A love let­ter to Rus­sell Crowe and his no-non­sense track­suit

The Sunday Mail (Queensland) - - OPINION -

SHOW­ING fan­tas­tic vari­a­tion in tone and sub­ject mat­ter, to­day’s col­umn will now pivot away from The Bach­e­lor and fo­cus on some­thing a lit­tle more in­tel­li­gent: The Bach­e­lorette. Yes, yes. Apolo­gies. But it’s ac­tu­ally a good thing be­cause you prob­a­bly know noth­ing about The Bach­e­lorette. Only 631,000 peo­ple in cap­i­tal cities across Aus­tralia tuned in to Wednesday night’s premiere. And only 539,000 folks both­ered com­ing back for Thurs­day’s episode.

What makes this sad is it wasn’t even up against The Block. Peo­ple love The Block, even though it’s ba­si­cally like hang­ing out at Free­dom for a few hours each week.

There are lots of rea­sons why we don’t care about The Bach­e­lorette. The for­mat is tired, Ali is a bit meh, but mainly it’s the boys.

When did it be­come nor­mal for ev­ery­one to look like mod­els and body­builders? It’s fun to fan­ta­sise about dat­ing some­one who is su­per fit. But the re­al­ity is far dif­fer­ent. Fri­day night take­away is not tol­er­ated. And you can for­get about eat­ing over­priced candy at the movies. Su­per fit peo­ple don’t do this, which is crazy – the whole point of go­ing to the movies is to eat junk food in a re­ally dark room.

But the boys on The Bach­e­lorette aren’t just fit, they’re also waxed and shiny and have no wrin­kles, and their eye­brows are way too de­fined.

There’s one guy in there who looks like vi­ral surgery sen­sa­tion The Hu­man Ken Doll.

What makes it so con­fus­ing is some of these boys have labour­ing jobs in con­struc­tion and plumb­ing. In 2018, tradies spend more time in sa­lons than on work­sites.

It makes us dream of the days when Rus­sell Crowe was the height of sex­i­ness.

With one good black fleece track­suit that he wears for all oc­ca­sions, he’s the ideal man.

Ask him what prod­ucts he uses and he’d prob­a­bly re­ply “soap”.

Rus­sell Crowe doesn’t know what a serum or a cleanser is. He wouldn’t quite un­der­stand how Uber works so he would take taxis. And when he catches them, he sits in the front seat be­cause he feels like a lady if he sits in the back.

If you asked him to pick up a bot­tle of rosé, he’d prob­a­bly re­ply: “That pink stuff?”

He’s the kind of guy who won’t bore you with talk about F45, but will com­plain about hav­ing to pay more than $15 for a hair­cut.

Per­fec­tion.

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