An X-rated party girl promises to woo her new husband with veal schnitzel that’s “better than a blow job” at a chic and tasteful Married At First Sight wedding where the unimpressed sister-in-law’s crucifix necklace provokes the bride to start chanting “Jesus and cleavage! Jesus and cleavage!”.
It’s a real departure from the tame and understated affairs these ceremonies usually are. How on earth will this prestigious franchise ever recover?
It’s OK. To balance out Sunday night’s chaos, we’re also introduced to the show’s token elderly couple. Nan and pop are twice the age of the other contestants. It’s kinda confusing. For a second, we had to check the TV guide to make sure we weren’t watching Old People’s Home For 4 Year Olds.
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Ladies and gentlemen, meet Lauren. She’s a vegan-hating PR exec who accidentally got her lips sunburnt in Bali.
She’s paired with Richard, who the voiceover lady describes as “the oldest participant to ever take part in Married At First Sight”.
Joking, joking. Richard’s paired with another pensioner and they’re extremely happy with each other. Their reception is catered for by Meals On Wheels. And all the guests chip in to gift them monogrammed his-and-hers stable tables. They’re taken back to the nursing home by 6pm.
That’s when we go party with Lauren, who’s causing chaos at her own wedding. She’s running late because she slept in until midday. And now she’s dealing with some rather pressing issues.
“Do you think I should tan my arm? Is it looking a bit pasty?” she asks her bridesmaid.
The wedding dress is what your conservative aunt might describe as “modern” and “unique”. The design features one lone sleeve, leaving the other arm bare. But now Lauren faces a problem: does she want one singular pale limb, flapping in the breeze? Certainly not.
Her bridesmaid breaks out a bottle of Bondi Sands and a tanning mitt. The girls promptly get to work.
“Gotta get it right up the slit,” Lauren instructs. “I should have probably waxed better.”
Satisfied with her lopsided tan, she jumps in the waiting limo and hightails it to the ceremony. But then another issue arises. She has forgotten her bouquet. The limo screeches to a halt. Moments later, Lauren’s ripping weeds out of a nearby median strip and fashioning them into a posy.
Certainly nothing else could go wrong. For a moment, the waters calm. Lauren arrives at the ceremony and walks down the aisle to meet her groom, Jonathan – a health nut who gets up early to go for long runs. A match made in heaven?
“I wrote these while I was drunk,” Lauren croaks while unfolding an old Chinese takeaway menu on which she scribbled her vows.
She clears her throat and eloquently recites her thoughtful notes.
“When I’m not elbow-deep in a junior whopper with cheese or hanging out the back with a bottle of shiraz, I’m spontaneous, fun and loyal,” she says.
The camera pans to Jonathan’s stepsister, who’s not amused.
“That’s a very interesting dress,” she snips. “I don’t know how she got into it. The dress was very unusual. There’s a slit up the side. Hmmm.”
Well, maybe she’ll let you borrow it now that your sisters.
Lauren remains oblivious.
“I’m not puttin’ my tongue in ya mouth because my mouth is so dry,” she blurts out while launching in to kiss her new husband.
There’s an immediate physical attraction between Lauren and Jonathan. But their connection goes deeper than that. Sitting next to each other at the reception, the conversation crackles with the kind of intelligent repartee one might’ve heard at The Algonquin Round Table.
“Here’s my special dish …” Lauren, a self-described foodie, begins telling her husband about her favourite meal to cook. “Veal schnitzel. Sounds simple but wait till you try it. It’s better than a blow job.”
Jonathan raises an eyebrow. “That’s a massive call.”
We cut to the stepsister, who is surprisingly unimpressed by veal schnitzel blow jobs.
The passionate pitter patter doesn’t stop there.
“There’s a really big piece of meat in my mouth,” Lauren grunts while chewing with her mouth open.
Jonathan falls head over heels.
“I think the experts got it right. I’m a little bit smitten,” he gushes to us.
Lauren asks him how he met his groomsman. Turns out, the boys became mates when they were dating two girls who were sisters.
“Did you have a foursome?” Lauren asks.
Fellow guests look over in horror at what they just heard. Lauren raises the volume.
“We’re talking about foursomes with people’s sisters, so f**k you guys!” she declares to the room.
Now seems like a good time to check in with the stepsister again.
“I think she’s a fun party girl living the single life,” she purses her lips.
The good thing about party girls is they enjoy drunkenly making friends with strangers. And just seconds later, Lauren drags the hesitant stepsister over to the bridal table.
“Darling! Come sit with us!” she slurs.
She points at the silver crucifix on the stepsister’s necklace.
“You got this …” she touches the cross. “ … Next to those gorgeous set of tits!”
Jaws drop around the room.
Then Lauren starts chanting.
“Jesus and cleavage! Jesus and cleavage!”
She then regales the stepsister with a relatable tale.
“I’m covered in bruises. I got buck wild in Bali,” she sighs. “I was there, like, the week before here. And, like, on and off the scooters, pissed every night. You bruise so easily.”
The stepsister takes a deep breath. “That does happen when you’re smashed”
A waiter interrupts to refresh the drinks. That’s when Lauren utters one of the most dangerous phrases in the universe: “Should we just get the bottle?”
It seems only appropriate for producers to fade to black. The next day, Lauren wakes up hungover. And in the harsh morning light, she isn’t sure about the man lying next to her.
“Um … it’s like having a one-night stand,” she groans to us. “Instantly first attracted to them and it’s all amazing. And then in the morning you’re like, ‘Ugh! Where did you come from?’”
He possesses what she considers a big red flag: he’s too … nice.
Lauren’s fabulous single life now seems like a distant memory. And she wishes she could be sitting alone in bed, getting elbow-deep in a junior whopper.
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