HATE ISLAND
I’d rather stick a rusty needle into my arm before wasting any more of my dwindling time on Earth on this pile of exploitative, voyeuristic television tosh
Love Island 3e, all week How To Find Love Online 3e, Tuesday Patrick Melrose Sky Atlantic, Sunday A Very English Scandal BBC1, Sunday
Whateva! Did you hear who did what to whom? Love Island was beginning to sound a lot like Lou Reed’s New York Conversation, only these were three-dimensional figures. Just! And then all of a sudden it got interesting. Well, obviously, not interesting, but I did take my fist out of my mouth.
Dani was rambling on to Jack, the Pen Man, about growing up in a showbiz family when, bombshell time, she just blurted it out, she was (and still is, when you’re a Cockney, it’s for life) Danny Dyer’s daughter. Whateva! The Pen Man was ‘Oh My God’, cool about it like, and to Dani’s relief didn’t start doing Danny Dyer impressions. A pity really as he wasn’t making much of an impression as himself. There are, after all, only so many pen stories you can tell before you run out.
And I couldn’t even distract myself with trying to work out what was drawn on his arm... strange that a man who makes a living out of selling pens should have no ink, although under closer inspection, he did look to have a scribbling under his arm, perhaps a hastily prepared stationery list.
Reading arms would seem to be a favourite pastime of young body image-conscious wannabe reality TV stars and Kendall was wowed by Niall’s revelation that he had Hermione Granger drawn on his forearm. He’d prepped the line earlier that he could get his wand out but, gentleman that he is, he didn’t use it – or maybe he forgot.
Laugh? No, I’ll pass, thank you, which was what happened to poor dopey doc Alex who didn’t muster any interest from the girls while poor puppy Niall was even unluckier when Geordie bodybuilder Adam went off with his girl... it’s the point of the game apparently. As is trying to get it on, sorry, fall in love, and win the £50,000 for being the last couple standing and more importantly, taking the first step on the road to fame.
And, of course the contestants will do and say anything, and sign up for any challenge in their pursuit of the filthy lucre. When I left them to it at the end of an exhausting week, shoe shop saleswoman Kendall was tottering off in her sti-
I’d rather stick a rusty needle in my arm than waste any more of my valuable time on this exploitative tosh
lettoes, the first to be eliminated. Adam had ditched her and taken all of four minutes before locking lips with Welsh lass Rosie. Classy! Londoner Eeeeyal had given Scouser Hayley another chance after she had accused him of ‘playing a game’. She’d think him superficial if she only knew what it meant. And needy Niall had caught his rainbow fish, barmaid Georgia. Whateva! Some couple will win at the end of the eight-week lustathon, I dare say, so please let me know. On second thoughts, don’t. I’d rather stick a rusty needle into my arm before wasting any more of my dwindling days on this Earth on this exploitative, voyeuristic tosh.
Who’d be in the dating game today? Well nine million Brits that’s who, and that’s just those who go online. The infectious Dawn O’Porter who only found the love of her life, Chris O’Dowd, on Facebook, looks into what it’s all about in her latest TV series, How To
Find Love Online. She discovers the ideal photo to put online, a halfsmile it transpires, that atheists tell the truth more than Christians and that one woman blew £80,000 on a scammer she’d never meet.
And we meet the poor traffic warden who gilds the lily by saying he works for the council, and still doesn’t get a date. Awww!
Moving on quickly, which everyone’s favourite dissolute toff
Patrick Melrose is. Patrick is now married with a spoiled brat of a child, and Patrick’s lush of a mother is in her dotage and wanting to leave her estate to the New Age foundation who are caring for her.
Patrick does what Patrick always does and takes refuge in the arms of another, who only happens to be their guest. In our viewing schedule, it concluded in the early hours today with a repeat this evening. I set my clock early.
Love is a many-splintered thing but yet we look for it in any number of exotic and mundane places.
There must be many happy ever afters after chance meetings in a stables. But Jeremy Thorpe and Norman Scott is not one of them.
A Very English Scandal ended (no better drama this year) with the MP cleared of conspiracy to kill his exlover. But Thorpe will never rest in peace, history has condemned him to a life in purgatory with the case coming under fresh scrutiny.
Really, who in their right mind would ever fall in love?