Summary
THIS week I must confess to a guilty secret, an unhealthy obsession that leaves me disgusted and ashamed afterwards, pledging to give it up once and for all: I have been religiously glued to Love Island for the last three weeks. I have turned down dinner invitations, bunked off yoga and returned home early from an evening of cocktails pleading a headache, so that I can sit down to this special half hour of car-crash 'celebrity' clowns, jokers, idiots, no-marks, divas, narcissists, plonkers, airheads, silly moos and bitches from hell making unholy fools of themselves.
Basically for those of you unfamiliar with ITV's shining beacon of popular entertainment, it's a bunch of poisonous, self-obsessed, beyond-Z-list celebrities toughing it out on a tropical island to win, well, nobody knows what or why. They spend their time sunbathing, eating, bitching, playing games that make them look ridiculous and when it all gets too dull for words, they're plied with alcohol, so that a rumpus kicks off, the boys have hissy fits and throw punches and the girls invariably end up in tears. Everyone calls everyone else 'babe', is very supportive, and says things like: "This is a huge learning curve for me. I'm, like, on a really big personal journey here, y'know?" Or "This is really really hard, but I'm trying to stay strong, but I just miss my mum/ pet rabbit/ coke dealer." It's vacuous and totally odious, but an ideal way to feel good about yourself for being poor, normal, quite grounded and non-famous.See the full content of this document
Extract
First Impressions
It's hard to imagine any of these people being shoc...
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