Pretty simply, they’re a fairly bland lot.

The social media backlash has been pretty full-on but IF ONLY producers had included Tahitian postman, Tamahei Pahoeani, 27, who just took out the Mr Tahiti competition — a pageant this writer, begrudgingly, agreed to help judge — reaction to the show could have been different.

While it must be the only pageant where the winner basically goes home with nothing much aside from a sash, his pride and the grand title, winning the competition does give the postie the opportunity to travel the Polynesian atolls as an ambassador, with his winner sash affixed to his well-built torso.

As one of eight judges, I was introduced as Australia’s leading TV star (yes, that confused me too so I can only assume the invitation was meant for Tracy Grimshaw, Sam Armytage, Carrie Bickmore or Leigh Sales) so when the invite landed, who was I to question it?

Yes, so like the dutiful worker bee I am, I accepted one of the more interesting assignments on my recent work agenda.

I was plonked on a panel with my seven fellow judges — I only met the one next to me — a local blogger, who told me she worked with American Express. She smiled and waved a lot, so I figured her 700 followers would have been pleased with her inclusion.

The event room — a huge garden at a hotel in Papeeta (the one-night-stopover capital of Tahiti) was literally packed to the straw rafters with screaming friends and family of the lucky 10 holding up the number of their favourite contestant, many of whom had ferried themselves in from one of their Polynesian island homes.

I’ve gotta say, the young gentlemen tried all the tricks in the unofficial pageant book — the wink, the nod, the blowing kisses, the come-hither eyes — as they scrolled across the judging panel each time they made their way down the runway.

There was a vague RSL feel about the whole gig, which suited me fine, as having been a former showgirl and quite partial to a meat tray, I felt right at home.

During the long judging process, fuelled with seemingly gallons of champagne constantly recharging our glasses and platters of chicken skewers, the 10 contestants were introduced via pre-packaged video interviews (all in French) before they thumped onto the stage all oily and bare-chested.

We went from casual wear to swimsuits (natch), traditional Polynesian attire, plant-cum-vegetation costumes and then, more swimsuits (why not).

In between all of that, there was a talent section with national dancing, some fairly ordinary singing, hakas and modern dance being the preferred talents.

Smoke machines figured hugely and some even had showgirl and showboy accompaniment. Whether that is legal in the official Mr Tahiti handbook, I never quite got the answer.

There were no poetry readings or magicians but some fairly intense traditional dance routines with one young gentleman with two man buns busting out an eye intensity that scared the crap out of the judging panel.

The winner, whose beautiful responses were dutifully translated as we spoke after the pageant, turned out to be postman Tamahei Pahoeani, who was sashed after “an evening with a fiery atmosphere” — words that described the event in Tahitian media reports the next day.

Tamahei succeeds Kevin Richmond (who’d have thought?) who has just been crowned Mister Grand International in the Philippines the week before.

I’ve got to say, they take this stuff very seriously in Tahiti.

In an exclusive (!) interview after the show, the winner told me he hadn’t eaten pasta for a while. (I attempted to pull my stomach in, which was now full of about 10 chicken skewers after the two-hour-long judging situation.)

“I really do not know how to explain it, I still cannot really realise it, but I thank everyone, especially my family, who have followed me since the beginning of this adventure,” he told reporters. In French. So that’s my translation.

“I give without expecting anything in return,” he also said after his coronation.

“It was not easy to dance and move on stage with the rain,” exclaimed the delighted young man, who also won the prize for the most beautiful “plant” costume.

OK. I know what you’re thinking by this stage — isn’t the whole pageant thing demeaning, passé and soooo un-PC.

This is where I will beg to differ.

Sure, there was a touch of Honey Boo Boo about the whole thing, but boy, I just kept thinking Bachelor, Bachelorette. Either, or. The addition of a couple of these blokes could have really amped up the fairly ordinary Bachelorette ratings.

— For more musings on Tahitian plant life and chicken skewers follow Melissa on Twitter and Instagram @melissahoyer

— Melissa was a guest of Tahiti Tourism