No. No, it hasn't got any better, not by a hair, not even by a Planck length (the smallest possible size for anything in the universe, equivalent to around a millionth of a billionth of a billionth of a billionth of a cm across), but a good and indeedvery gratifying development of the latest series of The Bachelorette is that it hasn't got any worse.
Episode three on Monday night had a lightness of being, as though it had thrown in the towel. It didn't pretend it had much life left in it. It didn't rage against the dying of the light. It was as though the show had signed up for last year's referendum result: euthanasia.
Or maybe it bucked the result of that other referendum and was stoned.
Totally natural, unforced chit-chat in the suitor zone. Photo / TVNZ
Either way, it made for very mellow viewing. Hottie Lexie, the show's trophy bride waiting at the altar for her favoured drongo, went to the zoo with one of the drongos. I cannot remember his name. It may have been Jack, Jock, Spock or Sprongo.
They looked at some giraffes. The giraffes were very tall. There were trees in the background. The day was overcast. A zookeeper said a few words. Lexie and Jack/Jock giggled, dragged their feet, yawned.
There was something woozy about their date. At one point I thought the giraffes were going to say a few words, too, but it was possible to detect a harsh reality at the margins. That is: Spock/Sprongo doesn't stand a chance.
Their date was in the friend zone. It got nowhere near the erotic zone. It wasn't physical, it wasn't chemical, it just didn't look right. And actually, this crucial absence is beginning to look evident in a number of Lexie's eligible drongos.
There's that guy who got plastered in a previous episode on a glass and a half of red. He doesn't look right next to Lexie; she looks like she wants to run away, politely. There's that American guy who comes across as aggressive, surly, competitive, and those vibes don't make him look right next to chilled-out Lexie; she looks like she wants to run for the hills, fast.
And then there's that guy with an apartment in Paris. "I don't know if I'm cool enough for him?", said Lexie, her rising inflection soaring to the height of a giraffe. He's not that cool. He wore a pair of dungarees. But he doesn't look right next to her, either. She looks like she wants to run, and reflect on why it is that cool is often synonymous with deeply boring.
But the guy with his hair in a bun looks right next to her. He was the one who said to her the second they met, "Hello, gorgeous". She chose him as her very first date. The whole series could easily have wrapped up then and there. Jock/Spock, Plastered Guy, American Psycho, Cool Boring Guy and most of the others just don't measure up to Bun Guy.
The Bachelorette could be heading for a quick exit euthanasia, swiftly.
