James Weir recaps Married At First Sight 2019 episode 18

Just hours after they were married, the bride’s father has sat down his new son-in-law for a very uncomfortable chat.

After engaging in the world’s most mind-numbing first date conversation, one of Married At First Sight’s intruder brides is blindsided by her own father who exposes her secret behind her back.

“The biggest twist the experiment has ever seen,” the ad for Monday night’s episode promised and we’re never trusting ads again. We haven’t been this let down since Lizzie went and fixed her hair extensions to stop us from talking about them.

Channel 9 is really in a bind. They offer us a cheating scandal and a C-bomb and we get so up in arms that the CEO of the network then reportedly demands all remaining episodes be re-edited and toned down. But then the episodes become so boring we all complain again and helpfully ask if they’ve ever considered jazzing the series up with something like, I don’t know, a cheating scandal.

They should know we’re temperamental fools who will complain about everything and that they should always go hard or go home.

Now that Ines and Sam and Lizzie have gone, there’s really nothing interesting happening. And in an attempt to fill the void, producers gift us with intruders — a first for the show. But it doesn’t work the same way as The Bachelor, where a helicopter hovers above the mansion and three blonde chicks in denim miniskirts get pushed out.

We’re made to start from the very beginning and attend two more weddings for these strangers. It’s like in Super Mario Land when you die and have to go all the way back to level one and headbutt a bunch of floating bricks to collect all those stupid coins.

We’re back to headbutting bricks. But we came so far!

Can those losers who started that online petition about Schilling start another one for this?

We’d rather spend the night watching a looped video of Bradley Cooper and Lady Gaga making love on that piano at the Oscars in front of Glenn Close.

This scene from Monday night accurately depicts Channel 9 trying to jump-start the series again by introducing random people.

A Holden Astra attempts to jump-start MAFS episode 17.

The saddest thing about Ines going is there’s no more drama — and there’s no one left who has an unjustifiably high opinion of themself and who will spit mean insult-

“I’m very opinionated, and straight to the point. I say it how it is and not everyone likes that,” a voice says.

Say hello to Susie, a single mum who likes eating Cruskits.

Cruskits are a total mum thing.

Susie has a Baby. No, I didn’t accidentally capitalise the word Baby. She actually has a baby called Baby. Some may scoff but I think she’s genius. More things in life should just be called what they are. Like, “refrigerator” is just unnecessarily complicated. It’s a food box. And what’s a computer? Oh, you mean the porn machine. Tomorrow morning when your boss asks you a question as soon as you walk in, just tell her you’ll have the answer in a sec once you fire up the ol’ porn machine. It’s much more practical to just call things what they are.

Anyway, Susie knows where it’s at. Who’s she paired with? A baby. Not Baby, that would be weird. She’s paired with a baby.

A baby.

Billy is a 28-year-old barista-slash-personal-trainer. Quite the power combo.

The reason Billy and Susie are paired together is because he’s emotional and cries easily and she’s harsh and says mean things. Wait. This should be a key reason for not pairing them together, but the experts tell us we’re stupid and to believe in science/casting.

“He’ll teach her to be nice and she’ll teach him to be mean,” they nod to us.

“No, but, see, you tried that with Ines and Bronson and it didn’t wor-”

“Science,” they snip at us.

Right.

On her wedding day, Susie is asked what Baby thinks of all this.

“I haven’t spoken to Baby,” she tells us as she applies her makeup and, you know what, we haven’t seen Baby once with her mother but her name alone does just scream “self sufficient”.

Susie keeps crapping on about how her family’s Hungarian therefore they’re all allowed to be mean to people. It’s around now we meet her Hungarian dad and he’s a real head spin. His incredibly high standards and criticism of Billy’s physical appearance come as a shock given he has a YouTube haircut and doesn’t know how to do a tie properly.

You should’ve worn one of those elastic ties for babies.

Meanwhile, across town, Dan and Tamara are getting married and there’s literally not much more to say about them except Dan’s teeth are really white.

“I’ve got strong feelings towards her so, yeah, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want a bit of hanky panky tonight, aye,” he growls to us.

He then attempts to woo Tamara in the bedroom.

“Ya PJs look sexy. I like ‘em. Gizza look!” he spits. Ace move. Try it on your significant other tonight.

Gizza look ya moll!

But back to the Cruskit lady. She’s here and she’s staying but she’s not very keen.

“I do like Billy … but he’s not the kinda guy I would pick,” she cringes and it’s honestly our reaction about everyone on this show right now.

“Do you want a sav?” he asks her.

“Um I don’t know what that is,” she replies, as if he’s an idiot who just made up sav blanc.

“Sauvignon blanc …” he drags out.

“Ummmm I’ll have some of the white,” she determines.

Again, before you scoff, remember, this is Susie we’re dealing with and she only likes calling objects by their very basic name. So when she goes to the bar and asks for a drink, she’s not asking for something complicated like a sauvignon blanc. She goes to the bar and confidently asserts: “I will have one glass of alcohol please and thank you.”

“I’m trying not to think negative thoughts,” she tells us and, again, same.

As per yoush on this show, the dialogue races with a momentum you just can’t script.

“What’s ya favourite colour?” Susie asks.

“Turquoise,” Billy replies.

Susie looks confused. Crap. What’s the very basic word for “turquoise”? A frazzled producer leans towards Susie’s ear and whispers: “His favourite colour is The Sky.”

“And what’s ya favourite number?” she continues.

“Ooooh. 21,” he beams before picking up the name tag that sits in front of his new wife. “Who’s … Soooz-annn-ahhhh?”

“Me,” she spits.

“No, you’re Susie,” he says knowingly.

“My real name is Suzanna,” she stares back.

It’s a wild ride here tonight.

Susie’s fed up and craps off outside to complain about her new husband. And it’s probably a good thing because she narrowly misses him making the keen observation: “Yeah, carrots are … bred to be orange.”

Now seems like an appropriate time for the dad with the YouTube haircut to sidle on up and spill all Susie’s secrets. Honestly, he’s the stereotypical father. If there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s this: All dads look like they cut their own hair and take it upon themselves to reveal your secrets to complete strangers.

First, though, he prefaces the secret with the general observation that his daughter is probably not into Billy.

“You’re a really good looking guy but she does have a taste and you’re not the person she wants,” he rattles. “You’ve just got to be a family person. Because, you know, she’s got a kid.”

“ … Noooo … I didn’t,” Billy replies to the baby bombshell.

Now’s the time a regular person would back-pedal and apologise for outing a secret that’s not theirs and maybe crawl under a table to silently die. But not dads who cut their own hair. They just keep barrelling on.

“Yeah, she’s got a kid. You know now. That’s your baby now,” he shrugs before telling Billy to treat her mean and keep her keen.

Us witnessing this insightful conversation unfold.

Susie eventually comes back and she’s now all cool and tells Billy all about Baby. And, yes, 10 minutes is spent explaining Baby is a baby.

But it all wraps up really romantically.

“Your thumb looks like a mushroom,” she tells him.

At first we’re confused. We unlock our phones to Google. But then a frazzled producer leans towards our ear and whispers: “She said his thumb looks like a Fairy House.”

For more observations on porn machines and the luxury of kicking back with a nice cold cup of alcohol, follow me on Twitter and Facebook: @hellojamesweir