Vapid. Vacuous. Superficial. Moron-porn.

Love Island - Britain’s second finest export behind Brexit - has apparently taken the world by storm. Since you’re here you probably know what it is already, but if you don’t. Ugh. Get ready.

Love Island is a fly-on-the-wall reality series about a bunch of insufferable men and women who sit in a villa all day and do nothing. They can’t leave until they’re booted off, and even then they usually come back. The winners get £50k to split between them, if they’ve danced well enough for their viewing puppet masters. For you.   

And if you want you can tune in six days a week to watch these fucking idiots do nothing. Every summer. Six days a week, two months a year. Forever.

I don’t know who this shows reflects most badly on. Is it the prime specimens chosen to sit around getting skin cancer, grooming each other and smashing genitals on the show? Or is it us, the viewing public, who clearly tune in enough to warrant a current fourth season of this afterbirth?

But look closer.

Would anyone choose to sit around with strangers for eight weeks doing nothing? Probably not. Why can’t they communicate with anyone in the outside world unless it’s heavily monitored? What are ITV trying to hide? And more importantly, why do we never hear from most of these people ever again.

It’s simple, really. Love Island is a prison.

A simulated prison to perpetually bore, shame, and punish its contestants for the pleasure of the masses. It’s like The Running Man, but shit. Think about it people. These sorry excuses for humans are so empty and pathetic and unrelatable and awful because they’ve been locked up and conditioned to conform. That’s why they’re all interchangeable.

DO YOUR HAIR. OIL UP. LIFT. DO YOUR EYEBROWS LIKE CHOCOLATE SLUGS.

The Love Islanders are prisoners. And they need our help. 

The way I see it, the best chance we have of saving them from this server of servitude is to simply switch off. If ITV runs out of ad revenue for the show, they’ll be forced to shut the program down. The best these poor souls can hope for is eternal rest – I implore you ITV, shut the servers down and release the Love Islanders from this monotonous, preposterous mortal coil.

I only hope the public are able to move on, unbeknownst to the horrors these ‘contestants’ have faced. But the worry then is that another programme/program just like it will come along, torturing its line-up for our amusement. Our own prison of perpetual judgement.

Wait…maybe it’s not the Love Islanders that are trapped. Maybe they’re just lines of codes in another simulation. Our simulation.

Holy

Fucking

Shit.

Charlie Brooker, feel free to contact me to discuss a collab x