Word has it Matthew Johnson – henceforth to be referred to universally as Matty J – watched the first episode of The Bachelor on Tuesday night, about 24 hours before the rest of Australia and about a month after he had dispensed his final rose. You have to ask: if he'd seen it before making that fateful decision, would he have chosen any differently?

Well, if it turns out that Mrs J is 27-year-old marketing manager Jennifer, hell yeah. I don't want to be too harsh here, but the word "psycho" definitely springs to mind.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Let's start with the Bachie.

"Matty's back," the voiceover announces, "and he's looking for love". Phew, that's a relief; he's got the right show at least. Imagine the disappointment if he'd ripped off his shirt only to reveal he was harbouring a dream of one day owning his own restaurant.

He's a looker, this 30-year-old marketing dude from Sydney. Nice smile, nice hair, nice abs – as is proved by not one but two topless shots within the first couple of minutes.

But he's also a reject. Last year's dumped-at-the-altar runner-up. In televised love there are no second prizes – apart from a lucrative leading role in next year's show, that is.

"Having your heart broken really does suck," Matty tells us, before going on to identify the one gal who will never do that to him. "My mum is the most incredible woman I will ever meet in my entire life."

Sorry, all you ladies-in-waiting, but you might as well pack up your talons and go home now. No one will ever be as good as Mum.

Matty tells host Osher Gunsberg he's a romantic but he doesn't believe in love at first sight. "I believe in love at first conversation." Smooth.

There's not much chance of a deep and meaningful though as the parade of lovelies begins – 21 women wearing dresses of every colour of the spectrum, and with hair ranging all the way from natural blonde to bottle blonde. (OK, there are a few brunettes too.)

There's a professional body painter (Alix) with a nervous eye twitch. There's 27-year-old nanny Tara, who is barely out of the limo before announcing she aims to pop out a few kids of her own. Her other dream, she says, is to go on a road trip where she can sing in the car for five hours "and not be told to shut up".

She shows Matty the smiley face tattoo behind her ear, then says "see ya, mate".

"What a legend," he says. "She's awesome." Let's see if he still thinks that after five hours of her singing.

Laura, a 30-year-old jewellery designer, is the first to really catch his eye. Is it her undeniably svelte olive-green pants suit or the fact she bears an uncanny resemblance to The Woman Wot Done Him Wrong? Hmm.

Someone turns up with a clutch of heart-shaped balloons, sucks in some helium and says hi in a squeaky voice. He does likewise. It's cute, but we all know drug romances rarely work out.

On and on they come, and Matty admits he is totally blown away by the whole thing. But wait, it's about to get more intense. Waaay more intense.

Enter Natalie, a 26-year-old midwife who confesses that "a lot of Instagram stalking has brought me to this moment".

Meeting him in the flesh, she's excited. Very excited. "My hands are a little moist," she says. Did you say moist, he asks. "I didn't not say moist."

Her last relationship, she reveals, was with a woman. It ended because of the man she is now standing in front of. "I was watching The Bachelorette last year and Matty J had his top off," she says. "I wondered why am I in a relationship with a woman. Matty J turned me straight again."

This is car-crash television of the highest order, which must be why a police car has turned up. But wait, is that a stiletto emerging from the driver's side? Why yes. If it isn't Constable Michelle Paxton, who quickly puts Matty in an arm lock. She's a blonde bombshell authoritarian throwback to Angie Dickinson's Policewoman, a show from back in the olden days when people wooed each other without cameras tracking their every move.

Matty immediately confesses: he was arrested once for a serious crime, peeing in a bush (don't even go there, OK). She confesses too – she once arrested somebody for that very offence. They are clearly made for each other.

Dutch girl Florence gives him some clogs; Russian girl Akoulina does some ribbon twirls and gymnastic flips; she wants him to know she's willing to bend over backwards to please him.

Lisa, a 24-year-old model from Melbourne, turns up in a red pants suit cut to here. "Oh my goodness. Lisa is absolutely stunning," he says.

She played competitive tennis for about 12 years, she says. He returns serve, says he plays but likes to win. "I'll let you win," she says. Fifteen-love.

"Lisa took my breath away," he says. "When she walked away, I was like, 'come back'."

The last of the 21 is Leah, an architecture student from Melbourne with towering confidence and plans for a quick reno of her man. She musses up his hair. She tells him to twirl. Then twirl again, only not so fast.

"I like it slow," she says.

