How Honey Badger has already divided fans of The Bachelor

HE’S the best ever choice for The Bachelor, writes Lexie Cartwright. Nope, he’ll kill off a ratings juggernaut, writes Victoria Hannaford. Here’s why Nick Cummins is already causing controversy.

THE HONEY BADGER IS THE BOGAN WE’VE BEEN WAITING FOR

I’M declaring it.

Nick Cummins is the best bachie Channel 10 has ever cast.

But after eavesdropping on women in the office, hosting several Bachelor board meetings with my pals and a long phone discussion with Mum, ahead of the new season premiere tonight, I have discovered this is an unpopular opinion.

Are ya’ll ladies for real?

We finally have a bachelor that doesn’t make us want to punch ourselves in the face over their cringe-worthy cliches and excruciatingly boring personalities.

I mean sure, Matty J was great to look at, and Sam Wood and Tim Robards were easy on the eye too. (We won’t even breathe the name of the colossal doozy that was Blake Garvey or speak of Richie Strahan’s redundant season.)

And don’t get me wrong, the bachelors by and large were all super sweet and have largely stood the test of time with their lady loves, which says a lot about their pure intentions to go on the show.

Finally, a bachelor who doesn’t make us want to punch ourselves in the face. (Pic: Supplied)

But year after year producers have opted for these personal trainer, perfect gentleman, straighty 180 stereotypes that just — kind of — blend.

They rock up in their aeroplanes, James Bond cars and bathe their women in creepy chocolate rose baths surrounded by candles, acting like they’ve orchestrated and masterminded the whole over-the-top, lavish affair.

Fast forward to real life, they go on to become Insta-famous stars, move to Sydney’s eastern suburbs and seemingly live a really glamorous life going to all the VIP parties wearing free designer clothing.

There has not been one bogan Bachelor. Honey Badger, we’ve been bloody waiting for you.

He’s rough around the edges, wouldn’t know the difference between Louis Vuitton and Target and is the kind of bloke who would think throwing some Coles sausages on the BBQ on a Sunday afternoon while watching the sunset with his missus is the epitome of romance.

He might be a rugby star, but he’s real. And he’s been around “celebrity life” long enough to see through the deception of it.

All the ladies who will be vying for dates with Nick Cummins. (Pic: Supplied)

What we’ve got here is a genuine bloke looking for a genuine woman to enjoy the simple pleasures of life with, and this informal nature is infectious to watch, as we saw in Sophie Monk’s very raw season of The Bachelorette.

Cummins, with confidence in spades, says it all himself in the show’s promo: “I agree with you. I’m probably not the best looking bachelor. I don’t have a jaw that can cut a cake, I don’t have a tan of mahogany seal. I’m clearly not your standard bachelor, and nor do I wanna be. I wanna be meself.”

Melt.

Because he does have this fuss-free attitude about him, the contestants are going to be incredibly confused about his feelings and will behave like dogs on heat trying to win his affections.

And let’s be honest, that’s the real reason why we obsess over this trash.

I’m cracking the vino already: #TeamHoneyBadgelor.

Lexie Cartwright is a journalist for News Corp.

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A BACHELOR WITH PERSONALITY WILL SPELL DISASTER

“DESPERATE.”

“A shocker.”

No, that’s not the reaction to Barnaby Joyce’s tell-all biography, which really should have been titled Why I’m Never, Ever, Ever Going Away (Not Even If You Ask Nicely).

Those dire assessments are actually the very loud, very definite, water cooler chatter I’ve overheard in response to Nick Cummins being cast in the latest season of The Bachelor.

The reason he’s on the nose? Because the last thing Channel 10’s reality dating show needs is, um, more reality.

I’ve drunk my way through enough seasons of The Bachelor, and its sister offering, The Bachelorette, to know their formula works best when it plays out like a mad daytime soap.

We don’t tune into The Bachelor to see honest, relatable romance. The show functions on being ridiculous, and we turn on the box to watch dates that involve helicopters and people who are single, but wedded to wildly unrealistic expectations of romance. It’s meant to be OTT.

Sure he has a nice casual lean, but Nick Cummins is definitely not the archetype that fits the formula of Channel 10’s dating show. (Pic: Jerad Williams)

And central to that is some dude with breathtaking bone structure but barely any personality. Despite this gaping void where charisma should reside, season after season, these interchangeable man-bots somehow manage to convince a group of otherwise smart ladies to perform all manner of ludicrous tasks — dreamt up by nefarious television producers — for a shot at fame and creating their own fitness empire. Sorry, true love.

That’s why casting Nick “Honey Badger” Cummins is jumping the shark. He’s a case of too much on the one hand, with his bonkers hairdo and distracting rhyming couplets, and not enough of the silent-staring-longingly-into-the-horizon-while-pulling-a-blue-steel vibe, on the other.

There’s no point to the show if the romantic hero that sets seemingly sane ladies into overdrive is a hyperactive version of a bloke you might meet at the pub. We can all head out to our local if we’re after that sort of entertainment.

The Honey Badger might be nice enough, but he’s not the inscrutable bloke whose chiselled jawline merely provides the scaffolding for the high drama that we love, or love to hate, on the small screen.

Australia’s first bachelor, Tim Robards, set the tone for the series. (Pic: John Appleyard)

It’s supposed to be as formulaic as any soap opera, and that’s why it works. It needs to deliver a bloke who looks the part, yet might not have the magnetism to set hearts alight in real life (how else did he end up on the show?). He maintains his appeal through the magic of TV, simply by smouldering and not saying much, and perhaps some deft editing. (I once interviewed Tim Robards from the first season of The Bachelor. He deadset couldn’t take his eyes off his own reflection in the cafe window long enough to focus on his answers, and that’s exactly the kind of bloke who is perfect in the role. He’s got so much soap appeal he’s even been cast in Neighbours.)

And that’s because it’s the women on The Bachelor that usually hold the spotlight.

Who can forget Laurina’s “dirty street pie” rantings from the season that saw scoundrel Blake Garvey as the man-prize? A star was born on that show, and no, she doesn’t like a cheap and cheerful date featuring a Four’N Twenty.

Keira: what more could you want in a contestant? (Pic: Supplied)

And what about Keira’s amazing insults, which she managed to churn out faster than the flutter of eyelash extensions on the 2016 season of the show, culminating in calling other contestants “peasants”. She revealed herself as a modern day Marie Antoinette, with extra side eye.

We come to The Bachelor for ball gowns, brawls and uninteresting blokes. It’s not real life. It’s not even a rom-com. It’s a pastiche of romance, and we’ve all seen enough of Unreal to enjoy the machinations that make it so too — but we must be agape at the outrageousness of the whole shebang for it to really deliver.

Lord knows the embattled Ten network needs the show to drop a ratings bonanza — as it has in the past — and I’ll be the first cheering on if it hits its mark.

But I just don’t think the Honey Badger’s going to deliver the saccharine hit of high camp we’ve come to expect, and love, from The Bachelor.

Victoria Hannaford is a writer and producer for RendezView.

Originally published as How Honey Badger has already divided fans of The Bachelor