Episode Two: Hello, Moto

All week we craved the arrival of episode two: chopping off the tops of lesser TV shows in a craven search for Survivor's precious milk; desperately licking our remote controls in delerious attempts to sate our Fiji Islands dependency; some of us went as far as trying to bribe some natives for a morsel- a cáithnín- of juicy Moto- or Ravu-related scuttlebutt; fruitless endeavours all, until Saturday delivered unto us a vessel brimful of that which we desired. Having devoured it, we now lie prone, clutching our bellies in post-bacchanalian (or possibly bacterial) agony. I can offer no remedy, save the meager flint of my words, the water-purifying flames they kindle, and my oath, brave reader, to keep you dysentery-free (at least metaphorically) for the remainder of the season.

After zooming through our first viewing of the brand new opening credits, accompanied by a kicking remix of the theme song, we arrived at Camp Ravu, which is quickly becoming Camp Ravaged. Much of the first half of the episode was given over to documenting this tribe's desolate, dizzy and, sadly, dry efforts to find or make potable water. Leaves were licked, puddles were sipped and, as energy levels depleted and coconut cracking became more and more of an effort, bodies and minds began to fray at the edges. Tempers didn't so much boil as wander off to hide from reality for a bit. Food, or lack of, was also an issue: Rocky was forced to eat clams "off the ground" instead of from the plates they grow on in Boston.

As a respite from all the misery at barren Ravu, we paid a visit to Moto's supa-fly camp, and got to know some of its inhabitants a bit better. Lisi's display was strange and disturbing, but mercifully brief; Boo, possibly under the influence of some tabulae defixiones, sustained multiple injuries, seemingly out of the bloo; Dreamz bonded with Gary while decimating the local flora, and waxed poetical about life on the streetz; and Alex and Edgardo improvised a little slumber-party on the couch, combing each other's hair with forks from the cutlery cabinet.

Sylvia arrived at Ravu from Exile Island to be felt-up by Yau Man, and pretty soon had pissed-off everybody (especially, um...Michelle), which seemed to ensure her ejection should the gang find themselves at Tribal Council again. They performed flawlessly in the first half of the ensuing Reward-Immunity Challenge, but their exhaustion soon raised its bloated tongue, and it all fell apart in their hands. Moto sent Earl off to Exile, and walked away with a Council-free immediate future and a box of fishing gear; I think there's some room for it on the living room dresser, beside the second-best china...

Pushed even further towards the edge by their defeat, and the continued absence of water to drink, Ravu changed tack and turned on Erica: she who had earlier found a stash of pineapples growing near camp, generally pulled her weight, and didn't particularly piss-off anybody. Go figure. She left after an almost-unanimous vote; Sylvia survives to irritate another day.

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Yau Gotta Pick a Pocket or Two: Or if pockets don't present themselves, at least have a gander in Sylvia's bag. Yau Man carried out the ol' classic Hug-n-Snoop as soon as Sylvia was off the boat from Exile Island, but his shameless sleuthing didn't uncover anything, because Sylvia doesn't have the Immunity Idol. If she did, she might have played it at Tribal Council. Or perhaps not; she was fairly secure, since as far as she knew, everybody was voting for Erica.

It's odd that this season the Idol has to be presented before Jeff reads the votes. I suppose it's a measure designed to frighten the insecure holder into using it as a safeguard; ye gods, can you imagine if you played it and then received no votes? Talk about embarrassing...

The Fall Guy: Welcome to the Kenward "Boo" Bernis Theatre of the Absurd! Boo's ham-fisted attempts at doing...well, anything really, were probably the highlight of the episode. And kudos to the editors for putting it all together so well, though with material like that, it'd be hard to go wrong. Boo and calamity are like a magnet and iron filings: he could injure himself in a pillow factory made of marshmallows and kittens. Let's hope he sticks around for a while (although I could do without the protracted flatulence).

Oh, speaking of which (the injuries, not the flatulence), who do we think has the near-death experience next week? Boo would be the obvious candidate, but does he really have the self-awareness to actually fear death? Cassandra seemed pretty upset about it anyway; we shall wait and see.

I Predict A Riot: Last week I advised Anthony to pull a Spiderman 3 and emo-up a bit. This week he's moping down by the rocks, hat askew, filliping the proverbial 'bird', and hating the world for not 'getting' him, or something. I didn't see any eyeliner on show just yet, but it's only a matter of time before he asks Yau Man to make some for him.

Mama (Loves A Crackhead): OK, I did feel a tad sorry for Dreamz this episode, I'm not entirely heartless. The montage was slightly drawn out though, and mawkish, especially that bit on the beach, with the sunset...

I hope it's not all one big Grandma Fairplay-type ruse.

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Sycophant of the Week: Congratulations Sylvia! You get the award this week for your comment to Mookie, on learning that he had orchestrated a vote-swing in Erica's direction: "If you have laundry, just bring it to us!" Jeez woman, you could at least pretend to have some dignity left.

Quote of the Week: Proving that he really is an 8-year old at heart, good ol' Dreamz earns 'Quote of the Week' with: "The more trees we find, the more we run wild!" Now let's go build a fort!