep the producers.

OK - it was almost a week late, but better late than never, right? Leave me a comment, and then get over to Jo Blogs if you haven't already.

OMG disaster!!!111!1

2009-06-09T17:21:00.003+09:30

Well, not really - just felt like being all teen-speaky and using "OMG" in a headline.

ROFL!

Anyway the point is that sadly, this week's ANTM recap is going to be late. Bad couriers combined with work assignments have conspired to make this nightmare a reality.

So check back here Wednesday morning - and failing that, check back Thursday morning. And failing that, every morning thereafter until you see it. I'm hoping it won't be too late - but genius takes time, people.

xx

Australia's Next Top Model Wrap Up: Series 5/Ep 6

2009-06-02T20:31:00.001+09:30

So it's episode six, hooray, and just in case you missed the end of last week's episode in which one of the models was kicked off the show (I know, it was SUCH a shock), Adele is helpfully on hand to explain what this means for the rest of the group.

"It just seems like the group is just THAT much smaller now," she says. You can file this along with other mathematically-inspired Adele witticisms from previous eliminations such as "In my eyes, I just see that as one less person to compete against" and "One girl was voted off the show, which means there's now the same number of us competing minus one".

Back at model HQ, all the modelettes are casually sitting around in the backyard together (possibly working on quadratic equations under the watchful eye of Adele) when Tahnee, on her way to brush her teeth, discovers a Sarah Mail scrawled on the bathroom mirror. This, of course, can only mean one thing: that no one else in the house has brushed their teeth today. Nice.

Sadly the message isn't scrawled in red lipstick or heralded by creepy looking twins in the hallway, but it is enough to send Tahnee screaming into the backyard for help (well, how else is she going to make sense of all the funny squiggles?).

"REDRUM! REDRUM!"

"Mirror mirror on the wall, who is the trendiest of them all," she reads, before experiencing a once in a lifetime brainwave and shouting "IT'S STYLE! IT'S FASHION!", which doesn't make much sense but could possibly be a lyric from a David Bowie song.

Still, she's half right - the models are about to be tested on their fashion knowledge and "personal style", a test the eternally Snoop Dogg hoodie-clad Cassi is bound to ace as long as she is only asked questions about labels one can buy at the Brickworks Market.

After a thrilling description of the journey from the house to the city by Clare ("We got to town and walked to this really big building and we went inside and then we went up in the lift and into this room and zzzzzzzzzzz...") we meet Pease and some bird called Claudia who is going to teach the modelettes how not to dress like skanks.

Apparently she's the fashion director of Harpers Bazaar, so she probably knows what she's talking about, although nothing's quite as bizarre as her accent which sounds like a cross between Cruella D'evil and Marlene Dietrich, blended with a touch of awesome and a dash of "pardon?"

"Claudia has worked for heaps of magazines, like Harpers Bazaar, Italian Vogue..." says Pease.

"SNAP, ME TOO!"

Claudia then sets to work on becoming the greatest thing ANTM has ever seen by criticising everyone's outfits, like a fashion version of Seinfeld's soup nazi.

"The electric blue of your top and the white of your shoes and the wash of your jeans doesn't really cut it, and the length of your jeans with the height of your shoe is completely out of proportion," she spits at Cassi, which is a bit cruel considering Cassi is quite possibly fashion challenged and should probably be the subject of some sort of community fundraiser, rather than abuse.

"Your chain is very sweet though, if that's any consolation," she adds. It isn't.

She then outlines three current fashion trends which, given this episode was shot about six months ago are probably nowhere near current anymore and will cause you to be shot on sight by the fashion police. There's "new power dressing", which seems to consist of jackets with silly shoulders, "English garden", which seems to be based on Penelope Keith's character from The Good Life, and something called "world traveller", which is based on clothes you would never travel in anywhere, ever, and even if you did would force you to spend most of your time at airport security gates taking things off and having them X Rayed.

In a surprise akin to opening a packet of biscuits and finding biscuits inside, the modelettes are then paired up and sent into a giant wardrobe where a faun tells them they have to recreate one of the three looks to save Narnia from the evil ice queen. OK, so I lied about the last bit.

You can imagine it though, can't you?

Narnia fashion challenge in a nutshell:

Cassi and Franky attempt "English garden" and end up with compost, courtesy of a hideous purple floral handbag and matching Dunlop volleys. PENELOPE KEITH WOULD NEVER WEAR SANDSHOES.

Laura and Tahnee attempt to "power dress" Adele, but as so often happens on this show, end up with "hooker dress". Sure that isn't one of this season's trends, Claudia? SURE?

Clare and Lola attempt "world traveller", end up with "homeless bus traveller".

Back at Model HQ - and you won't believe this, but - the Toys R Us budget which has so far furnished us with such mind-boggling special effects as a miniature robot and plastic farm animals has clearly still got some dosh in it, which an ANTM production assistant has thoughtfully spent on a dozen crappy plastic bath toys that they have then thrown in the pool.

MIND BLOWING.

Predictably enough, spying a layer of floating plastic detritus in their swimming pool sends the models into a complete commotion - given the last thing they got excited about was some words stuck to a mirror, this is a positively bone-shattering discovery.

The thrills don't stop when one of the girls discovers a Sarah Mail stuck to a toy boat, sending the group into a hysterical orgy of cataclysmic proportions.

"Maybe it's a fashion shoot on a boat," suggests Clare.

"Or on a giant duck?" suggests Tahnee.

As it turns out the next challenge has nothing to do with boats or giant ducks, but rather walking up and down in Alex Perry's shop. What's the connection? Do Alex Perry's dresses make one seasick?

Nothing to do with ducks or boats catwalk challenge in a nutshell:

Instead of demonstrating her walk, Cassi puts on a preview of her new upcoming Fringe show "Boris Karloff in Tight Jeans". The reviews are not favourable.

"Maaaan that is NOT cool."

Not to be outdone, Lola puts on an even tighter pair of jeans and fairly limps down the catwalk like an ageing lumberjack with bunions. Unsurprisingly, this is not the look Pezza is searching for.

Franky exclaims that she hates Clare's walk and she looks possessed. Pezza says he loves it and it's confident. Guess whose opinion is worth more?

Pezza picks Clare and Adele as the winners and finally reveals the loose connection to the crappy bits of plastic the cleaner is currently fishing out of the models' pool - they'll be walking in a fashion show on board a cruise ship. My heart leaps at the idea of the girls modelling facemasks and HAZMAT uniforms on board the Pacific Dawn but alas, he's referring to the Queen Mary 2. Yawn.

Tahnee is nominated as a third "yet to be decided" ring-in, because as Pezza's sidekick Trevor points out "she's one of the most beautiful girls I've ever seen".

AM I THE ONLY PERSON IN THE WORLD TO TOTALLY NOT GET TAHNEE? Sure she's cute, but she's also got buck teeth, no neck and she talks like she's had a lobotomy. Or too much Botox in her forehead.

THE INCREDIBLE STATIONARY FACE GIRL.

Back at Model HQ, Blondie McPins has arranged for all the girls' mothers to visit for the day and have tea together. Everyone cries. I yawn and check my watch. The only vaguely interesting moment in this whole segment is when Lola admits she hasn't washed her bedsheets in five weeks. I love how the conversation automatically turns to laundry as soon as the mums arrive.

Next morning at the crack of sparrow's, Clare, Adele and Tahnee are sent off to the wharves in their best jailbait outfits to find the Blue Hotel. Sadly, Chris Isaak is not there to meet them, but there is Pezza's assistant Trevor!

"HI GIRLS, REMEMBER ME?"

In what is a complete waste of an opportunity for reality TV gold (ie: dragging Tahnee down to the wharves at 5am to tell her she's not required), Trev tells Tahnee that Pezza has decided she will be in the show. Tahnee reacts to this in the same way she reacts to everything - by blinking and not moving her forehead.

After being haired and makeupped, all the girls meet Identity Dawson to listen to a lecture on the Queen Mary 2 while simultaneously attempting to not be blown into the harbour. Dawson regales everyone with salty tales of the high seas, including the one about the Queen Mary 2 that has 2000 toilets on board.

"Arrrr, welcome aboard the SS ANTM, me hearties! Thar be 2000 dunnies on deck, yarr!"

Once on board all the losers are set about doing various bullshit tasks such as tying seat numbers to chairs, something which proves far too mentally taxing for Franky - although mathematics master Adele gets the swing of the "numbers increasing incrementally by one" idea almost immediately.

The parade kicks off and there's 2007 ANTM winner Alice Burdeu looking radiant in a camouflage shocker that Delta Goodrem attempted to wear at this year's MTV Awards and... hang on, Alice Burdeu is there? Why has no one so much as mentioned this yet? Why was there no obligatory "advice giving" backstage between her and the three modelettes? ARE WE SUPPOSED TO PRETEND WE DON'T KNOW WHO SHE IS? HAS SHE HAD SOME SORT OF ANTM FATWAH PUT ON HER? Or is it just that the ANTM producers have traded her in for the new, upgraded Alice model 2.0, otherwise known as Adele?

Alice through the looking glass...

All the girls do rather well on the catwalk, except for Tahnee who has to parade in the same outfit Blondie McPins has turned up in. Sadly Blondie refrains from tripping her up, throwing her in the harbour or eliminating her on the spot, all of which would have been a hilarious finale to the parade.

The captain hands the modelettes a Sarah Mail (which seems a little lazy of her given she was ON the boat and could have just TOLD them but anyway) featuring some cryptic crap about "using a camera to get to the next destination". I hope this means the models will be forced to construct a raft out of old film canisters to paddle back to shore in, but alas, it turns out they're simply going to stand on a pylon in the middle of the ocean wearing Chanel. Of course.

"So, who's going to get worms today?" asks Pease, in what may or may not be a deliberate attempt by me to misquote him for comedic purposes.

He then explains the concept of the "stranded on a pylon" shoot which, crazy as it sounds, involves standing on a pylon looking stranded.

"You're going to need your wits about you for this shoot," he continues, which kind of counts Tahnee and Adele out for the day.

Pilin' on the Chanel in the channel on a pylon challenge:

Cassi balances on a pylon in the middle of the ocean with a bat attacking her neck holding a handbag worth more than my car and still manages to be outshone by a random swimmer in the background.

Matching the cap to her bathers like that - that girl's a STAR.

"This is Parisian chic, she's meant to be catching a train in Paris," despairs Pease.

THEN WHY HAVE YOU GOT HER STUCK IN THE MIDDLE OF THE PUBLIC SWIMMING BATHS, YOU TWIT?

Meanwhile, Adele is criticised for not looking enough like she's waiting for a bus. WHERE EXACTLY DO THEY THINK THESE MODELS ARE? They're more likely to be waiting for an airlift, on top of that bloody pylon...

Lola is told her thighs are too big to wear Chanel. For your own personal reference at home, that means larger than this:

Actually, even these are looking a bit flabby for Chanel...

Laura does a grand impression of a shag on a rock.

Not to be outdone, Clare does an impression of a constipated poodle constructed out of marshmallow. Sadly, the "constipated marshmallow dog" look is SO 2008.

And with that, it's off to elimination which this week has clearly been sponsored by the Dental Practioners Association of Australia in aid of Healthy Teeth Month, as Blondie has come dressed as a streak of toothpaste:

Brusha, brusha, brusha...

Laura has come as plaque:

Either that, or a 1970s living room wall...

And Cassi has come as a PRAISE THE LORD, HAS SOMEONE FINALLY TAUGHT HER HOW TO DO MAKEUP?

Or did she just take note of my elimination fashion complaint from last week?

Anyway, let's picture bitch:

Despite being made to stand on top of a ricketty old pylon in the middle of the ocean at 5am in clothing worth more than anything she or her immediate family owns, Cassi fails to look confident in her photo. Jeez, Cassi.

I don't know who this guy is, but he's not impressed.

Pezza tells Laura she needs to be able to "interpret clothing" - she makes a mental note to buy a English-Clothing/Clothing-English dictionary at the next possible opportunity.

Lola is described as "statuesque" for about the five millionth time this series - although, admittedly, if you stand Lola on a pylon in the middle of the ocean, Colossus of Rhodes comparisons aren't going to be far away.

Like this one.

Adele takes Chanel and "nails it to the wall", which strangely enough is exactly what Chanel wants. That dirty tart! In other news: could Adele actually be a contender in this thing?

All of Tahnee's shots are declared "boring and catalogue" except for one, which was taken before she even knew she was being photographed and then Photoshopped into oblivion to make it look as though she is standing on a floating black saucer staring down into the vast expanse of nothingness below her. It is zen, it is beautiful, it is the photographic equivalent of a poem. And Tahnee had no idea she was even in it. Grand.

Franky takes what is possibly the worst photo of anyone on ANTM in the history of the show ever. She looks like a boxer doing the Timewarp. Or, as Dawson puts it "She delivered a beautiful bodyshape but the face says she wants to tag my wall."

"She's made one of the most expensive brands in the world look like average catalogue," shrieks Pezza about Laura, presumably because girls with large boobs were never meant to wear Chanel. This of course begs the question: What happens when the rest of us try to wear it?

Woo!

Pezza suggests Lola could be "Australia's Next Top Beautiful Big Awkward Girl", and I eagerly await an audition date so I too can be in the running for that crown.

Back at the weekly gladiator heel convention, someone's got to go, and it's down to Laura the plaque stain and Franky the boxer. This one's a definite no-brainer - even Tahnee can see what's going to happen here. And so it does - bye bye, Laura. Don't blame it on the sunshine, don't blame it on the moonlight, don't blame it on the good times - blame it on the boobies.

"Goodbye Laura, you have a career in front of you," comiserates Blondie, as the rest of the panel finishes her sentence in their heads with "...just not in modelling."

WAIT! Don't click away yet! What did you think of Laura's departure? Who's next? (Got to be Lola, right?) Leave me a comment, and then head on over here to smell what Jo Blogs' has been cookin'.

Australia's Next Top Model Wrap Up: Series 5/Ep 5

2009-05-26T20:30:00.009+09:30

It's episode five, hooray! All the models are excited because they can count up to that number using all the fingers on one hand, and it's much less confusing. So to celebrate, they decide to throw a fancy dress party for the opening flashback montage, the theme of which is "disco drag queen".

Well, can YOU explain this makeup? Didn't think so.

The flashback this week is extra enjoyable - not only because we get to watch Mikarla being kicked out again, but because of Cassi's enthralling performance of her new one act play, "I don't deserve this".

"I'm the one that tries the least in this house, it's only because I produce good photos that I'm here," she wails, putting a self-congratulatory spin on her self-loathing.

It's a top performance - the only criticism being that sniffling, scrunching up one's face and speaking in a broken voice isn't a substitute for ACTUALLY crying. People can usually tell you're faking it when wet stuff isn't coming out of your eyes. So next time, Cassi, think of something ACTUALLY sad - like a puppy being thrown out a window, or Clare having a shower - and the tears will come.

Without tears to give her performance credibility, Cassi has to continue the charade of "feeling unworthy" by announcing that she wants to go home, a suggestion which is greeted by absolute indifference by pretty much everyone. See ya, Cassi! Don't gain any endearing features on the way out now, will you?

Clearly whoever bought that robot in last week's episode had some change left over from Toys R Us as this week's Sarah Mail is delivered courtesy of some crappy plastic farm animals with the models' faces glue-stick-ed on. As always, the special effects in this show are SECOND TO NONE.

Budget-busting effects are what make ANTM great.

Not nearly enough comedy is made of the fact that Laura is a dog and Madison is a cow, but that's more than made up for by Lola's impromptu impression of "an animal", which she believes will stand her in good stead for whatever barnyard photo shoot they're being sent off on.

Squeal like a pig, girl!

With this masterpiece of method acting in mind, all the models are packed off to some farm to meet Blondie McPins, one of the dudes from Hot Chip and the bikie from the Village People in what will prove to be one of ANTM's stupidest ever segments.

One of these people looks uncomfortable for a good reason.

"We saw Sarah there and we thought 'Yeah OK, this is different'," ponders Lola, possibly referring to the fact that Sarah is ALWAYS there and there is absolutely NOTHING different about this situation at all. Except for the presence of a member of a gay 1970s pop band.

The bikie actually turns out to be their photographer for the day and is called "Justin Spittle", a name that sounds rather gloriously Dickensian. I hope against hope that he'll come to the shoot in a frock coat and top hat and rap the girls across their knuckles with a cane when they pose the wrong way.

Hot Chip man, who is actually called a stylist called Boon (or Poon, I couldn't quite hear) tells the girls they'll be putting on animal costumes for a shoot that will be "very Italian Vogue".

"When he says Italian Vogue, I think he really means Italian Vogue," explains Blondie, clearing up any confusion there may have been about what "Italian Vogue" means.

As it turns out, "Italian Vogue" is actually shorthand for "batshit crazy", as all the models change into furry costumes and set about getting their faces mutilated with makeup that looks like it has been applied by a drunk five year old.

The rare and endangered Moronicus Uglyfus.

It is about this time that the five and a half people watching at home who didn't work it out as soon as we met Spittle and Poon start to realise that this is perhaps a wind up - a conviction that is not dispelled by the makeup artists who are NOT EVEN TRYING to make their terrible work look believable. Fortunately, the models aren't quite as sharp, and take the whole thing very seriously. Is there anything funnier than someone dressed as a donkey trying to look sexy while reclining on a bale of hay? I think not.

Barnyard shoot in a nutshell:

Poon tells Lola she has "transgender feet", a criticism she deals with remarkably well - by saying "thank you" and then mouthing "f*cking dickhead" under her breath. Lola, I think I love you.

Cassi describes Poon as being "mentally insane" and having "an anger problem" - both judgements she is more than qualified to make, especially in her latest guise as a bogan Amy Winehouse.

They tried to make me go to anger management classes, I said no, no, no...

