Well that was the fastest fucking 11 weeks in history. Why can’t the first 11 weeks of say, pregnancy, go that fast? Or the school holidays? Thank gawd we still have the reunion shows to ease the transition to a Melbs-Housewives-free-zone.
We’re kicking things off with Gamble’s “dream event” – her dog races for pets. As opposed to dog races for what? Husbands? The ladies are descending upon a park in inappropriate footwear, all with their respective dogs. And I use the term “dogs” loosely, because #Pomeranians and #Figaro.
I’m concerned that they’re about to use a public park for this event. As the wife of a Local Government Councillor, I take these issues very seriously. (Related: being the spouse of the person responsible for roads, rates, rubbish and rats is not as glamorous as it sounds.) I hope Gamble has obtained the necessary permits.
Jackie doesn’t have a dog, so she’s a no-show, but PF has stolen borrowed someone’s dog, which shouldn’t be annoying, but it is.
Gina’s dog Ninja is the first one to have a dump. I wish it had been PF’s pretend dog, because seeing her do the poop-scoop with a Coles bag would have been the highlight of my year.
Wow, Gamble has gone all out for these dog-races-for-pets. She’s set up a course with hay bales and pastel bunting. I’m having Great British Bake-Off flashbacks again.
Ninja and Cash (Gamble’s Pomeranian, for those of you who are late to this particular party) take an instant dislike to each other. Gamble reads into this that Gina is having a go at her over the makeup artist/stripper rumours. This totally makes sense. Wait, NO IT DOESN’T.
Janet’s dogs Boychik (I mean seriously) and Bella think they’re people, so they only sit on chairs, not the ground. I know A LOT of dogs that will only sit on chairs, even though they’re perfectly aware that they’re dogs. I’m looking at you Leo the Labrador.
The rules of the dog-races-for-pets state that only one dog per Housewife can race, so Bella will sit it out so Boychik can have his moment of glory. Sorry, but Boychik is a fucking stupid name for a dog.
The sensible money is, of course, on Mr Figaro, what with him being an actual Greyhound. Of the Italian variety, but still.
Chyka’s also got 2 dogs – Milo, who has a snoring problem (the relevance of which is questionable), and Ollie, who Chyka has nominated as her racing hound. Ollie is a bit fitter than Milo, who has been indulging in a few too many tins of MyDog.
Janet asks Gamble if Boychik can have a handicap. YES HIS NAME IS HIS HANDICAP. Sorry, that was just too easy. Handicapping is all too complicated for Gamble, so she focuses instead on jockeys for the dogs. If it was anyone else you’d think they were joking, but this is Gamble we’re talking about, so out come the little jockeys she’s prepared earlier, which are duly attached to the back of the hounds. Which is not weird at all.
Gamble has recruited some “handlers”, which look suspiciously like lovely Luke, son of the Silver Fox, and maybe even PF’s son? There’s one other dude, but I’m not interested enough to find out who he is.
The producers are *maybe* going a bit over the top with the Chariots of Fire music – have they even seen Cash-the-Pomeranian?
The aerial shot of the race is nice touch – good job ArenaTV. PF tries to lure her *borrowed* dog with chocolate which is, of course, poisonous to dogs. Stupid bint.
Not surprisingly, Figaro holds the lead for the majority of the race, but IN A STUNNING UPSET Cash-the-Pomeranian pips him at the post. Lydia is stunned, and despite appearing to take it well, you just know she wants to cut a bitch.
Boychik comes third, even without a handicap, and in a glorious turn of events, PF’s *borrowed* dog Max decided the whole thing was ridiculous, and that he wanted nothing to do with it. Good dog.
Gamble is fully up herself over the success of the dog race, and has decided to make it an annual event, for charity obvs. After Figaro’s loss, I predict Lydia will begin immediate race preparation, because that shit cannot be allowed to happen again.
