He’s Baaack…

Have you ever wanted pumpkin so badly that you were willing to whine and complain about it in front of the country? That’s the sort of silly, awesome drama that surfaced on tonight’s season premiere of Hell’s Kitchen. That ringing in your ear? Probably the after-effects of listening to Gordon Ramsey yell for two hours straight. Yes, it was double the Gordo and double the fun. I’ll be covering the first hour. EdHill’s got the second — because Gordon Ramsey’s just too big for one person to handle by himself.

Now, I gotta admit something. I really liked last season, but I didn’t love it. For whatever reason, it just lacked the sort of storytelling coherence for me to truly embrace it. But so far this season — I know it’s early — but I really dig it. I can’t even pinpoint what’s better about it. Maybe it’s the characters. Maybe it’s the pacing. Whatever it is, if the first two hours were any indication of what’s to come, consider me ready to start this meal!

Sorry, obligatory dining pun.The big season premiere started with a nifty stroll down memory lane. Why, there was Gordon yelling at Elsie. And there was Gordon yelling at a diner. And there was Gordon yelling at lint in his bellybutton. Ah, the good times. We then saw a few glimpses of this season’s audition tapes where one hopeful applicant implored Gordon to “Pick me!” I was hoping this would turn into a very Grey’s Anatomy type rant — “Pick me! Choose me! Love me! Yell at me about risotto!” — but alas, it was not to be.

After the tapes, it was off to see an extended preview of what wonderful disasters were in store for us this year. Some pretty, naive girl proclaimed, “I’ve dealt with a lot worse than Gordon Ramsey. He’s a kitten. He’s nothing.” Yes. A kitten who yells VERY LOUDLY. You know, not all kitten are sweet. Sometimes they’re rabid. Seriously. There was a rabid one at Petsmart last week. And it was named GORDON. Okay, not really.

Anyway, we learned that this season would be a battle of the sexes and furthermore, the narrator informed us “the stakes are even higher!” Was that “stakes” or “steaks“? Get it? A culinary pun! Someone should name this show Hell’s Wordplay!

Getting back to the show, we also learned that the winner of this season would become executive chef at a restaurant in the Red Rock Casino, located in Las Vegas. Before you get too excited though, keep in mind that that the Red Rock Casino is located off The Strip in a planned community. This isn’t exactly the Palms we’re talking about here. That being said, if the Powers That Be would like to prove to us that the Red Rock Casino is every bit as awesome as anything on The Strip, I by all means would be willing to amend my snap judgment, especially after — oh, I don’t know — a free weekend stay? But I’m just thinking out loud… (EMAIL ME!!!)

The narrator then noted that “with this amazing opportunity on the line, Hell’s Kitchen will be more intense.” This was then exemplified by a brief montage of people slipping and falling over. Yes, nothing says intensity like poor balance and slippery floors. Next time I trip in public, I’ll tell people I’m not a klutz; I’m just experiencing massive intensity.

To be fair, the intensity of this season didn’t stem from just a few bouts with wet floors. No, this season was so intense that we suddenly saw a woman RIP open her shirt and bare her bosom! Wow! This was intense! It was like a smoldering Antonio Banderas fantasy mixed with an Altoid! Actually, wait. That’s just greasy and painful. Never mind.

We then learned that not only had the kitchen intensified, but this season, the diners were now significantly more demanding. Duh. It’s called “I want to be on TV.” Everyone’s gonna make a scene. And in case you don’t believe me, look no further than the douchebag who throws his food at JP! Jerk! No one sullies our favorite Frenchman! Ah, this would certainly be a good season.

Just in case you thought this show would be about nonstop yelling and picky diners, you were wrong. The narrator then alerted us that “some chefs will feel like they’re on top of the world!” To illustrate this, we then saw some chefs riding the lame rollercoaster at the Santa Monica Pier. Yes. On top of the world… or stuck in a tourist trap. Same difference, really.