Clare stumbles around in an oversized tiger suit while grappling with a screaming piglet in what looks like a scene from Winnie the Pooh themed horror film "Night in the Hundred Acre Wood".

"Everyone's going to look at this shot, and it's going to be shit, and it's going to be your fault," spits Spittle at Cassi, who is dressed as a leopard with purple lips. That is all.

The models do a costume change and emerge in flannelette shirts and boots, and huddle together on the floor with a bunch of pigs in what looks like an outtake from Deliverance.

Blondie McPins streaks in from nowhere and lets all the models in on the BIG SECRET that the photo shoot is all a set up. Italian Vogue starts launching legal proceedings.

After a quick dip and shear, the models are hurried off to some bar somewhere to meet "diamond man" Nicola Cerrone. Tahnee is saddened to discover he's not actually made of diamond, but simply sells them. After already discovering she won't actually be in Italian Vogue dressed as a cow, that's the second time she's been let down today.

After laying around on hay bales for most of the morning, the models are now told they have to go to a party and lay around on slabs of ice wearing diamonds - ICE, GET IT? - while the 12 guests who bothered to RSVP stand around drinking champagne and ignoring them.

Meanwhile, Cassi Winehouse hear the words "ice" and "party" and gets prematurely excited.

Use your imagination.

"We're going from squealing pigs all the way through to chic and expensive," says Pease Porridge in what would appear to be a non sequitur but has the added bonus of allowing me to do this:

I KNOW he didn't technically say it, but it still counts, OK?

Ice party in a nutshell:

Clare straps what looks like a diamond encrusted medieval torture device to her neck and leans on an ice angel, in the embodiment of what could potentially be a lyric from a Meatloaf song.

Cassi goes for top spot in the predictability awards by whingeing that Clare has an easy ice sculpture to work with. Coming in second place is today's rain, which fell directly after dark storm clouds filled the sky.

Madison helpfully explains why Cerrone jewellery is so expensive by comparing it to her mum's wedding ring. "That's just got one diamond, and this is like, shitloads," she says. Ahhh, now I understand!

"When you first get on it it feels like it burns, like it's burning your skin," says Tahnee in that strange way she's developed where she stares straight ahead, wide-eyed, and speaks in a monotone voice as though she's a member of some sort of cult. I assume she's talking about the ice, but who knows. Tahnee creeps me out.

Franky straddles the ice slab and does a passable impression of Kate Winslet at the end of Titanic, when she's freezing to death in the Atlantic.

Sadly, everyone resists the urge to stick their tongue to any of the ice sculptures, but Lola comes close by attempting to freeze her ear to one. She looks perfectly gorgeous until it's time to stop, and she stands up and wipes her nose with the back of her hand like a brickie's labourer in drag. See how ice can distort reality?

For managing to glue her face to a slab of ice without looking like something from the Sydney fish market, Lola is declared the winner and is given a hideous heart shaped pendant that looks like something you'd get inside a Kinder Surprise. Except it's not, because it's worth $2000. Go figure.

In an effort to keep her Queen of Predictability championship crown firmly on her head, Cassi explains how she's not jealous of Lola winning because she doesn't wear silver, she wears gold. And she knows it's gold because she bought it at Goldmark.

The girls arrive back at Model HQ to find someone has helpfully filled up their suitcases with dirt and left them in the foyer. Could this be Mikarla's revenge for the "Maccers bag o' butts" incident last week? Sadly no - it seems the girls are "going earthy", according to the accompanying Sarah Mail, and they are instructed to "pack their bags". What, with soil? This of course can only mean one thing - the girls are being sent off to live in a giant biodome where they will cultivate genetically modified vegetables and recreate the entire human race from scratch with a band of gypsy male models.

Actually, as it turns out they're just going to South Australia.

"Yay, my home town!" shrieks Clare, who probably isn't the kind of person you want answering the "geography" questions on your Trivial Pursuit team.

Everyone seems more excited than you'd think possible at the news they're all flying economy Virgin Blue to Adelaide, except for Cassi, who decides anything would be better than that and stomps off to whinge to her mum on the phone about wanting to go home.

Here's how Cassi's mum approaches the topic:

MUM: Cassi my dear, you know not what you do for you are but young. You will regret it if you leave - trust your mother and stay in the competition. I love you.

Here's Cassi's interpretation of it:

"She yelled and screamed at me and didn't have any support for me for like, the millionth time in my whole life AGAIN."

Mothers can be so troublesome, can't they? Always full of good advice and not letting you do stupid things and stuff. Sigh.

And with that, it's heave-away, haul-away (but probably mostly heave), they're off to South Australia.

"We're flying over red dirt and nothing," marvels Laura, who has clearly already declared SA "terra nullius", blissfully unaware that it is home to one and a half million people.

Although having said that they're soon packed off to Parachilna, about six hours out of Adelaide, where "red dirt and nothing" pretty much sums up the landscape, so perhaps Laura was onto something.

The population of Parachilna is two - this bloke, and the tumbleweed.

Now, I've been to Parachilna and I have to say despite the lack of pretty much everything, it's a very cool place. The sunsets are absolutely magnificent, and the Prairie Hotel (which is about the only structure in town) is utterly fabulous, serving boutique beers and gourmet "outback" food in a casual, relaxed environment. (by the way, Prairie owners, if you happen to be reading this, gee I'd love to try out your accommodation...)

There's just one small drawback. You know in Summer when you throw a barbecue, and all of a sudden a million flies come out of nowhere and descend upon your food, and you find yourself exclaiming "Where did THEY come from??"? The answer is Parachilna.

For some reason, there is a constant National Fly Convention being staged in Parachilna. They have delegates fly in from all over the world to discuss new strategies on how to ruin barbecues and avoid Mortein. If you stand still in Parachilna for longer than five seconds, this is what happens:

I know, because this is a picture of one of my mates standing still in Parachilna in January. It was a dare. She won a beer.

Add to the mix searing heat, red dust, lingerie and angry Cassi and you've got the recipe for THE BEST PHOTO SHOOT EVER.

"This is AWESOME!" shrieks Cassi as she spies the decidedly spartan sleeping quarters they've been assigned, proving that while she might whinge a lot, at least she's easily pleased. She'll be so upset when she finds out there are no crocs to wrestle.

Lying on each of their pillows is a cheap polyester g string, which gives the bunk-bed filled dorms a renewed air of seediness, along with a Sarah Mail that says... well who cares, what it says, I think it's fairly obvious what's happening here.

"We were trying to figure it out and we just had no idea," says Adele while simultaneously posting off her application to join MENSA.

For the rest of the nation, it's no surprise when the girls are dragged out into the desert to meet a photographer and Pease Porridge for a lingerie shoot. Hang on, did I say Pease? I meant Brad Pitt, circa Thelma and Louise.

OK, maybe not.

And so... um... gosh, I've forgotten what I was talking about now... Umm... where were we? Oh that's right:

Mmm. Definitely a different hat.

Sorry, had to check that. Anyway, Pease Pitt tells the modelettes their photo shoot isn't JUST about getting half naked and showing off some lacy bits of polyester - oh NO! It's more than that. It's about a STORY. And "delivering emotionally" on that story. So what IS this enthralling story the models must act out emotionally? Allow Pease, the storyteller, to enlighten you:

"You're with a male model, you're travelling in a car, you're in the middle of the outback and it's so hot the car breaks down..."

Ohhh yes, Pease, go on....

"He takes off his shirt, and so do you..."

Yes... OH YES!

"You reveal some beautiful lingerie..."

OH YES, PEASE, YES!

"You're looking for water, and that's where the story begins," he finishes.

Out now through ANTM publishing.

Truly an engaging story, and one to which we can all relate - many's the time I've been travelling through the outback with my male model friend when I've been forced to strip down to my knickers in order to fix the car. In fact I'm not entirely convinced this is a lingerie shoot shoot after all - it might as well be a COMMUNITY SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT on what to do if your car breaks down in the desert: remain calm, stay with the car and strip to your unmentionables. Basic survival rules.

Community service announcement masquerading as a lingerie shoot in a nutshell:

Seconds after starting, the shoot is shut down when Clare takes off her shirt and temporarily blinds the photographer and all the crew from sun glare.

Clare quickly revises her character from "vulnerable and frightened girlfriend" to "fed up, ripped off hooker" when wardrobe dresses her in a black lace teddy, massive hoop earrings and shiny orange mini. You know, the stuff you normally wear to do roadtrips in the desert.

Laura wanders on set looking like a Barbie doll that's been stuffed into a condom. The photographer tells her to look "pissed". I can't wait to see this photo.

Adele sets the Slip, Slop, Slap movement back about 30 years by posing on top of an oil drum in not much more than a bra while the sun beats down mercilessly on her alabaster skin. I have no idea what anyone says during this segment, because all I can hear is my mother's voice in my head shrieking "PUT ON A HAT, YOU SILLY GIRL!"

Madison says she feels "lightheaded". Perhaps because there's nothing actually IN her head.

The photgrapher tells Madison she needs to work out what to do about the flies that keep zooming inside her mouth. Never one to miss a chance to say something overtly sexual and highly inappropriate to a young woman, Pease reminds her the choice is "spit or swallow". Classy, Pease.

While everyone else is cavorting around in lacy bras and frilly knickers with a hunky male model, for some reason Lola is stuck in some support underwear that looks like it's been designed by industrial engineers, and made to sit in the dirt. Something about this seems rather unfair.

Franky is poured into a black leotard with spiky epaulettes and stomps around on top of a rusty jalopy in what could easily be a poster for Mad Max 4: Tina Turner Aint Got Nuttin' On Me.

Cassi spends her hair and makeup time revising her understanding of the Stanislavsky method to allow her to "emotionally deliver" on the compelling storyline Pease has developed, but in the end finds it rather easy to deliver "angry".

Proving that she may just be the only modelette with any brains whatsoever, Cassi is the only girl to suggest a shot in which the sexy-as-all-get-out male model holds her off the ground. Perhaps we're underestimating you, Cassi...

Suddenly, out of nowhere a couple of outback-ridin' cowboys trot into shot to deliver the girls a Sarah Mail. They've clearly been riding for days, as they look exhausted, and it's a miracle they managed to even FIND the girls out there in the middle of the desert like that and... Oh.

What do you mean they were just waiting out of shot until their cue was called? That's not out of shot!

Well anyway, the Sarah Mail announces the entirely unsurprising news that it's time for elimination, to which all the models react with utter surprise and a chorus of "OY MOY GOURD"ing. As usual.

In the interim, Cassi decides she's going to stay in the competition. Raise hands everyone who gives a shit....? Right, moving on.

So it's off to the elimination warehouse, or rather - woolshed, as they're out in the country and stuff and everything has to be yokel-themed this week. All the judges are there, looking so groomed and shiny like they've just breezed out of an air conditioned vehicle 10 minutes before shooting because... well, they have.

There's Blondie McPins, looking like the kind of annoyingly beautiful woman who doesn't sweat OR perspire; Identity Dawson, the "Glamazon of the Desert" (why oh WHY did they not invite Priscilla to this elimination??); Alex Perry, whose head refuses to shine this week despite the weather providing the perfect opportunity to, and my favourite ANTM photographer ever Russell James. Why is he my favourite? Because he made Demelza look like an alien in last year's series, and he looks a bit like Scott Hicks crossed with Iggy Pop, and he's just generally awesome.

Before we get to the picture bitch, can I just say WHAT IS THE DEAL WITH THE MODELETTES' ELIMINATION OUTFITS? AND WHY ARE THEY NEVER PICKED UP ON IT? Not an episode of America's Next Top Model goes by without Tyra and Miss J having a crack at someone's elimination outfit - "Oooh Miss Thing, you look like a HOT mess!" - but our girls can turn up in their best Supre and Goldmark and no one bats an eyelid.

Anyway, let's picture bitch:

Blondie tells Lola she should be an actor, which is meant to be a compliment. Except Lola is in a MODELLING competition, so...

Everyone goes ga-ga over Tahnee's photo, except for me, who decides it makes her mouth look tiny, her teeth look "bucked" and her neck non-existent.

Clare looks like a sexy string of cold cooked spaghetti dangling from a stick in the desert. Whether or not this will sell lingerie, only time will tell.

Pezza describes Clare as "expensive in the outback" - so that spaghetti probably has truffle oil on it.

Again?

Madison's shot consists of her standing in the middle of nowhere in only a shirt and bra, looking angry. The words "sexual assault victim" spring to mind.

Dawson tells Cassi her photo is so divine it makes her want to cry. Somehow I think Cassi could have made her cry no matter WHAT she thought of the photo, courtesy of her two fists, but anyway...

Laura's photo manages to transform her from Barbie doll in a condom to Real Doll in a condom. Given the photo shoot required them to strip to their lingerie and roll around in hot sand I'd say this is fairly in keeping with the vibe of the day.

Pezza describes Adele as looking like "expensive sex", which begs the question - what experience does he have in this arena?

The Pezza Expens-o-meter gets another workout.

"I think she understands how not to make a shot look like it's soft porn," says Pezza of Franky's photo. Of course, it helps when you're dressed like a bad-ass futuristic robot-killer, as opposed to an underwear-clad "girlfriend" hanging off a male model.

As usual, it comes down to just two: Laura the Real Doll and Madison the Angry Girl. Blondie tells Laura she's not the entire package - luckily, Laura can explain realdoll.com's shipping terms and conditions and vows to get her a refund, and so Madison is kicked out the door instead, sent back to Adelaide in the back of a rusted old ute. Hope she's wearing good underwear...

Finished? NOT BY HALF, YOU'RE NOT. Leave me a comment (please?) and then head over to Jo Blogs to see what she has to say about all of this. Go on.

Tonight....

2009-05-26T15:13:00.002+09:30

Hey folks, just a reminder to come back here at 8.30pm Adelaide time for this week's wrap up of Australia's Next Top Model.

This week, the girls go animal and then strip off and go bush (not in the way YOU'RE thinking)...

Australia's Next Top Model Wrap Up: Series 5/Ep 4

2009-05-19T20:32:00.003+09:30

Ding! Ding! It's round four of the model massacre - ARE YOU READY TO RUMBLE?

In the ring tonight is LOOOOOOLA THE SUPERJAW, MENTAL HAIR MAAAAAAAAADISON and ELLLLLOISE - THE AMAZING PERSONALITY FREE GIRL!

But first, let's take another look at last week's knockout punch, courtesy of CAAAAASSI THE BOGANATOR:

MAJOR ANGERNESS.

Flashing back to last week we say goodbye to Georgie for what feels like the 500th time this series (honestly, the only time that girl was on screen was when she was on the verge of, or actually being, kicked out).

"In my eyes, I just see that as one less person to compete against," says Adele, proving once and for all that she is the mathematical brain of the group.

All the models make misguided comments about how it was unfair Georgie was booted because "she was working so hard". Guess what girls, no one gives a shit how hard you work. As long as you're effortlessly gorgeous and charming and take good pictures, you'll win. Got it?

Back at the model mansion, a not-very-well-thought-out Sarah Mail delivery is unfolding, courtesy of a toy robot with an envelope sticky-taped to its hand that is taking approximately seven and a half hours to cross the courtyard. After some creative editing and the second instalment of the "Pretending to Wake Up" play the models have been working on over the last three weeks, the letter is finally delivered.

"Be elegant and not automated," reads Eloise, which immediately sends me into my own demented flashback - all the way back to ANTM season 3 episode 4... DON'T STOMP, BE ELEGANT... OH GOD, IT'S MINK TIME.

Remember her?

Yes, it's catwalk week, the week in which everyone straps on heels and attempts to walk in a straight line while being yelled at without falling over. If you rent the unedited director's cut of The Karate Kid you'll find that's one of the tricks Mr Miyagi taught Daniel in the original film, along with wax on, wax off and painting the fence. They cut it in the end because IT'S SO FUCKING EASY.

Mikarla suffers a slight brain haemmorage and asks Cassi to take some time out from punching walls to teach her how to walk. Cassi obliges by stomping around in the garage and almost falling over while pulling poses you wouldn't even see in a Harris Scarfe catalogue. It is fair to say that Cassi knows stuff all about catwalk modelling.

The ANTM producers then break several licensing laws by herding a bunch of under 18 girls into a nightclub in Kings Cross to walk up and down a plank of wood, the only difference between this and a normal Saturday night being that it's day time, and the drinks fridge is locked. Pity - I feel a few Bacardi Breezers could have improved Cassi's walk no end (or at the very least provided her with an excuse).

Blondie McPins is there to greet them, looking far classier than what her surrounds appear to dictate is the norm at this joint, and then there's Mink. Or rather, what appears to be a wax rendering of the woman formerly known as Mink.

Don't stand her too close to the heater.

"Holy shit on fire!" gasps Mikarla.

"WHERE?!" shrieks Wax-Mink as she bolts for the nearest exit in fear of melting. A crew member turns up the air conditioning just in case.

Wax-Mink busts out some old bollocks about "owning the catwalk" and "making your walk your own" (as opposed to borrowing someone else's for the day, which is really inconvenient if they want to go out somewhere) and then the pointless parade begins. (By the way, is anyone else wondering why we're in a nightclub for this, as opposed to ooh, ANYWHERE with a flat surface? Just checking.)

Catwalk challenge in a nutshell:

"All I could think was crap, crap, crap, crap, shit, crap, crap," spews Clare, while Cassi wonders what ELSE one is supposed to ever think about.

Feeling more and more detached from her bogan roots, Cassi cleverly sneaks in some headbanging while pretending to do an impression of Clare on the catwalk.

If you look closely you can see the earpiece through which she's listening to Cold Chisel's Greatest Hits.

Mink tells Cassi she looks like she's riding a horse. "We're not at the rodeo, honey," she jeers. That's right, we're in a SEEDY KINGS CROSS NIGHTCLUB and DON'T YOU FORGET IT.

