Celebrity Treasure Island back in 2004. Funnily enough, Sirocco the kākāpō wasn't cast in this one either.
So, the reality is … reality TV is here to stay.
And with it, a new season of Celebrity Treasure Island, which immediately raises the question, “Do I actually know any of these people?”
Seeing the lineup, I found myself nodding along like I do when a member of Gen Z talks about the bands they are going to see.
I’ll smile and say “that’ll be good”, while having absolutely no idea what they are on about, or whether they have just named a band or read out the washing instructions for a merino top.
At this point I start to suspect this might be less about New Zealand running out of celebrities and more about me slipping out of relevance – and finally accepting it might be time to update my car mixtape of 90s bangers.
After all, I am from a generation that had a poster of Martin Crowe on the wall, not a TikTok account on their phone.
A generation that rode a BMX to the dairy for a 20c mixture, not one that waits for an app to deliver something.
So maybe the problem is not the show. Maybe the problem is me. Confronting.
Which got me thinking, if we cannot escape reality TV, we may as well go all in and make the ultimate version of it.
And in a TikTok-attention span world, a fully compressed version might just be the answer.
You start with 12 contestants on Treasure Island.
They battle it out through challenges, alliances and the occasional dramatic monologue to camera. The final two then have to get married at first-ish sight.
From there, the newlyweds move straight into renovating a house together under extreme time pressure, while being judged by someone who uses the word “flow” more than a dietician trying to convince you to increase your fibre intake.
Once the house is finished, they auction it, invest the profits, and then head off to compete in a cooking show where they are made to cook with “everyday pantry items” like saffron, truffle oil and something that requires translation before you attempt to pronounce it.
Unfortunately, much like trying to jam all the unwanted things into one drawer, there is a point where this goes from a solution to a disaster.
So maybe a fully compressed version of reality TV is not the answer, which means I need to rethink things, embrace the reality of reality TV and decide who I would want on my ultimate Kiwi Celebrity Treasure Island.
Now this is where it gets interesting.
Winston Peters is an obvious inclusion.
In a game built on alliances, negotiations and the occasional strategic betrayal, you would back him to not only survive but somehow end up holding all the power.
And if t a packet of darts is on the line, he will find a way to make sure they end up in his pocket, right next to Christopher.
I am also fairly sure he will be the first contestant to turn up to a deserted island in a pinstriped suit.
Keith Murdoch would be another strong contender.
No stranger to going bush, and certainly no stranger to a scrap.
I also feel like somewhere in the fine print of Treasure Island, there is a requirement to have at least one former All Black, so he ticks that box nicely.
My only concern is that he might be sent home early, never to be seen again.
Nancy Wake would be almost unfair to the others.
In a game built on being sneaky, strategic and outthinking your opponents, you are basically handing it to a spy.
I can also picture her at the campfire, calmly asking for her coconut water shaken, not stirred. That is what spies do, isn’t it?
And, like the pavlova, there might be some debate about whether she is ours or Australia’s, but I think we quietly claim her and move on.
Kate Sheppard brings a different strength.
The ability to unite people, to organise and to get others on board.
In a game where votes matter, you would think she could get the numbers.
Also, I suspect she would not tolerate any nonsense, which is a valuable trait in a reality TV setting.
Sir Edmund Hillary has to be there.
Even if it is just for the final moment.
You can picture it now. The last challenge completed, treasure found, and Sir Ed calmly delivering a “knocked that bastard off” speech.
In a world of sound bites and memes, that would get more likes than a free sausage sizzle. #ClassicHillary #HeSaidBastardOnTV
Ernest Rutherford might not seem like an obvious pick, but hear me out.
In a game all about alliances, having someone who can split an atom feels like a useful skill.
If he can manage that, I am backing him to split an alliance and, once that happens, there will be fireworks.
He might not have dropped the bomb, but he definitely started the chain reaction.
Rachel Hunter makes the list for several reasons, not the least of which is that her poster was right there next to the Martin Crowe poster for a lot of us growing up.
And that Tip Top Trumpet ad still holds up as peak television, an emotional rollercoaster right up there with an episode of Country Calendar.
There is also the very real possibility of a cameo from her ex, arriving on a boat to rescue her while quietly singing Sailing in the background.
Speaking of sailing, Peter Blake is a no-brainer.
If you are stranded on an island, even one with a full camera crew and a catering tent just out of shot, having someone who knows their way around a boat feels like a smart move.
Also, you just know he would not only build a boat, he would probably secure sponsorship for it along the way.
And then there is Sirocco the kākāpō.
Now, some might question this selection.
He is flightless, but he is certainly not fightless. Just ask Stephen Fry.
And if reality TV and advertising have taught us anything, sex sells.
So old mate Sirocco is going to sell faster than a 60% off sale at Briscoes.
Okay, a confession here. I have never actually watched an episode. But I reckon the cast I have assembled would be worth a look … or at the very least a decent lead-in to Country Calendar.
Because that is the thing with reality TV.
You can say you are not going to watch it, you can question the lineup, and you can roll your eyes at the concept – and then somehow, 20 minutes later, you are fully invested and judging people you have only just met.
By Monday, you are in the lunchroom debating why Sally was voted off when she seemed so nice, and how no one can see through Dave … that smile is so fake.
Maybe that is the point. Maybe the fake is the key. We all need a little escapism right now.