My colleague Jenni Mortimer could not review The Masked Singer tonight so I thought I'd take a leaf out of whatever book the people on that show have been reading and try something I'm absolutely not meant to be doing with my time.
I had never watched The Masked Singer until today and now... well, now I long for those simpler times.
Make no mistake, though, I'm no intellectual. Just last night, I watched not one but eight (yes, eight) episodes in a row of "Are You The One?" on Netflix so, you know, I'm not exactly hard to please when it comes to TV shows.
I went into this with an open mind. Then a giant bejewelled sheep in a leather jacket appeared on my screen singing Rihanna's "Stay" and I thought for sure I was trapped in some kind of wacky fever dream.
Surprisingly, the sheep sang quite well and things only got weirder from then on.
Up next was a Monster singing George Michael, yet another sentence I never expected to type.
After a commercial break, the show's host Clinton Randell tells viewers "welcome back to The Masked Singer or what happens when you take mufti day too far" which is a remarkably fair assessment so I guess... points for honesty?
Next up is Orange Roughy singing my toddler's favourite song, George Ezra's "Shotgun". There's now a giant fish on my screen singing the song I've learnt to simultaneously love and hate and here I am, stone cold sober.
What is happening?
Sharyn Casey, one of the judges, appears to figure out who it is within seconds and, when it's time to throw in her guess, suggests Orange Roughy is none other than Mike McRoberts.
Fellow panel member Rhys Darby thinks it could be Peter Burling, as if there's any chance this show could ever be a pit stop in Burling's career.
Anyway, let's carry on, there's two other weird creatures to watch. A giant butterfly comes on and sings a bit of Kelly Clarkson's "Breakaway" which I think is supposed to be a poetic TV moment because there's something in the song about spreading your wings and whatnot.
This is where the panel really goes off piste. Sharyn Casey thinks the oversized butterfly, Monarch, is the country's Prime Minister, Jacinda Ardern, who left the Beehive to dress up in a costume and sing in a game show twice a week.
But wait, it gets weirder. Rhys Darby thinks the Monarch might be Pippa Middleton. I don't even know what to write after that sentence so I'm just going to move on, sorry.
Ladi6 thinks it's Madeleine Sami behind the mask while James Roque can't decide if it's Bic or Boh Runga.
"To be honest, I don't think this is what Jacinda Ardern meant by the "new normal," Randell says. Finally, someone talking some sense.
For the final act of the evening, a Pavlova bobbles along on stage, singing "I'm still standing" by Elton John, another moment of television poetry.
In the end, the Monarch had to unmask and she proved Ladi6 right. It was Madeleine Sami, practising what she preaches and trying something new.
"Hardest half hour of my life," Sami said of the experience.
Yup. And you didn't even have to write about it afterwards, mate.
I dislike charades and most guessing games so I didn't think I'd be into The Masked Singer but I can respect a show that overcomes the fundamental hurdle of relying on a wide pool of celebrities in a country with very few, and still manages to producing two 45-minute episodes per week.
What I can't stand, however, are the infantile puns (I mean, pun after pun after pun, just stop it already) which, combined with the whole fancy dress thing, just pushes it a little too far into the kids' show category, something that should be airing on Sunday morning rather than Monday evening.
Will I watch it again? Unsure. I really want to know who the sheep is and whether Sharyn Casey is right about Mike McRoberts but I'm not sure I care enough to sit through another 45 minutes of annoying puns and aggressively colourful costumes.
Let's hope, for my sake, Jenni is back at it next week.
• The Masked Singer NZ screens on Three on Sundays from 7pm and Mondays from 7.30pm