Manwhores and brothel babes head our way

A New Zealand version of reality TV show The Bachelor is going to hit our screens. PHOTO/FILE

Anyone who knows me knows I love a good laugh and what better source than a great comedy ... even if it's billed as something else entirely.

We all know, too, that I have never been a huge supporter of reality TV but when I read that TV3 was going to screen a native version of The Bachelor I didn't know whether I should laugh or cry.

Previous attempts to mimic shows like Idol, Next Top Model and even MasterChef have all fallen a bit flat for me, most winners getting lost in the "where are they now?" category.

Devoid of any originality, we insist on sticking to scripts that were written for far greater populations and advertisers with much deeper pockets, which is probably why we haven't yet seen Who Wants to be a Thousandaire on our screens. It just doesn't have that same ring to it, does it?

So how will The Bachelor measure up? Reality? ... hardly. It will be skilfully crafted by ninja editors, cutting, slicing and splicing, Creating a cocktail of romance, drama and rivalry that some will find intoxicating. For others, like myself, it's more likely to induce vomiting, but in saying that I'll probably watch it for its unintended comedic value and elements of sheer horror.

I can see it now, I can also hear the cliches and catchphrases that will be repeatedly expressed by those in the hunt for the rose. "He just gets me", "He's my soulmate", and let's not forget "He completes me". Heads up Einstein, a complete you requires a complete you, not a piece of someone else.

I am preparing myself to cringe with embarrassment for some of the contestants as they emerge from the car to meet their Prince Charming for the first time. Keen to impress, our budding Cinderellas will attempt to outshine with cheesy gifts and poor poetry. Cheap, nasty one-liners, previously rehearsed in front of the mirror, will fall flat on delivery or the girl will trip up on her own words, if not literally her five-inch heels.

Aware of our drinking culture, there's bound to be, at least, one who over-indulges at the party, paving the way for all manner of possible scenarios. Verbal abuse, a drunken fall, an all-out bitch-brawl ... maybe sparking the new trend of a cross-over episode. The Bachelor meets Dog Patrol and/or Prison Families.

Let's examine the programme concept honestly. One guy, picked from many with the help of a breakfast radio show and 25 or so Kiwi chicks. I'm picking they will all be body beautiful. Not a chunky monkey among them. I'd love to be proven wrong.

Each week the manwhore, for lack of a better term, in his quest for true love will enter the glorified brothel to pick up one girl, sometimes six, for a date. The girls, dressed to the nines apart from the knives in their backs, will shamelessly throw themselves at him, all claiming an instant connection. Some, with no morals, will be on first-name terms with his tonsils before the day is over, already claiming they are falling in love.

Manwhore, particularly on group dates, will have no problem sleazing his way from one girl to the next, as he goes from one saliva-swapping expedition to another, some just minutes apart, leaving the sort of slimy trail a slug does. It's all that inter-mingling spit that helps create the horror element of the show. A virtual drool-pool of hedonistic proportions that always comes back to haunt our manwhore, as his ultimate Cinderella only gets to view his quest and conquests after she has been chosen.

How any woman can really feel that she is special knowing he's off snogging all her roomies every chance he gets. The whole idea is bizarre, disturbingly cruel on a mental level and quite beyond me, but their blind lust and self delusion adds to the warped comedy of this questionable social experiment. Who doesn't want to marry a serial cheater? What a prize. Yeah ... a prize, misogynistic pig.

Let's not forget the final three fantasy dates, where he gets to spend a camera-free night, doing God knows what with each of his chosen wenches. An option they can pass up on and, supposing he had found his one true love, a pass you think he would take. Strange then that the offer is never declined. Not good for the ratings, I suppose.

Love it or hate it, it's coming soon so get your earplugs. I can already hear the screaming from the girls as they enter "the mansion" that for most is anything but a reality. It will be interesting to see what and where the producers come up with for dates. I'm thinking it won't be the usual dream destinations such as Switzerland and France we are used to with the US shows. But please let it be more original than visits to the Sky Tower and a vineyard and surely we can do better than a trip to Oz or Fiji, can't we?

The brothel babes will have to be careful as they battle each week for a rose. Word of advice: beware the thorns ... you could end up with a prick.

Thanks again for all your feedback, keep it coming: investik8@gmail.com

-Kate Stewart is an unemployed, reluctant mother of three, currently running amok in the city ... approach with caution or cheesecake.