We then saw a twangy lady (who may or may not have been related to Twila from Survivor: Vanauatu) say “That man will not break me!” I didn’t know who she was, but she was already my favorite. Something about those tough, redneck women always coddles my heart.

Finally, the season preview came to an end, and we were ready to begin the show. And what better way to kick off the season than with our favorite narrator once again stating the obvious. “Now, the new journey into Hell’s Kitchen begins,” he said. Uh, yeah. We kind of figured that out, seeing how this was the beginning of the beginning of the season. By the way, funny story about the Hell’s Kitchen narrator. I actually met him randomly on St. Patrick’s Day. Turns out he’s a friend of a friend, and he quite enjoyed the way we constantly made fun of him last season (of course, it’s not really the narrator we bash. More like the writing). Anyway, I happened to run into him again just two days ago (aren’t I very name-droppy today?), and he informed me that there would be more shockingly obvious narration to come. Excited? INDEED!

Anyway, the tell-tale sign of a successful show is seeing what nifty upgrades it receives from season to season. This time around, Fox clearly dropped a few more coins in the bucket because all the chefs arrived on a nifty, black bus with the words HELL’S KITCHEN emblazoned on its side. Oooh! Personalized transport! How very swanky! Don’t get to see that on many shows.

We soon began to meet the various personalities. There was Sara, a deli manager, and there was Polly, who sort of looked like the unholy lovechild of Michael Strahan and Molly Ringwald.

Then there was some doofus named Keith who looked instantly annoying with his dumb sideways hat. “Oh dear. Slightly demented,” Ramsey said as he observed Keith’s bio. We also met a girl named Virginia who worked at a restaurant named Lupa — or as I would later call it, the most unfortunate restaurant ever. We knew this girl would be trouble when she explained to us her joy of wearing makeup in the kitchen. This was then followed by the image of her checking her lipstick in the reflection of a random pot. The only thing that could save her would be her massive rack. “My impression of Gordon Ramsey is he’s hot. Just kidding. He’s not,” Virginia joked. Perhaps Mario Batali is more her speed?

Well, the gang all arrived in the restaurant and enjoyed some libations for about two second until suddenly, the Jaws music began. Yes, Chef Ramsey was en route, and this little cocktail party was about to turn very sour. Before he showed up, however, I couldn’t help but notice the token black guy. He kind of looked like Gary Coleman meets Hootie. Not a powerful combination.

Anyway, Gordon finally addressed the chefs, and after some general barking, he told them to go into the kitchen and make their signature dishes. This then led to the opening credits, which, like the bus, had received quite the snazzy makeover. Now, a fiery zephyr flew around the screen, making loud whooshing sounds the entire way. To call these credits “flashy” would be doing it a disservice. Seriously, this opening had a more complicated sound mix than all three Lord of the Rings combined.

We then returned to the show as the aspiring chefs all had thirty minutes to make their dishes (that was up from the ten minutes they had last season). Within seconds, everyone was flustered, especially Tom, a hefty, sweaty, former stockbroker. He was in dire need of a corkscrew, but unfortunately he couldn’t find one. So what did he do instead? Oh, he just broke his wine bottle open with a knife instead. I’m sure everyone will love the glass shards in their dish! Nevertheless, the season was only a few minutes old, but we could see that Tom would be one of the wonderful messes of the show. Not only was he sweating profusely, but he also managed to slip and nearly fall over. Gosh, that floor sure is slick! It’s almost as if someone had broken open a wine bottle and splashed it everywhere. Hmmm… who could have done that?

Finally, the thirty minutes expired, which meant it was time for Gordon to sample everyone’s dishes and then mete out forced insults. My favorite! First up was Keith (fat guy with dumb hat). He served a “Cha-Ching Sesame Crusted Tuna.” And don’t worry if you don’t know what “Cha-Ching” is. It’s not an ingredient. It’s just an onomatopoeia. As in, the sound a cash register makes. Yes, my eyes were rolling too.

