Innocence ended on the twenty three minute mark. Til then, the cameras had not yet indulged the viewer with any meaningful look at either the top or front halves of the five, female, enthusiastically bikini’d contestants, whose bold dreams of paid endorsements on instagram and maybe even Dancing on Ice had by this point been stalling for frankly too long at ambulant backside stage.
But then Alex the A&E doctor walked in and, on the tiniest off-chance anyone had been in any doubt, the full on lab rat style experiment in psycho-sexual cruelty that is Love island was underway in earnest.
Let’s be clear. It’s Alex’s fault. Alex is an A&E doctor. Alex has a proper job, a middle class accent and an un-chiselled abdomen that screams ‘all this is beneath me’, which for the avoidance of doubt, it isn’t.
“Step forward if you fancy Alex,” was the instruction given by presenter Caroline Flack to the five women, so quite why all five of them evidently heard the words as “Start digging and don’t stop til you see the Sydney Opera House” is a mystery presumably to be solved in later episodes.
As Alex was moved to the “subs bench”, to watch the traditional parade of male models and semi-anthropomorphised eight packs go wild at the very pick and mix from which he had just forcibly ejected, one can only imagine the past horrors whirring behind his eyes that he would rather be living right now. Freak accidents with industrial machinery, high speed dashes through plate glass doors, that kind of thing.
By tragic process of elimination, it was “musical theatre performer” Samira who was compelled to “couple up” with the not-so good doctor. And if you’re looking for a reason why "musical theatre performer" Samira’s acting career has thus far not propelled her further than heavily implied contractual obligation to have night vision enhanced sex on ITV2, then it showed.
It’s not like Alex won’t have seen that kind of mask of undisguised horror before, though traditionally he has a horrifically misshapen X-ray to hand.
Still, Samira’s already done her bit in the name of public service, and that was this line of questioning, in which the lack of punctuation is definitely the model’s own. “So you work in A&E then, that’s pretty intense how long have you been single?” As always with Love Island, the profundity is left unsaid and it was very clearly this: Absolutely no one is interested in your job mate. Keep it to yourself.
It was also Samira who, barely a few hours after screaming “Welcome to the summer of our lives” would be trying not to wince as the man she was all but forced to be sharing a bed with would be doing his best to sneak in some sort of corrective gumshield as the lights went out.
Elsewhere, some models decided they fancied some other models, whose names we will remember later and forget shortly after that. A shoe shop manager boasted about the size of her in-store discount, but a man called Jack who claims to sell pens for a living was not brave enough to admit his career in stationary had been chosen solely for access to cheap Tippex for use on his own teeth.
Still, Cupid’s arrows have been fired. Eleven of them, simultaneously, at high speed, into a tiny circle from point blank range, and one thing’s abundantly clear: absolutely no one’s wearing much in the way of body armour.
Now we step back and watch the low rent Tarantino style bloodbath unfold.