Men’s groups have labelled Channel Ten’s The Bachelor as sexist for not including a single male in its line-up of 21 contestants competing for bachelor Matty J’s heart.
The group has said there’s no job a man can’t do except the ones they don’t want to do.
“It’s our choice to ignore some female tasks like cooking, vacuuming and laundry,” a men’s group spokesperson said.“However, this show doesn’t even give us a chance to have a go.”
One man who applied to be a contestant on the show said he was never even contacted.
“The real loser in this situation is Matty J,” the man said. “I can skol a schooner of rum, put an entire pay cheque through the pokies in a single afternoon and play Mario Kart like a demon – stuff men are actually attracted to, and I reckon only half the chosen contestants could do all that stuff.”
The first season of The Bachelor (of Arts), a spinoff from popular Channel Ten show The Bachelor, has raised eyebrows after it was revealed none of the contestants managed to catch the eye of the single employer whose attention they were competing for.
Controversy has surrounded The Bachelor (of Arts) ahead of its upcoming launch, after leaked documents emerged showing that the eligible employer at the centre of the show had “decided to go in another direction and make the role redundant rather than employ any of the halfwits who had applied”.
Promotional materials describe the show, which pits 24 recent Bachelor of Arts graduates against one another to win the love, affection and security of one employer, as much like the network’s traditional The Bachelorprograms, except that the contestants are “far more desperate”.
Each episode sees the employer test the graduates’ skills through challenges such as stapling, sending an email and gossiping in the kitchen with a biscuit.
A Channel Ten spokesperson said the show was worth watching, even though none of the contestants had found a lifelong career.
“The intrigue surrounding what Bachelor of Arts students are actually good at has been one of the great mysteries of our time,” the spokesperson said. “In this almost-too-close-to-reality show, we dig deep and discover very little. It’s an amazing journey.”
All 24 former contestants are now working in cafes or bars while working on the next great Australian novel.
Start-up company Lifeflix will next month begin streaming scenes of ordinary day-to-day life to thousands of lounge rooms across Australia.
Inspired by the never-leave-the-couch enjoyment of Netflix, the new service will provide sitting-down fanatics with point-of-view shots putting viewers in the centre of the action in a bank queue, traffic jam, or waiting on the corner for a local drug dealer, a Lifeflix spokesperson said.
“This service will help people feel they are out living life with other human beings, without the need to go out and actually live life with other human beings,” he said. “If nothing else, if will remind people why they choose to isolate themselves at home instead of suffer the outside world.”
Lifeflix will cost $9.99 a month and, if successful, will expand later this year to also offer “crippling depressing” VR experiences.