Back upstairs, Kimmie, Tiffany, and Barbie are grousing about the loss, and Kimmie says that what pisses her off is that Dana acts like she runs the team, but still fucks up. Dana thinks they should use the pork roasting time as a bonding experience. Translation: please don’t kill me.
The Blue team is ushered into an over-the-top, decadent, Vegas-tacky suite, complete with sushi, lobster, and scantily-clad women. Royce can’t stop ruminating about the women, and someone just needs to slap him until he understands that he won’t be getting a piece of any of them. Royce is a total pig.
Speaking of pigs, Tiffany is manhandling the hog carcass. That she seems so at ease doing so should come as a surprise to no one.
Another unsurprising thing: Carrot Top must need a paycheck, stat, because he’s agreed to a meet-and-greet with the Blue team. They have more Vegas-specific fun, and will someone please take Royce to a goddamn brothel before he gets arrested? Frottage might be a little bit more acceptable and expected in Sin City, but not at that level, and probably not on camera. At least let some poor call girl make money off it.
Meanwhile, the girls are decked out in robes and slippers, smoking that pig in the dorm room, and contending with a giant, loud alarm that goes off every hour as a reminder to tend to the coals and pork. This is just bordering on cruelty. Then the next morning, they have to prep everything. It’s probably small consolation that the Blue team stayed up most of the night, too, but I bet it makes them feel better that they don’t have to deal with Robyn anymore. She’s completely confused by the way the Blue team works, and starts trying to convince them to work Red team style. Robyn, you were miserable on the Red team. You actually requested the switch to Blue, so now that you’re there, why don’t you shut your chatterhole and become part of the Blue team? Royce informs us that the Blue team isn’t the Red team and doesn’t have vaginas. I’m pretty sure we know you don’t have much vagina in your life in a general sense, Royce, but thanks for confirming that anyway.
Gordon expects the best service yet. Good luck with that, Gordon! The Blue team’s chef table guests are a couple of American Idol contestants I’ve never heard of because I don’t follow that shit, and the Red team gets David Beckham. David Beckham!
I’ll have my Beckham RAWR, if you please.
Talk about star power. Christina informs us that even she thinks David Beckham is smokin’, and she’s into girls. Well, that was the single most casual self-outing I’ve ever seen on a reality show. You go, Christina.
And damned if it’s not going to be hard for even the lesbian to concentrate when the Becks strolls in, all cleaned up and stunning. He didn’t bring Posh, because it’s a restaurant so what’s the point, but his kid is in tow, and the two of them are just adorable. Dana’s lucky ass gets to wait on them.
Don’t mind me, I’m just David Beckham in your kitchen.
The Blue team’s chef table doesn’t pack nearly the star power, but this doesn’t stop Clemenza from ruining the very first batch of—you guessed it—scallops.
Jesus God, again?
Justin’s rightly gripes that there’s no excuse for that at this point, and Gordon just snarls at him while the Idols chuckle. And Dana is fucking up David Beckham’s pizza. Of course she is. Christina then repeats that mistake and blames the oven. On the third try, they finally please David Beckham. There’s a sentence I never thought I’d type in a Hell’s Kitchen recap.
Leave it to Gordon to instruct a girl on pleasure.
The Blue team is having similar issues with their pizza, and Robyn is yelling at everyone because she’s just that much of a natural leader. She informs us that the ship is sinking, but she’s not going down. Bet she’d be singing a different tune in the Beckham kitchen. Yes, I did just immediately take it there.
And you went with me.