My dearest not-so-gentle readers, I am back with some reviews for you. I know you’ve been thirsty for them.

I am going to review The Ultimatum: Queer Love season two.

I must confess: I tried season one, and I lasted about half an episode before the extremely problematic behaviour was too much to bear.

But, a friendly neighbourhood dyke has binged all of season two and confirms that – while just being on this show is instantly suspicious – there seems to less outright horrid behaviour. So, here’s hoping.

The premise: one partner wants to be married and the other doesn’t, so they go on an unhinged show and date other people. Or some such silliness.

To kick us off, someone says, “Marriage is about love,” and I wanted to let her know that no, babez, marriage is about property.

From the outset, there is sapphic drama brewing. There’s snippets of drama and roses and a cheap-looking hotel.

Okay, hang on – I have to interject here to note that I actually zero per cent believe in marriage, and I reject the entire premise of the show, and thus will probably just devolve into nasty little rants about the state of queer politics.

But I guess that’s why you’re here.

So, we meet the couples. I couldn’t remember all their names but have assigned some monikers, which are listed here for your convenience.

Original couples

Top Knot Magan = Magan (left) and Centre Myself = Dayna (right)

Hobbies = Pilar (left) and Protein Bars = Haley (right)

Shaved Head = Kyle (left) and Mullet (Feminine Prince) = Bridget (right)

Keep Getting Her Confused = Marie (left) and Food Truck Butch = Mel (right)

Fuckboy = AJ (left) and Stilettos Like Slippers = Britney (right)

Chopped Liver = Ashley (left) and Rejuvenate My Pop Career = Marita (right)

Oh wait, before we get stuck in, another interjection – I fucking hate reality TV, and I don’t know why I so quickly agreed to do this to myself. And to you. But hey, it can’t be worse than Shane and Tess calling each other Winnie the Pooh-based endearments, can it?

Anyway, sorry, I’ll follow the brief and review the show.

So, the couples. There isn’t one of these unhinged sapphics I could bear spending a week with.

Turns out, they have to spend the first week all together. Then three weeks in a “trial marriage” with a new person, and then three weeks with their original person. This show spans seven weeks?!

The host comes in to explain this nonsensical premise. And I recognise her from this absolutely rough show I watched with my BFF deep in COVID lockdown. Embarrassingly, we still quote lines to each other (“Pour it out”).

Anyway, she is maybe the worst choice for a host ever? I genuinely think she has never met a lesbian. If only it was Dannii Minogue in those dresses from I Kissed a Girl.

So, the host tells the sapphics: “Your lives will be forever changed from this experience,” and actually I think this might be true of me after enduring this show.

We delve into the couples’ different reasons for being on the show. Two of the people discuss some really hard issues around their cultural identity and their queerness. But, as ever, this is played for the audience to get some trauma porn. Never fear, RuPaul has conditioned us to just believe they gotta love themselves.

Food Truck Butch says she never saw a happy marriage growing up, and it’s like, yeah, that’s statistically a fact. But hey, being on this show is sure to change that.

Marita starts off as a villain – she clearly just does not love Ashley. And I mean, poor old Ashley can’t get a single bit of airtime.

I thought, What is she, chopped liver?

The nickname stuck.

Okay, I should explain the first episode and stop being a chaotic sapphic myself.

In the first episode, they’re getting to know each other. It’s kind of boring because they’re all in their twenties and are extremely normal. The most self-centred person you’ve ever seen is talking about centring themselves. AJ is the fuckboy character. One of them has a magnificent mullet.

They then have a cocktail party, and there’s lots of tears and performative flirting.

A reflection, if I may: there isn’t a single hairy pit on this show.

If only this was a show about a bunch of hairy, angry dykes, with half of them being anti-marriage for political reasons, and half of them wanting to ‘queer marriage’. I would watch the absolute hell out of that.

In the second episode, there’s a montage of them going on dates. I don’t know how I got to episode two. I made no commitment with how these reviews would go. I want to see if I can binge the whole season in one night and review the whole thing to get it over with.

I feel increasingly concerned about Food Truck Butch’s business model: who is running the food truck while they’re here?

Marita confesses she wanted to be a popstar, but she never made it. Do people really come on these shows to find love, or is she trying to kick start her pop star career?

Top Knot Magan hates it here. She wants to go home. And she should.

It’s starting to get boring. Nothing is happening. The drama is minimal. Poor old Chopped Liver is still getting no airtime. AJ the fuckboy is getting it all, and rightfully so.

They are all obsessed with smells, but I can’t imagine any of them have hoofed a hairy pit that’s only been touched by crystal deodorant – they simply have not lived.

It comes to a head the night before the decision on who will be their trial wife (yes, that’s what they call it). There is another cocktail party.

Mullet realises that Fuckboy is flirting with her and with two others, Rejuvenate My Pop Career Marita and… um, I can’t remember her name, but she was originally with Food Truck Butch.

So, Mullet quickly changes her mind, and chooses Chopped Liver. But Mullet is also in a three-way with Hobbies and her ex, Shaved Head. Food Truck Butch is flirting with two magnificent femmes, one who wears stilettos like slippers. I want those for myself, please.

At some point, we find out one of them designs protein bars. She starts to flirt with Top Knot Magan. They actually seem to have genuine chemistry.

They all talk so much about shared values. Never underestimate a lesbian armed with a tiny bit of pop psychology.

Credit: Netflix. Please don’t sue us, Netflix.

Finally, episode three. There’s some heartbreak, and there’s some tears.

I can’t remember who any of them choose, but I do know it’s hilarious seeing them scramble when no one is choosing them. They want more airtime. They want more Insta followers. They are really here for the experience.

The dinner is over. It is the middle of the episode… I cannot go on. I refuse. I will not abide by any rules.

Next review will come when I can face it.

Until then, bye bye, Pooh bears.