Fretting over Love Island might do us all good

I SAT down with my supper to watch Love Island on Monday – so I’d actually be able to converse with my young colleagues this summer.

But 20 minutes later I had to switch off.

Because instead of munching my tuna salad I was chewing the arm off the sofa in horror.

My buttocks were clenched tighter than Peter Stringfellow’s on a Barbados beach in a leopard-print thong (God rest his soul.)

What am I missing, apart from a reality Tv-appreciation gene? Do people watch Love Island to take the p*** out of body-obsessed wanabees or to perv at their boobs and six packs? Or do they actually care about the “personalities” who really only want to find love? Many of the three million viewers are young kids too.

Which got me ranting about the terrible message this show sends about body image, selfworth, sexual relationships and “winning” by being attractive.

But one colleague said she watches recordings of LI with her daughters, aged 11 and 13, so she can talk to them about those issues in the same way they discuss grooming, rape, drug abuse and abortion after watching Corrie. Now her girls are “incredulous that anybody would want to be famous for getting it on in front of millions of people.” So perhaps some good will come of this abysmal series. And if I keep watching and gnawing the sofa, I might lose enough weight to be beach-body ready by September.