Still, we can't feel too much sympathy for the male contestants.The application process for Take Me Out isn't a cross between jury duty and an all-sexual Hunger Games.This introductory dance marks the first point at which the assembled ladies can thump the buzzer on their podium to turn off their light and remove themselves from the ensuing sexual negotiations.
Even his name is redolent of an Irish theme bar in Magaluf. ” “Ay oop, Paddy, I tell thee, ah wouldn't mind ‘im rakin' about in ma lady garden!
Paddy's hosting duties include trading in entendres so singularly explicit that they're basically line-readings from 1980s porn films, and teasing banter from the lairy ladies around the subject of their approval or disapproval of the plucky bachelor. ” (Ethel proceeds to snort like a dying walrus) Paddy's most famous catchphrase is ‘No likey? ’, which is almost Shakespearian in its poetic succinctness.
Here’s a little reminder of a typical Blind Date exchange: FEMALE HOT SEAT CONTESTANT: “Contestant 3: If you were a cloud... ” MALE CONTESTANT NO 3: “Well, my friends would definitely tell you that I'm a very... Once in a while, a handful of audience members would smile so enthusiastically that they actually exploded.
Every few minutes a swirling vortex would appear in the air next to Cilla, and she’d shove her hand into it, grabbing out handfuls of Scouse banter and showering it over the audience like confetti.
At this point the chooser usually tried - and failed - to disguise a powerful wave of disgust and regret, spending the next few minutes smiling like a chimp being held at gunpoint.
The couple would return the following week to recount a holiday filled with such existential angst and dread that it was almost a Jean-Paul Satre novel.The disembodied voice of God – who in those days operated under the pseudonym of Graham – would occasionally boom out its approval, doubtless becoming increasingly nostalgic for the Old Testament days of wine, locusts and genocide (Incidentally, ‘Wine, Locusts and Genocide’ is also the title of Mel Gibson’s upcoming autobiography).Once the three had been whittled down to one, the partition went back and the two contestants - chooser and chosen - locked eyes for the first time. So much has changed since the 1980s, both on TV and in society itself, that what returns to our screens may not be a straight-forward, fully-intact teleport of the format, but rather a mutant mish-mash: a half-fly Jeff Goldblum of a show just begging to be put out of its misery.The truth of this inevitable transformation can be seen in the steps already taken up the light-entertainment evolutionary ladder, most notably in the DNA of ITV's long-running post-Blind Date offering, Take Me Out. When I think back to the Saturday nights I spent as a boy on the cusp of my teenage years, I can almost smell the heady scent of my mother's perfume as she readies herself for a night out with my step-dad and a gaggle of other couples.Each week on the show, three grinning imbeciles were asked fluffy and meaningless questions by a contestant who was perched behind a partition, in reply to which said imbeciles recited a series of quips so cheesy they could be garnished and served as starters in a French gastro pub.