Gina makes the point, for about the 35th time, that Jackie isn’t there, and notes that their relationship is a bit like a mother and a teenage daughter, which I reckon is pretty accurate. However, Gina’s observation is strangely irrelevant to the dog race, so I predict that we’re about to see some major shit go down between them after the ad break. Am psychic like that.
I’m going to miss those aerial sweep shots of Melbourne. Which reminds me, I must get on to booking my flights for the reunion shows – probably the 2nd one, because Mother’s Day inconveniently gets in the way of the first show.
Right. Ad break is over and Chyka has arrived at PF’s crib which, although it pains me to say it, looks far more impressive in daylight. PF’s 50th birthday is coming up, so obviously she’ll be throwing a stylish (bahahahhahaa) party for herself. Oh wait – she’s getting Chyka to do it, so it might be genuinely stylish.
Chyka’s eyes sparkle at the words “no budget”, and she listens closely to what PF has in mind. After two dud Christmases in New York (as if there’s even such a thing), PF wants to have a Winter Wonderland-themed birthday. She has a couple of ideas, including an arch of white Christmas trees. Basically what she wants is the David Jones Christmas Store. Chyka will, of course, translate PF’s questionable ideas into something gorgeous, and if she’s smart she’ll keep PF’s involvement to a minimum.
The cake is a whole ‘nother thing. PF wants the cake to be a staircase. In the shape of the Sydney Opera House. Chyka’s face is everything. You can see her thinking “what the actual fuck is she talking about??”
She tries to get a handle on WTF this cake is meant to represent, which PF explains is about her journey. *yawns* Not surprisingly Chyka gives the Opera House part of the cake the flick, because it’s fucking stupid, and focuses on the stepping stones/staircase part. I kind of wish she’d actually do the Opera House/Staircase hybrid cake just to illustrate the stupidity.
As PF explains that her “vision” for the party is all in her head, you can see Chyka thinking “Oh god oh god oh god how can I get out of this?”
PF wants the party to be drama-free, which is easy. Don’t have it. Duh. However Chyka has a different idea, which is to word up the ladeez that this is to be a klarssy event and the “get fuckeds” are to be kept to a minimum, and preferably without an accompanying middle finger. Boring.
Obviously this won’t work even a little bit, especially where Gina and Jackie are involved. If there’s a God, the only thing that will be missing will be the jelly bath, but only because Chyka is too stylish to organise one.
Next up we’re at Lydia’s “new renovated house”. She’s going to refer to it as “renovated” every time she mentions it, isn’t she? She’s having the girls over for dinner and although she’s cooking it herself, she’s having a friend make a fancy dessert that will apparently blow their tiny minds.
Lydia tells the ladies that she’s going to get them all “wet pussies”. Eww. Even if it is a drink, still ewww. Call me old fashioned, but I don’t get the thing with suggestive cocktail names. I’m with Lydia’s mother. Gahd. I’m *that* old.
Lydia busies herself with the cookery, and Janet reckons she reminds her of Nigella Lawson. I can see that. Crap. I hate when I agree with Janet.
When the ladies sit down to their seafood meals – sah fancy, not a fishstick in sight – Lydia explains that she didn’t invite Gina and Gamble because of their poor behaviour at PF’s book launch. Obviously this won’t get back to them at all.
The ladies are filling their gobs with ALL THE SEAFOOD and out of nowhere Janet comes out with “I don’t know if this is dinner party conversation, but what state do you actually have to be in to have an erection?”
SO. MANY. THINGS. In no particular order, here are some of my questions and observations:
- Who is she asking? I heard someone mention that Andrew is there, so maybe him?
- Is Janet a man?
- How did Janet reach 137 years old without knowing the answer to that question?
- No, it’s not dinner party conversation.
- Ask Carlos.
