8 January, 2016. 11:34

ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact

PRODUCERS FROM NINE’S runaway success story, Farmer Wants A Wife, say they’re were ready to put real farmers and primary producers on the ninth season of the show, but no real farmer they could find could fit the filming schedule.

In an attempt to break from the usual mould of casting adult children of farmers, farmhands, station employees and other assorted men with earrings, this year’s show tried to get actual landowners.

The gruelling demands of shooting a television show were the biggest hindrance, according to executive producer Frankie Beans.

“In the real world, there’s no way we could get a legitimate farmer to come down to Sydney for two weeks to shoot a few scenes,” said Beans.

“And the actual farm work we saw these real farmers do was actually quite laborious. Honestly, a farmer doesn’t really need a show like this to find a wife, he just needs to head down to the Oak in Double Bay with a credit card,”

“Failing that, he could always pick up a tidy young hairdresser at the Mooloolaba Surf Club with a pocket full of gold coins.”

Although initially showing interest in going on the program as a laugh, Cyril Jackson said he just had too much on to do it.

“The lads down at the Stonehenge thought it’d be a giggle if I went on the show. They’re a pack of cunts, I tell you,” laughs the 29-year-old Cootamundra local.

“I’d never actually marry any of the suckerfish women that go on a show like that, but I’m sure it would’ve been a grouse time,”

“All the free R.M. might’ve been nice. A mate of mine was on The Amazing Race and he reckons they fill you up with bulk-free piss so they can film you making a cunt of yourself.”

“I haven’t got time for these concrete cowboys – they think manual labour is the name of a racehorse in the Melbourne Cup.”

In recent years, the series ratings have slumped in the wake of having farmers on the program who wear jewellery and necklaces – something that challenges the traditional image of the Australian farmer, held by city and countryman alike.

However, this year this woeful formula remains unbroken.



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