Well, Gordon had no idea what Keith was talking about. “I’ve never heard of ching ching,” he said, articulating each “ching” with condescending clarity. Keith then explained that it was “cha-ching,” which was his type of slang. It meant slammin’ money, he noted. “It’s lamb, and it’s money?” Gordon then asked. Note to chefs: only use British slang around Gordon. If Keith had called it “Blimey good fun, love!” I’m sure Gordon would have been a lot more responsive. Nevertheless, Gordon then balked at the size of the dish, cutting off a big chunk and dropping it in Keith’s dumb hat. It didn’t really make sense, but I’m glad he did something to that annoying piece of headwear. Finally, Gordon sampled the tuna and immediately complained that the sauce was too damn hot (he’s a sensitive to spice, in case you forgot). Keith replied “Dip it with care,” causing Gordon to bark back, “I’m going to stop eating with care!” OH SNAP!!!! HE’S GONNA STOP EATING WITH CARE!!!! Wait, what? That made no sense. He just took what Keith said and turned it back on him. Kind of like last season when that one guy presented a dish on a plank, and Gordon yelled, “I think you’re a plank!” Good to see that some things never change.

Next up was Rachel the redneck (a.k.a. that lady I immediately took a shine too, and by that, I don’t mean moonshine). As much as I enjoyed her thick twang, I couldn’t truly get behind her dish: butterflied shrimp in chocolate sauce. Yes, chocolate sauce. “Oh fuck,” Gordon said upon learning the description. For once, he didn’t seem to be off-base. Rachel then noted that there was a chili pepper on the side and he shouldn’t eat it if his mouth was on fire. “No sweetheart. My mouth is fucked. It’s not on fire. It’s fucked,” he replied. Wow, I’m shocked he didn’t say, “You’re mouth is on fire!”

Well, he tried the dish, and it wasn’t a total failure, at least in Gordon’s world. He called it “Very weird” and said that the prawn was cooked nicely but the chocolate sauce was silly. Rachel took it in stride and later noted to us that “weird” wasn’t really the worst response. “I’m sure kidney pie would taste like crap to me,” she said. Ah, but put a little chocolate sauce on it? DELICIOUS!

Next was Polly, another early favorite of mine, if only for that unseemly gap in her front teeth. At age 43, she noted that she could certainly handle Gordon now that she had birthed six children. I don’t know why people say things like that. I’m sorry, but six children are not the same as one British lunatic yelling about BLOODY RISOTTO! Anyway, Polly served up some not-quite-savory “undone focaccia” with a garlic dipping oil. In case you thought “undone” was some Southern synonym for “deconstructed,” you were wrong. It was literally not done. As in, incomplete. I don’t know what Polly was thinking with that, but if it’s any consolation, I’m sure there’s a whole dining movement in Los Angeles that’s will to adopt her “undone” technique. Anyway, Gordon was not very happy with this undone offering. “Right now, I’d rather eat poodle shit than put that in my mouth!” he barked. Now, was that really true? Would he really rather eat poodle shit? I don’t think so.

Hey, remember the guy who looked like Hootie and Arnold Drummond all mixed up into one? Well, his name was Larry, and he was a fishmonger. He served up some crab cakes (I think) that Gordon dismissed as too hot and crunchy. Oh, and the potatoes were raw, he said. Bummer. Next was Maribel, a cafeteria chef. She attempted some Caribbean type soup with plantains, but Gordon just spit it out angrily, saying it looked like “baby vomit.” I didn’t necessarily disagree. We then cut to Tom who was already sweating buckets. Oh, he was gonna be a disaster. It was gonna be great. Granted, he was no Dewberry, but he’d be close (minus the whole flamboyantly gay thing). Gordon then pulled the dome off the next dish and asked whose it was. “It’s me…” Tom said, his voice barely above a whisper. Honestly, it sounded like he’d been shot in the abdomen.