Janet explains that as a result of being previously married to a 900 year old man, she is an expert on medications that assist in hoisting the flag. In her experience, Viagra is a bit rubbish because it takes between 45 minutes and an hour to work, by which time she’d *ahem* moved on. TO SLEEP. Obviously. Then there are Cialis and Levitra, which only take 15-20 minutes. But now there’s a product of greater importance to humankind than penicillin – a gel called Kamagra which only takes 10 minutes and “it’s rock hard”! Glory Be! Also STOP IT!
Lydia’s mum is wondering what in God’s name is going on. Aren’t we all? When she asks Janet “what’s it like waiting for someone to put the plastic in?” meaning putting on a condom (I think), Lydia dies a thousand deaths, along with everyone watching.
Lydia wants to make everyone forget that that last exchange ever happened, so she announces that she has a surprise for everyone. “He’s big, he’s handsome, and he’s Matt Butcher.”
Never heard of him. *Googles like a mad woman.* Right. Executive Chef at Morris Jones in Prahran. Got it.
Apparently Matt knows about Lydia’s love of cigars (did we know that?) and she tells us he is making a dessert “all about me”. So up herself.
Dessert is liquorish ash with a chocolate cigar served in an ashtray. Sah fancy. Just makes me want a Maxibon or a Bubble-o-Bill.
Lydia’s mum eats her cigar in a way no-one wants to see their mother eating anything. Sorry. PF does the same thing, only with added facial expressions, and now I have to take a shower.
Could that dinner have been any more uncomfortable? Thank fuck it’s over. Of course it does mean we’re closer to PF’s birthday party, where I predict (because #psychic) PF will morph into a psychotic lunatic over her vision for the party. Excellent.
Everything is underway at PF’s place, and it’s looking properly glamorous, obviously, because Chyka is all over it. But PF is sitting in a bedazzled crescent moon and making noises that sound a lot like “this is not what I ordered”. Well no, because what you ordered is crap.
This is where we meet Daisy, the lovely girl from The Big Group, given the poisoned chalice job of running the event. You’re in our prayers Daisy.
Apparently the bedazzled crescent moon is not adjustable. *Adds to list of sentences I never thought I’d write*. Evidently this flaw in the moon is problematic, because PF will be launching herself from it when she starts dancing the Rumba. Deadset, even the preparations for this party are a goldmine of crazy.
Next she’s got the shits up about the hallway which, to my untrained eye, looks freaking amazing. It seems she’s got her knickers in a twist about the hall runner, which is cream, instead of white, and the fact that the hall is decked with actual flowers, not white Christmas trees, as per her vision. Poor, sweet Daisy. We’re all here for you babes.
PF sees chaos all around her. The REST OF HUMANKIND* (*may be an exaggeration) sees glorious white orchids, metres of silk organza and an all-round stunning display of elegance and style. PF keeps tapping her chest, repeating “I’m freaking out”, and Daisy wants to stab her in the chest with a candleabra. Probably.
Over at Chyka’s place, she’s overseeing her chef Tony cook a family roast. She calls in her housekeeper Claudia to taste test it, and now I want to be Chyka when I grow up.
Except for when PF gets on the blower to voice her disgust at the incompetence of Daisy and everyone involved with The Big Group.
OMG CHYKA CALLS HER PF! I knew Chyka and I were secretly soul sisters.
Sorry. Where was I? PF is slagging off at Chyka about how her “vision” isn’t being adhered to. What. A. Mole. Chyka does the most mahoosive eyeroll, which makes me want to high-five her through the screen.
Evidently PF feels like she’s in a massive garden of beautiful flowers, so I can totally see why she’s pissed off. How Chyka hasn’t already told her to fuck off is a mystery to me.
PF is worried that the party is going to turn to shit which she helpfully explains “is brown, not white, like a winter wonderland.” I can’t even.
Thankfully we take a break PF’s “vision” and join Janet as she visits her mate Manuela. Have we met Manuela before? Can’t recall. Wait, yes we have. A couple of times. She will therefore almost certainly be one of the new Housewives next season. I know this, because #psychic.
