OVER now to the Balearics where two of the villa’s lotharios are eyeing up the ladies for their next conquest.
Jon: “If you make a move on any of those girls, they’ll get with you.”
Jordan: “It’s like that saying, don’t wait until the iron is hot to strike, strike it yourself to make it hot.”
Confucius, unless I’m much mistaken.
Welcome to Love Island, the revival of one of the true greats in the pantheon of reality TV shows.
No kidding. The original series were extraordinary, explosive, drunken, funny and, most importantly, starred Paul Danan.
So one decade on, some ITV2 twerp thought: “Hey, let’s make another one, only this time forget Fiji, it’s short-haul to Majorca. And let’s remove the celebrities.”
And it’s produced exactly what the bozos deserve.
A ratings disaster that’s being pummelled three to one by a terrible series of Big Brother, which is pretty much exactly what this new version has become.
There are secret rooms, surprise new housemates, a £50,000 prize and daily tasks, like the boys’ challenge to remove five girls’ bras with one hand the fastest. Proper high-brow stuff.
It must have been a big surprise then that having aimed for the Dapper Laughs end of the market, they’ve attracted the most vacuous, superficial, laddish, lairy insults to the human race imaginable.
And the boys are almost as bad.
Because while the show is edited by Alex Payne, the 14 housemates can lay equal claim to being A Payne.
There’s Chris (“I’m the guy that walks into a room and gets the fittest girls’ attention straight away”), Josh, who enjoys taking photos of his bum, and “Oi-Oi” Omar.
We have Luis who once slept with six girls in one night and said: “I played for Arsenal when I was a youngster, then went on to Stevenage.” Then Barcelona via AC Milan, presumably.
Jon claims “300 to 400 women” on his bedpost but insists: “I don’t just sleep with any old bird.”
No, you’re clearly exceptionally picky.
And Jordan who’s actually relatively normal and in touch with his emotions, though not his sayings.
There’s also Playboy bunny Hannah, a vision of slap-on make-up in the dark who is “a Scouse from Liverpool”, of all places to be a Scouse, Danielle who “spends my days having my hair and nails done”, tipsy hellhole Jess and Zoe who likes “men that are men, like Vikings and pirates and anyone with hair”.
We also have Linford Christie’s niece Rachel and Lauren, who once had her picture with Zayn Malik and was blamed for breaking up One Direction.
So she’s fine in my eyes.
Finally, two late arrivals, chiselled twins John and Tony of Italian extraction who “put the winning into twinning” and are so cheesy they’re like walking gorgonzola.
And so six weeks of bed-hopping, “cheeky little feels”, evictions and enormous time-wasting begins.
Caroline Flack’s probably wondering already why she signed up to host this excruciatingly charmless beast, aside from altitude training for X Factor.
But it might be for links like this from the narrator: “Coming up, Jon shows his romantic side.”
BELCH.
Stay classy, ITV2.
Spudulikes
The return of TFI Friday.
Murder In Successville’s triumphant finale.
Last Week Tonight With John Oliver on Sepp Blatter’s Fifa resignation: “It came only four days after he was reelected president. That’s like being elected Pope and immediately announcing ‘Judaism makes some good points, I may have got this wrong’.”
The Chase question “Priscilla Presley became mother-in-law to which singer in 1994?” Contestant: “Elvis.”
The Tribe’s Ethiopian hut dwellers negotiating a marriage: “In Hamar, girls have a high value. The bride’s family may ask for 20 goats.” So she must be a real hottie.
Spuduhates
BBC1’s absolutely dreadful The Interceptor.
Big Brother borderline psychopath Harry (a woman): “Marc should be scared of me… I’m going to smash his face in.”
EastEnders breaking its own record last night for the number of characters asking someone to “mind the stall” in one episode (three).
Springwatch descending into farce with Chris Packham thrashing Martin Hughes-Games with 5ft nettles.
SunTrap’s latest episode title saying it all: “The Big Sleep.”
And Domino’s Pizza: A Slice of Life narrator’s stats overload: “Every year Domino’s gets through enough tomato sauce to fill two Olympic swimming pools, slices 800 tons of pepperoni, the equivalent of 80 double-decker buses, and the company’s drivers travel 13 million miles across the UK.” And still can’t find the right address.
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