Well, Tom was so nervous and scared that I thought we might be facing some typical reality show misdirection. Surely Gordon would raise his eyebrows and say, “This is quite good.” But no. Tom’s dish was just as bad as his sweat would indicate. It was a shrimp scampi with a Caesar salad, but one catch: Tom actually cooked the Caesar salad with the shrimp. Ewwww. Gordon made Tom hold the salad in his hands, and then he tried the shrimp. A few violent spits later, and Tom had been fully shamed. Wonderful.

Next was Heather, a sous-chef with some serious boundaries: “My name’s not Babe. My name’s not Hon. It’s not Honey. It’s Heather,” she said. Whatever you say, babe. Okay, I KEED! Heather actually seemed really cool, and by the end of the night, she had emerged like an early contender to go to the top four, if not the finals. Anyway, she offered up some chocolate raspberry empanadas, and while Gordon wasn’t looking forward to these, he did admit that they were the best dish so far. That’s good, right? Then again, being the best can be deceiving. It’s like picking out the greatest episode of Yes, Dear.

Our next unlucky soul was Garrett, who we learned used to be a prison chef. Rather than taste the food himself, Gordon then had a guy named Gabe try it instead. Oh, come on, Gordon. It’s not like Garrett was going to poison you just because he was in prison. I would, however, hide anything that could be used as a shank. Er, I guess that kind of messes up the kitchen then, doesn’t it? Hmmm… maybe don’t cast ex-convicts on your show?

Anyway, Gabe happily stated that Garrett’s dish was overcooked (sleep with one eye open, Gabe. And don’t drop the soap!), and Gordon concurred. As for Gabe’s dish, Chef Ramsey accused it of being too raw, and yes, Garrett was quite happy to hear that. Gordon then called up the next two people, Sara and Giacomo. He had them taste each other’s meals, and Sara gave Giacomo a positive review. At first Gordon was all “You just being nice to him, girlfriend!” but then Sara was all, “No, I like his shit fo’ reals, yo!” So then Gordon tried Giacomo’s frutti di mare, and wouldn’t you know it? Gordon liked it quite a bit! So much so that he shook his hand! Wow! Those don’t come easily in Gordon’s kitchen. Oh, as for Sara’s dish, it sucked.

Screw the hair net. Get this guy some mosquito mesh.

Last up was Virginia, who had arguably the most complicated dish of all: a coconut and pomegranate celery root salad. Yes, thirty minutes to make something, and she made a freakin’ salad. Unless your name is Hillary Clinton, salads cannot be your signature dish. Gordon was understandably incredulous about this and asked if there was anything cooked on the plate. “The nuts are toasted,” Virginia replied. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, we have a full-fledged idiot in our midst.

Well, Gordy tried the salad, and shockingly, he said, “It’s fine.” But then he added, “as far as rabbit food goes!!” Oh he did NOT go there! Tell me he did not go there!!! HE CALLED IT RABBIT FOOD?!?!?! Dayummmm!!! Well, in case there was any confusion, Virginia told us, “A rabbit might like it,” but then she did concede that “I don’t think rabbits like coconut milk.” Uh, Virginia, I don’t think Gordon was literally saying it was rabbit food. It was just a general insult.

Anyway, with Virginia’s little salad out of the way, the challenge ended. Gordon then brought back out our favorite sous-chefs, Scott and Mary Ann (yay!), and announced that “for the first time ever in Hell’s Kitchen, the teams will be men versus women.” Wow! For the first time in the show’s history. The show’s one year history!

I always love when reality shows do the whole gender thing — mostly because despite everyone’s attempts to fight stereotypes, they all fall back into them anyway. Nevertheless, that didn’t stop Sara from being optimistic. She noted that women are normally known for being catty in the kitchen, but this would be a great chance to show that they could all work together. Yeah… probably not.