Eloise is told she has no personality, criticism which, coming as it does from a wax figurine, seems a little rich.

Lola's walk is described as "very masculine". Er, are you sure, Mink? The Kinks didn't think so.

Proving that when you're onto a good thing you should stick to it, Mink also criticises Madison for "walking like a man". If she has a go at Pease too, I'm outta here.

All the girls are forced to change into difficult-to-manage "hort ka-choor", and in a TOTALLY BIZARRE COINCIDENCE, stiff-walking Madison is forced to put on a skin-tight, floor-length PVC ball gown. That should make it easier for her.

On the other hand, in what would seem to be A TOTALLY UNFAIR ADVANTAGE Cassi's "difficult to manage" outfit consists of a singlet top and a pleated skirt. Explanations for this can be posted to What The? c/o GPO Box 5020, Howunfairisthat, SA.

"Did we see something we weren't supposed to see there?" asks Blondie as Tahnee flips open the front of her dress, prompting thousands of teenage boys to hit rewind on their Tivos.

"Sarah Murdoch is going to see my boobs!" squeals Clare. The same teenage boys make a mental note to tune into ANTM EVERY SINGLE WEEK from now on.

Lending even more credence to the rumour that she is the offspring of Alamela the modelbot from the 2008 series, Adele bravely takes on the brief of "Daft Punk on holiday", teaming some colurful cabana wear with a fetching robot mask.

The ultimate in sun protection.

The pointless parade test over, Blondie tells all the girls to turn around and check out their next big surprise...

"What? Guys, what is it? Hey, guys?"

...SOME PIECES OF PAPER CUT INTO THE SHAPE OF FEET! WOW! Honestly, the special effects on this show are second to none, they really are.

The modelettes follow the feet out the door to a poster which announces they're going to be "transported".

"We're definitely going somewhere," says Laura, after looking up "transported" in her pocket dictionary.

She's right - they go all the way to the outer suburbs.

Yes, just in case taking a bunch of underage girls to a Kings Cross nightclub wasn't inapropriate enough, the ANTM producers have made the intelligent decision to shove them into the middle of the Sydney produce markets at 4am to make them parade on the back of a truck in front of a horde of hairy old men on forklifts.

Identity Dawson is there to greet them with Pease Porridge, looking like a private school headmistress who's just busted one of her teenage pupils wagging.

"Aww honest miss, I was gunna go to class later, serious!"

"Not perfect conditions" is how they describe the morning's challenge, conveniently leaving out such descriptive words as "underage", "sexually exploitative", "totally distasteful" and "a new low for ANTM".

16 year old Clare is the only one who looks even slightly perturbed by the idea, and is therefore made to look like the scaredy-cat prude of the group, rather than A YOUNG GIRL WHO IS BEING MADE TO FEEL INCREDIBLY UNCOMFORTABLE BY A PACK OF JEERING MEN WHO SHOULD KNOW BETTER. Clare for PM.

"YOU'LL WALK IN FRONT OF THOSE SWEATY FRUIT PACKERS, AND YOU'LL LIKE IT! AHHH HA HA HA HA!"

Identity announces the winner of the challenge will win a $10,000 shopping spree at the corner shop - fuck me, how many sausage rolls is that?

"That's ten LARGE," says Pease, helpfully translating into Wank-speak for everyone.

The girls get haired and made up as the slobbering mass of testosterone around them yells totally unintimidating things out like "Woo!" and "You're a TEN!"

"Hey baby, I like your melons!"

Hideously uncomfortable bordering on unwatchable fruit market runway challenge in a nutshell:

In a clever tactic to avoid having her legs, arse and boobs stared at, Cassi adopts a completely crazy walk to divert attention. It works.

Franky almost shows her melons to all the fruit workers, courtesy of a dress made out of minced up road signs, and therefore gets the biggest cheer.

Meanwhile, Upskirt.com suddenly gets an influx of 1500 new photos.

Something tells me they're not taking pictures to add to their supermodel scrapbooks.

Suddenly, one of the big burly forklift drivers jumps up on stage in a ruffled blue cocktail dress and stomps down the runway and... oh wait, that's Lola.

Eloise finally gains some personality courtesy of a platinum blonde bob wig. But can they staple it to her head and keep it there forever?

Mikarla looks about as exciting as a squashed up banana skin on the packing room floor until she stacks it on the stairs leading off the runway and gains the biggest cheer of the day, as well as an impromptu impression from Dawson:

One of the many facial expressions Botox allows you to do.

Tahnee wins the challenge and chooses Adele to share the $10,000 worth of sausage rolls and Twisties at the corner shop with her. Mikarala has a cry about wanting to be in the house, or not wanting to be in the house, or not winning a sausage roll or something, and Cassi does the obligatory "Oym so sick of living with a bunch of girls" phone call home to her boyfriend. Right before she decides to demonstrate her love of Hitchcock by re-enacting the shower scene from Psycho with Clare.

"I was in the shower and she came bursting in, turned the shower off and started yelling at me," mews Clare, who is starting look more and more like Janet Leigh by the second.

NORMANNNNNNNNNNNNN!?

The resident film studies discussion group of the house is shocked - no one even knew Cassi liked Hitchcock! After a brief dicussion about the appropriateness of interrupting someone else's shower for no apparent reason, they get onto deconstructing the director's use of mise en scene to create mood. Next week: Cassi recreates The Birds.

Oh wait, she's already done that...

The next 10 minutes are filled with an advertisement for The Corner Shop, in which Tahnee and Adele spend a heap of money on clothing they'll never be able to wear because they're schoolgirls who probably never go out to anything, ever.

Fortunately, my soul is uplifted by the models' next challenge in which they are sent off to an abandoned tram barn in the middle of nowhere that has only recently been cleared of homeless people and junkies. (Honestly, are they trying to bump these girls off or what?)

Pease explains they're going to do a photo shoot for "U by Kotex" to launch new packagaing for "the product". The ad director tells them what "U by Kotex" is all about - confidence, being alluring, sassy and cheeky. The girls are put in long dresses and made to walk in front of a graffitied wall. At no point does anyone use the word "tampon". Welcome to the world's most surreal tampon advertisement.

"Don't mention tampons" tampon commercial shoot in a nutshell:

Franky dons a long brown wig and says she looks like "Beyonce in drag", without realising that a woman in drag is actually a bloke, which, dare I say it....

...er...

Mikarla gets a long blonde wig and looks even more like Claudia Schiffer... if she had somehow been genetically crossed with a dead fish.

There's a true zen moment when Pease asks Tahnee if she's unsure of what she's doing, to which she replies "I don't know." If a model parades in a disused tram barn and isn't sure if she's unsure, does she make a sound?

Lola struggles with coordinating the movements of her legs with her chin, prompting Pease to shriek "Lola is pretty poor - where's the confidence gone? I don't understand." Funny how people lose confidence when you criticise them, eh?

Madison struggles with the brief of getting on and off a tram until the photographer tells her to pretend she's flying, after which everything makes sense. The ANTM producers quietly double check Madison's luggage for hallucinogens.

Back at model mansion there's a good five minutes to fill before elimination, so we're treated to a completely confusing segment in which Mikarla screams at Tahnee and Eloise for putting a McDonald's bag full of cigarette butts on her bed. Why did they do this? We don't know. Why is Mikarla so upset instead of totally baffled like we are? We're not sure. Mikarla calls Tahnee fat, Cassi empties the Maccers bag into Eloise's bed, and off we trundle to elimination with no idea what just happened or why. Hurrah for editing!

Shall we picture bitch?

Eloise has clearly been taking lessons from Mink, pulling off a very convincing "wax model" look in her photo.

Cassi tells the judges she walks best when she's "not thinking". Clearly all those times she fell over she was busy writing sonnets and doing algebra in her head. Her photo, meanwhile, looks like someone has cut and pasted Bindi Irwin's head onto a store mannequin with no neck. Sadly, this isn't quite the look the judges were going for.

Madison looks like a drag queen alighting from a tram at 3am the morning after the Sydney Mardi Gras - and somehow still manages to look fabulous. She's a disco whirlwind of gorgeousness.

Clare looks like she's been shot in the arm with a tranquiliser while getting off the tram, which unsurprisingly isn't the best advertisement for tampons.

But who is in the bottom two?

"I'll tell you who I think IS in the bottom two," says Blondie, as Australia hangs off the edge of its collective seat in anticipation.

"Yep, I agree," says Identity Dawson, while all the other judges nod in agreement.

Er, yes? Who? What? Pardon? We'll never know, as these comments are never explained.

"What about...?" says Blondie.

"I LOATHE that picture," spits Joh Bailey.

"She gives me the Hitchcock chills, that one," snarls Dawson.

WHO? WHAT? FOR GOD'S SAKE, WHO ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? Viewers all around the country make a mental note to punch the ANTM editors if they ever meet them.

After all this abstract postulating it's time for someone to go - TWO people actually, as it turns out. It's a massive sale in the model warehouse and every model must go!

The three recruits left standing are Sergeant Expressionless Eloise, Lieutenant Slack Mikarla and Major Angerness Cassi - until Cassi is sent back to the mansion, leaving Eloise and Mikarla to sashay out the door and into obscurity.

"Mikarla's the only one trying in this competition," wails Cassi, prostrating herself at the feet of Blondie McPins.

"She's trying so hard, this isn't fair," she moans, looking up at Blondie's face, two kilometers away up in the stratosphere.

Meanwhile, no one seems to care that Eloise is leaving. Who? Exactly.

Now - get on over to Jo Blogs to see what zingers she's come up with this week, but not before leaving me a comment!

Australia's Next Top Model Wrap Up: Series 5/Ep 3

2009-05-12T20:01:00.000+09:30

Welcome to the third instalment of ANTM 2009, otherwise known as "the week this series finally got interesting".

Yes, after two weeks of introductions, gym routines, nurition advice and half-arsed exercising SOMETHING VAGUELY INTERESTING ACTUALLY HAPPENS TONIGHT - don't get up to make tea or go to the toilet, you might miss it.

But first - while watching the opening credits, I start to notice something about Lola. The lopsided eyes, the huge jaw, that annoying "ba ding ding ding" way she talks - IS LOLA ACTUALLY THE CRAZY FROG?

You never see them in the same room together...

The customary flashback reminds us that Samantha-lookalike Leah is no longer on the show after being booted last week in favour of Home and Away-extra-lookalike Georgie. Who? You know, the one with brown hair and legs. And... er... well she's still there, anyhow.

Back at model HQ, all 53 members of the house sit in the tiny kitchen "eating breakfast" while Georgie casually walks into the living room for no apparent reason and "discovers" a Sarah Mail in a box. With all her experience in Summer Bay it's no surprise Georgie is the winner of this week's ANTM Logie for "least convincing performance on a reality TV show". I think the producers should get an extra gold star too for their consistently thrilling script writing.

"...Georgie enters left and says 'Hey guys, Sarah Mail!'. All the other models look really surprised and rush in from right..."

Georgie opens the box and discovers it's full of wigs, with a note reading "Let me cut to the chase, try these on for size." It's a tough one, but cryptic clues are no match for the models, and after 20 minutes or so they quickly deduce they'll be chasing each other with scissors as part of a commercial for a new wig shop. Clare intelligently points out that that would violate the terms of the contract they signed before coming on the show, while Madison notes it would go against occupational health and safety regulations. The group shares confused looks for a further half hour before Laura T eventually puts the concepts of "hair" and "cut" together and realises they'll all be having haircuts.

They're shuttled off to Joh Bailey's palais de perm in the city where Blondie Mc Pins and Pease are there to meet them - the latter looking actually quite dishy for the first time this series. His top lip might never, ever move, but that Joh Bailey really can make ANYONE look good!

Well HELLO there.

Makeover day in a nutshell:

Blondie tells Mikarla she'll be getting a bleached blonde reverse mullet - long in front, short at the back. Mikarla is horrified - "I'm about to get a farkin Victoria Beckham haircut!!" she spits. Presumably she would have preferred a REAL mullet to match her bogan roots.

In what may be the least exciting makeover ever, redhead Adele is told she'll be getting red hair. In other news: everything stayed the same today, and nothing new happened anywhere. More at 11.

Blondie tells Laura-Liu they're going to "shave it all off", but ends up giving her a bob haircut. We can only assume Laura will be well prepared for their next swimwear shoot.

Franky is told her "shopping mall" curls have to go and she promptly throws a massive tanty. She claims her hair will not grow back once it's cut, which begs the question: IS FRANKY A BARBIE DOLL?

"An eight year old girl cut it once AND IT NEVER GREW BACK, I SWEAR!!!"

After declaring her intention to leave the show rather than cut her godawful tresses, Franky proves herself a complete pussy by backing down after being confronted by Blondie. Maybe she told her they'd get her a replacement head if she didn't like her new do.

Madison wanders around with six kilograms of tinfoil hanging off her head and blobs of bleach coating every surface and still manages to look more groomed than at any point in the past two episodes.

And she's not even FINISHED yet!

And the resulting looks:

ELOISE steals the "least exciting makeover ever" crown from Adele by simply having her hair curled

ADELE goes from a gorgeous, natural beauty to looking like she's dyed her hair with a packet of Electric Orange Fun Dye that was in the mark-downs bin at the local Coles

MADISON goes from "crazy haired cat lady" to "generic blonde at mall", complete with REALLY BAD DYE JOB - Joh Bailey, what the hell, man? I hate to admit this, but... I actually think she looked better before.

Mmm, stripey!

MIKARLA takes the words "farken", "d'you know what I mean" and "hair extensions" and uses them to form a sentence that translates from Boganian as "I am an ungrateful yob who can't appreciate a good haircut when she sees one"

CASSI gets a few curls and some highlights and looks a million bucks, which is a far cry from the usual $12.99 she pays at Price Attack to have her hair done

GEORGIE looks... er... what did she look like before again?

TAHNEE, CLARE and LOLA are deemed too dull to get their own piece of airtime, given that their makeovers seem to have amounted to nothing more than a good brushing.

The ghost of Jodhello Meares finally manages to break through the fourth dimension and contact the living by using the newly-bobbed LAURA T as a host body, forcing her to blurt "Oh my God, SHUT UP!". Sadly she is dragged back to the spirit world before managing to shout "How good is that?!".

FRANKY looks like Pedro Santana, a Mexican schoolboy who sells postcards to tourists at the airport, and yet still looks completely fashionable. She'd want to HOPE her hair won't grow back.

Back at model HQ, all the girls are lined up to meet the head of Maybelline New York - NIGEL. Is there a name less suited to the head of a makeup brand than Nigel? I think not.

Anyway, Nige shows all the girls how to put on makeup properly, and then they have to get into groups and put makup on each other, and then ^&$^s4s5sdgjezcs. Sorry, fell asleep for a moment there and my head hit the keyboard.

The dull festival is ended by the arrival of a Sarah Mail which informs the girls they're they'll be filming a Maybelline TV commercial the next day. This should of course be taken to mean they'll be reciting lines about Maybelline in front of a camera that may or may not be switched on, and any resulting footage will never be aired on a television screen anywhere, ever. HOW EXCITING!

Guess what, girls - you're already ON television.

Part of the brief is to come up with a unique line about the new Maybelline Collagen Enhanced Super-Turbo-Powered Jet-Propelled Extra Thick Ultra Massive Crazy Fantastic Wow Mascara to deliver in the commercial - as if they'll have time to get one in after saying the name of the product.

"Oym garnna say 'Not two times volume, not four times volume, but nine times volume with new collagen'," barks Cassi, who has clearly missed her calling as a highly paid advertising executive.

It's certainly a cunning plan - tell everyone your line so that no one will steal it. Much more effective than just KEEPING IT TO YOUR BLOODY SELF, YOU PLONKER.

And off they troop to a carpark in the middle of Sydney, which is obviously the closest the Fox 8 budget could get them to New York, and start the "getting in and out of cars saying silly things about mascara" challenge. They all look fabulous after their makeovers and... WHAT THE?

Madison's new squillion dollar hair makeover was REALLY worth it.

In a nutshell:

Adele looks like Ronald McDonald in a garbage bag, which would seem to be a better advertisement for white foundation and red lipstick than mascara, but anyway.

"Is there something on my face?"

Laura delivers her lines as if she's planning to follow them with a "HEEEE-YA!" and a kick to the face, which is actually a teeny bit awesome. Laura for PM.

In a decision that is totally hers and not at all a suggestion by the ANTM producers to inject controversy into what is turning out to be a fairly dull segment, Lola decides to steal Cassi's line for herself. Predictably enough, everyone goes crazy for her performance. Well, if anyone's qualified to talk about "the power of colossal" it's eight-feet-tall Lola and her ginormous head.

Looking like Kate Moss on a coke binge, an angry Cassi storms off set and starts screaming, smoking and punching walls in a scene reminiscent of Pete Doherty's house on a Saturday night.

Franky's new haircut manages to convince everyone she has "New York attitude", even though she's about as New York as the bagels they sell at Baker's Delight.

Georgie attempts to buy some personality by putting on an American accent, but fails to convey New York by neglecting to yell "FUHGEDDABOUTIT!"

Mikarla turns her commercial into an arsty short film by getting out of a car, saying "Long, strong and fashion forward" and walking away without once mentioning the brand name or the product. Very post modern.

Lola's effort is deemed the best, and she wins what is actually a covetable prize for once - bits and pieces of Tiffany, Jimmy Choo, and Marc Jacobs - while Cassi seethes in the corner.

"I can't see Cassi in Jimmy Choo shoes anyway," slags Lola, who is fast becoming my favourite.

Back at model HQ and all the girls are straight back into bad acting training again. Today's lesson is "pretending to be woken up by the alarm clock at 6am". None of them pass.