“Manny” (she should drop this abbreviation/nickname stat) and Janet sit down to discuss Janet’s dating sitch, which is currently a bit shit. Janet has decided it’s easier to embrace singledom, which Manuela reckons has taken 10 years off her. Of course Janet wishes she’d know that earlier so she could have saved all those cajillions on surgery.
It seems Manuela is a bit put out about not being invited to Gamble’s hen’s party, which Janet surmises is because Gamble had got wind of the fact that Manuela had heard the stripper/hooker rumours. OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!!! I’ll try to make this quick – Janet thinks that Gamble is making things worse by constantly banging on about the rumours, and Manuela thinks it’s either that, or she’s just dumb. I’ll leave that with you.
OK, Chyka, Janet and Jackie are in a horse and carriage. I did not see that coming. Apparently PF arranged this super embarrassing mode of transport for the ladies to get to her party. Chyka might be saying “I absolutely love it”, but I’m 100% certain she’s thinking “what the fuck is wrong with a limo.”
Jackie, on the other hand, was loving it sick, or as she put it “I lost my shit. I thought it was the bomb.” Bless.
Up at PF’s penthouse, it’s looking FUCKING MAGICAL, OBVIOUSLY. The whole place looks like a Pinterest Board. I mean, it’s actually snowing, which blows PF’s teeny tiny mind.
The next carriage arrives (even the horses look embarrassed) with Gamble, Gina and Lydia. Good, that’s everyone. Let the games begin.
Up at the Winter Wonderland, Jackie tells PF her boobs are shining, which is more information than any of us need. But PF tops it by telling us that “this girl is wearing very little underwear”. Ugh.
WOW! Lydia hasn’t said “WOW” in forever! But the snowing hallway definitely calls for it. Gamble describes the entrance as “an ejaculating forest”, and then makes a comment about what the forest did all over Gina, but because I’m a lady I can’t repeat it because #gross.
Lydia describes PF’s birthday as “half one hundred”, and given that a good friend of mine* (*me) turns that exact age next year, I now hate Lydia with the heat of a thousand suns.
As with every good shindig these days, there’s a photo booth on site, where grown humans make eejits of themselves with moustaches and feather boas. Jackie gets antsy about the fact that people are hogging the photo booth, calling out “shine it up, it’s not a model fuckin’ portfolio. Fark.” And then once she’s in there “I look so woggy it’s hilarious.” Love your work Jacks.
There’s lots of teeny tiny food served on giant grey bathroom tiles, because #fancy. No deep fried treats in sight, and I’ll bet anything people would kill for a party pie.
Gamble notices that Manuela is giving her the cold shoulder. She’s a bit scared of Manuela, which is understandable. Maneula comes over to Gamble and whichever unidentified person Gamble is making small talk with, and thus begins the most awkward convo I’ve ever witnessed. Manuela is all up in Gamble’s bizness about why she (Gamble) thinks she’s (Manuela’s) so aggressive. Poor Gamble looks completely terrified and I kind of wish the Silver Fox would swoop in and shield her from Manuela’s scary-as-fuck glare.
Manuela gets even further up in Gamble’s bizness, which is now a quivering mess, saying that Gamble knows full well that Janet didn’t start those rumours. I’m totally with Gamble when she says “Don’t you people have a fucking life?” which was ace, then she followed up with a stream of “fuck yous” that would have made Jackie proud. She rounded it off with “why don’t you get fucking laid” to Manuela, which I have to admit gives me a new respect for Gamble.
Things go a wee bit off the rails when Gamble challenges the success or otherwise of Manuela’s real estate business, which opens the door for Manuela to ask where Gamble gets her money. Gamble goes fully bogan and declares Manuela a c**t, the first woman she’s ever referred to with that word. You go girl – seems like a good one to start with.
Suddenly Janet appears and declares that Gamble is responsible for this story still having legs. She tells Gamble to “fuckin’ shut up and listen”, which greatly disturbs Chyka, because she’s a fuckin’ lady.