Gordon then revealed that the restaurant would be open in twenty-four hours, which meant it was time to get busy with the pre work. This then led to the night’s most disgusting image: Tom sweating into a bowl of tomatoes. Nasty would be an understatement. Seriously, those beads of sweat were dropping off his nose like little, saline lemmings in search of the ocean. At 43, you’d think maybe he’d have heard of this newfangled invention that some people call a “sweatband.”

Wait for it… Wait for it…

Flavorful!

Anyway, by 2:23 AM, Sara’s hopes that the women would all work together came to fruition. Their team (red) finished all their prep and headed to bed. Meanwhile, the men struggled, thanks to their utter lack of teamwork and didn’t finish until the wee hours of the morning. They only wound up with about forty-five minutes of sleep before they had to be up again for the next day. I didn’t know what was on the menu, but I had a feeling it was a family-sized helping of worst meal ever.

That night, just before the restaurant opened, Gordon asked for a volunteer from each team. All the women seemed to throw up their hands whereas the men seemed reticent to raise even an eyebrow. Finally, Giacomo tentatively raised his hand, causing Gordon to snap, “GIACOMO!!!” Ramsey accused him of being too slow to volunteer, but I think the real reason why he yelled “GIACOMO!!!” was so he could basically yell “GIACOMO!!!” again. Let’s face it. “GIACOMO!!!” is this season’s “BLOODY RISOTTO!!!”

Well, Giacomo was the men’s official volunteer, and of the women, Gordon selected Heather. Would they be leading their teams? Uh, not really. Instead, they were to be “donkeys.”

“It’s down to both of you to keep this kitchen immaculate,” Gordon explained. Ah. I didn’t realize donkeys were known for their cleansing abilities, but I’ll go with it. One can never expect too much logic in Gordon’s world.

With the donkeys chosen, Gordon then officially opened the restaurant, causing our favorite narrator to boast, “Chef Ramsey’s re-opening of Hell’s Kitchen has generated as much excitement in Hollywood as a movie premiere!” Uh, not really — unless maybe if that movie were Poseidon. Or Hoot.

Anyway, the diners slowly filtered in, and I already felt badly for them. We already knew that only about four of them would be fed — and I’m talking appetizers only. Soon the first order came in, and Gordon happily read it to the blue team so fast that even the Micro Machines guy was saying, “Come again?”

On appetizers for the teams were Tom and Polly, and off the get-go, we knew this spelled disaster. Tom was sweaty and frantic. Polly was inexperienced and slow. Even though all the women rallied around her to help out, Polly just couldn’t pull off a decent appetizer. Same was true for Tom — although, he certainly didn’t have the aid of his team (remember: the guys HATE teamwork). Gordon made Polly and Tom start again — excuse me, I mean “START AGAIN!!!” — and an hour later, still no luck. The narrator happily pointed out that the only food the diners had enjoyed had been bread (which was not unlike my visit to Hell’s Kitchen last season).

On the women’s side, Gordon asked Polly how long it would be before the next appetizer attempt. She replied six minutes, but Sara interjected and said two minutes. Not so fast sistah-friend. Polly insisted that it would in fact be six minutes, causing Sara to complain to us, “Don’t crawl up my ass like a hemorrhoid!” Funny how Sara was the one hoping to combat that whole “Women are catty” stereotype. Oops!

Well, Polly served up another dud, but Tom finally got in the groove and plated something that Gordon approved of. That meant the guys could finally start working on their entrees now. Out in the dining room, however, we encountered our first gourd-based disaster of the season. You see, this one guy had ordered pumpkin risotto, and he had expressly stated that he wanted lots of pumpkin. WELL. Turns out that he didn’t get the copious amounts of pumpkin he had so longingly desired. In fact, he claimed he didn’t have any pumpkin at all. What else to do but bitch at the staff? Okay, I realize that most of these diners were hoping to get on TV, but aren’t there more impressive ways than bitching about pumpkin? Seriously.