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so make sure the beholder is the lens today," reads Adele from their brand new Sarah Mail.

"I THINK IT'S A BEAUTY SHOOT!" she shrieks.

Yes, I think they're getting smarter too.

And so off the shuffle to the park, where they're stripped of makeup, shoved in front of a camera and told to look beautiful - LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE, HA HA!

Beauty shoot in a nutshell:

Blinded by the glare from her gleaming Victoria Beckham hair, Mikarla's eyes don't stop watering for the entire shoot. "She's got squinty eyes!" shouts Dawson from off set.

The ever exciting Georgie manages to get upstaged by a piece of string wrapped around her head.

Eloise looks very pretty and yet I still couldn't give a shit.

Tahnee goes from "pretty spunky" to "red hot sexy mamma" thanks to some carefully applied slow-mo and a flamenco backing track that I'm fairly sure won't actually carry over to her final photos.

Lola tries to relax her mouth and ends up accidentally eating both her hands.

"I CAN'T HOLD IT ANY LONGER!"

Adele looks red headed, pale and vulnerable, and is served a writ for copyright infringement from Alice Burdeu's lawyers at the end of her shoot.

Cassi. How DOES that little bogan do it? I have no words, only photographic evidence:

Before and after. I know, I know, I don't get it either.

What else is there left to do but head to the elimination warehouse, where models are put through a grinder, turned into mulch and fed to hairdressers the world over. Well, apart from gang up on Franky about how she's a bitch, stomp around and scream things like "I'm here to win, I don't care what anyone thinks!", that is. But that would be boring, wouldn't it? Yes, it would.

Almost all of the models' photos turn out rather pretty, which cuts down the comedic potential of my weekly picture bitch to almost nil but for the following exceptions:

The ethereal Clare is compared to Cate Blanchett in Lord of the Rings, but I prefer to think of her more as "that scary as fuck creature that came out of the wardrobe in Poltergeist":

She's heeeeeeere...

Lola looks rather like a Jim Henson muppet with a belt wrapped around its head, prompting Dawson to label her "a lump of coal" and Pezza to remark "I don't think we've seen your best photo yet." I'd bloody hope not.

In her second attempt to gain a personality this episode, Georgie does her best Lola impression by also wrapping a belt around her head but doesn't quite nail the "muppet" part of the brief. "I don't know that beauty is your forte," says Pezza. Ouuuuuch...

"Some of the girls are getting a bit scary and testing my botox," snaps Pezza, in what is an early front runner for QUOTE OF THE SEASON.

In the end, as usual, there can be only one. Or rather, two: Mikarla big hair and Georgie small personality. CAN YOU GUESS WHICH ONE WILL GO?

Yes, it's goodbye Georgie - don't acquire any charm or charisma on the way out, now!

You now have two tasks to fulfil before you go and do something important with your lives: a) leave a comment (for goodness sake, I need SOME love!) and b) go visit Jo-Jo Blogs for a second helping of model roast.

Australia's Next Top Model Wrap Up: Series 5/Ep 2

2009-05-05T20:36:00.001+09:30

As per tradition, we start this week's episode with a bit of flashbackery to last week, when that girl we can't remember the name of got kicked off for not being as good as all the other girls we can't remember the names of.

"I'm happy that she's gone because I didn't like her, honestly I couldn't stand being in the same room as her, and now she's gone - thank GOD," barks Cassi, who is doing absolutely nothing to challenge the growing perception of her as a true blue bogan.

Then, with a complete lack of continuity we've all come to know and love from the ANTM editors, we cut to footage of a presumably drunken Mikarla yelling "I'M LIKE A FIRECRACKER!" while all the models dance around in what appears to be a cafe. But whatever the models have been drinking, it's enough to have convinced them that they are actually in a nightclub, and so Mikarla and Cassi start dancing on the tables amongst the cutlery and condiments.

"She just got up and arse grinded me," spits Mikarla the Claudia Schiffer lookalike, in a decidedly UN Claudia Schiffer-like manner.

"He just got up and arse grinded me, and then we were married!"

In a totally uninteresting subplot, it seems Cassi has identified Mikarla as the head bogan of the group and so, understandably, is mimicking her every move. Poor, misguided Cassi. Doesn't she realise that no one could possibly out-bogan her?

"Screw youse all, Oym garn darn the pub."

Suddenly, the most fabulous pair of shoes I've ever seen turns up at model HQ, attached as they are to the ends of our beloved host's legs - who I am now beholden to refer to as "Blondie McPins" after you lot voted for it last week. (It won by one vote, woo hoo!)

Blondi McPins has clearly arrived at the model mansion VERY early in the morning, as all the girls are asleep in bed instead of up and about playing chess, discussing politics and reading the financial pages like they usually are. However it soon becomes obvious that it's probably actually about four in the afternoon when Franky and the girls put on a completely real and totally not staged performance entitled "Pretending to wake up and get out of bed" that is about as realistic as an episode of Home and Away.

"Quick everyone, out of bed! Not like that - the way we REHEARSED!"

As it turns out, all this Logie-worthy fuss and bother is simply in aid of meeting a nutritionist (or "nutritionalist" if you ask Clare) who lectures the girls about not eating carbs. Or eating more vegetables. Or something.

"Nutritionist? I thought they said dermatologist. :("

"What food do you think I could eat that would make me put on weight quickly?" asks Mikarla, in what could be the most blonde question ever asked by anyone in the history of the world, ever.

Well Mikarla, there's this...

Or this...

Or this...

Or you could try this...

And soon you'll be on your way!

The two minutes of social responsiblity over with, the girls are handed some exercise outfits and sent off to the gym, from which Clare intelligently deduces that they'll be doing some exercise. Smart girl, that Clare.

Totally boring exercise challenge in a nutshell:

The models are all weighed and measured, using scales and tape measures borrowed from the local nano technology lab.

"I'm sorry miss, but there doesn't seem to be any room for your large intestine. You're going to have to die."

In an event never ever witnessed at my house, Cassi starts crying when she finds out she's lost weight.

Clare invents a new kind of exercise known as the "weak as piss push up"

Through the wonders of modern computer technology, 16 year old Cassi is revealed to actually be 41. Everyone struggles to be surprised.

"AWWW GET STARFFED!"

Shocked by her fitness assessment, Cassi decides to make amends by exiting the gym and lighting up a fag on the doorstep.

"Oym still in me fitness gear, so it's still exercising, roight?"

Back at model HQ and this time it's Madison's turn to win a Logie, by entering stage left and shouting "Hey guys, I think there's something outside!".

What they find in their driveway has clearly come DIRECTLY FROM MY NIGHTMARES - a bunch of midgets in leotards doing flips and somersaults in the rain.

You call them children, I call them SCARY AS FUCK.

"And then one of the girls pulled a Sarah Mail out of her..." begins Franky, but is drowned out by the sounds of my screaming. Sorry, I'm not sure where that midget pulled that envelope from - you'll have to use your imagination.

Using a crappy quote about falling over (from "anonymous" - come ON guys, couldn't you just get Blondie McPins to say something and then attribute it to her?) the Sarah Mail sends the models off to another gym where Pease tells them they're about to be "challenged in every sense of the word".

Madison's already got the "mentally challenged" bit down pat.

Unless he's talking to the viewers (who are currently being challenged just to stay awake) I think Pease really means "challenged in just ONE sense of the word -physically", as the models are made to don sparkly leotards and learn a gymnastics routine. Watching a bunch of uncoordinated girls attempting to do the splits is about as interesting as it sounds, save for the part when Cassi does the worm and pulls a muscle in her shoulder. Clare is determined the winner of the lamest challenge in ANTM history for making her leotard look fashionable or something, and is rewarded with a ticket to the ballet with Blondie McPins.

The next five "challenging" minutes of the episode are filled with Mikarla debating with Cassi about how bad her sprained muscle may or may not be, Clare and Tahnee getting ready to go to the ballet, and me yawning and checking my watch.

I'm momentarily excited when Clare mentions that she and Tahnee will be wearing "hussy dresses" to the performance, but it turns out she's talking about a brand name and not something like this, which I was hoping for:

Dis be a real hussy dress, beeyatch!

"I was a bit jealous they went to the ballet but then I made a lasagne which was really good so they missed out on that," says Madison, finding the bechamel lining to the situation.

Back at model HQ, the girls prove stimulation is hard to come by in the model house by once again being thrilled beyond belief by bunch of balloons in their hallway.

Clare expertly deduces that they will be "attached to a massive balloon and flung into the air". Agreed, it's not QUITE as big a giveaway as exercise gear, but seriously...

Confusion reigns as the modelettes are sent off to the pier to catch a boat ("There was water in front of us!" shrieks Clare, who appears not to recognise the ocean... I am beginning to doubt her intelligence), and the next five minutes are filled with a whole lot of "oh moy gourd-ing", the highlight of which is Tahnee expressing delight over sitting on a leather seat. Thankfully she doesn't notice the chrome door handles - she would have LOST IT.

Just like their convict forefathes, they're booted offshore at Cockatoo Island where sadly, there is only one cock to meet them - Jonathan Pease, who has decided to come dressed as your younger brother from 1994.

"I borrowed your Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch tape, I hope you don't mind."

He tells them they'll be doing a "tulle on trapeze" shoot for Cosmopolitan magazine, which elicits a reaction from the girls more nightmarish than those trampolining midgets earlier:

THIS makes me think of...

THIS.

Tulle on trapeze challenge in a nutshell:

The Cosmo editor tells the girls to "tap into the dramatic nature of fashion". Sadly, this turns out to mean "pose in a vaguely interesting outfit" rather than "grab a skull and start soliloquising".

Adele straps half a chicken and some glitter to her head and wraps herself awkwardly around a hula hoop suspended from the ceiling, in what is vaguely reminiscent of the Ingham's killing floor.

Laura wears basically the same outfit and does a passable impression of a pigeon on Valium, by constantly falling off the hoop and crashing to the floor. She later manages to keep her balance for longer when someone hangs a seed bell just out of shot to distract her.

Cassi undergoes an amazing transformantion from bogan to budgie to dark horse to annoying git.

Franky's emotional break down complete with fake tears still isn't enough to make her dominatrix outfit of a top hat and underpants look "innocent".

Wide-eyed, rosebud-lipped Clare looks like she's been eating cupcakes and fairy bread all day surrounded by kittens in teacups while fairies braid her hair - and yet I still can't dislike her. Bless that pale little sprite.

Back at model HQ it's time for elimination, and Cassi Von Boganburg has bought a brand new dress for the occasion.

"It was only 40 bucks - really cheap, really nice," she crows. Well, she got it half right...

"They're not the only ones round here with a hussy dress!"

Without further ado, let's on to the picture bitch:

Pezza says Georgie was "saved by her outfit". That totally happened to me once, when I accidentally walked out in front of an oncoming car and my jeans pulled me out of the way at the last second while my handbag called for medical assistance. So. Lucky.

If Charles Dickens had made Miss Havisham an Olympic gymnast whose dress was also magic and was trying to eat her, Madison's photo could easily be the cover art for Great Expectations.

Pezza accuses Dawson of using too much botox. She sadly misses the opportunity to accuse him of using too much head polish.

Tahnee manages to look like a slightly overweight ballerina-slash-cat-burglar caught climbing through the window on CCTV footage, which must be one of the looks for this season as she makes it into Cosmo magazine anyway.

Laura-Liu's photo is completely and utterly amazing and should totally take out the Cosmo cover

Pezza snaps at Cassi "Stop buying satin dresses to wear during the day", which is a sentence I think we should all try to use at least once this week.

Dawson describes Lola as being like "gravy lumps" and everyone nods sagely, despite no one having a fucking clue what she means.

"Being saved by a dress is a modern day tragedy!" barks Pezza, who is totally outdoing himself in the awesome quotes this episode.

And then it's down to two - Georgie, the girl you've already forgotten because any footage with her in it clearly always ends up on the cutting room floor, and Leah, the girl you only remember because she looks a bit like Samantha from last year.

Blondie McPins is understandably perplexed:

"BOTH OF YOU ARE SO FORGETTABLE, I CAN'T DECIDE."

But in the end, it's Leah who gets the boot, plus both of her eyebrows. Congrats Georgie - let's see if you can actualy get on the show next week!

And now you're done here, head on over to Jo Blogs for her version of events.

Got your own thoughts? Leave a comment!

Australia's Next Top Model Wrap Up: Series 5/Ep 1

2009-04-28T20:35:00.003+09:30

The wait is over! It's finally here! As they say on Iron Chef: Bang a gong, it is on - it's cycle five of Australia's Next Top Model!

Hang on, there's been five seasons? Can anyone name more than two winners? Never mind, the hunt is on again to find a skinny, pouty, carb-avoider to join the ranks of Alice, Demelza... er... Eboni... and er... that other one that now works at Muffin Break as being AUSTRALIA'S NEXT TOP MODEL! Or just Australia's Next Model! Or potentially just Ferrero Rocher Ambassador!

This year gets off to a bittersweet start with the revelation that former host Jodhi Meares has left the show to pursue a career lecturing in Clipboard Holding 101 at the local WEA, and has been replaced by my bosses son's wife, Sarah Murdoch. Er... and isn't that WONDERFUL?!

"This year the bar has been lifted even higher with international supermodel Sarah Murdoch - the perfect guide and mentor to take our 13 finalists to the top," crows the voiceover.

Take THAT Jodhello Nobody!

Of course this now means I need to come up with a new ridiculous nickname for her, so I'm throwing it open to you guys. Whatever the poll says next week, that's what I'll stick with:

And that's not the only part of the show to receive a makeover - the theme song sounds like it's been dragged through Bollywood backwards.

"I can't talk now Rajib, I've got to get back to the studio to remix the ANTM theme for the live finale!"

We get our first look at the contestants which, as we've never heard of them before is less than thrilling, but for the following notable exceptions:

LEAH who looks like a poor man's Sam from last year

"If both I and my eyebrows were thicker..."

ADELE who looks like the love child of 2008 contestants Alex and Alamela

Aladela.

MIKARLA and TAHNEE who may not win the competition but certainly win "the most bogan ANTM contestant name since Eboni award"

MADISON who looks like she's hopped in a Delorean and come straight from lying on the hood of a Porsche in 1983, a look I sincerely hope she maintains for the entire series

"She's my cherry pie, hair so bleached make Joh Bailey cry..."

And CASSI who looks like what the lovechild of Anne Hathaway and Bindi Irwin would look like if she ate Angelina Jolie feet first and stopped at the lips.

The episode gets down to business straight away, at a top class VIP function somewhere in Sydney. It's clearly a hot party, as the totally-real-and-not-rent-a-tog paparazzi are going NUTS for all the A Listers... oh wait, no, those flashes are just reflections from judge Alex Perry's shiny head as he navigates the red carpet with fellow judge (sorry, "fashion mentor") Dawson and Priscilla, queen of the desserts.

Weeellll, actually I SAY "VIP" and "A Listers" but as the only guests we can identify are last year's contestants and Collette Dinnigan (and that's only because they put up a sign telling us it's her) I think it's safe to assume it's mostly a rent-a-crowd deal.

It soon becomes apparent that all of this has been set up as some sort of "surprise" party to strike fear into the modelettes' hearts when they finally do arrive, something I heartily approve of.

"They think they're coming in to see the judging panel and then they'll see US - they don't even know we're HERE!" gushes some blonde woman identified as "Lisa Hensley, actor". Given that Miss Hensley's career seems to amount to a series of uncredited bit parts in Australian movies and one episode of All Saints, I think it's safe to assume that even if the models did know she was there, they wouldn't care.

"I don't think I could do it again, it's too much nerves," dribbles last year's winner Demelza, demonstrating that her superior command of the English language hasn't suffered at all in the last 12 months.

First lamb to the slaughter is 18 year old ~~Samantha~~ Leah.

"We had to walk past all these famous people - I had no idea who they were," she bleats, proving that anyone hoping for a challenge to the "pretty but thick" model stereotype this season will be sorely disappointed.

While they're waiting for the next serving of fresh meat, Dawson, Pezza and Prissy debate how they want their models this year and decide on "fresh, expensive and tall". As opposed to last season when they wanted them mouldy, cheap and short.

Now it all makes sense...

The rumour that Adele shares DNA with Alex and Alamela gains momentum when Pezza exclaims "She's got no top lip!" and Dawson shrieks "She walks like Frankenstein!" Aw, a chip off the old block.

Next up is 17 year old Madison who in the first five minutes of episode one cements herself as this year's official "hot mess", by claiming her best physical attribute is her hair.

Never would have guessed she was from the Gold Coast.

"I'm not into mainstream fashion, I'm more into sort of like, lower brands," Madison says, as if anyone thought otherwise.

Dawson labels her "economy class Garuda", but I prefer to think of her as more "cargo hold Aeroflot". Or actually, she's probably more like an Emirates flight - cheap + no sleep = disaster.

Then there's 18 year old Laura T, who will clearly be this year's Demelza/J'aime and therefore possibly the first person to get punched by Dawson.

"Yah, I went to Milan for fashion week, so I do have a fair bit of modelling experience," she blahs.

"I think she looks like a wild pig," barks Pezza, which rather puts an end to THAT ego trip.

And then there's Lola (yes, L-O-L-A, Lola), who both lives up to AND outdoes The Kinks' lyrics by both walking AND talking like a man. Or, if you're Pezza, like "a yeti".

"It'll be a competitive competition," says Lola, who is clearly going to give Leah a run for her money in the model IQ stakes this season.

Although don't discount Franky, who shows off her superior intelligence by walking into the room and missing the turn off, wandering off into the crowd instead of sticking to the blindingly obvious, specially cordoned-off red carpet laid out for her. Although it's possible she was just heading directly to the bar, in which case Franky might just be my new best friend.

And it's on to 16 year old Cassi, who is this year's official self-esteem deficient.

