It’s time to pop the kettle on, peel open that Boost Bar you stole from Woolies and get ready to punch a wall because you’re about to dive headfirst into another ninety minutes of your life that you’ll never get back.
Suffice to say, ‘fairytale romance’ is well and truly the Golden Snitch in this game of heart stomping Quidditch, as couples try to bludgeon each other to unconsciousness with mimosas and Banana Boat sunscreen bottles in order to find that one thing that makes you want to quit your life and move to another continent run by a sex pest Dorito love.
And while it may seem like these semi-professional bleached teeth models have only known each other for a fortnight and are more than definitely doomed to salty public Instagram breakups, they don’t give a f*ck, because this is Fiji, the place where love is made forever and tropical kaftans are made for less than 7 cents an hour.
Here are 27 thoughts we had during last night’s Bachelor In Paradise Finale.
The finale opens with Tara confused about what bloody day it is and unwrapping boxes of Cheerios in the kitchen while Sam renos the bathroom with a few twigs and a rolling pin. Uncle Sam then drops a few powerful metaphors but no one hears them because we’re all staring at his friggin’ hair. Meanwhile, Ali and Grant are browsing wedding napkins on Pinterest in the spa and licking each other’s eyebrows. And Keira’s massaging Aloe Vera oil into Jarrod’s elbows while audibly second guessing her choice of mate as his skin crumbles off into her hands. Over on some other ritzy corner of the island, Megan’s hyperventilating on the couch because Jake wants a committed relationship and she wants to do body shots off hot boys in Mykonos. She then confesses that she thought he was Elora this whole time and announces that she’s going to ditch the fake Fijian wedding and hot foot it to her Greek Contiki. Jake’s absolutely gutted because he’s run out of TV shows to find love on and is now doomed to a lifetime of meetings duds on Tinder. Keira’s getting ready for the Commitment Ceremony by ironing her favourite Seafolly tankini and chain-skolling some Ruskis while Wais pats her down with a litre of Bondi Sands express tan. Over on the beach, Jarrod’s been smacked with a pretty lethal wave of déjà vu, and like six billion UV rays, but he’s soldiering on because he desperately wants a handshake from Osh. After Osh hands him a wide brim bucket hat and a few choice words about when it’s appropriate to wear your girlfriend’s hair as a scarf, he points Jarrod to the altar, which is an old tarp chucked next to the pool with some Woolies marked down lilies scattered over it. Keira appears in a sarong and some denim espadrilles from Susans, paired with a Survivor immunity necklace around her neck. Jarrod then commences his 47-minute interpretive dance monologue while Keira has a cheeky Bumble sesh on her phone. Capsicum Man then tells Keira he has the hots for her and puts a Lovisa ring stack on her pinky, which, unbeknownst to her is embedded with a GPS tracking chip and lethal snake venom. Keira’s absolutely stoked and returns the favour be taking off one of her earrings and draping it on his shoulder. Back at the Love Hut, Ali quickly runs a crimper through her extensions and legally divorces the remaining members of her family before checking into her flight to LA. Grant’s perched under a tree giving his Commitment/Engagement Ring a spit polish, which is noticeably at least thirteen times bigger than the one Jarrod gave/stapled to Keira. After seventeen and a half minutes apart, the teary lovebirds reunite at the deep end of the infinity pool and have a full-on domestic about who’s hotter. After they swap some gushing speeches about how Ali’s ready to excommunicate everyone she’s ever met and become a semi-professional snowboarder and mother of two, the couple gifts each other some complimentary jewellery that’ll be pawned for a second-hand PlayStation before the day’s over. Like Jarrod, Grant’s ring doesn’t fit because apparently the onsite jeweller is fully maggoted. Ali’s quietly sobbing because Grant didn’t propose and now she can’t post the new life event she’s got scheduled for the stroke of midnight on Facey B. And holy heckin hell, it’s Tara and Uncle Sam who are tying the proverbial slip knot! Osh can’t hear a word Sam’s saying though because he’s trying to picture what’s under that savage comb over. Sam tells Osh he’s going to seal the deal tonight and put a ring on that wench. Osh then takes a second from daydreaming about receding hairlines to give a polite wink and a pair of finger guns. Sammy and Tarz rendezvous at the pool and she starts her commitment shpiel, meanwhile Sammy’s itching to slap a carrot on that falange. After a sixteen-minute bloody monologue, Uncle Sam finally drops to his knee and pops the quezzo and Wais releases a couple of seagulls from a palm tree above. All of sudden the Dunkirk soundtrack starts playing and we’re all treated to a PowerPoint slideshow of Osh’s favourite Paradise mems, complete with life updates that confirm our suspicions of Ali and Grant never having a snowflake’s chance on Jarrod’s face of making it. I can’t believe I wasted six weeks of my life on this steaming pile of Corona-induced mouth mashing. Love Island, here we come.Image credit: TenPlay