James Weir recaps Married At First Sight 2019 episode 17

The MAFS affair has finally crashed down in flames — with cheating villain Ines dumped by her lover in the most embarrassing way possible.

Married At First Sight’s cheating villain Ines has come crashing down in flames, with the man she’s obsessed with broadcasting her private text messages before publicly exposing their affair and dumping her.

We thought we had Ines all figured out but we were wrong. She’s not just a mean girl out to steal someone’s boyfriend. She’s a clinger. A stage five clinger. Almost Cass-level clinger from The Bachelor, only without the hair extensions and horses.

Like a hairless sphynx cat, she’s all hiss and no bite. Well, maybe a little bit of bite. Actually, both Ines and a hairless sphynx cat will scratch your face off. But once you get past the hissing and the scratching and the general demon vibe, both Ines and sphinx cats just want to be loved.

JAMES WEIR RECAPS: Married At First Sight episode 16

At Sunday night’s commitment ceremony, Ines believes her evil plan to begin a new life with Sam will unfold without problem: She will leave Bronson, Sam will leave Lizzie, and they will finally be together — living, loving, and avoiding further outbreaks of the various contagious diseases that have infected this show.

But, to quote that nun from Madeline, something is not right.

Sam wants out. Of everything. This experiment isn’t what he thought it would be. All these ladies wanting to start, you know, “relationships” — it’s too much.

“She was coming on very strong, very fast. She wants me to commit to her long term … I’m not sure about Ines and I outside the experiment,” he panics to us.

Sam pulls out his phone. We cover our eyes and palm it away because we’re worried he’s going to show us pictures of his infected chickenpox welts again, but then he does something worse: He reads out Ines’ private messages. These aren’t just the superficial, flirty Instagram DMs we saw the other week. These are the humiliatingly earnest and infatuated texts Ines has sent him since they “slammed” (again, a Melissa term) on the Gold Coast.

omg he has the receipts.

“After the dinner party I got all these messages basically saying she wants to leave the experiment … (Saying she) hasn’t wanted to be with someone so badly in her life,” he says before reciting a listicle of her most personal messages.

“Calling me ‘bub’ all the time and saying, ‘Can I come home with you, I don’t wanna be without you’ … That she’d live in a bin as long as she was with me. ‘I’m horny. Bub I wanna see you. Where are you staying, I wanna come over’.

“I’ve got her just clinging, wanting to do everything … Having just met a girl who’s saying I’ll die if I’m not with you is pretty full on. That sorta stuff scared me a lot. Ines needs someone who’s going to be very clingy and obsessed with her. I think Ines has fallen for me and I’m not sure if I’ve fallen for Ines.”

Can I speak for the group? We all feel a little sorry for Ines. After all, who hasn’t been Ines at some point? By that, I mean the “creepy texts” Ines, not the “I’ll steal your husband and call you a cockatoo” Ines.

Sam’s sudden back-pedal happened with me and my first boyfriend Kristian. I mean, if you asked Kristian he’d probably insist we absolutely were not boyfriends, but in my mind we were and relationship statuses are often malleable.

Anyway, talking from experience, it seems Ines is about to be left crying on the floor while clutching a box of Barbecue Shapes.

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Bronson is still foolishly denying there’s any truth to the cheating rumour.

“If a mate says he didn’t do it, he didn’t do it. Sam said no, and we’ve got no reason not to believe Sam,” he shrugs. And he’s right. Sam, who lied about a funeral and catching an infectious skin disease, isn't the type of person to lie about cheating.

In an attempt to get her own subplot, Heidi announces she and Mike have officially broken up, but she takes too long to explain it and we walk away.

Meanwhile, Jessika is horrified by sex with her husband.

“Actual saliva came out of his mouth and onto my chest,” she whines and, honestly Jessika, just be grateful you have a man to accidentally drool on your chest.

These clowns become way too overwhelming, so we take a time out and go to a corner to stare at Michael and his lovely shirt in silence.

Again, 10/10 for the shirt.