"They were yelling out that I was beautiful, but they probably say that to every girl," she whines.

I would take whatever I could get, if I were you...

Pezza displays a less-than-modern grip on multiculturalism by describing Laura M, a half Chinese contestant, as both "Minnie Ha-Ha" and "Lucy Liu". Oh YOU know, one of those funny skin, funny eye little people!

Same same, but different.

Then there's pale, blonde ice princess Clare, looking rather like a cheerleader who would bash your legs with a sledgehammer, Misery-style, smiling all the while, if she didn't like the way you shook your pom-poms.

"She's like a murderous beauty pageant queen - Jonbenet Ramsey aged 18," gushes Pezza. Given that Jonbenet Ramsey GOT murdered, and didn't actually murder anyone herself, this displays something of a lack of understanding of current affairs on Pezza's part. Unless he's implying that Clare looks like a dead six year old - with a BMI that low and skin that pale perhaps that's not so far from the truth.

The party parade over, Miss Murdoch brings each contestant up on stage for a bit of intelligent Q&A, which as you can imagine is rather like what you'd get if you got Michael Parkinson to interview a piece of cheese. I long for a Miss Teen South Carolina moment:

This clip never gets old

But the only highlight comes from Leah, who states that the most important characteristic of a good model is a personality. Insert incorrect buzzer noise here.

After these thrills, each model undergoes their first challenge - walking off stage and turning left - which everyone passes except for Franky. Again. Maybe she did make it to the bar after all?

"I just can't turn left..."

They're accosted backstage by everyone's favourite Lego man, Jonathan Pease Porridge, who grabs the opportunity to touch some jailbait under the guise of being a "mentor", and hairdresser Joh Bailey who starts throwing hairspray and combs at their heads. It's a day of firsts for Madison, who feels the sting of a brush for the first time.

"OMG WHAT IS THAT BRISTLY THING?!"

The intelligence festival comes to a head when 18 year old Mikarla explains how Pease eventually revealed they'd all be walking on the catwalk. No! What, after having hair and makeup done and putting on new clothes and everything? Well I'll be.

It's all a bit too much for Madison, who reveals she has "prehistoric butterflies" in her stomach.

Probably better than ninja butterflies...

Meanwhile with Sezz Murdoch doing such a stellar job of looking pretty, reading the autocue and breathing all at the same time the Jodhello bashing continues, with Collette Dinnigan declaring that as a former top model herself, Miss Murdoch is the perfect host and mentor for the girls, yada yada yada. The ghost of Jodhi starts crying, and blows her nose on last season's Tigerlily one piece.

Yeah yeah, Murdoch's great, but do her two friends help her host too?

First ever catwalk challenge in a nutshell:

Collette Dinnigan reveals the shoes they're all wearing "were not made for walking" which kind of begs the question "WHAT IS THE FUCKING POINT OF THEM, THEN?"

Madison walks like something assembled out of chipboard from IKEA.

Mikarla walks the exact perimeter of the runway as though she's been asked to by a police officer, but manages to avoid finishing with a power chuck into the first row.

Cassi stumbles out like Frankenstein on a pub crawl, gasps "FUCK!" when her shoe slips, and lurches off the catwalk again in what can only be described as PERFORMANCE OF THE YEAR.

Pease stands backstage and perfects his wanker impression by making comments like "You've arrived!" and "Make it work!" to every contestant.

Charlie Brown says she hopes the competition will turn the girls into "polished swans".

"And the winner is..."

Pezza uses the word expensive for the second time already this series, which means I'm going to have to start using this:

It's the inaugural Pezza Expense-O-Meter!

And just a reminder - Cassi is a finalist in a modelling competition.

For real.

Despite her inability to follow simple directions like "Walk down the catwalk, then back up the catwalk and turn left", Franky wins the challenge and therefore immunity from elimination, granting her the opportunity to sit around eating cake and being a big fat bitch to everyone without fear of getting the chop. Lucky she got Demelza's number at the Ivy party, she can call her for tips.

As a reward for their 20 minutes of hard work walking in a straight line, the modelettes are sent off to Model HQ to check out their new luxury digs and collect an arseload of expensive presents from designer labels.

After 22 straight minutes of "OH MOY GOURD-ing" ("Oh moy GOURD there's a pool! Oh moy GOURD there's presents on our beds! Oh moy GOURD I'm sapping Australian viewers' collective will to live!") the producers once again waste litres of expensive Veuve Clicquot on a bunch of schoolgirls. I can only hope they have siphoned it off and replaced it with passion pop - the girls would probably like that better anyway.

The only part of any of this worth watching is when Mikarla shrieks "I've got a beaver!", prompting an envious Lola to look mournfully down at her crotch and wonder what that must be like, and when ~~Bindi~~ Cassi starts freaking out about being homesick, but cheers herself up by yelling "FUCK!". And then "Crocs rule!". Lola rushes to cheer her up but later admits she wants to shoot her in the head - don't worry Lola, we all felt the same way about Bindi about three years ago...

The girls spontaneously throw a "house meeting" to come up with some "house rules". Pardon? Where'd they get this bunch of prisses? Whatever happened to the good old days of the Paloma Pavlova and "Game on, moll"? Luckily, Georgie saves the day by making one of the rules "Cassi is annoying me", which is neither a rule nor fair but is extremely entertaining. Franky adds a second rule that isn't a rule, "Cassi is selfish", but then clarifies by saying "I didn't say she was selfish, I said she COMES ACROSS as selfish", which no one believes, leading Franky to reassess who her "true friends are" in the house. It's a tough lesson to learn - even after knowing people for a whole three hours, you still can't truly know them.

The next morning the girls prove how discerning and mature they are by taking an unusual amount of delight in some colourful umbrellas filled with glitter. I am beginning to doubt the models are sticking to the "no illegal drugs" house rule. After approximately four and a half hours of giggling, screaming and playing with the "pretty sparkles" the girls have a sippy-cup of juice and a nap before waking up again to go on their first photo shoot.

They're greeted by Pease, who has clearly not managed to beat his addiction to stupid eyewear despite being up to step eight on the Kanye West 12 Step Program.

In Step Nine he has to contact every shop he's ever bought glasses from and apologise.

Pease informs them they'll be shooting "swimwear ka-choor", which I assume is actually "swimwear couture", which none of the modelettes understands. This is rather like a chef looking at the big, sharp, pointy metal things in his kitchen and wondering what they are.

"You're going to have to deal with some strong accessories, some props, and we've even built in a water element for good measure," Pease says.

Oh no - water? ON A SWIMWEAR SHOOT? Still, that's the least of their problems - I'm more worried about those muscled-up handbags and shoes roughing them up for their lunch money.

Photographer Georges Antoni tells all the girls that every time they step in front of his camera, they've got to look cool. Like Pease.

Yeah!

Swimwear ka-choor shoot in a nutshell:

Georgie reveals her apparent nudist background, whinging that she "doesn't wear bathers at home". Given that she probably doesn't manhandle giant soccer balls under fountains with her lips painted blue either, she probably doesn't have much personal experience to draw on for today's shoot.

Tahnee looks like she's been attacked by a bedazzler-wielding maniac in her sleep, and is instructed to look "tragic" - as if she doesn't already.

Lola looks a bit like Frida Kahlo crossed with Big Bird in a rainshower. I'm not sure if this is an improvement on "yeti" or not.

Mikarla stretches up against a wall in an effort to look sexy and fashionable, and instead comes off looking like the last chicken in Coles' poultry cabinet. "I feel like you could see boniness," she says.

YOU THINK?

Franky poses with a giant red lipstick and once again has trouble discerning left from right, front from back. Does this girl have a legitimate problem?

Clare mistakenly gives a fellow contestant some friendly words of well-wishing, which provokes all the other modelettes to jump in and bash her for looking like a corpse.

Cassi draws some more inspiration from Bindi Irwin by lying uncomfortably across a giant flamingo. Pity no crocs were available.

Leah complains that her swimsuit looks like something off a Special K ad, prompting Pease to march her off set in her bathers and stilettos and give her a telling off IN THE MIDDLE OF A BUSY ROAD. Somewhere in the distance, screeching of tyres and crunching metal can be heard.

Back in model HQ the first ever eviction notice sends all the modelettes into a flurry of squeals and running around that is just a Wiggles backing track away from resembling an ABC Learning Centre.

Mikarla reckons 16 year old Cassi might be up for the chop, because she "just has too many dramas going on in her life at the moment" to be a top model. True, because you do have to be incredibly well adjusted to be a supermodel.

Er...

Then it's off to the elimination wherehouse, where HOLY FUCKING SHIT WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO SARAH MURDOCH'S LEGS?

Er...

I know she's a model and everything but for REAL man, shouldn't there be SOME discernible difference between your calf and your thigh?

For refernce - the chopsticks are on the RIGHT.

Still, she's a damn sight better than Jodhello, as we manage to get through the "Hello girls, and welcome to elimination" speech in about 30 seconds, as opposed to the usual five and a half hours. She also seems to be able to talk without reading from a clipboard or sounding retarded. Clever girl, that Murdoch. Sadly, this cuts down the comedy potential for this series by approximately 52 per cent.

She goes through the prizes - like representation by Priscilla's, who also manages all those other Top Model talents like Alice Burdeu and... er... um... Well anyway, they also win some other crap including $20,000, which will no doubt come in handy when they need to supplement their income from those Supercheap Auto catalogue shoots after they win.

And so it's on to the first picture bitch of the season:

Franky looks like an amputee who's trying to make love to a giant lipstick which has had a spare hand graphed onto it by genetic scientists.

The centrefold for Amputees Monthly.

Dawson criticises Laura M for having squinty eyes. Um...

Remember, Dawson?

Leah graduates from Special K commercial to Nurofen commercial

Ohhh my head.....

Priscilla gets out her 1955 edition of the "Good Girl Guide", turns to chapter six, "How to make friends", skips past the paragraph about "not appearing too intelligent" and tells one of the models "Don't be too confident, or you'll become unpopular."

Dawson says something about Eloise - I can't remember what, just that it involved the world "Ridonkulousness".

Madison's photo shows her with her hair back in a bun and everyone calls it a "transformation". Just shave the girl's head and be done with it.

Lola's photo makes her look like a 1940s sailor wench furiously searching for her lost love while inexplicably riding the back of a giant Academy Award. I am SERIOUSLY beginning to doubt that "no drugs" policy.

Mikarla's photo looks like an etching from a 16th century book about the plague which, of course, prompts her to launch into a speech about how much pizza she eats and how normal she is and...

YEAH RIGHT.

Laura "I've been to Milan for fashion week and I've got a great portfolio" T turns out an absolute dog in which she looks like a corpse that's been washed up onto shore. Pezza labels her a moose. So that's her done, then.

Sadly, we can't just give the award to Sarah Murdoch, so we have to plough on with a little judgement speech for every girl that lasts approximately 17 and a half days.

And then it's down to two - Alexamela the modelbot 2.0 and some other bird I can't remember, which means she'll probably be the one to get the boot. Aaaaaaaand yep, Adelalexamela gets a piece of paper with her name on it and the other one doesn't, which means it's goodbye to Laura "Moose" T, who departs in a fog of tears and snot.

Who? Who cares! Onwards and upwards, modelites! IT'S ONLY JUST BEGUN.

Now get on over to Jo Blogs while the martinis are still cold.

Do you wanna piece of me?

2009-04-20T16:59:00.002+09:30

I'm selling a bunch of fabulous dresses on Ebay - they're clogging up my wardrobe and I feel it's time to say goodbye, alas.

But my loss is your gain - head along to my Ebay store and make a bid!

Mario Batali vs Jennifer Saunders

2009-04-12T11:08:00.004+09:30

The other night while spongeing off the 24 hour entertainment system otherwise known as my mother's Foxtel subscription, I came across the half hour wankfest that is Spanish Road Trip with Gwyneth and Mario.

It's basically a weekly instalment of actress Gwyneth Paltrow and superchef Mario Batali's Spenish holiday, in which you get to watch them fart about in various wineries and restaurants while you sit at home on the couch considering how depressing and dull your life is by comparison.

After being struck by how singularly unattractive Mario Batali is, and how a fat, ugly, ginger WOMAN would never get a TV show of her own, particularly not one in which she got to hang off the arm of a hot young Hollywood hunk, it occurred to me that nobody on the interweb has yet made the following, completely obvious, comparison:

MARIO BATALI IS JENNIFER SAUNDERS IN A FAT MAN SUIT:

Spot the difference.

French and Saunders fans will of course remember Jen's delightful "dirty old man" character, but for the uninitiated, try this:

Will you have me back, dear readers?

2009-04-06T08:37:00.004+09:30

Hi Bland Canyon... wow, so good to see you again. Gee, you're looking great. REALLY great. Have you been working out?

Look... *cough*... I know it's been a long time, but... I can't stop thinking about you.

Say do you remember (ba de ya) dancing in September? Well I don't, because I'd had too much champagne which I think is one of the reasons I never finished working on that Australian Idol blog.

But look, I don't want to go into the whys and wherefores of what happened all those months ago - some things were said, some things weren't said at all (I think some people got angry about it, I can't really remember) - and in the end we went our separate ways.

But I think I'm ready now, Bland Canyon - ready to treat you properly again. I THINK I'M READY TO BLOG YOU AGAIN, BLAND CANYON.

And so, if you'll have me back, I'm going to start on APRIL 28 recapping the brand new season of AUSTRALIA'S NEXT TOP MODEL. I do hope you'll join me.

If you feel like getting in the mood, relive the last series (and all the ire that flowed from my eventual decision not to blog the 2008 finale) here.

"ADRIANNNNNNNNN! Oh, I mean ANTMMMMMMMM!"

Australian Idol 08 Wrap Up: Episode Three - Aussie Hits Night

2008-09-28T23:30:00.002+09:30

Crack a tinny, sew some corks onto your hat, grab a pie, mash it into a pavlova, smother the whole thing with tomato sauce and chuck it on the barbie while singing Khe Sanh because tonight on Idol is AUSSIE HITS NIGHT!

You know what that means? A two hour extravaganza of Barnesy, Farnesy and ... er... and... DAREN HAYES!

Yes, apparently the former singer of Savage Garden is "A true Australian legend" (that's if you ask Ken Doll and Monkey Boy and whoever writes their scripts, anyway) which is why he's joining us as tonight's superfluous fourth judge! The ghost of Holden is NOT amused.

"This is NOT shizzling my shemizzle, man."

Has Darren Hayes morphed into a muppet? Or maybe an accountant - that Lego man hairdo seems to suggest so. Maybe he's now a muppet accountant? He could do a fab rendition of One is the Loneliest Number with a few singing chickens on backing vocals, I bet.

If Savage Garden had looked like this, I would have bought their albums.

But enough of this celebrity primping, let's get on with the Oz-fest, and first up it's Fake Thanh Bui with... oh my god... yes... YESSSSSSSSSSS!

JOHN FARNHAM'S YOU'RE THE VOICE!

SLAM DUNK, THANH BUI! He might not have pulled out the Johnny Farnbuster for 80s night (despite my ranting) but Australia's very own Asian John Farnham has brought the GOODS to Aussie hits night.

Of course he sounds great, because he is John Farnham and all. Well, John Farnham with a headcold maybe. He's certainly got the I'm-singing-emotionally-about-staring-down-the-barrel-of-a-gun pained expression going OK. The crowd goes wild. Especially this guy:

Thanh Fan.

Dicko criticses Thanh's performance of a John Farnham song for not being very "cool", which is sort of like criticising an ice cream for not being very hot. Marcia says she likes what Thanh's wearing - she obviously digs the amateur theatre stagehand look. As the guest judge Darren Hayes fulfils the superfluous "I'm proud of you" role, which everyone pretends to be interested in while instead thinking about when they might get off the couch and make a cup of tea, and Kyle tells Thanh to cut cheese off himself with a splayd, proving once and for all that the judges definitely do keep hallucinogens under the desk.

Over to Ricki Lee, who rather unfairly introduces Chrislyn as having chosen a "massive" song. Word choice, Ricki, it's all about word choice.

She's chosen Tina Arena's Chains. Darren doubts Chrislyn has it in her.

"She's probably got Tina Arena in her," scoffs Raoul Duke, who pipes up for the first time this evening.

"Chrislyn's actually quite hot," he continues. I concur.

It's such a pity then that she always looks like she's been dressed by the "After 5" section at Maggie T. Tonight's ensemble is a black sequinned sack and tight black leggings. FOR GOD'S SAKE, SHERIDAN, PUT HER IN A BLOODY V-NECK! Haven't Trinny and Susannah taught us anything? She does look better than Marcia though, who appears to be wearing the result of a Project Runway challenge in which the contestants were asked to manufacture "cabana wear" out of a circus tent.

Roll up, roll up...

"I'm in chaaaaaaaaaaaaaaains!" she screams in anguish. Upon reflection, that would have been a better outfit choice. Performance wise, she's sounding pretty dire, I have to say. Are the sequins sticking into her armpits? She's baying and moaning like a cow stuck in a barbed wire fence. Oh CHRISLYN how I used to love you so...

Marcia takes a few incomprehensible pills and says "Your music teacher said you are a very, very older than you are performer", although looking at Chrislyn's "ageing receptionist at the staff Christmas party" ensemble I can sort of see her point. Kyle says she tore it up, which just makes me wish she'd tear those clothes up instead, and then continues with a legendary backhander by saying Chrislyn probably "has a few people living inside her". LEAVE THE INSULTS TO ME, RADIO BOY. Dicko takes a few of Marcia's pills and says something about romantic novels, prompting Marcia to call Britney Spears "a ho" for no apparent reason. Realising he's finally been out-crazied, the ghost of Holden drifts off into the ether to ride out the rest of the show in the rafters.