Janet tells Gamble that there is “no slant on your character. Has that gone in?” pointing at Gamble’s head. Nice. She reiterates that she was telling Gamble “a bullshit rumour which was bullshit”, and Chyka tries to explain it as “you were being a friend”. Gamble concedes that Janet maybe has a point, and although it pains me to say it, I think she’s right. Crap.
Can we be done with the rumour thing now? Please? It’s taken THE WHOLE SEASON and I’m EXHAUSTED by it.
There are far more interesting things to pour scorn focus on. For example, PF is wearing her stupid headpiece (from Manila – as if you could forget) as a bun snood! Hideous AND thrifty! She’s NAHT happy about the shitshow that just went down between Gamble and Janet, but because I’m psychic, I feel like that is just the opener.
Ooh, time for the speeches. I think. Wait – my mistake. It’s time for PF’s “sexy, steamy dance”. The one she starts from the bedazzled moon. Tops. She’s wearing an outfit borrowed from Dancing with the Stars, and has pimped up her bun snood with a hair applique. Totes understated.
PF’s son does a moving intro, describing how PF’s rents danced to the song Petite Fleur by Aker Bilk (Googled for correct spelling) and 9 months later, there was PF. *gags*
I think Janet speaks for all of us when she puts her head in her hands and groans “oh nooooo” as PF descends from the crescent moon.
There were far too many sightings of PF’s underoos for prime-time viewing, and let’s be honest, for her son. I s’pose we should be grateful that she’s actually wearing any undies. Still, the whole thing was cringeworthy to the power of a million. Jackie thought it was great, but I suspect she’s put away a LOT of La Mascara, so her judgement is probably fucked.
Next up we’re treated to PF’s son playing the piano. Oh fab, it’s Petite Fleur again – accompanied by a clarinet. I do not love the clarinet. When I was in the Grade 10 orchestra, I was the First Flute, and the fucking clarinet always drowned me out. Not that I hold a grudge.
After the musical performance, PF changes into another outfit – and this time it almost looks like she’s wearing the crystal headpiece/bun snood as a back-to-front necklace? Please let it be so.
PF then thanks everyone for being there, and finally thanks her bloke Frank for “opening up his checkbook for this amazing party.” Onya Frank. She goes on to say “hopefully I’ll get that beautiful car that I’ve been looking at.” Oh Frank. For your sake I hope you got the Bentley and not just an itunes card and something from hardtofind.com.au.
With the formalities out of the way, Gamble wants to talk to Gina about her suggestion that it was her (Gamble’s) makeup artist that started the rumours. OH MY GLOB GIVE ME STRENGTH. Deep breath, because apparently we’re not done yet with the rumours. Gamble can’t believe her makeup artist would be involved, and is pissed off with Gina for even suggesting it. Jackie sticks her bib in, wondering why Gina is doing this, what with her being Gamble’s BFF.
Gamble turns to Jackie and asks her to elaborate on what she’d said in Manila about throwing Gamble and PF under the bus. I know, I know. It’s exhausting having to remember back to the dark days in the Philippines. But things between Gamble and Gina appear to be going a bit off the rails, and because I’m something of an investigative writer* (*google) I want to get to the bottom of it.
Remember how Jackie talked about she, Janet and Gina going on a morning show, and Gina suggested throwing the new girls under the bus? Jackie claims she didn’t want to be part of such a thing, because she liked PF. This is NAHT how Gina remembers it, and because she deals in fact, not friction, she’s not taking it lying down.
PF asks Gamble if she believes what Jackie says. WTF is PF getting involved for? The 3 minutes since we last had to endure her have been so lovely. Anyhoo, Gamble says she doesn’t believe Jackie, which lights a fuse under Jackie, which I reckon is gonna go OFF any time now. Jackie stares down Gamble saying “you’d better check yo’self, because I don’t lie”, and Gamble takes her life into her hands by saying “I don’t believe that”.