"What are you referring to?"

"You'll find out. All good things come to those who wait."

What the hell would she know about waiting? She's already in the bridal bedroom, having skipped right past the let-me-slip-into-something-more-comfortable phase. Hare and tortoise, girlfriend. Hare and tortoise.

Inside the mansion, Leah makes an immediate impression, in the way you do when you walk across a white carpet with dog poo on the sole of your shoe.

"Oh God, she's like naked," says someone.

"She made a very grand entrance," says nanny Tara. "And why not when your arse is showing through a net?"

We're not even an hour into the new season when someone decides to dispense with the niceties entirely. "What a mole."

That's the thing about The Bachelor: it really does showcase femininity (of a certain kind) at its finest.

Matty J enters to wall-to-wall swoons, and stands in front of the tribunes to explain the rules of the love-hungry games.

"Being here you might think it's pretty surreal and wonder how could anybody fall in love here," he says. "But it's happened to me and I really hope it happens again, and that's why I'm here. So here's to love." Clink.

There's a secret garden this year, a place for a lucky girl to enjoy some special time with Bachie. He picks Laura, the Georgia lookalike, but barely have they turned the conversational motor over when a fire-twirling woman in a crop top sashays across the lawn.

Is that an intruder, someone asks. Is that one of us? I'm not OK with this. Are they making out? Oh my God, is that another girl?

Yes, ladies, it is.

"Twenty-one girls is enough, go away," says Florence of the Lowlands. "You're not welcome."

The newcomer is Elora, she's from Hawaii – or is it Tahiti? – but she's serious enough about this looking-for-love-on-a-television-show thing that she's brought her dogs with her.

Over in the house, the women are yapping.

"Come back with my man, please," someone yells. Clearly, it's been champagne o'clock in The Bachelor Mansion for a long, long time already.

"There's a lot of big personalities here," says Jennifer. "You're going to see a lot of crazy, I think."

"From you," someone asks.

"No," she says, appalled. "That's horrible."

Minutes later, she's doing her nut at Elizabeth, who has apparently muttered the words "that dress is putrid". Jennifer wasn't meant to hear, but she did.

"I hate her," Jennifer says. "I don't want anything to do with that girl. She's a horrid person."

At this point, anyone who has ever watched the show UnREAL will be experiencing hallucinatory flashes. There's Quinn in the control room, telling the crew to put a camera on Jennifer and stay with her. "That bitch brings the crazy," imaginary Quinn says.

Better get one on Natalie too. The wacky midwife has audibly burped, visibly farted, and is now lying on her back kicking her legs in the air. "The dyke stays," Quinn says. "I don't care if he can't stand her, she stays. She's frikkin' insane."

The stupid, scrappy fight over the dress – is it putrid or is it merely muddy – drags on and on. Laura tries to calm things down, but soon realises it's a fool's errand.

"I would definitely describe Elizabeth as a bitch," says Jennifer, of whom such a thing has never, surely, been said. "I hope she doesn't get a rose." Nope, never.

Leah, meanwhile, is continuing with her crash-through-or-crash approach to romance. "I really want to show Matty my secret garden, so I hope he shows me his," she says.

In the control room, Quinn nods approvingly. "Now that's how you get screen time."

Jennifer fumes that she hasn't had her turn in the incredibly well-lit, in-full-display-of-everyone secret garden. "He should have taken me," she whines. "I'm a catch." Yeah, the sort of catch John West rejects.

Finally, it's time for the moment we've all been waiting for – the first rose ceremony of the season.

Angie Dickinson (aka Michelle) gets the first one. Lisa and Laura are next. If I were a betting man, I'd say those three are likely to still be in with a shot at the end.

Elora on The Bachelor Australia. Photo: Ten

One by one the roses are handed out, until Jennifer and her nemesis Elizabeth are among the last few. With every passing over, Jennifer's face becomes a little more tortured and hate-filled. But finally she gets one, leaving just three to scrap it out over the last remaining rose.

Here's who doesn't get it: Stacey, the woman who turned up wearing a Miss Personality sash (sorry, if you have to announce it, it probably isn't true). Also a brunette called Monica.

Car crash sash: Stacey sent home on The Bachelor. Photo: Ten

Goodbye, whoever you were. We'll miss you. Mwah, mwah.

Here's who does get it: Elizabeth.

"I didn't see that coming," says Jennifer.

No, you probably didn't. I bet Quinn did, though.

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