Moving on to Tom "I don't know any Australian hits so I'll just choose Evermore" Williams, with Evermore's Light Surrounding You. Even though they're from New Zealand. On Aussie Hits Night.

We are not amused.

"This'll be no good," says Raoul, before Tom's even set foot on stage.

As Adelaide's finest launches into one of the most boring songs to ever come out of New Zealand, it strikes me how much he too looks like a muppet.

Tell me you see it too.

This performance is awful. I mean it's just awful. I have no patience for those who pronounce Ds as Ts. Especially ones who sing Evermore. Can someone lend him some bus money and send the poor thing home to do his algebra?

Darren asks him how he feels, as if anyone cares ("Oh I've got a bit of a gyppy knee today thanks Darren, but I reckon I'll be OK...") and Kyle reminds him (rather creepily) that he gave Tom a "slap around" last week because he was "overcooked". I put down my knife and fork and push my dinner plate away. Dicko says he knows Evermore are from New Zealand, but the judges have chosen to turn a blind eye to the fact. He then wishes good luck to Luke and Roshani who'll be doing songs from those great Aussie music legend U2 and Michael Jackson later in the evening. Marcia says "Don't believe the hype", which makes me wonder why Tom Thumb didn't have a go at Public Enemy instead. Why not, it's Aussie Hits Night!

In an attempt to wake everyone up from their Tom Williams induced coma, Monkey Boy asks the audience to give it up for Darren Hayes "who has given up his time to be here tonight."

"Yeah, like what else would he be doing?" scoffs Raoul.

"Arranging his sock drawer?" I suggest. Those things don't just arrange themselves.

Moving on to Teale "Accidental Port Power Supporter" Jakubenko, with Eskimo Joe's Black Fingernails, Red Wine.

"It's gotta have balls," Darren instructs. Hmm. Teale plus Darren Hayes plus Eskimo Joe plus balls... that's an equation not even Einstein could solve.

Teale starts the song and JESUS CHRIST...

I AM THE GOD OF HELLFIRE AND I BRING YOU...

What the bloody christing fuck is that?! I assume that's Teale attempting his best Dean Geyer stare, but it's probably sent children all over the country running screaming from their living rooms. I can imagine this scene being enacted all over the country tonight:

MUM: Just go to sleep now honey.
KID: Can't sleep. Teale will eat me.

Performance wise - meh, it's OK. I'm mildly disappointed that he doesn't sing the line about not understanding the point of fingers, but more so that the whole thing is a bit talent quest dull.

As a side note - what's with all the Idols always wearing black and white every week? SHERIDAN TYLER I DEMAND YOU GET SOME CRAZY BACK UP IN HERE IMMEDIATELY. There's altogether too much restraint being shown this year.

"Straight dowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwn," sings Teale.

"That's where his career's going," guffaws Raoul.

Kyle says Teale's Dean Geyer stare reminded him of being tied up in the boot of his car, which makes me wonder what he gets up to with the Idols after each show. Dicko calls him a try hard, and Marcia tries to pretend that all the women of Australia think Teale is sexy by going "It didn't work for him because he's a MAN - mmmm HMM!". A tumbleweed rolls through the studio. Darren Hayes says he's "world class", and Teale is momentarily excited, and then remembers it's coming from Darren Hayes.

Moving right along to Roshani Priddis, who is showing off just how awesome she is by choosing a song no one under the age of 40 will know (except for me and Raoul, obviously) - Renee Geyer's Heading in the Right Direction.

It's a testament to Roshani's fabulousness that she can stand next to a piano draped in a crocheted tablecloth singing a song from 1975, and she still looks hot.

"I'd dine at her table," says Raoul, making unattractive smacking noises with his lips.

She sounds great, as usual. Actually, if I was being really critical (what, me?) I'd channel that black dude from American Idol and say say she's “a bit pitchy”. But damn, those legs!

Clearly distracted by the amazing expanse of leg Roshani is showing off, Dicko says something about paying dividends that may or may not be another link in the unfunny “banker from Sri Lanka” chain of gags he’s been fashioning since week one. Marcia says she can hear Roshani thinking – and she can see colours man, HEAPS OF COLOURS! Woah. Then she says “You don't need to think. Just go... fly... flyyyy darling”, a strange haiku to which the audience responds with an awkward silence. Kyle gives Roshani a really helpful piece of advice in “don’t get boring”. Roshani looks at her To Do list for next week and hastily crosses out “1. Get boring”.

Next up is Wes “Baby you can drive my” Carr, who once again is proving how authentic rock he is by eschewing the Powderfingers and Eskimo Joes of this world for The Easybeats and Friday on My Mind. Which of course will allow the judges to make all kinds of crazy gags about having Monday on his mind, and so on and so forth. Hooray.

The “training session” in the studio with Darren is completely unremarkable, but for the moment when one of the song’s writers turns up and Wes gets a glimpse into his future:

”I’m starting with the man in the mirror…”

Wes hits the stage in fancy dress as a scout attempting to earn his karaoke badge. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD LOSE THE HAT, WES! Free those Pantene tresses and let them swing free in the breeze! But then the scout impression gives way to his usual ice addict impression as he does his jittery jumpy leg shaking all over the place.

I have a confession to make. I know Wes is the favourite and all, but I'm not sure if I'm still into the whole thing. I mean, sure, if I saw him playing at a pub I'd probably buy him a beer and say something like "You can have this if you stop playing All Along the Watchtower," but on the Idol stage I'm not so sure it's working anymore. Maybe he needs to swap that hat for some sequins and glitter, and the rock and roll for Robbie Williams. Yeah! That's the Idol I know and love!

Anyway, onto the predictably enthusiastic judges. Marcia screams "Yay" about five times and the people in the control booth get so excited the screen turns psychedelic for a few seconds. (Or maybe Wes' performance was so mind bendingly good, we've all been transported to a new dimension?) Marcia asks Wes to take his hat off, which is a skill he'll need to learn come Monday when he's voted off and he has to go busk for a living. Darren says "You remind me of Bono!" in an attempt to convince everyone that he moves in celebrity music circles. then he tells Wes he's "all behind him" - *insert obvious gay joke here*. Kyle tells him he dances like Forrest Gump (Was Forrest Gump an ice addict? I don't remember that) and Dicko calls him a walking iPod. So, all very helpful comments as usual.

"He's a rock star from the tip of his hat to the tip of his winkle," says Dicko, before adding "pickers".

In a completely surprising and out of the blue decision, Shearer Luke has chosen to do Cold Chisel's Flame Trees tonight.

"I was on tour and I lost my voice, and it FREAKED me out..." gushes Darren in their pre-preformance training session. Does anyone else think Mr Hayes is secretly Mr G?

Luke hits the stage and does his best Jimmy Barnes impression - and actually it's not bad. Pity this isn't Stars In Their Eyes or he'd probably win outright (not to mention the fact that we'd get to see him with a curly mullet wig on and clutching a bottle of vodka).

Darren says he has a soft spot for Luke, but neglects to mention if he would get behind him. Kyle says something boring about Luke's beard. Dicko quizzes him about drinking too much grog, which is kind of like Pete Doherty lecturing you about using too many Panadol. Marcia says something about Luke's instrument, and we're off and running into the next performance, by Sophie "I'm not a bad singer I'm just drawn that way" Paterson.

She's doing Don't Hold Back by The Potbelleez, because when you're looking at the history of Australian music and all its amazing hits, a shitty dance track from 2007 is the obvious choice. Why not Shuddupayaface, Sophie?

Darren Hayes decides a shitty dance track sounds better as a shitty ballad, so ironically Sophie's version of Don't Hold Back turns out to be holding back quite a lot.

"IS there anybody out theeeerrrrrre?" she wails. Yes Sophie - a whole lot of viewers putting down their mobile phones and picking up their remotes.

I'd like to say more about Sophie's performance, but I fell asleep about three bars in and only woke up when she started screeching "DOOOOON'T!" Don't vote? No problem.

Kyle says there's one bit in Sophie's voice that he finds irritating. I'm proud of him for narrowing it down to just one. Dicko tells Sophie she's not showing enough of herself - perhaps she could borrow Roshani's tablecloth dress next week? Marcia pops some more pills and declares "I like the other Sophie", before pouring her teddy bear a cup of tea and just for a change Darren says something completely inconsequential.

Next up is Mark "Too much Farnham is never enough" Spano with Age of Reason.

Mark's training session with Darren Hayes consists of them singing "fail" at each other over and over, which doesn't seem to be the most auspicious start, but he trundles on stage anyway with the enthusiasm of at least three chronic fatigue sufferers.

He's dressed in his best Ed Harry stonewash T shirt, which features a big empty frame on the front. What's that supposed to be? An abs frame? Or is it some weird existentialist fashion statement on the emptiness of trends? By the time I've worked out that actually it's just a cheap Ed Harry stone wash T shirt that means nothing, Mark has finished singing. Oh well.

Dicko says he's cruising and treading water, which is quite a feat when you think about it, Marcia asks if he's scared, Darren says something or other and Kyle says it was a piece of cake, all comments to which Mark responds with his usual Spano Stare. Can we have a price check on a personality, please? Price check...

Finally we roll into the home stretch with Madam "Personalit" Parker, so named because she doesn't actually have one, with The Veronicas' Hook Me Up.

For some reason Madam finds it difficult to pretend to be a slut for the purposes of the song, so Darren gives her some pointers. Onya Daz.

Out on stage, and - hang on, is she drunk? No really, is she? She can't still be on the Sudafed, that was a week ago! Seriously what is wrong with her? Every week she strolls out on stage and does some half arsed dance moves with her eyes half shut and the judges call her Christmas. This week it looks like she's reading the lyrics off the ceiling at the same time as trying to remember her dance moves.

Marcia asks Madam how it felt, to which Madam responds "Dangerous, he he he." Yes it was dangerous, Madam. DANGEROUSLY CLOSE TO BEING UNWATCHABLE. Darren says it was hard for Madam to find her inner ho (with a name like Madam, are you serious?), Kyle says the word "ho" a few more times, and children all around the country start yelling "Ho! Ho! Inner ho!", a chant which will no doubt fill the nation's playgrounds on Monday. Dicko wraps up the dullfest by describing Madam's performance as being like Mother Theresa holding a lingerie party, which everyone pretends to understand.

And so concludes AUSSIE HITS NIGHT, with nary a swing version of Waltzing Matilda to be seen. Who will be chucked into the billabong tomorrow? Sophie Paterson, your schnitty's ready.

Australian Idol 08 War Up: Episode Two - 80s night

2008-09-21T23:30:00.000+09:30

Get out your fluoro, hair gel, venetian shades, Corey Worthington costume and all the rest of your 1980s cliches, it's 80'S NIGHT ON IDOL, and you know what that means! That's right, two hours of watching people born in the 90s struggle through Madonna and Michael Jackson covers. For a similar effect, just gatecrash a school formal.

I'll take off my sunglasses but I'm not saying sorry FOR 80S NIGHT.

"Oh look, it's A-gay-lian idol," remarks Raoul, who has just stumbled into the room with a cup of tea. (For the record, he likes to pretend he doesn't enjoy watching this show).

Ken Doll and Monkey Boy have put on their special 80s thin ties for the evening, but other than that they've steered clear of "dressing to theme", as have the judges who are once again looking rather schmick and devoid of comedic possiblity. Fortunately the ghost of Holden didn't get the "don't dress up memo" - he's turned up in a red leather jacket and studded pants with cut off gloves and a cap on backwards.

"Shizzle," he spits.

But he's got nothing on special guest judge CYNDI FREAKING LAUPER who has rocked up to the Idol dome in her best "Angela Bishop on crack" costume. With birdsnest hair and tassles hanging from both ears, it looks like the day after the Logies has landed on her face.

"They must have big turbines out the back or something," says Raoul, of her decidedly windswept do. Then he glowers into his tea, pretending to still hate the show.

But enough of this bollocks, let's get straight into middle Australia with LUKE THE SHEARER, who's chosen to do John Mellencamp's Jack and Diane. Try to control your excitement.

Just as I'm thinking how good Luke looks in his white shirt and jeans, Raoul shrieks "He needs to shave that minge off his face, he's got a poonani beard!" You'd think Luke would be an expert at shaving minge, being a shearer. Sheep's minge, admittedly, but... What am I talking about? How did I get to shaving sheep's minge so early in the recap? Let's move on.

Luke sounds great, the song suits him down to the ground, he's totally in control of the crowd, and OH MY GOD IS IT POSSIBLE THAT LUKE IS ACTUALLY PRETTY DAMN GOOD?

Even Cyndi Lauper is crying. And you know what they say - if you make Cyndi Lauper cry, then... maybe you accidentally stepped on her toe. Or something.

Dicko says Luke is a bit sheepish, but something clicked tonight. Was it the shears, Dicko? DID THE SHEARS GO CLICK, DICKO? Marcia says well done, Cyndi manages to blurt something out through the floods of tears (I think something like "Does anyone have any saline solution, my contact lens has come loose") and Kyle tells Luke to lift his shirt. Or something. The ghost of Holden is nowhere to be found, having grumped off into a corner mumbling "They said three judges would be pacier, they said four judges was too many..."

"This is BULLshizzle."

Moving on to Brooke "That chick I always forget" Addamo, who's chosen Bette Davis Eyes. She does a bit of a song workshop with Cyndi, during which Ms Lauper says a lot of swear words and pushes Brooke around, and Brooke says a lot of "um, er... yep, ok..um.. er..." words and looks confused. Probably because she's wondering why Angela Bishop is teaching her how to sing.

On stage and Brooke is clearly sponsored by GLAD tonight, in a fetching black and white garbage bag that's pretending to be a dress.

Yep, something like this. But not quite as fetching.

Sadly, she still looks rather hot. Damn her. Pity then that this song is only lukewarm. Basically, Brooke sounds as pretty as her hair, which is a pity because this song really needs to be sung like a greased up mullet that's just come out of the surf.

Marcia tries to suck up to Cyndi by pretending that all her training backstage actually worked, saying it's the most solid and aggressive Brooke has ever been. Given Brooke was about as aggressive as a kitten with sinus problems, I'm not sure I agree. Depends how you measure aggression, I suppose. Kyle constructs a sentence out of the words "wow", "sultry" and "perfect" and unsurprisingly comes up with something vaguely complimentary. Dicko says Brook is "incredibly hot". Hands up who else feels uncomfortable?

Clearly a bit of backstage biffo with Cyndi does wonders for the Idols - let's hope she socks Tom Williams in the goolies so he can reach that falsetto even better this time.

Next up is Madam Parker with Upside Down. As always, she sounds THE BUSINESS but Holy Madonna (well, it IS 80s night) could this performance be any lazier? Apparently Madam had flu earlier in the week, which possibly explains why tonight's performance is the Idol equivalent of a Sudafed. Fortunately she looks a million dollars, apart from her massive hoop earrings which look more like $7.50. If she flicks her hair the right way she'll be able to pick up Channel 31, which could only do her good - Alphonse's Italian Party Hour is on right now.

Cyndi asks Madam how she feels. Madam thinks for about 10 minutes and says "Cool". For the record, I feel FUCKING BORED. Kyle marvels at how Madam has gone from ghetto rap to glamourpuss in three weeks, as if replacing a tracksuit with a mini dress is some kind of miracle. But then Marcia marvels that Madam knew where she was, so I guess it's all relative.

Monkey Boy tells us that to get behind Madam we just have to SMS. I feel like I've read that before in a phone booth somewhere...

For the first time tonight, the producers let Ricki Lee use the microphone to interview Mark Spano. Fortunately it's over soon, and we're into his performance of Foreigner's I Wanna Know What Love Is. Foreigner? Shit. Ricki Lee, can you interview him some more? But it's too late, he's already started.

After the first four words, Raoul declares it "awful". To be honest I've got no idea how Mark did, as I was too busy power singing into my glass of red. And I tell you what, I sounded fantastic.

"I like this guy," I tell the dog, in between power notes.

"His head's too fat," says Raoul matter of factly, between sucks of his Magnum. (Streets please address cheques to PETSTARR...)

Kyle tells Mark he's not one of those "back here lovers". While I'm trying to work out just what he means, Raoul shrieks "DOESN'T HE LIVE WITH HIS NONNA?" and then launches into an impersonation of Mark singing Foreigner to his Italian grandmother. It's quite good, actually. Dicko says something about turning the sound down, which is funny because Tom Williams isn't even on yet. Marcia makes a lame joke about millions of women wanting to show Mark what love is (just a reminder that HE LIVES WITH HIS GRANDMA) and Cyndi says something involving the word "proud". A quick scan of the studio reveals the ghost of Holden has retreated to the green room, to have a cup of tea and watch Dancing with the Stars.

"Now THAT'S better."

And next up on 80s night, it's the Cadbury gorilla with with Phil Collins' In the Air Tonight. It's not bad, although I suspect he's using a backing track. Cheater.

Moving on to Tom "Cat in a bag of spiders" Williams, who wasn't even born until 1992, meaning the 80s are like, TOTALY RETRO to him. Which probably explains why he's chosen to do Uptown Girl, because that stupid boy band WestBoyZoneLifeSync did that awful cover of it in 1990-whatever it was.

"You're a crooner," says Cyndi, after shoving a plastic tube in his mouth and punching him a few times. I like this chick.

On stage and Tom's dressed as 80s as he knows how, in a black Adidas style jacket and dunlop volleys. And pants, obviously. Tight ones - how else would he sing that high? Actually, I think we all know the answer to that question.

Raoul declares it the "soft cock high school version" of Uptown Girl. And making Billy Joel even more soft cock takes SOME talent, it must be said.

