Vegas, Baby. The third-to-last episode before the finale takes the desert runway mice with a top model background to the city of sin this week. Will it be raunchy on Heidi Klum's Zoten Olympus? After the ratings fiasco with only 620,000 viewers from the relevant target group (lowest value in five years), this would be the logical sex-sells lifeline. If it goes on like this, GNTM will soon have fewer viewers than the FDP questions for Robert Habeck.

The tour group, which has been exmatriculated down to nine participants, has no idea of lousy switch-on results. In sync, in the shadow of the nocturnal glittering skyline on the Las Vegas Strip, you screech your euphoria throat out of the model's thorax. Selma, in particular, is more enthusiastic than a climate activist when glue is on sale at the hardware store. For minutes, her mouth is more open than the Schalke 04 defence. From an anatomical point of view, this is good news, at least for the traffic turnaround: Selma's mouth is so voluminous that when there is a shortage of parking spaces, she can use her cheek pouches as carports and effortlessly store car models up to the size of a Volvo Compact SUV there.

When Selma arrives on the 36th floor of the official model hotel, however, the bling-bling frenzy comes to an end. Just last week proclaimed the face of the insolvent fashion chain Peek and Cloppenburg, the next bankruptcy is waiting there: her personal party personal insolvency. Heidi Klum invites you to a debauched disco evening with the Mario Barth of party DJs: Tiësto. A club night in Vegas would make Selma even happier than the 2017 GNTM winner Selfies from Mats Hummels' bedroom. True fans of this column, of course, know who I'm talking about. For the three others who accidentally read along here: We are talking about Céline Bethmann.

"Couldn't my parents have fucked a year earlier?"

Too bad for Selma: party rules are strict in the United States. Katherine, Selma and Coco are not yet 21 and have to stay at the hotel. Justly. It's all about dangerous dancing. Not to buy trifles like firearms. In tears of despair, Selma declares, "It was my biggest dream to go partying in Las Vegas!" For a moment, one fears that she will glue herself to the DJ booth in protest. Fun Fact: The theme song of this season is Pink's "Never going to Not Dance Again". How much more does Ibiza party icon Selma have to endure? Apart from bad Ibiza references.

Coco sees the disgrace of late birth less dramatically. She prefers to present in-depth expertise on reproductive phenomena: "Couldn't my parents have fucked a year earlier?" But: Would, would, bicycle chain, as Lothar Matthäus would say. So five candidates storm the dancefloor with Klum. Somajia is also missing. Although she is 21, she is isolated with a positive corona test. Will the quota now collapse completely after the info? Lateral thinkers are now switching off indignantly. Otherwise, the evening is unspectacular. There are no fights. Probably because no one dares to ask Tiësto if he can play "Chai Tea with Heidi".

Sweet potato fries like phallic symbols

Meanwhile, upstairs in the suite, cannibal Selma is tasting her consolation menu donated by Klum, revealing quite bizarre gustatory perceptions: "Tastes like Tiësto." The fact that she is waving a long, crispy sweet potato fries in her hand like a phallic symbol may be a coincidence. Otherwise, it's usually the other way around: Normally, celebrities like to nibble on Selma. The only thing worse than not dancing is: not breathing.