We're off to Queensland to see what villains Ash and Camilla make of cackling cousins Jac and Shaz's home restaurant, eye roll please.
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Yes it's another season of My Kitchen Rules, cooking's answer to Law & Order, where you get locked up for months with no outside contact, slaving for hours with little sleep, only to fear your fellow inmates may be sharpening toothbrushes behind your back.
If you're a first-time viewer, the rules are simple and ridiculous – a bunch of strangers whose personalities come straight out of the classic reality TV hall of fame compete against other cartoon characters, cooking a feast in their respective houses. Someone will then cry.
We're meeting all the characters, sorry, "real home cooks", who look so excited to be on telly at least two are in danger of wetting their pants.
"When it comes to food, we're both as snobby as they come," says two bales of hair claiming to come from Victoria. "We're hungry for success," the master villains, Ash and Camilla continue. Oh, I see what you did there!
There's a cowboy, some pretty boys, a bunch of women, one of whom is destined to be a "dessert queen".
The hosts slash judges Pete Evans, the human version of a white leather couch, and Manu Feildel, owner of the weakest French accent since Pepe Le Pew, are ready to pour freezing cold water on the hopes and dreams of ordinary Australians hoping to get their own TV cooking show open their own quaint little food business.
We're being promised the judges are going to bring a "new excitement" this season. Are Pete and Manu going to kiss?
"We're definitely here to win," says Gina and Anna, who are yet to reveal whether they're part of Team Bitch or Team Cry-Baby.
So let's head to the state that boots out its premier Campbell Newman in one of the biggest election upsets ever and serves up colourful cousins Jac and Shaz for the first slaughter! Jac and Shaz (onya, Shaz!) are doing the honour of creating a "simple" but delicious menu, Pete says, as he looks for activated almonds and zucchini-infused chocolate.
Jac and Shaz are naming their instant restaurant "Stacks", which could be what the competition ends up with if they don't cook very well.
In the kitchen, they're doing that "explaining everything they're doing thing", which producers clearly love; I clearly hate it as it's like watching a kitchen appliance ad (oh wait, Shaz sells those, doesn't she).
"The pressure couldn't be any higher," says Shaz. I disagree. I was once given the wrong medication for the flu the day before my Year 12 English exam and I hallucinated mid-way writing about Macbeth, Now, ladies, that is pressure.
Sitting at the Stacked table, the guests are wondering out loud – aka being obnoxious – about the food that is being presented to them. Ash and Camilla hope Jac and Shaz will smoke their own salmon, because that's what they do. OH MY GOD DID THEY JUST SAY THAT? In the holy words of Sweet Brown, "Ain't nobody got time for dat".
Their first stack – the potato and zucchini rosti with smoked salmon THAT THEY DID NOT SMOKE THEMSELVES – looks like an editable Jenga puzzle. The judges are looking at their food like it might have a mini nuclear bomb inside. I've never seen anyone so distrusting of potatoes before.
But they get the tick of approval – the golden activated almond! Now on the main, and extra points for Jac, who is cooking while wearing a silver dress so tight I think she's shrunk one of her kidneys.
The focus is now on Ash and her amazing afro, which she flicks with the confidence of Queen Cleopatra. Everyone is intimidated by her because she's "intense" and barely blinks. Maybe it's pink eye?
Jac and Shaz are making the sauce to complete their main – they know Manu likes his sauce (that's what she said). And tragedy strikes – the lamb is too fatty, the potatoes under-cooked and this viewer is bored. Annie and Lloyd, the highschool sweethearts, try and keep things diplomatic because as wet blankets that is their job.
Now serving their pear and walnut crumble with blue cheese, Jac and Shaz fear if this dish doesn't work, they'll be sent home (but it's your house – you're already home!).
Right. It doesn't work. The competition are overwhelmed by the smell of the fragrant cheese and look more confused with each bite.
In the end, Jac and Shaz are scored 59 points for their effort. They looked bummed but are philosophical. And if the worst comes to worst and they're kicked out, I would totally watch their reality show, "Jac and Shaz do jazz".
