When Darren Jolly was an Australian Rules footballer, he placed huge demands on his body.
"But at least I got some sleep back then," says The Block Glasshouse contestant, sitting in the kitchen of what is now one of Australia's most lusted-after apartments. "In some ways, this is tougher. Trying to function with a lack of sleep - with the tiredness - has been the biggest challenge."
Jolly and his rival renovators are not the only ones stifling yawns. Outside, thousands of Block-heads and Block-a-holics (terms embraced by the show's 2 million-plus viewers) have been queuing outside the Prahran apartments since dawn for today's open for inspection. With an expected turnout of 20,000, only those who come early are guaranteed a viewing.
Which is why Rachael Delahunty and her son Jamie claimed a spot at the front of the line at 6am - on Friday morning. They left their Gippsland home at 3am on Friday to begin the long trip to Melbourne, armed with camping chairs, inflatable mattresses, a barbecue, lollies and warm clothes. Rachael swears me to secrecy about the details of her schedule - she doesn't want to fellow Block obsessives to usurp her next season - but the message fails to reach host Scott Cam.
Microphone in hand, Cam trumpets their 6am arrival to the crowd as evidence of their loyalty. Except Rachael is thrilled, because this followed by an invitation for her son to cut the red ribbon and declare the The Block "officially open". Beaming, the pair bustle inside, sporting matching Block t-shirts, Block caps and Block tote bags.
"I've watched every episode of every season [since its 2003 debut]," Rachael says. "Right back to when Jamie Durie was host."
Earlier this year, Cam took home the TV Week Gold Logie Award: a viewer-voted gong for Australia's most popular television personality.
Who here voted for Cam?
Rachael and Jamie raise their hands, along with seven others. "This is my Block family," Rachael explains. "We all met here." Indeed, this is the third time I've found Rachael at the front of a Block open for inspection queue.
Inside, nervous realtors are stationed in almost every room, plumping cushions, lighting scented candles and brushing imaginary dust off gleaming bench tops. Every few minutes, the sound of the roaring crowd wafts in.
Contestants Michael and Carlene are running on adrenaline: a good thing, since Carlene had a restless night.
"I couldn't sleep at the thought of the people sleeping outside in the cold," she says. "I even had a dream that someone broke in."
A selling point of this apartment is its roomy walk-in pantry. Others made this a feature, too.
In the late 1990s, inner-city apartment kitchens began shrinking: a response to the lifestyles of their young, cashed-up inhabitants, who preferred to eat out. Now, enormous pantries are again desirable - a direct result, according to some observers, of the home cooking resurgence sparked by MasterChef.
The five apartments, though each bearing their own unique flourishes, reveal the up-to-the-minutes trends through their common features. There is nary a lamp in sight, for instance. Instead, pendant lights hover above every bedside table, stairwell and bathroom vanity.
Not only is the double vanity a thing, so is the double shower: not just a shower that fits two people, but one with two shower heads side-by-side. And these shower heads are enormous: most are the size of dinner plates and one is bigger than a laptop. None of the showers have doors. One apartment even has an outdoor shower next to the indoor shower. Open living is now standard; open bathing, it seems, is the next trend.
There are notably fewer candles than in previous Block apartments - no doubt because Australia's candle reserves have been severely depleted by rival reality program The Bachelor.
Everyone in the crowd has their favourite contestants, favourite room, favourite piece of furniture. Yet most happily admit they're not skilled renovators or property investors, and that these pricey apartments are out of their reach. (Nonetheless, a huge sign - the kind normally used for traffic diversions - is stationed next to the queue. "Need finance?" it asks, urging a quick-approval loan as the solution.)
Most simply love the show as entertainment: its upbeat vibe, everyday dramas and, above all, the "room reveals", when the efforts of each make-over are unwrapped. Overt product placements, which tend to aggravate viewers of drama, are appreciated by this crowd.
"I like knowing the brand names," says one notepad-wielding woman, who asks not to be named because she's "chucking a sickie to be here". The notepad, she explains, is for her to jot down the names of the furniture and knick-knacks she likes in each apartment, which she will then consider acquiring for her own home.
In three weeks, these apartments will go under the hammer, determining which couple wins. Right now, however, all are enjoying their moment in the spotlight. When Cam summons each one to the stage, fans cheer and wave and document the entire spectacle on their smartphones. Remarkably, they've attracted a crowd bigger than those many pop stars lured to shopping centres back in the 1980s and 1990s. They hand out autographs and pose for photos. One fan even asks for her forehead to be signed with a Texta.
"I know I probably won't get inside," says a forlorn-looking woman near the back of the queue. "But even if I get to see Scotty or the couples, it'll be worth it."
