Mwah! Mwah! Air Kisses All Round: Dublin Housewives Have Arrived

So last night, TV3 brought us what must certainly be one of the signs of the apocalypse. Held together by pre-recession style delusions of grandeur, a heap of giant sparkly jewellery and the biggest false eyelashes you've ever seen, it could only have been the first episode of Dublin Housewives. Firstly, they're not actually housewives and only two of them are married, but I suppose Rich Dublin Stepford Women With Nothing Better To Do doesn't make for the catchiest of titles. The opening credits saw the ladies themselves preening and posing over the show' s name in matching gold and white dresses like a terrifying identity parade of mannequins all giving you the glad eye. But what of those very ladies? What have they got to say for themselves?

Well, first off we have Virginia Macari (of the chip shop dynasty Macaris), who forgets that she's pregnant and has herself a Swedish confidant, or "confidont" as she put it (far from confidont she was reared), or boyfriend, to plebs like you and me.

We're first introduced to Jo Jordan laughing maniacally about Valentine's Day for some reason with her husband, who seems like a total villain to me, if his admission that he decides how much his wife needs to know about his business is anything to go by, not to mention the fact that she actually said he was no help to her whatsoever when she was previously suffering from depression. Jo is repeatedly described as being great craic by the rest of the group, but she seemed to cut a rather sad and lonely figure towards the end of the episode.

Next we have Danielle Meagher, the botox doctor who seems mad for an aul scrap, as she kept going on about how if someone wants a fight, she'll fight them, oh fight them good so she will. She's single at the moment, so she met a "dating consultant" (still a viable career after the Celtic Tiger has long slunk out of the picture, it would seem) and casually dropped in the fact that she gets slagged off for only dating international rugby players. Insert eyeroll here. Her criteria for a boyfriend include: must be 6'4, have a six pack and as she said herself "the last thing I need is a flippin' man with a brain". Well as long as he's a tall and muscled ride, who cares if his idea of conversation is gurgling his way through Baa Baa Black Sheep like a toddler, am I right ladies? When asked by the dating consultant what she was looking for OUTSIDE of physical attributes, she answered "broad shoulders". This woman is a DOCTOR. (EDIT: dentist turned self-styled botox doctor. But STILL. COME ON.)

Roz Flanagan is the other married woman on the show and all I got from last night's episode was that she wears far too much eye make-up, as I couldn't actually see her eyes with all the mascara and fake eyelashes piled on. There were just two black holes in her head.

Finally, Lisa Murphy and her insane accent were seen working at her salon in Sandyceauve, playing a spot of golf at a driving range and telling us how she'd like to be, you kneau, more seaucial like her fiancee Gerald Kean.

So folks, were you watching last night? And will you be watching for the rest of the week? (Hate-watching or otherwise.) To the comments!