Dicko says Tom looks like a nine year old boy thrown on stage by a pushy stage mum, and he's no fun anymore. Then he throws his rattle in the corner and goes off to play with cool Mark Spano. Marcia says Tom needs to find more "Ugggggghhhh" in himself. There was quite a lot of "Ughhing" going on on the couch here in Idol HQ during that performance, maybe we can put the excess in a bag and send it over? Cyndi says she's proud of Tom for using his ears to listen (wait until she finds out he used his feet to walk, that'll blow her tiny mind) and Kyle brands it a disaster. It's the truth, but the effect is devastating - Tom's big, round, shiny eyes start to well up, and his bottom lip starts to quiver - it's like a deleted scene from Watership Down, for fuck's sake. Kyle might as well have put on steel caps and drop kicked a guide dog puppy into a furnace. But then Tom announces "Hey, I'm from the 90s!" and I stop feeling sorry for him. Burn, puppy, burn.

Moving right along to Chrislyn "Stop calling me big mamma for fuck's sake" Hamilton, who PRAISE THE LORD has chosen to do something a bit more subdued this week - True Colours, by Guest Judge - which means we'll all get a rest from her jazz hands and yelling. Don't get me wrong, I love jazz hands and yelling as much as the next person... but the next person around here is Raoul, so... you know.

Apart from her hairdo, which looks like a wig that a wild dog stole from the worst student at the local TAFE hairdressing class and then dragged through a few bushes on its way to the park where it was stolen by a magpie who used it as the foundation for its new nest - she looks fabulous. The song is a little rushed, but it's lovely. Not BRILLIANT, but lovely.

Marcia says "See? See?" but without taking the red pill, none of us can. Cyndi tells Chrislyn she owned it, Chrislyn tells Cyndi it made her feel beautiful, and for the first time in Idol blogging history, RAOUL ANNOUNCES HE'S GOING TO CRY.

"I'm not crying, it's just raining on my face," he protests.

Kyle tells eveyone he's wearing a girdle. A tumbleweed rolls past. Somewhere, a dog barks.

Let's move on to Teale Jakubenko, who's taken a tip from Wes "jump in my" Carr and dipped into the U2 bag for I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For, a song which not only allows for much vocal poncing but also endless one-liner opportunities for the judges post performance (ie: "I think Australia's found what it's looking for, and it's you!" and "Keep looking, Teale" etc. etc. Ah, good times.)

Some of my lady friends think Teale is "teh hottness" but to me, he looks like a baby that's accidentally glued carpet fluff to its face.

Something like this.

Is that the right look for an Idol? I was born in the 80s, what the hell would I know. Nonetheless, he sounds very... pretty.

Cyndi says "You were in it" for about the 900th time, and then tells Teale he sat on every note. So maybe that explains everything. Kyle calls it a "superstar performance" and Dicko says it was "masculine and sexy" - will there be any end to this love fest? "The best part of your performance was that it was over too soon," says Marcia. So yes, it seems there will be.

And once again it's time for the gorilla playing the drums variety half hour, this time featuring a young boy making love to a hamburger while his dad pumps petrol.

"Christ, they should just show him sticking his dick in it," barks Raoul.

"What would it feel like to stick your dick in a burger?" I muse, as Raoul sings the chorus to SNL's Dick in a Box.

"If it wasn't hot it would be quite pleasant, I'd imagine," he says.

Once again our intelligent musings are interrupted by Sophie "Catwoman" Paterson, who's clearly been sharing a medicine cabinet with Madam Parker as her version of Eurythmics' Sweet Dreams is so flat you could use it as a super absorbent bathmat.

Kyle says it was excellent, and that Sophie put her own spin on the song, and it was cool, and she looks hot, but by the time he gets to the end of his long winded sentence he's changed his mind and concludes that she did a "reasonably good job". Dicko criticises her shoes, which spurs an argument with Kyle about the differences between "stripper" and "tranny" shoes. As fascinating as this is, it all comes to an end when Marcia says Sophie "pulsated" the song, and everyone pauses to consider what that might mean. Then Monkey Boy jumps in with a bit of ~~completely obvious~~ subtle flirtation, completely quashing all those rumours about he and Sophie being on together.

Next up it's Wes "Bill Oddie" Carr with Springsteen's Dancing in the Dark. WHY HAS NO ONE SUNG MADONNA OR MICHAEL JACKSON YET? WHAT THE FUCK?

Cyndi advises Wes to blow up a balloon five times before he goes on stage to make him sing higher. Raoul recommends filling it with helium first for an even stronger effect.

Out on stage, Wes has got his guitar and his stupid hat and he's ready to roll. This is foot tapping, head shaking goodness. Rock and roll, thy name is Wes Carr. Or actually, Bruce Springsteen, but Wes is the closest we've got right now SO I'M GOING WITH IT. This gun's for hire in-DEED!

The crowd is so jazzed, they're holding up ES signs. GO ES!

Dicko says it was a brilliant performance, and Wes is thrilling, which just reminds me how good it would have been if he'd done Thriller instead. DAMN THESE IDOLS AND THEIR BORING SONG CHOICES. Marcia says the whole room got electric when he sang, so it's lucky Cyndi didn't cry again or they all might have died from shock. Kyle said if he had money to invest in someone today, he'd choose Wes. Poor Kyle. If he doesn't have any money can't he just borrow some from Dicko and Marcia? They could at least buy him a sandwich or something.

Moving on to Roshani "Can we all move on from this 'sexual chocolate' shit now please?" Priddis, with Tina Turner's What's Love Got to Do With It.

Once again Roshani looks the fricking BUSINESS in a black silk mini dress with oversized sequins. With her glowing teeth she's really fitting the black and white theme they've got going on tonight. Did anyone else notice that? What's the deal? There's too much class in the room, I can't stand it. Get Chrislyn out here in a glitter spandex mini, that'll fix it.

Roshani smoulders her way through the first verse, and it feels kind of... dangerous. Ow. I like it.

Evidently so does Marcia, who practically slides off her chair with excitement, shrieking "GET ON WIT YOUR BAD SELF!" as she disappears under the desk. Cyndi has clearly borrowed some of Marcia's "headache tablets" in the adbreak, as she says Roshani's performance really hit all the, all the.. er.. um what do you call it? Every step.. er.. it hit all the places, when you... go up and down... and er... um... every step.. um... Moving on to Kyle, who says she was in a perfect safe zone but he wanted her to smash it (well then it wouldn't be SAFE anymore, would it Kyle?) and Dicko makes a lame crack involving the words "banker" and "Sri Lanka". At this point, Cyndi's headache remedy kicks in, prompting her to yell "WHADDYA WANT, ONE NOTE SALLY?" at no one in particular, and we all smile and nod and move on to the final performer for the night who is... er... who the fuck is left? Seriously, who hasn't performed yet? There's been the shearer, the girl I always forget the name of, the kid who sounds like a cat crossed with a mobile phone... is there anyone left?

Oh yeah. Asian John Farnham, heretofore to be known as "Fake" Thanh Bui, with Every Breath You Take.

Excuse me, but why the FUCK is he not doing You're the Voice?

"SING MORE FARNHAM," yells Raoul, adding "That's the first time I've ever said that."

Thanh announces he's going to explore places of himself he's never explored before, which makes me think he should perhaps be singing The Divinyls tonight, but never mind. It does go some way to explaining why his performance looks so pained - just WHERE is he exploring, exactly? He's strained and stressing out and fretting, and the whole thing sounds rather like the backing DVD you get at those cheap karaoke bars. You know the ones, where every love song is accompanied by footage of a young woman writing a letter and looking out a window, followed by random long shots of sheep grazing and waves crashing. Continuity is not a treasured aspect of karaoke DVDs.

But back to Fake Thanh, who has finished by now. We cut to the audience and even his family have their head in their hands.

Kyle says it was too pacy, too overperformed and a bit fake. So, he liked it, then? Dicko says it was too fast, too cheesy and he can't see his postal district. Is that a euphemism? Maybe that's why he was doing all that exploring. Marcia says "drop the small veneer", which sounds rather like a Joan Armatrading lyric, before being interrupted by Cyndi who informs everyone that she made Thanh run and sing at the same time to train his voice. He'll probably have to practice that a bit more for Monday's show, I think.

This week it's anyone's guess, but I'll predict Thanh, Tom and Madam for the bottom three.

Australian Idol 08 Wrap Up: Ep 1 - Idol's Idol

2008-09-14T23:05:00.005+09:30

DNN-NN NN-NAO NN-NAO NNN-NAO NNN-NAO, DNNN-NN NN-NAO NN-NAO, NNNNNNAAAAAOOOOO HAA, HAA, HAAAAA, OOOO-WOAAHHH-OOH-WOAAAH....

Did you get that, kids? IT'S THE OPENING THEME TO AUSTRALIAN IDOL OF COURSE, and AREN'T WE JUST SO EXCITED? After two weeks of 24 hour a day Idol MAYHEM (well, it felt like it was on 24 hours a day, didn't it? I kept waiting for "Australian Idol UP LATE" to come on) we're finally at the pointy end of the competition. Well, at least, it's the base of the pointy end of the competition. Which kind of makes it the flat end.

IT'S THE FLAT END OF AUSTRALIAN IDOL, WOO! CAN YOU FEEL IT?

But in true Andrew G style, I'll say right now that the performances are going to be anything BUT flat this evening, ladies and gentlemen. Unlike his hair, which I suspect he may have stolen from a 1970s knitting pattern model. Welcome back, Ken Doll!

And a hearty welcome back to Jimmy James "Monkey Boy" Mathison too who, I recently discovered, is a lot smaller than you may think. NOT IN THAT WAY, you dirty perverts! I mean slight. Slim. Lithe. Were he to grow his hair out and throw on some purple velvet, he'd be a dead ringer for Prince. I pray and hope that crazy Idol stylist Sheridan Tyler is back on board this year, as that would increase the likelihood of a purple velvet suit appearing on stage by at least 70%.

Moving on to newcomer Ricki Lee, who tonight has been dressed by Happy Fashions in Wingfield, and looks a little bit like the result of a mirrorball and your nan's curtains having sex.

Fortunately, the judges are playing it safe tonight in suits and a monochromatic palette, although the ghost of Holden is hovering over the top of them all in a leather jacket and red braces, sizzling everyone's shemizzle.

Hosts? Check. Irrelevant and slightly irritating and yet somehow still thoroughly likeable third host? Check. Three judges? Check. Ghost of recently exorcised fourth judge? Check. LET'S GET THIS SHIZZLE SHEMIZZLING!

First up tonight is ADELAIDE'S OWN Wes Carr, who looks rather like the messiah, were he to have just stepped out of a beauty salon. What with the newly trimmed beard and the gorgeous golden locks cascading over his shoulders, he's like a walking Pantene ad. Hello, Pantene Jesus!

But what's that on his head? Is it... a metallic hat? No really, is it? Did he get it in a showbag? Whatever it is, it doesn't quite go with the brown patchwork anorak he's sporting, which is the kind of garment you'd expect to see on someone who spends all their time at the train station gleefully noting down engine numbers. The overall look is something like a homeless person to whom someone has generously donated a new hat.

Then the curtains part and we get to see Pantene's package - I MEAN A VIDEO PACKAGE, YOU PERVERTS - in which his mum tells us she's "moved to tears" every time PJ sings. If he does All Along the Watchtower again I think I'll join her.

Performance time, and PJ has gone straight to the back of the arms shed and chosen the biggest gun of all, U2's Beautiful Day. ON THE PIANO. Pardon? Look, Wes is on the piano! He's not just an All Along the Watchtower playing, guitar strumming hobo, he can play the... oh, wait, he's stopped. Well that was worth it. Two bars in and he's already given up tickling the ivories in favour of jumping around and shouting "COME ON!" Well, I suppose it's got energy.

"He looks like Beck," says Raoul, my Idol sidecar for the evening. I concur.

Once all the Hillsong believers have put their crucifixes away and stopped crossing themselves in the presence of the lord, Dicko says it's a terrific start to the night, but tells Wes not to get sucked in too early by being gratuitous. Not sure what he was watching but it sounds far more exciting than what I saw. Marcia says "Happy birthday" and reaches under the desk for her medication, while Kyle says "Are we ever going to see you without a hat?", prompting the audience to yell "NO WAY, GET FUCKED, FUCK OFF!" in true Aussie pub style. Holden's ghost says "Wiggidy wack doo back dibbidy dow, shizzle."

And we're off and running... straight into an adbreak. The one with the gorilla. Honestly, the Mathison family is so full of talent, it's amazing. Seriously though, what drugs were those ad execs smoking when they came up with this shit? I bet I know how it happened:

"Hey man, this is good shit. Goooood shit."
"I know, I know, I got it off Dave, I told you he was good."
*paranoid frantic exec runs in*
"Oh shit, oh shit - guys, the Cadbury presentation? It's tomorrow!"
"Oh shit."
"Has anyone come up with anything?"
"Nah man, I thought you were doing it."
"Oh shit, OK, OK, let's keep calm. Let's just think about this."
"HEY - what about *inhales*.. get this... A GORILLA PLAYING THE DRUMS. To Phil Collins."
"...."
"That's brilliant!"
"Shouldn't we put some chocolate in it somewhere?"
"Nah, fuck that. Just the gorilla."

And so it goes. Anyway, back to the Idol-dome, where ADELAIDE'S OWN Tom Williams has obviously gotten the date wrong for next week's fancy dress party, and has turned up as Oliver Twist guest starring on Star Trek. Whoops, too late now Tom, you'll just have to go with it and pretend you meant it.

Tom's package reveals that he loves hanging out with his mates. Don't get too excited, now! We also discover that Tom had juvenile arthritis and was born in 1992.

Oh. My. God.

Surely NO ONE was born in 1992. The number one single on this day in 1992 was Jose Carreras and Sarah Brightman's "Amigos Para Siempre", so it's no wonder Tom was hooked on music from an early age, with that sort of heralding into the universe.

He's chosen Aerosmith's Don't Wanna Close My Eyes, which is ironic because the outfit he's wearing has the opposite effect on me. Under the lights Tom's Dickensian orphan in outer space costume looks rather more like a Kevlar vest, which I feel is a tad pessimistic.

For a 16 year old, he sounds OK - but I think we're all going to get sick of the "he's just 16" excuse every week. So he either better age 10 years by next week, or just be completely fault-free for the rest of the season. Not much to ask, really.

Actually, once you cut through the relentless screams of the virgins in the crowd (clearly the whole intergalactic peasant thing is hot this year), Oliver Twist really doesn't sound good at all. It's really quite distressing, like a cat being shoved into a bag full of spiders. Please sir, can we not have any more?

Raoul's verdict? "Get a haircut." I concur.

Marcia announces she's going to call him Thomas from now on. Kyle decides on Gary, while Dicko goes for Bob. I'm sticking with Oliver. Marcia says something about Thomas' innards, and double checks the dosage reccomendation on her bottle of pills. Kyle makes an incredibly crap joke using the word "armageddon", which Oliver probably doesn't get given that he was just SIX YEARS OLD when that film came out. For realsies. Dicko says he's drawn to big monsters but wants to get more uptempo, or something like that. Then he tells Oliver it looks like his mum dressed him. IF HIS MUM IS CAPTAIN KIRK, sure. The ghost of Holden says "Ooogeddy boogeddy boo. Swizzle."

"He's dressed like a poofter," remarks Sooty, my second Idol sidecar for the evening. I'm not sure I concur.

Moving on to Roshani "Sexual Chocolate" Priddis. We're all told for about the five millionth time that Roshani was born in Sri Lanka and is adopted, and grew up in Tamworth... WE KNOW, WE KNOW, WE KNOW! We see some footage of her singing with a band inside a cool room - presumably because Roshani is so HOT. Ow!

She's chosen Joss Stone's Tell Me About It, which I've never heard before in my life but WHO CARES because she looks hot to frickin' trot in a biker jacket, tight jeans and punk hairdo, yelling that she wants to do it two times a day and WE WANT TO GIVE IT TO YOU ROSHANI, OH YEAH! She's got a little frown on her face like she's telling us all off, and may possibly punch us if we don't GIVE IT TO HER TWICE, YEEAOOOW! Thank god the girl has dropped the diva songs and found the funk, this is completely awesome.

Marcia kicks off with one of her famous pointless comments, by saying congratulations. Kyle says Roshani was slamming all the way through the song, prompting Raoul to pipe up "I didn't see that!" Dicko says it was perfect and fabulous, and the ghost of Holden finishes off the love fest with a "Bing, bang boom! Ya-wizzle!"

Next up is Teale Jakubenko, otherwise known as one of those blokes wot was in East 17 and that. Teale is unwittingly going to attract 90% of the bogan vote from South Australia, given that he's from Yatala (no word on whether he was cellmates with David Hicks or not), and his name is one of the Port Power team colours. If he turns up in uggies next week and sings Khe Sanh he's got it in the bag. His interests include playing golf, rugby and shaving his beard into an L shape.

Teale announces that love "makes him tick", and that his personal idol is Rick Price. Should we be worried yet?

Predictably enough he's chosen a Rick Price song, Walk Away Renee. I am bored already.

"Throw on some Kappa pants and give him a rat's tail and he'd look like a kickboxer," muses Raoul. I concur.

Kyle says something about undies and tripping. Perhaps he's taken some of what Marcia's on. Dicko asks Teale what sort of artist he's going to become, to which Raoul shouts from the couch "A BULLSHIT ARTIST!" Dicko tells Teale it's a big space and he needs to fill it - Chrislyn should take care of that, surely? Marcia says he has to stand still while singing songs like that, so Teale did a great job. Of standing still. Good-o. The ghost of Holden moans and rattles his chains.

Suddenly all the Idols are involved in a high-tech group orgy, which turns out to be an ad for Sony Ericsson mobile phones. One of them rings and it sounds remarkably like Tom Williams.

Moving right along to Sophie Paterson, who moved to London several years ago to become a famous musician but ended up just dyeing her hair and perfecting her "drunken office party karaoke slur", which she now uses to dress every song.

