It’s week two of the new season.
Strap yourselves in. Because there are TWO NEW WIVES. And they about to prove just what they are bringing to da HOUSE(wives).
Need to catch up?: Last week’s episode recap is here.
We begin with Pettifleur, the newest housewife. Her name means “little flower”. It’s too early to tell if she’s the kind of exotic flower that we like, or one that we are allergic to. So this episode is very important. We don’t want to break out in a rash.
Last week she yelled at her housekeeper and told Gamble that her earrings were awful. So, at the moment. Pettifleur is rating around ‘soursob’ level.
For her upcoming birthday, Pettifleur wants a Bentley (‘COS SHE’S RICH). Except, subtlety isn’t her strong point. So instead of leaving brochures out, or creating a ‘Bentley Birthday Dreams’ Pintrest board and hoping her partner discovers it on her ipad one night, she tells him if he doesn’t get her one, she is flat out going to kill him.
A delicate little flower indeed.
Pettifleur decides to take her chosen Bentley for a test drive. And the first thing she does upon plonking herself in the car is check her reflection in the mirror. Thankfully, the mirror works (good thinking, little flower). Because if there’s one thing you want in a car that costs half a million dollars, it’s a well-functioning rear-view mirror.
It’s not just the regular mirror she wants, though. She requests that there be mirrors on the floor too. So while she’s driving she can “check out her landing strip.” Because she likes to “go commando”.
Admirable, really. Pettifleur isn’t just concerned with checking her blind spot. She’s checking her g-spot too.
From G-spots to Lydia. Our saucy housewife is spending her day with the most interesting person on the show, Figaro.
Figaro is an Italian Greyhound, so just like a normal greyhound, but with a way more sophisticated palate. He may dream of sniffing butts, barking at birds, and springing his lithe body through fields of gold, but you’d never know. Because Figaro is the consumate professional. He tolerates ridiculous dressups, being “smooched” on, and listening to Lydia bleat on about how hard her life is, all because he is a greyhound, and they are a noble animal. Also, he has an Instagram profile to maintain:
From the majesty of Figaro, cut to Gamble’s dog, Cash.
Cash is the Honey Boo Boo of the show. And by that I mean, a complete fucking nightmare. And Gamble is stage mum. Cash is the love of Gamble’s life. [THESE JOKES WRITE THEMSELVES, I TELL YOU.]
Gamble wants Cash to get on stage and be in shows. Remember that sentence, people. GAMBLE WANTS CASH TO GET ON STAGE. It’s somewhat prophetic.
Anyway, Gamble dreams that Cash will have a career in dog shows so she hires Brad the dog trainer to help her stage manage Cash. Brad is nice. Brad likes dogs. But Cash bites his finger. Cash bites his arm. Cash bites the crotch out of all the pants, chews Louis Vuitton heels and is basically a rat faced menace disguised as a poochy powderpuff.
Nice Brad wants to kick Cash across the room because he realises he is in some fresh hell. But because he is there for the Cash in more ways than one, he puts on his ‘patient dog trainer’ face:
And then gets Gamble to do a very important dog training exercise like this.
Nicely played, Brad.
Cut to dinnertime at Gamble’s, where Gamble and her partner Rick have a passive PDA in front of Rick’s son, Luke. And it’s not awkward at all.
There is some really natural-and-not-staged-at-all-dinner-talk about how Gamble wants to impress the other housewives, when SUDDENLY they decide to host a Murder Mystery Party! YES! Finally we have an event for this episode. I was getting bored of all the dog shit.
Oh my GAWDDDD! That means everyone needs COSTUMES for the party! The theme has been decided upon: witches. The girls descend on a costume shop and the tension is palpable. Will they stock five Gina costumes?
In the shop, Pettifleur starts throwing her weight around and making demands of the shop assistant. “I want a wig”. “Get me some stockings”. “Why isn’t there a mirror on the ground here so I can look at myself going commando.” etc.
Then Jackie the psychic who is starting to get hangry, just tells her to hurry up and pick a fucking outfit quick-smart, because she can see in her future that she needs food.
Cue lunch.
This is a special ritualised procedure where some of the wives get together and talk disparagingly about the other wives over salad. Fun!
They break the ice by comparing eyelashes and the importance of blowdrying them (no, I’m not making that up). But soon the conversation turns to bitching. And everyone decides Pettifleur is horrid. Except Chyka, who does the most DARLING impression of someone that is surprised that the others are being so nasty:
Meanwhile, Pettifleur and Lydia are having a casual coffee in Hawthorn. Now that Lydia drinks 8 coffees a day, eating lunch is out of the question.
It’s their turn to talk about the others. So while Lydia sits there with her shiny hair thinking of Figaro and foie gras, Pettifleur pulls out a checklist on Things She Hates About Gamble:
And then Pettifleur tells Lydia that when they met, her first impressions of Lydia was that she was “massively pretentious”.