Nevertheless, the guy flagged down Maitre d’ Jean Phillippe and whined, “There’s no PUMPKIN in it!!!” He then handed the plate back to him and huffed, “I don’t want it!” So even though he had waited over an hour for his risotto, this genius decided to send it back. Look, if you’re lucky enough to get any sort of food on opening night of Hell’s Kitchen, you hold onto it and eat it. If you send something back, there’s no guarantee you’re getting a replacement dish.

Well, this pumpkin lover was not content to simply complain to JP. He actually went to the kitchen and in the most prissy way possible, asked Gordon, “Why is there no pumpkin in my risotto?” I thought Gordon would just punch him in the face right then and there, but instead, he merely barked at him to move out of the way. Still, this guy was not going anywhere until he got to the bottom of his great pumpkin travesty.

“I want the next pumpkin risotto!” the guy then demanded. Seriously, what was up with this guy and pumpkin? Did his parents never let him have it as a child? I’ve never seen someone so adamant and snippy about freakin’ pumpkin.

Anyway, Gordon did not take to this diner’s demands very well. “Are you going to always be that rude and interrupt when I’m trying to talk?” he asked. Yes, because if there’s anything Gordon Ramsey’s known for, it’s his total disavowal of rudeness.

Nevertheless, the diner would not relent. He wanted more pumpkin, dammit! “Right,” Gordon responded. “Well, I’ll get you more pumpkin. I’ll ram it right up your fuckin’ ass. Would you like it whole or diced?” Haha. Awesome. Some of the ol’ pumpkin/arse humor.

Now, I shit you not. The guy STILL did not leave. “I just want pumpkin!” he whined. If I were this man’s friend, I would cut all ties immediately. Do you really want to be associated with such a high maintenance pumpkin fetishist? Seriously. Think about it.

“I’m very particular about my gourds. And don’t you dare try to give me butternut squash!”

Anyway, Gordon called security on Mr. Pumpkin, and no sooner had he gone than another problem had sprung up: namely, a giant fire on Tom’s stove. Surely if Tom had just stood over the range, the deluge of sweat would have extinguished the flames of no time, but I guess hindsight is always 20/20. Nevertheless, the guys managed to put out the blaze, and over on the women’s side, Polly was still struggling with the appetizers. It was literally ninety minutes into the meal and none of the red tables had received an appetizer. NINETY MINUTES! Finally, Gordon demoted Polly down to donkey duty and swapped in Heather on appetizers. The narrator then chimed in and said, “While Heather tries to relight the fire in the red kitchen, the blue team is flaming out.” Get it? Fire puns! In Hell’s Kitchen! By the way, what exactly did the narrator mean when he said the blue team was flaming out? Were the guys putting on a drag show and listening to RuPaul?

Actually, no. Turns out the blue team had literally lost the flame on their stove. No heat was coming out. The men all hovered over it, trying to figure out what was wrong, but to no avail. Thankfully, Gordon was there to solve this mystery problem. The stove, it turned out, was OFF. Yup. That’ll always cut down on the heat. Apparently when the guys had doused Tom’s small bonfire, they had accidentally put out the pilot light. Maybe the men would have realized this if, you know, they had looked at the stove and realized there was no more flame. Meanwhile, I’d totally make the same mistake. But then again, I’m not trying to prove my skillz on a cooking show. Yet…

Gordon then picked on Larry randomly, saying that he was just standing around without any sort of passion. He told him to hop around and stuff — don’t act like “the Statue of Liberty.” Kind of forced, but we’ll take it.

“Yeah, I’m talkin’ about my schlong.”

Over on the women’s side, Heather plated her appetizers, and finally, Gordon approved it. Not bad. Only took an hour and a half to get food service started. Sara was so thrilled at this progress that she let out a “YAY!” of enthusiasm. Not a smart move. Gordon quickly reamed her out, yelling, “I wouldn’t laugh or scream or start wetting your knickers because that’s fucking embarrassing!” I know he was being all serious and everything, but let’s be honest. It’s hard to take a man seriously when he says “wetting your knickers.”

