AUSTRALIA, you have a new train wreck, and it's called The Bachelor.
The only thing right about The Bachelor is the actual bachelor, Tim Robards.
Good grief, the rest of the show is 27 kinds of wrong.
First of all, why do all the women work in events and fashion, why are they all from the Gold Coast and why do they all look like Joan Collins with Shrove Tuesday's worth of pancake make-up on?
Secondly, exactly how many stylists vomited on the set? Because it looks to me like a gaggle of set-dressers had one hell of a barney with all of Sydney florists before throwing up on the ridiculous mansion where they all live.
Thank God the women actually move (rather swiftly, as it turns out, normally to swoop-ambush a private date), otherwise you would have no hope of seeing them through the obscene excess of crap littering the house.
Why has Andrew G gone kosher and how much more awkward can this show be?
It is a forced, fake, superficial, tacky disgrace.
Let's take a bunch of insecure women we'll call unlucky in love, which is code for zero self-esteem making them feel unattractive, and put them in an environment where they are not only forced to bitch-fight for their man; but where they have to watch other girls enjoy his company if they lose that fight.
Oh yeah, and we'll film their tears and tantrums for a national prime-time viewing audience.
That sounds healthy.
What if you met him and there was no spark, can you leave the show?
What if, gasp, the bachelor should like a girl who was not a size 6?
It's over the top, it's ridiculous, it's escapist garbage and I want to love it. But I just can't watch women behave that way.