RIGHT so we’ve bitched, we’ve got the WOWH in, all we need is this party to happen, right? Except before it happens, there is ANOTHER meeting.
This time it’s between Pettifleur and GINA. FFS. Pettifleur invites Our Queen Gina over for a chinwag and a laff, because according to Petts, when they first met they totally “hit it off”. Except judging by how awkward it is, Gina must have been drunk when they met. It seemed like a good idea at the time, didn’t it Gina?
It’s the most boring, stilted catchup ever. And then, just as Gina is wishing she has arranged Bettina to call her with an “emergency” half an hour in to their date, Pettifleur tells Gina she has something to tell her.
Yes?
We all lean in.
Pettifleur reveals it.
She is writing a book.
The book is about being a bitch. Or something. She can’t really explain it and Gina, who reads legal texts for living, can’t even work it out. It has the word ‘bitch’ it in a lot. Switch the bitch. Bitch the snitch. Rich Bitch. Something like that and OH WHO CARES PETTIFLEUR.
FINALLY IT’S PARTY TIME!
OH NO FALSE ALARM. IT’S NOT party time yet. One more thing.
Cut to Gamble and her partner, Rick the Eye Surgeon With The Yacht. They’ve gone out for a fancy dinner. In the middle of the entree, Rick The Eye Surgeon With the Yacht starts an epic speech at the table. His voice starts to shake. And we are thinking: What the heck? Does he know about Brad the trainer? Did he see Gamble on her knees on the grass? What is going on here? Then he starts to tear up and says, “I think we should do it.”
“WILL YOU MARRY ME?”
And Gamble, who clearly DID NOT SEE THIS COMING has the most priceless, shocked, terrified and wonderful reaction in which she says no twice. So good that I made it into a GIF so we can watch it over and over and over.
It’s ok, Gamble. It’s not a test.
Then Rick The Eye Surgeon With The Yacht makes this speech to the camera about how amazing this woman is, how she has brought him back to life, how she is loved by both him and his son. How she is a wonderful step-mother, the focus of his life, the centre of his family and the centre of his world.
“I’m not a single father anymore” he says, and there is soaring music and my eye gets a litte tear in it. Must be something wrong with it. Damn you, eye surgeons! Always with the eyes…
Cut to Gamble who talks about how much she likes his last name and how massive her ring is going to be.
OK FINALLY IT’S PARTY TIME!
It’s a witches theme and the house is decked out with cobwebs and spiders, spooky things and strange pictures, including one of Janet before her last facelift:
And everyone came dressed as dramatic, evil witches. Except Gina who is dressed normally.
Over the course of the dinner there are people acting ridiculous, others with stupid accents, one of them is using mind control, everyone stuffs up and blames each other because no one thinks they’re at fault. On top of that, they are playing a Murder Mystery game.
Eventually they all lose concentration/can’t be bothered so Pettifleur declares herself the winner and tells the camera that it’s because she is brilliant. And while she is riding the wave of her Murder Mystery victory she declares she has something to tell everybody.
She waits until she’s commanded everyone’s attention.
Yes? They all lean in.
She’s writing a book.
The fucking book.
“It’s about Switching The Bitch” she says. “You Switch the Inner Bitch.”
Great. The book will have five words so far. And everyone was SO EXCITED TO HEAR ABOUT IT.
Sounds AMAHZING, Petts. And I will definitely buy a copy ‘cos I can’t wait to read it!!!!
(Was that right? Am I switching the bitch on?)
CUT to a cafe the next day. Chyka and Janet invite Gamble for a coffee and are trying to delicately broach the dirty gossip that is circulating about her. Chyka wears white, the truth angel that she is, and symbolically has her ‘balls’ out trying to protect her new friend.
Janet and Chyka play this amazing “What if you had a friend and you’d heard something about them” game. And Gamble is staring at the white angel and is mesmerized by her grace and goodness. And even Janet is delicate in her approach.
They both expertly herd Gamble into the sheep’s pen, gently coaxing her in there, encouraging her sheepy head into the slaughterhouse while hiding the axe behind their back. Then Gamble twigs that it’s about her.
“There are no skeletons in my closet that I’m ashamed of” she says. “I know my own life.”
“The last thing I want to do it hurt you” says the angel gently.
And honestly. Can we PLEASE TAKE A MOMENT TO APPRECIATE THE MANY SYMPATHETIC FACES OF CHYKA. This is the woman you want opposite you when shit is about to go down:
But then Janet can’t help herself. She just blurts it out.
“They’re saying you’re a stripper and a call girl” .
“And there have been sex parties at your house.”
“It’s viral. I’ve heard it from all. Different. Unrelated. People.”
And it’s pretty clear that Gamble doesn’t take it so well, penning a nuanced, Jerry Maguire-esque manifesto. Except with less nuance and more F words.
TLDR: Fuck you guys.
Next week: Less murder mystery party. Possibly actual murder.
Want to relive the magic?: Last week’s episode recap is here.