At the commitment ceremony, we whiz through everyone very quickly to ensure we have sufficient time in tonight’s broadcast for the affair to implode.

What unfolds is best articulated by expert Mel Schilling.

Ugh it so is.

Elizabeth and Sam are called up to the couch and she can’t wait to dramatically mention the big rumour.

“What rumour?’ John Aiken asks, pretending not to know even though he has observed literally hours of footage regarding the rumour.

When someone tells you a secret you found out six months ago and you pretend like it’s brand new information.

“The rumour about Sam and Ines in the sauna,” Lizzie says.

Sam cuts to the chase.

“Bronson’s gonna hate me. There are times I’ve caught up with Ines,” he sighs.

Ines plays dumb but is low-key loving every second of it.

“Huh? What?” she smiles.

He rehashes everything we already know. The Insta DMs. The Gold Coast. He tries to skim over the exact timeline but no one’s letting him off that easy. The experts demand to know who made first contact. He dobs in Ines. And when did they first catch up? This is where he trips over his own lies.

It all becomes too much for Sam and he can’t deal with the pressure Ines is putting on him. He cracks.

“Ines would want me to commit to her long term if we were to do this thing together,” he blurts out.

Even John Aiken thinks it’s total clinger behaviour.

“She asked you that after one drink?” he cringes.

‘Ooh total clinger, run.’

Bronson wants the details.

“Did you kiss or did you bang?” he asks.

“We didn’t bang. We kissed. We didn’t f*ck though,” Sam replies. Is this true? We can’t say. But I will point out two things again: Fake funeral and fake chickenpox.

Sam wants out, completely. He abandons Ines’ evil plan and throws it in her face. In front of everyone, he calls her a clinger and makes it clear he doesn’t want to be with her at all.

“If I had my time over … I wouldn’t have accepted the message from Ines or met up with Ines. I do regret it,” he hangs his head.

Because Ines is Ines, she smirks. A giggle breaks the silence.

Of course, Cyrell finds it necessary to insert herself in the drama.

“Ines, why the f*ck are you laughing?” she screams as Ines gets up to walk out.

“You just ruined a marriage, you f*ckin’ crazy bitch! You just ruined a f*ckin’ marriage and you’re sitting they’re f*cking smiling. Your husband is lookin’ like a piece of shit!”

She then turns on Sam: “The world doesn’t revolve around you Sam you ain’t King Ding-a-ling! Settle the f*ck down!”

‘Are we almost done here because I have more lives to ruin and a facial at 6.’

We all can’t wait to scream “King Ding-a-ling” at someone.

While we appreciate Cyrell’s attention seeking catchphrases, we banish her from the warehouse so Ines can come back and front the torch-wielding crowd.

Schilling asks Ines if there’s one or two things she may have done differently.

“Nothing,” Ines smiles.

But was the whole cheating thing a mistake, particularly given the fact you’ve now ended up alone and humiliated?

“No. It wasn’t a mistake,” Ines chirps. Her pleasant, restrained demeanour is almost eerie.

The crowd goes wild. Everyone screams, demanding answers and trying to poke holes in the narrative Sam and Ines have presented. “Tell us!” they chant. They don’t believe the timeline of events — there had to be more than just one drink together on the Gold Coast. But the details don’t matter any more. The damage is done. And everyone has ended up alone.

The experts, along with all of us, are mortified to be associated with this mess.

Maybe we can go work at Myer?

But the person hit the hardest is Lizzie. In the back hallways of this deserted warehouse, she’s slumped on a chair, analysing everything.

“I gave her chocolate!” she weeps, recalling the value pack of Cadbury Dairy Milk she took to Ines last week as a peace offering.

To Lizzie, a Cadbury value pack was once a sign of everything that’s good and pure in this world. It symbolised optimism — a glass and a half, as its slogan reads. Not anymore. Now, she’s alone. Feeling like an ass and a half.

For more observations on Myer and Kristian who totally was my boyfriend despite what he says, follow me on Twitter and Facebook: @hellojamesweir