I mean properly watching it, not just leaving it on after The Bachelorette finishes while I make tea and do the washing up, which is what I assume the other 374,999 weekly viewers are probably doing because do you ever hear anyone talk about this show ever?
No, you do not.
Can I tell you what it’s about? No, I cannot.
Well, I mean, I know it’s about football. Or actually, it’s about football WAGs — the “wives and girlfriends” of the players of a fictional footy team in Melbourne.
They sort of hang around in their posh homes and go to brunch and yoga, and they wear flashy clothes, and sleep with each other’s husbands and… go to brunch. And yoga.
Oh, and at some point I think someone got murdered, and everyone’s trying to work out who did it.
It’s a bit like The Real Housewives of Melbourne meets Midsomer Murders meets The Footy Show, but with even less Sam Newman than the actual Footy Show (this may be the series’ most redeeming feature, actually).
To be honest I haven’t paid much attention to the plot because I’ve been too distracted by the beautiful cast and the outfits they wear.
There’s the one who looks exactly like Jane Kennedy as Brooke Vandenberg from Frontline — if she had to go to a fancy dress party as a pimp who’s time travelled from 1975 to 2003. Lots of neon coloured faux fur and loud prints, and an even louder fringe.
There’s the “yummy mummy”, who wears the type of thing I imagine they sell to actual yummy mummies at Burnside.
She’s a bit business chic, except I don’t know if she does any business (how would she have time, with all the brunching and yoga going on?).
Then there’s the only one I actually recognise, Madeleine West, who is always vamping around the place in busty lace corsets like some sort of brothel madam of ye olde wild west, except in Toorak.
I’m not sure what West’s character actually does apart from alternating looking sexy with looking concerned, and also applying hand cream, which she does at least 17 times per episode.
No joke, I think she might have shares in Jurlique or something.
And there’s Paige, a massive dag in ill-fitting, frumpy dresses who lands in the middle of WAG world courtesy of her star recruit boyfriend.
In real life these other glamazons wouldn’t be caught dead with her, but because this is a soap opera they immediately adopt her as their friend and start inviting her to brunch and yoga. The scenes where they’re all together is like if the Sex and the City women suddenly hired a work experience girl.
Oh, and there’s also a bevy of fit male co-stars who happen to walk around shirtless more than is probably necessary.
Playing for Keeps isn’t just trashy — it knows that it is.
It leans in to trashy.
It takes trashy and rolls it in sequins and sticks it in a lace corset and then takes it out to brunch. And yoga.
It’s a bit dumb and a bit camp, and even though I don’t really know what it’s about, or who anyone is, or what is happening ever, I do know you can log on to the Channel 10 website after each episode and find out what everyone was wearing.
(This week was Zara, which would have been great publicity for the brand if it hadn’t been accompanied by the words “Paige wore”).
Stupid outfits, frequent overacting, a telenovela script and more than a bit of ball-handling, Playing for Keeps is the footy-fashion drama I never knew I needed.