Putting me off my dinner

Look, I'm sure I come across as a real intellectual-type, high-brow, educated, woman. But I have to confess. I've been watching trash tv. I'm confessing because, I didn't just watch it ... I taped it. Granted, I started recording when I realised that I would need to show my friends later just exactly what I was ranting and raving about, but still, to record such rot and have it sitting on my hard drive next to the likes of Seven Samurai and Grand Designs is just dirty. Will these hands ne'er be clean I ask thee? (See how educated I am? I played Lady Macbeth in year 10 drama!) Alright, enough of the fluff, let's get down to it.

The program in question is Dinner Date, aired Tuesdays on channel 7. Of course I initially tuned in because Manu Feildel is the host and he is adorable (besides that sexist remark during Dancing with the Stars that his PR people quickly brushed aside as 'lost in translation' *wink*). 

Well, Manu doesn't disappoint. His cutesy narration and naughty smirks to camera do have me giggling along, rosy-cheeked like a school-girl. The actual show on the other hand, is about as enjoyable as a hot poker stuck in your eye - but with absolutely NO hotness. 

The premise of the show is that one single contestant chooses to have dinner with three suitors. The contestant, after the three dates, then chooses their favourite to take on an overnight date somewhere 'fancy'. That's all. That's the prize. An overnight stay at a nice hotel is worth losing your dignity for, it seems. If the pollies need any more evidence that these tough economic times are effecting real people out there, I can't think of any better. 

Episode one featured a very attractive young woman and three male suitors. She had a 1-year-old baby and had been dumped by the father just 3 weeks after the birth. One could assume, most likely, that she has a pretty good history of dating arseholes. So when, after her three dates, she chose the 'Italian Stallion' who was a complete Neanderthal, misogynist wanker, I was a little perturbed. Not shocked of course, because going on a reality tv show to date three complete strangers whilst being filmed is clearly not the actions of a logical thinker, but perturbed because shouting at the television "Don't you DARE pick him you idiot!" had absolutely no effect.

When discussing it later with my friend, she pointed out that the woman was probably just 'after a shag' so chose the man with the bangin' bod who seemed like he had the most experience of one night stands (trust me, no one would go back for date number two after they discovered the names of his future children).

- But that can't be right, because the contestant was hot. She could go to any club and pick up. SO, after episode one, it became clear that yet another reality tv show was going to rationalise my general disappointment in humankind. The stupid woman chose the buff cad, who will cheat on her, spend her money, and generally disrespect her until he dumps her for a blonde with a lower IQ who doesn't have a baby or a mind of her own.

So when it came to episode two, my head was on straight. Gone were my fanciful notions that humans generally have their own and other's best interests at heart and that, if given the chance, humans will generally surprise each other with their actions.

With those notions buried deep in the pit of despair (where they lived the entire time Big Brother was on television), I was able to successfully predict before the third ad break that the horrible little man 'looking for love' would choose the skinny blonde with the cleavage who couldn't even cook *GASP!!* over the nice country girl with whom he got along wonderfully and who had exceptional culinary skills (good little lady that she was, of course).

Mind you, I was happy the contestant chose the blonde, because the country girl was too nice for him. I would have preferred though, if he'd chosen contestant number one: the bad dancer who made him sit on the floor and didn't really like him at all. Because I'm sure they would have had a terrible time on their follow-up date, and I would have enjoyed knowing that - because that's the kind of person I am.*
 

So that's Dinner Date. An exercise in finding morons and showing them to be the morons they are, with soft lighting, diary-room style bits-to-camera and a charming host holding back his laughter (or is it tears?) at just how low he will go to keep his mug on tv in the off-season of My Kitchen Rules.

And here I am, waiting for episode three to start, because I want to be horrified. I've been sucked in ... and don't even get me started on Four Weddings.
 

* I'm really not that kind of person at ALL!! You see what reality tv is doing to me?!?