In comes Janet, who fully backs up Jackie about the “throwing the newbies under the bus” thing, and things are looking less cruisy for Gina as she furiously insists it was all just playful chat. Argh!
Gina leans over and asks Jackie if she’d prefer that she and Gamble weren’t besties any more. Janet reckons this is a top idea, but poor Gamble is devo at the idea. She tells Jackie that she has “blurred lines of reality”, whatever that means, and Jackie tells Gamble that she “seems out of whack right now”. Which is a bit mean, considering this is the most sensible Gamble has looked all season. Jackie calls her cray cray, which is a term that even my 10yo daughter stopped using about a year ago.
Oh god oh god – Gamble responds VERY BADLY by telling Jackie that she questions whether her psychic voices are telling her the truth or not. We all know how well Jackie takes it when someone fucks with her angels. Somehow this is Gina’s fault – and I replayed this part about 5 times, but I still can’t figure out how it is, so we’ll just have to run with it. Gina can’t figure it out either, and decides that since Janet and Jackie’s pupils have dilated to the size of dinner plates, she’s getting the fuck out of Dodge.
But Jackie isn’t finished with Gina, and she and her by-now-very-cranky-angels go after her. Gina tells her to back off, and then Jackie says “no you need to back off”. Shit is about to get real.
Jackie is all finger-pointy at Gina, which never ends well. Gina grabs a sparkly beverage and walks away saying “I’m not even listening”. Jackie is about to have an aneurism and calls out to Gina “You’re out now, you’re GORNE which is Croatian for “fucked”.
Janet plays commentator, describing Gina as a dirty fighter, chucking the “pupils dilated” bomb (which is more of a lame-o party-popper than an actual bomb IMHO), then runs away as fast as “that fat, spanx arse will let her go“. Would it be childish to say “at least she’s got an arse”? Probs.
Jackie decides to take things outside and tries to follow Gina onto the balcony. But Gina foils that plan by holding the door closed and not letting her out, so Jackie kicks the door. Gina thinks she might need to call the filth police, and suddenly PF and her stupid bun-snood appear. I can’t quite see what’s going on out there, but Jackie keeps saying “don’t touch me! Don’t touch me”, so Gina must be touching her. Or something.
Jackie decides it’s time for her to take her leave, because she’s all about being true to herself. Am not entirely sure how those two things are related, but ok. Someone asks Gina what happened, and Gina explains that “Jackie just went mental”, which is pretty accurate.
Next up, Janet races past in a blur of rose gold sequins uttering “you’re kidding. It’s a piece of shit.” She reckons that if she had her time again, she’d never have told Gamble that she heard a rumour. But then what would have happened? A whole season of PF trying to explain what her stupid book is about? No, even the rumours are more interesting than that.
Gina also heads home announcing that she’s embarrassed to be amongst this group of women. Which, by the way, still includes the vile Manuela. She’s definitely gonna be a new Housewife.
Gamble leaves with her homie Gina because she’s got her back, so that’s nice.
Lydia tells PF that it was such a beautiful party, so apparently she was at a different party. PF is devo about what has happened, but decides to “screw those bitches, we’re gonna party”. Lydia and Chyka do some dad-dancing, and Lydia gives us the line we’ve been waiting for – “time heals all wombs” *cacks self*
Chyka is philosophical about her part in the rumour clusterfuck, but dammit, she’s going to learn from this mistake.
PF signs off the series by admitting she shouldn’t blow smoke up her own arse, because it pisses the girls off. Also it would hurt. PF says she has been “true to herself” *yawn* and “rocked my fashion” *laughs like a loon*.
And it’s over! Arena hasn’t done that thing where they give us a line about what the ladeez are currently doing, but they did do AWESOME stills from the party, which I’ve put into a grid, because am generous and creative. My favourite is Janet. You’re welcome.