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A borrowing from French, the exclamative phrase quelle surprise! (i.e., what a surprise!) is chiefly used ironically, to imply that a situation or event is unsurprising, typical or predictable.

This phrase occurs, for example, in the television programmes published in The London Standard (London, England) of Thursday 13^th February 2025 [page 35, column 5]:

My Fault: London
Prime Video
Following the massive success of Spanish language romance Culpa Mía, get ready for the English-language adaptation, which bizarrely relocates the action to London. Our heroine is the American teen Noah, whose mother remarries and moves them to the UK to be with her new husband. Quelle surprise: Noah’s new step-brother, Nick, is actually very hot. Guess what happens next? Out now

—Notes:
– quelle surprise! is pronounced /ˌkɛl səˈpriːz/;
– quelle is the feminine form of the adjective quel, since the French noun surprise is feminine; therefore, quel surprise!, which occasionally occurs, is erroneous.

—Cf. also the phrase quel idiot!.

These are, in chronological order, the earliest occurrences that I have found of quelle surprise! in English texts:

1-: From The Poole Telegram and Bournemouth, Wimborne, Wareham, and Swanage Advertiser (Poole, Dorset, England) of Friday 8^th February 1884 [page 14, column 1]:

THE INTELLIGENT FOREIGNER SETTLES THE QUEEN’S SPEECH.

It vas ze dead of your night! Nevarezelessar, it vas ver’ livally night. Ye rain it vas blue like eldarly boots; ze vind it vas pour catan’ dogs as harder zan it could. Zare vas knock at door of ze estreet. Ze feetman’s (he say he is footman’s; but he have six foots and von half, so I call him feetmans) he tell me zare is two suspicious party doun ze estair desire see me. Zey entare Quelle surprise! It is—ze long-lost Grand Ole Man. Vit him is Milor Selborne.

2-: From an advertisement for a “Dazzling New Variety Programme” at the Star Theatre of Varieties, Dublin, published in The Freeman’s Journal and National Press (Dublin, County Dublin, Ireland) of Monday 31^st July 1893 [page 4, column 1]:

Granto and Maud,
Sur la Corde Elastique—Quelle Surprise!

3– : From the Clarence & Richmond Examiner (Grafton, New South Wales, Australia) of Tuesday 4^th December 1894 [page 3, column 6]:

A BIT OF ROMANCE.
Au Courant.

A pretty little bit of romance is being told in the American musical journals about Lilian Nordica, who is admittedly a great favourite in the London operatic world. Less than a decade ago Nordica and her husband, a Mr. Frederick Gower, had an “internecine row,” and Gower went up in a balloon to work off his temper. Shortly afterwards the remains of the balloon were found but not the remains of its passenger. Then came the tug of war. The struggle over Gower’s property had just ended, and Nordica was getting through her seven years’ probation, when disquieting rumours arose about Gower’s being seen alive. […] It is said that he has recently been seen in London alive and kicking. After this, one would not have been astonished if Gower had appeared as “Lohengrin” at Bayreuth, when Nordica awaited as “Elsa” her long-dreamed-of knight Quelle surprise! Still, it is to be hoped that Mr. Gower will persist in his self-immolation. Rumour says that Nordica is engaged to a certain Mr. Dome, an amiable young man […]. Mr. Gower’s return under these circumstances would be painfully indiscreet.

4-: From a review of L’Aiglon, a stage play by the French playwright Edmond Rostand (1868-1918), performed at the Théâtre Sarah Bernhardt, in Paris, with the French actress Sarah Bernhardt (Henriette-Rosine Bernard – 1844-1923) as the Duke of Reichstadt—review published in The Manchester Courier, and Lancashire General Advertiser (Manchester, Lancashire, England) of Tuesday 20^th March 1900 [page 10, column 4]:

The second act is still more picturesque and emotional. We are in the Salon of the Lakes, a superb room richly decorated. He [i.e., the Duke of Reichstadt] is very sad, what the French call “ennuye,” and Metternich accordingly gives him a professor of military tactics. A large iron safe, full of wooden models of soldiers and maps, is opened. Quelle surprise! The figures are those of French and not Austrian soldiers—hussars, fusiliers, carabineers, “voltigeurs,” or light infantry, big guards, and fine dragoons. When Metternich discovers this he is furious, and orders a lacquey to destroy them and provide less subversive playthings.