There's a great old
Goodies episode where Graeme Garden emerges from the toilet after two weeks and remarks, somewhat bemused, "That was... a
unique experience".
That is more or less how I came out the other side of
The Real Housewives Of New Jersey.
The show wastes no time whatsoever: within a few seconds of pulsing generic reality TV electronica, a deliciously NJ accented voice barks "Let me tell you something about my family: we are thick as thieves."
From there, an unseen car powers past signs daubed with locations steeped in pop-cultural significance like "NEW JERSEY TURNPIKE" and "SECAUCUS".
Meanwhile the as-yet un-introduced housewives bark things like "racist prostitution whore!" and "fuckin' bitch!" at each other (accompanied by the familiar tinkle of smashing glasses and upturned dinner tables).
They may still be anonymous, but we sure as hell get to look at them:
(Teresa and Dina)
We're 30 seconds in and already I am hooked.
Birthed by American cable network Bravo, it's the fourth iteration of their
Real Housewives series (previously, Orange County, New York City and Atlanta have featured) - and if you're anything like me (witness my fascination with
Cake Boss), you'll be most excited about the New Jersey installment.
The show "stars" Teresa Giudice, Jacqueline Laurita, Caroline Manzo, Dina Manzo, and Danielle Staub, all of whom - in the tradition of flashy reality television - are upwardly mobile "housewives" (though only Jacqueline is a stay-at-home "mom").
It couldn't be a camper affair if it was art-directed by Danny La Rue and Bob Downe.
After that sledgehammer-subtle intro, the ladies head out shopping at La Perla and other "fashin fo-waaad" boutiques, where they try on understated fripperies like rhinestoned bra tops and leopard-print
everything.
(Teresa finds something low-key for poolside.)
The personalities emerge effortlessly: Teresa the sweet, slightly vague "Jersey girl", her friend Dina (who doesn't seem like she would have a problem sending you to sleep with the fishes), and the frankly terrifying Caroline, who appears to have walked off the set of an NJ production of
Prisoner.
Dina and Caroline are adamant that Teresa needs "bubbies" to fill out her leopard-print bikini; Teresa is sanguine: "I wanna get breast implants, but my husband, he's more of an ass guy," she shrugs. "He loves my bubbies!"
She then takes her daughters to visit husband Joe at his construction business, before taking some direct-to-camera time to tell us about him: "My husband is built. He has the big shoulders, the big arms, he got it goin'
awn - he's just absolutely delicious and
juicy."
By this stage I was essentially doing this:
Teresa then explores furniture for the "dream home" that she and Joe have been building for three years - "we're going for a French Chateau look".
She stops off at a design store that makes Franko Cozzo look refined, then shops with a dedication that makes
Michael Jackson in Vegas look like a spendthrift. "I hear the economy's crashin', so that's why I pay cash!"
Look, I could breathlessly detail every second of this show and we'd be here all day (and there'd also be very little point in your watching the show), so you'll just have to take my word for it.
(We haven't even met Danielle yet - that is, Danielle aka Beverly Ann Merrill,
former escort and convicted felon...!!)
Put it this way: if your idea, like mine, of a good reality TV time would be to drop Carmela Soprano and Adriana La Cerva in Christina Aguilera's wardrobe circa
Dirrrty and then let them run around town with a Black Amex and the self-awareness of The Simple Life-era Paris and Nicole, you'll be in heaven watching The Real Housewives Of New Jersey.
If it's not, you better watch out, because Caroline will fuckin' cut your ass.
