Could someone please stick a fork in My Kitchen Rules, because it is done. Channel Seven's reality cooking competition has willingly succumbed to an ugly, vindictive sensibility at the start of its ninth season. Far too often the dishes are secondary to the sniping, complaining and arguing, which has been expertly mixed into a dismal, splenetic narrative that makes episodes drag. It gives all new meaning to the idea of food poisoning.

Who could have thought that the best way to reinvigorate a series that had admittedly started to look tired during last year's lengthy season was to import the Real Housewives playbook? The favoured ingredients now are delusional self-belief and confrontational soundbites; it's as if the producer's main goal is to engineer a catfight between female contestants that ends with hair-pulling and a dramatic exit.

"Our food is the bomb," declares Roula, who along with her friend Rachael identifies as "friends with attitude" from Melbourne. "Tick, tick, boom" she adds for emphasis, and naturally the pair exploded in the kitchen, having already clashed with snobbish Sydney sisters Jess and Emma. My Kitchen Rules has become a cooking show where an oversized personality is the main qualification, while being a resourceful home cook is a mere bonus.

The show has never been naive about crafting villain narratives. Just two years ago viewers were appalled and fascinated by the overdriven Zana Romano, who along with her almost as obsessive husband Gianni, passed ludicrous judgments and fronted otherworldly dedication. But the show got the balance right: they were a car crash reality couple, but they could cook. They went all the way to the semi-finals, which on a series this drawn out is a long way.

But now the focus is fighting, and it is tiring television. "Just shut up!", "I can't even look at your face!", "You're just snapping like a little cow!" Rachael stormed off after Emma's bovine comment, pursued by Roula and a camera crew that pretended to be catching a private reaction. This was the prime cut of the show's promotion, plugged incessantly, and behind it lies a vacuum of valid critiques or helpful information about food.

The editing feeds these women to the wolves, capturing their flaws and mocking them for the audience's dulled gladiatorial pleasure; the number one reaction shot so far this season is Emma's artificially enhanced lips trying to adopt an appropriate shape. Some of the editing choices are just ugly and unnecessary, whether it's Roula calling a rival a "bitch" or Jess delivering a racist slur straight from the 1970s about the menu of Vietnamese-Australian contestants Kim and Suong.

Roula and Rachael spoke of marking fellow teams poorly, no matter what they cooked, and at this point My Kitchen Rules is feeding on its own integrity. It can't help but reflect poorly on judges Manu Feildel and Pete Evans, who either aren't at the dining table or are merely seen to exchange shrugs as the arguing grows heated. The former is lathered with praise by female contestants – "he's good looking" in the third episode became "he's stunning" by the fourth – but their acquiescence to this tabloid trash is unfortunate.

This is now a cooking show where one of the contestants, Sunshine Coast lad Matt, was open about the fact that he can't cook, which was amusing at first but then depressing. Having thought pate was a kind of pattie and that pad Thai might be an example of Vietnamese cuisine, Matt got into the kitchen with girlfriend Ash and they promptly fell over and underperformed. However, the narrative treats him with genial respect, as opposed to being a woman flayed with the death of a thousand editing cuts.

Despite all this, the ratings, hovering about 1.1 million views an episode, are down a touch on 2018's first weeks and well behind 2017's. My Kitchen Rules has gone all in one divisiveness – set the women against each other and emphasise the otherness of a certain pairing's heritage ("the Russians are coming" trumpets a promo). Whether it's the Melbourne news bulletin fluffing up a neo-Nazi group or Sunrise giving unchallenged sway to right-wing commentators, this appears to the Channel Seven way now. I can't wait until Mark Latham is a guest judge on MKR – it's all that this season deserves.