She's chosen Counting Crows' Mr Jones. Point of interest: when this song first came out I thought it was about a Chinese businessman called Mr Chungami. "Mr Chungami, stares at the beautiful women..." Anyway.

Speaking of Chinese businessmen, IS SOPHIE PREGNANT? No, it's just that FUCKING UGLY SKIRT she's wearing. Seriously, if you're as thin and cute as Sophie, and a skirt manages to make you look pregnant, you should TAKE IT OUTSIDE AND BURN IT, BURN IT GOOD, AND DANCE AROUND THE FLAMES PERIODICALLY SPRAYING KEROSENE ON THE FIERY MASS. Possibly while singing Counting Crows.

So far I've been on the fence about Miss Paterson - looks like Brigitte Bardot, but sounds REALLY FUCKING ANNOYING. Honestly, I can't stand that slurring way she sings. It's not just her either, this "slack moll slurring" (as Raoul puts it) is an epidemic in modern music. Lisa Mitchell (aka Shuffles McBalletflats) was famous for it in Idol 2006, and Sarah Blasko's not immune, either. Can't we take all these birds to June Dally Watkins and make them prance around the room with books on their heads and marbles in their mouths, singing "The rain in spain falls mainly on the plain" until they learn? Come to think of it, if Sophie does that next week I reckon she'd do better than this performance. It'd be kind of Bobby Flynn-esque.

"You can imagine dogs barking at that," sniffs Raoul in between mouthfuls of pad thai.

"I would actually pay money to never listen to her sing again," pipes up Sooty. I concur.

Dicko has obviously been rifling through Marcia's medicine cupboard during the adbreak, as he blames Sophie's "big teeth" for her strange anunciation. What. The. Fuck? She's not Cletus the slack-jawed yokel, Dicko! Marcia does her usual thing of seeming to contradict what Dicko has just said but actually reiterate it at the same time by saying if that's the way Sophie sings it's her damn choice, but she needs to articulate her words more clearly. Kyle says Sophie has a smashing body, but she looks a little underdone. By about 6 months I reckon, going by that skirt. The ghost of Holden says "Yowza wowza hoo mama!"

Moving on to Luke Dickens, the grouse Aussie shearer, who's either the underdog or thebest thing since the Royal Flying Doctor Service, depending on your proximity to the coast.

Ricki Lee interviews him and he tells a scintillating story about someone cooking him dinner. Luckily she has next to no idea about microphone technique, so we get to miss half of his responses to her boring questions.

"He looks a bit Lemony Snickett," murmurs a pile of old blankets in the corner. On closer inspection, it's my third Idol sidecar for the evening, The Scientist. He's a man of few words, The Scientist, but they're all very carefully measured ones.

Personally I think Luke looks more like one of the members of System of a Down - I pray he'll do a bit of Toxicity and freak Tom Williams out. Run, Oliver, run! His crazy goatee beard makes it look as though his chin is on fire. Or as though a small woodland animal has attached itself to his face. Neither of which are very desirable states of being. The thing is, there's no doubting that Luke is a big old bogan, but there's not much you can do with his look - shave off the goatee and the sidies, and you've got Australia's Most Wanted. Maybe some purple velvet would help, Sheridan?

He does Joe Cocker's Feelin Alright, and you know what? He's pretty good. Really, very god. I'd quite enjoy this if I was at a pub with a few pints in me. I might even dance. Yeah, rock on Luke. It's such a standard, passable performance I'm forced to look to the backing singers for comedy support. They all look so fricking happy.

"They're not getting booted off the show, that's why," snipes Raoul.

"We've got a job next week - woo, hoo!" he sings along.

Marcia announces that Luke is white, which clears up any confusion there may have been in the audience previously. Kyle says he owns the stage, so could Luke please get the fuck off it before he scratches it, and Dicko says his performance made the judges dance with joy. Wish they caught THAT on camera. The ghost of Holden pulls off his mask and reveals he's actually Old Man Withers from the haunted amusement park.

Moving on to Brooke "Who?" Addamo. Every Idol season has to have its older-than-her-years schoolgirl, and this year it's Brooke. She's very pretty, she's very nice, and she likes performing in school musicals and having sleepovers with her friends in which (if her video package is to be believed) they spray whipped cream on each other and hit each other with pillows. Meanwhile, middle aged men all over Australia are making excuses to leave the room for a few minutes.

But here's the deal. I think Brooke has got an amazing voice. In fact, I think she's one of the best in the competition. But I'll be jiggered if I can remember the girl's face. I have a similar problem with Naomi Watts - pretty, talented, constantly in the public eye, and yet I just can't cement them in my brain. I saw Naomi on the cover of a magazine at the hairdresser the other day and thought "How nice that they're starting to use models again instead of celebrities!"

Anyway, Brooke is doing Natasha Bedingfield's These Words, which makes a nice change from the Jewel/Coldplay megamix she's been rocking up until now. She sounds AMAZING. Except when she says "hyper-bowl" instaed of "hyperbole". I mean, I know Natasha says that in the original song, but do we have to perpetuate stupidity?

All three judges hook themselves up the communal bong and sing the "We've seen you do better" anthem, despite the fact that Brooke has actually never sounded better. The ghost of Holden, who is himself already a puff of smoke, says nothing, as he's still busy fighting off Scooby Doo and Shaggy.

Next up is Thanh Bui, otherwise known as the Asian John Farnham for his peculiar ability to make any song sound like Burn For You. Rumour has it that Thanh has actually been filling in for Whispering Jack ever since the last "farewell tour" announcement in 2003.

He's chosen Maroon 5's This Love. Not that you'd know it, as he's tricked out the arrangement to make it sound like an obscure dance track from 1995. It sounds like shit, but it goes curiously well with his weird-ass vest/chain/shirt combo.

"This is soft," barks Raoul.

"These people are just so pathetic," scowls Sooty.

"And the worst thing is, the judges are going to say that was great cos they're all on fucking drugs today," she continues.

Strangely, she's wrong. Kyle says it was like something out of an Adam Sandler comedy film, and then says it was the Idol version of "blue steel". So actually maybe it was like something out of a Ben Stiller film. Maybe it was out of a Chevy Chase film? National Lampoons go to Crapsville?

Thanh fights back by claiming he wanted to give the audience something they'd never seen before. There's a reason why we haven't seen it, Thanh.

Dicko says it was overcomplicated, and Marcia asks him to pull it out and show everybody. Which, I think, is the first time in BC Idol blogging history that Marcia has ever achieved QUOTE OF THE WEEK! Congratulations, Marcia! Former QOTW winner, the ghost of Holden, grumps off into a corner.

Thanh spends the next two minutes ensuring he'll be kicked off tomorrow night by whingeing about how he's an artist and no one understands him, etc. etc. So I guess this is his farewell performance?

Moving right along to Madam Parker, the finalist with the name for the job but not the personality. With her shy demeanour and massive earrings, I'm wondering if Emily and Lavina Williams have a long lost sister they never knew about. I keep waiting for Jack Thompson to pop out and reunite them all.

Anyway, Madam apparently moved from New Zealand to Australia to "make a better life" for her and her child. This angers Sooty, who screams "She's acting as if New Zealand is a fucking savage outpost!" She has a point. I mean, what did she do when she arrived in Sydney? "What be those horseless, metallic chariots? And what be this light that comes from a globe when all else around be dark? Ooh Australia be a far advanced land, for certain!"

So anyway, she's doing some song about not being able to stop. I don't know what though. Bowel movements, possibly, given that she's spending most of her dance routine squatting and straining. She looks cool though, in cut off leather gloves, tight black jeans and a choker with sexy curls. The song is utter pants, but it's a perfect song choice for her (particularly given she may actually need some new pants at the end). It sounds like something they'd play on Nova, about 200 million times a day.

"That was rubbish," yells Raoul.

"That was gold, absolute gold!" yells Dicko. I guess there's no accounting for taste.

Marcia gives her props, and Kyle mentions Madam is on fire. Maybe she stood too close to Luke's beard backstage? The ghost of Holden says nothing, having gotten thoroughly bored with the distinct lack of attention he's been getting.

MEanwhile, The Scientist has been a bit quiet here in Idol HQ - what's up?

"I don't give a fuck, to be honest," he says.

"Yeah, I would be happy if I never watched this again. There's so much other good films to watch," slurs Raoul.

"So much other good films? What the fuck?" says Sooty.

This intellectual postulating is suddenly interrupted by the entrance of Jonny "I'm not a techno goth" Taylor, who is not a techno goth because he's wearing cammo pants this week. See?

Sooty reckons Jonny has massively oversized hands. Apparently he also had a car crash a few years ago. Are the two things related? Who can say?

He's chosen to do Pearl Jam's Better Man, and FUCKING HELL he really DOES have huge hands! They take up half the screen! And hey, you know what they say about men with big hands? Big gloves.

The amount that I love Jonny's deep, sexy, velvety voice is inversely proportional to the way I dislike his lank, greasy, home dyed hair. He sounds great doing this song, although it is lacking passion. And I respect his choice to do the Aussie pronounciation of "can't". GOOD ONYA JONNY, STICK IT TO UNCLE SAM AND CHUCK ANOTHER PRAWN ON THE BARBIE.

Marcia tells us all that she doesn't live inside Jonny's brain. Thanks for the update, Marcia. Kyle says there were two things he couldn't get over during Jonny's performance. Me too - HIS TWO GIANT HANDS. But no, Kyle apparently has a problem with Australians singing in an Australian accent. Because it's just so much more AUTHENTIC to sing like Americans. Dicko lets us all know how awesome he is by pointing out that he worked with Eddie Vedder before he was famous, and then invites Jonny on a drive in the country with him to "get a bit Wolf Creek". Yeah. I think I know who would turn out to be the psycho killer in that situation. The ghost of Holden shrieks "AVENGE MY DEATH!" and it's back over to Ken Doll and Monkey Boy for a bit of post performance banter.

"It is difficult being naked up here," says Jonny, who obviously has an elevated idea of how effective camouflage pants actually are.

"Naked? That'd get you the votes," says Ken Doll. Especially if those hands are anything to go by...

Moving on to our next performer for the evening, Chrislyn Hamilton. And just for something different, she's singing ARETHA FUCKING FRANKLIN. Oh Chrislyn, think. Think about what you're trying to do to us.

Chrislyn storms out on stage with all the bubble and sass of a shaken up bottle of Lucozade - WOO is she happy to be there! But honey - we know you're fat and fabulous, but shiny blue spandex tops are not your friend. I hate to say it, but she looks rather like that Hyundai they've been spruiking in the adbreaks.

I was a major Chrislyn fan up until now, but this performance is just sloppy. If I wanted a fat chick to yell and puff and strut at me for five minutes I would have tuned in to Jerry Springer. This is no good. I'm heartbroken.

Dicko tells her to get on the treadmill because she's too puffed. Marcia says you can't sing like that unless you've been loved. Maybe she has been - it would explain the breathlessness. Kyle stands up and rips what was left of Holden's heart right out of his rotting corpse by screaming "TOUCHDOWN!" and making the crowd go mental. The ghost of Holden starts practising flicking a coin across the floor, so he can kick Kyle's arse later on.

And before you can say "it's not over til the fat lady sings"... it's not over. Because Mark Sparno is our final performer for the night. DEAR GOD WILL IT NEVER END.

Mark's package reveals that he lives in a flat out the back of his grandma's house. Mark is so rock. I quite like Mark actually, but his face is a little bit too "identikit photo" for me. Still, as long as Luke the shearer stays in he'll look less criminally inclined by comparison. Mark mentions he's been up at the crack of dawn, prompting all four of us in Idol HQ to yell "WHO'S DAWN?" and laugh hysterically at our own awesomeness.

Suddenly he launches into INXS' Never Tear Us Apart, and I'm sure it's wonderful but I can't concentrate as I've been distracted by his jacket, which looks like it's been mauled by a tiger on the way to the stage. Still, it doesn't stop the wicked rockness that is Marko, the Italian stallion. Even without the obligatory 80s sax solo, it's a slice of fabulousness on a plate of awesome.

Marcia congratulates Mark on knowing what to sing. Yes, see, he chose a song and learned it, and then... oh never mind, Marcia, you'll pick it up as the show goes on. Mark announces he's never done a string section before. Plenty of time for that after the show mate, steady on. Kyle calls him the real deal, and Dicko says he's "masculine, sexy, dangerous and cheeky". All of which are true and have no comedic value whatsoever. The ghost of Holden looks up from his coin flicking and says "Ditto".

And finally we're at the end of the road. Ricki Lee lurches into frame again and urges us to get behind our favourites, prompting Raoul to bark "CAN WE VOTE HER OUT?"

And suddenly everyone rushes off stage to "get into the backstage action". Possibly involving a string section. Who will be kicked off tomorrow night? Than Bui. Ten bucks.

No rest for the wicked...

2008-08-24T19:48:00.004+09:30

So there I was, settling down to watch the opening episode of Australian Idol, my heart buoyed by the notion that I was NOT going to blog this season and I was free to enjoy the show without having to come up with hilarious jokes every five minutes, and then Kyle goes and says this:

"If you're a muso and you haven't had a crack at Idol you're not taking it serious enough."

Well SHIT. How can I ignore that kind of comedy gold?

So look, I'll cut you a deal, kids. Idol is "fast tracking" the trip to the final 12 this year, and so will I.

All those BC readers who haven't yet blacklisted me for not delivering on the ANTM finale: Tune back in after the auditions and semi finals are over, and we'll get Idol blogging CRAZY up in here, y'all!

x

An open letter to my lovely (and not so lovely) fans

2008-08-17T17:50:00.004+09:30

Given that I seem to get far more comments when I DON'T post anything on here than when I do (44 and counting, woo!), I'm not quite sure why I'm bothering to write this, but to be honest - I'm getting sick of all the nagging and whingeing about my absence.

Some of my personal favourite comments so far:

"I'm taking you off speed dial (read: removing you from my browser favourites) I'm seriously disappointed"

"Petstar, I think you've blown it. Too much time has passed. You must have a big problem with procrastination."

"Wow procrastination if i ever did see it! Cmon, quite annoying"

And my absolute favourite, from anonymous (aren't they always?)

"I'd be fine not getting a recap, but I am pissed off by false promises. It is time for petstarr - even if sh has to get a medium to channel her - to admit she has changed her mind and will not recap. No one forced her to say twice - twice - \it's coming soon. 'I promise'. Anyone who reads this site is disappointed as the recaps are such fun. But the promises hold out false hope and I think it is rude and immature to promise and run away. 'Sorry, can't face it after all' would satisfy me."

Twice. TWICE! SHE PROMISED US ENTERTAINMENT AND THEN SHE WENT AND DECIDED SHE ONLY HAD THREE HOURS FREE TIME EVERY NIGHT AND WANTED TO ACTUALLY DO SOMETHING OTHER THAN SIT IN FRONT OF A COMPUTER WITH IT.

HOW RUDE AND IMMATURE.

But it was this comment, left on my new AdelaideNow blog, that really pissed me off.

So you basically abandon your other blog and fans over there without so much as a by your leave? Nice.

Sorry, "Blonde Canyon", I wasn't aware I owed anyone anything, actually. The fact is - this blog is a hobby. You know, something you do just for FUN, because you ENJOY it. Not because there are thousands of people monitoring you and if you don't then they'll start hanging shit on you. What's your hobby? Scrapbooking? Footy? Imagine if all of a sudden people started banging on your front door every Sunday morning demanding to know why you weren't at the park kicking the ball around, or in the kitchen cutting up magazines in creative ways? YOU MEAN YOU DECIDED TO TAKE SOME TIME OFF BECAUSE YOU WERE TIRED? YOU SUCK.

When I start receiving cheques in the mail from all my paid blog subscribers, I'll start feeling obliged to keep this thing updated come hail, shine or lack of sleep.

There seem to be a few theories out there as to why I've (temporarily) abandoned the Bland Canyon. One is that I'm a really bad procrastinator - true, generally, although that has nothing to do with this situation. The other is that Rupert Murdoch turned up at my house with a tray of martinis, a wheelbarrow full of cash and a contract stating I must abandon all personal pursuits in perpetuity - half true. It was a suitcase, not a wheelbarrow.

But ultimately, it comes down to this: I've just gotten a new job. I love it, but it's very intense and time consuming. I spend about 11 hours a day sitting in front of a computer writing, so the idea of spending the only free time I have in front of my home computer writing doesn't exactly appeal to me like it used to. The hobby has begun to resemble "work". And working 24 hours a day, seven days a week isn't my idea of a fun way to pass the time.

I'm still not sure if I'll blog Australian Idol this year. Part of me wants to continue the tradition, but the little voice in my head keeps reminding me that it means six hour writing shifts each Sunday and Monday night, and I think I might lose the last shred of sanity I have left if I undertake that task this year. I guess I'll find out what I've decided on August 24.

A hearty thank you to all my loyal supporters, fans and readers. Although some of your recent comments have irked me, it is sort of nice to know that you care enough to feel anything at all that I've gone silent.

In the meantime - I'm not closing the BC, I'm just putting up the "do not disturb" sign for a little while, OK?

Love,
PetStarr

It's coming, I promise...

2008-07-08T10:33:00.002+09:30

Ok, enough with the hassling and the begging and the pleading... THE ANTM FINALE WRAP UP IS COMING, I PROMISE.

Stay tuned.

In recovery

2008-07-03T11:37:00.003+09:30

While I recover from the hedonistic wasteland that was the Top Model finale and the after parties that followed (and, more importantly, try to work out what the hell to write about it all), I think the following question is worth considering:

Is this abandoned cat from the RSCPA's Lonsdale shelter actually Cthulhu, keeper of all evil?

Exhibit A: Sabby.

Exhibit B: Cthulhu.

You decide.