Oh Christ. Here goes. Eurgh.
I thought this was about a house that gained sentience and just loved to party. Unfortunately, I was wrong.
Let’s get one thing straight about reality television. There is no reality to it. None whatsoever. Never. TV has to make sense when reality rarely does. It doesn’t match. So people on ‘reality’ shows are probably different on TV than how they are in real life. How would I ever know? I don’t know these people. Except with this show, I do know somebody on it, but that’s besides the point. What I’m trying to say is that if I am harsh to the people on this show, and any reality show, it’s towards the character that some producer made them into, not the actual people. Well, maybe the actual people. We will see how this goes. I mean, it’s about people having a party in a house. Who cares?
We open on a montage of people waking up looking like they’ve committed homicide. I had no idea you could look that guilty while brushing your teeth. Laura, our protagonist of sorts, starts her voiceover telling us that it’s complicated and everybody’s slept with each other. It’s good to get context.
48 HOURS PREVIOUSLY: Cocktail bar where phrases such as ‘most wasted’ and ‘mermaid eyelids’ are chucked about as Laura talks with two of her mates. This stunted conversation is just word soup. Half the dictionary is here. The bad half. Some guy (I later find out his name is Shoey) comes over says hello, more stunted conversation, end scene. Just noticed that this show is over 48 minutes long. Give me strength.
Cut to a retro/vintage clothes shop. A few people are trying on ridiculous clothes. And my first laugh break of the show has happened. Martin, who was introduced as the ‘looker’ of the cast in the intro, He talks and acts as if he’s on a different frequency. Or as if he’s constantly buffering. Everything is slightly delayed. Every single time the camera is on him, I have to pause the video and check that there isn’t a virus slowing down my laptop. The phrase ‘alcohol fuelled drama’ is used. Skip forward.
Back to Shoey and Laura for ten seconds for no reason.
AND BACK TO MARTIN. PLAYING TABLE TENNIS. He is terrible at it. At that and talking. They talk about the drama, so much drama, because everybody is going to be drinking at this random house and they all have history. We cut back to the post-apocalyptic cocktail where the ladies are discussing the same thing. Except they get graphic about how good their sex has been with the rest of the cast. I never want to hear ‘bruised her thighs’ ever again.
I am not even ten minutes in. In ten whole minutes, nobody has said anything interesting or crucial or anything to make me care. It’s a new show, we don’t know these people (well, I know one but that’s besides the matter), make us fucking care about them. At least try! But no, they all just talk about how dramatic this party is going to be in this random house with a bunch of paid extras and people off the street because nobody has that many friends willing to be on camera. Unless you live in California, but this is South London, so take that theory to the bin.
‘I’ve had longer relationships with a packet of crisps.’ FUCK YOU, DANNY, ‘JOKER OF THE PACK.’
They are still talking about nothing. Just nothing. This whole web of people who made lust with each other. Conversations barren of any emotion. It’s not their fault, they ain’t actors. This show barely makes them seem like people. We are fifteen minutes in! WHERE IS THIS PARTY? WHERE IS THIS HOUSE?
After adverts, we are finally inside the party house. Everyone is drinking out of those red cups that you seen in American Pie and that. Those, in my opinion, are a terrible investment. Just horrible. Overpriced and you don’t even get that many per pack. Whatever, that’s my thing.
Shoey is upset that Laura slept with Martin and he talks to Jazz, not to be confused with Yaz, about it. Lucca likes Shoey and Shoey is nervous, but Jazz tells him that it will be fine. Then spray paints a dick on a wall.
MARTIN’S BACK. Looking towards the ceiling and playing at 0.75x speed. The party has officially started and the eight friends and 100 paid actors are here now. Playing pool and shit. Drinking from red cups and talking about their feelings. Like every party. Shoey confronts Martin and Martin continues to look through all of reality, realising everything is futile. Especially this show. Martin tells Shoey to get a drink. Oh, just seen a shot out of the window. It is the middle of the day.
Martin starts to try it with Lillia, but then Shoey gets on stage and asks everybody if they’re having a good time. Everybody says “Yeah!” because they were actually paid to follow a certain script and they’re professionals. Shoey tells everyone they are getting laid, Lucca with her radiation blue hair gets up on the stage and says that the only person getting laid tonight is him. Which is bummer for everyone else at the party really. Only him getting laid? Why should we stay?
Oh yeah, because we were paid to be here and pretend we know and care about these people. Unlike the audience, who were not paid and still don’t know any of them. Well, I know one but that’s besides the point.
We are not even halfway through and this is my longest review. This has nothing to do with the show, but 4OD has started blocking AdBlocker, so I have to watch the ads. Not helping my views.
Shoey has started ripping on Lucca, who has yet to laid him. He keeps using the word heavy as well. Bit harsh, mate. Martin talks to Lillia in his mother tongue of white noise. Lucca cries to Laura, the reason she is crying. ‘Mama Goose says no tears,’ says Laura. WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?! I’m skipping forward. This is shocking. This show was commissioned as an act of terrorism.
We are in the final stretch here. Lillia is bollocked for breaking Martin’s heart by leading him on, giving him something to bite, probably literally. They were under a duvet at one point. FUN FACT: Being under a duvet constitutes adultery in certain areas of the world that I have made up.
Martin meets up with Lucca, they discuss the pre-planned events of the night. They start getting a bit flirty, yno what I mean? Seeing as they were both rejected in the night, they decide to settle for each other. Martin asks if they want to go somewhere a bit quieter, Lucca says yes, he says ‘Cool.’ Martin, you silver-tongued devil.
Laura, the host of this fake party, is by herself. As she has been, for the majority of the party. That’s what you get when you invite actors and not friends. Shoey pushes her in the pool and laughs far too much. An unromantic conversation follows, they call each other awesome and Shoey says that ‘he could go for’ Laura. HAHA. HAHAHAHA. You fucking cunt. It works though and we get our happy ending.
Well…not a happy ending, but an ending. And by ending, I mean, I’m turning this shit off. There’s still six minutes, but fuck that. It’s just an ending because I don’t care about anybody here. They all seem to contradict each other and themselves constantly. They seem like awful friends. Maybe even awful people, apart from the one I know.
But that’s besides the point.
I give this show Go Fuck Yourself/10.
At work today, I had to call a Swedish company. I called, they answered and I immediately hung up as I realised that I do not speak Swedish. What I’m trying to say is that chat is hard.
What better way to celebrate International Women’s Day than by watching a half-week old episode of a sewing show?
So many people on this show look like stone cold killers.
They know karate, they love Doctor Who, they enjoy reading, they’re off to college. They are…the Teen Exorcists.
Today, I thought I would be talking about Celebrity Masterchef, but the final’s tomorrow and Gregg Wallace kept orgasming over rabbits.