Thursday, February 08, 2007

liggest boser

It’s back. The Biggest Loser, Australian style. They’ve taken another collection of fatties and thrown them into a (hopefully) heavily reinforced house in order to get them to lose weight. I watched my first episode last night. Brilliant television, really. Watching a bunch of tubby bitches waddle around, sweating while they talk, subconsciously moving their hands to their face with imaginary pieces of the Colonel’s finest is really my idea of a tops night in.
It kick-started with one group sleeping in tents outside. I’m assuming this was because they were deemed ‘too fat’ to make it through the door. I didn’t pay enough attention to find out the real reason, so I’m running with that.
One of the fatties, I can’t remember their name, they all look alike to me, had decided to leave the house, because it was just ‘too hard’. Well. I’m sorry. I’m sure living the rest of your life will be a lot easier now that you’ve decided to not lose weight. A lot easier, and possibly a lot shorter. Later in the episode, some gay guy and an ex-fatty go to her house to persuade her to come back. We are treated to some Home and Away style acting whereby ex-fatty starts crying when she talks about how “worth it” it all is. It was the most emotional scene of Australian telly since Agro touched up Anne-Marie. Fatty doesn’t buy it, eats them both and says, “No, I’m quite happy with being a fat slag, thank you.” We find out that she has since lost 8kgs and is doing her own exercise and diet program. Nicely done. I’m assuming this means you now weigh 140kgs, you’ve lost the remote to your tv and you can only eat when someone hands you your feeding bucket. Standing up can cause health implications. Serious ones.

Meanwhile, back at Fat Camp, the geniuses behind the show devise some kind of contest where each contestant is tempted by… a slice of watermelon. If you don’t eat it, you can’t win immunity. Eh. Fuck it, it’s 17 calories of fruity goodness. The fact that it’s not coated in chocolate and deep-fried turns a lot of the sweating masses off it, however, so they get given the arse. In some kind of stupid rule twist, the last bloke to even look at the next treat (a puddle of sour cream and a sliver of potato) wins… but as our big-boned, slow-talking host tells us, immunity is “a…poisoned…chalice… and… the… winner… must… do… The Walk.” She doesn’t tell us what that consists of entirely, but I’m using all the power of my brain to imagine that it involves moving one foot after another, in the familiar (to some) left foot/right foot combination. So to stop himself from being booted off the show, the winner has to walk somewhere. Great. Well, he’s on a weight-loss show, not here for a haircut. Might as well get waddling, tiger.

So they all go back to the gym for their regulation five minute work-out. The token Asian bloke gets lumped with Gillian as a trainer. This Gillian guy is wild, he makes Asian man kick this padded bag at least 5 times. The one-legged caper is not Asian man’s style, so he falls over, packs some ice on his ankle for a bit and parks his arse back on the couch. Some other dude comes back from hospital, after suffering severe pork withdrawals. He walks into the house, grabs some food and is happy to finally be around people bigger than him. Some other champion tries to show off by saying that he “spent 40 minutes on the exercise bike.” He did, however, neglect to mention “before I found out that I had to pedal, so I got off it and sat on the couch again.”

Is anyone else really annoyed by that McDonalds ad where the little girl thinks she’s flying her slippery-dip and the boy sees robot monsters instead of construction vehicles? Yeah, pisses me off no end, and those little pasta things look fucking disgusting. I’d rather eat a Fillet o Fish. Gross.

I can’t remember a lot of what happened after that, I was watching a spider on the wall. It was a big spider, man.

Next time on Fatties Go Wild, some other lard-arse wants to leave the show after seeing a treadmill, a fat woman is shown a photo of her toes and breaks down in tears of pure happiness; it’s been so long since she’s seen her feet, and the teams go to the Centrepoint Tower. I would have to hazard a guess and say that the Australian Tourism Industry wants something to rival the Leaning Tower of Pisa, so our hefty heroes all stand on one side of it. Will it work? Probably.

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