Well, both teams had finally moved past the seemingly insurmountable hurdle that was appetizers, and now they were onto the next disaster area: entrees. On the women’s team, Virginia was in charge of the main course, and as you could imagine, she was a total mess. First she served up completely raw beef wellington. Then, when Gordon confronted her about it, she let loose a torrent of nervous excuses, ultimately telling us in an interview, “I’m so miscombobulated.” Not to be confused with “discombobulated.” I mean, they’re both similar — the only difference being that “discombobulated” is, you know, an actual word.

Things went from bad to worse for Virginia as she realized that she didn’t actually have lamb stock for her sauce. She only had veal stock. Ooops! What else to do but go over to the men’s side and ask for a little help. Unfortunately for her, this wasn’t the friendly competition of Iron Chef. The guys happily rejected her, further sending her into a massive tailspin. Oh, if only the diners would settle for a coconut and pomegranate celery root salad! With toasted walnuts!!

Three hours into dinner service, most of the diners still hadn’t received their food, but they’d certainly had their share of wine. They were all drunk and rowdy, chanting “I want my food! I want my food!” Listen, I know they all wanted to be on TV, but at three hours in, just leave already. I mean, Pink’s Hot Dogs was just a block away.

With a near riot about to break out, Gordon did the only sensible thing: SHUT IT DOWN! JP informed the diners that the kitchen was now closed (was it ever really open?), and one disenchanted lady scoffed, “That’s not what I call fine dining.” Listen, girly. You’re on Hell’s Kitchen. This isn’t exactly Le Cirque we’re talking about here. Just enjoy your two seconds of fame and go away.

Once the kitchen was all shut down, we then learned that never before have so few customers been served on Hell’s Kitchen. This meant that Gordon had all the more reason to lambast the teams. He particularly attacked the girls for cheering after Heather plated a successful appetizer. “Well, let me give you a cheer: C-R-A-P. CRAP!” Gordon sneered. Well played, Gordo. That was only slightly F-O-R-C-E-D.

Well, no surprise here. The girls lost. It’s been fun knowing you, Polly! Gordon then said that Heather had been the best, and therefore, it was up to her to nominate two people for elimination. We then headed to the Hell’s Kitchen dorms, which were only slightly less oppressive than your average condemned mental hospital from the 1920s. The girls all sat around and sort of plead their cases to Heather. I was pretty sure the noms would be Polly and Virginia, but Heather then mentioned that she really didn’t like how Sara couldn’t keep her mouth shut in the kitchen. This then resulted in the umpteenth viewing of Sara’s much-derided “YAY!”, which seemed to be funnier and funnier every time I heard it.

A little later, a seemingly drunk Virginia explained to Heather that she wanted this opportunity because it was a chance to do something from the heart and whatnot. Heather floated the idea of nominating Maribel and sparing Virginia, but that would be ridiculous, and we all knew that was misdirection.

Sure enough, at the elimination ceremony, Heather nominated Polly and Virginia. No surprises there. I really liked Polly, but the outlook wasn’t promising. Both women gave impassioned speeches to Gordon, but eventually, he had to swing the ax. And as expected, poor Polly was sent packing. She handed over her uniform and walked away in one of the more dejected, humbled exits the show has seen.

We then saw a teary Sara tell us in the confessional, “I can just imagine people going, ‘I knew those girls couldn’t do it.’ You know what? You’re right. We couldn’t.” Whoa. That wasn’t incredibly depressing at all.

And with that Gordon took Polly’s uniform and slammed it down on a hook. In a new addition this season, the camera then tilted up to reveal Polly’s smiling photo, which was then BURNED to ashes before our eyes!!! Mwhaahaha! YOU SHALL PERISH, POLLY!!!

Heed the omen!

To think, that was only the first hour. Now I hand over the reins to EdHill for all the glorious fights, burns, and drama of hour two. In the meantime, what did you think of the first hour? Liking the season so far?