There are plenty of ways to assure that you don't get caught cheating. If you're going to go ahead and do it anyway, it'd probably be worth not going on TV as part of a popular dating show that your partner is definitely going to see an ad for at some stage. One person who did, unfortunately, not have a bit of cop on was Emma Pollard. Now, judging by the fact that Kirran doesn't actually seem that annoyed based on the wording and general vibe of this tweet, we can probably go ahead and assume that the pair orchestrated this mess for the sake of a few likes.
Take Me Out, with its shrieking cavalcade of bouncing boobs and barely decipherable neck tattoos, offers instead the promise of a lorra, lorra chlamydia, and a quick reminder from our God of why we don’t deserve to endure as a species. Thirty immaculately-coiffed nightclub banshees stand behind specially designed ‘sex lecterns’, passing judgement on a single male who descends into the studio on a small platform known as ‘The Love Lift’ (which I’m certain must be street slang for ‘Viagra’).
Imagine that the stock exchange traded exclusively in the concepts of self-esteem and dignity, and that its traders were all angry monkeys on heat. The man begins the game by ‘dancing’ for the ladies' delectation.
There’s a certain noble grace when peacocks engage in this sort of ritualistic mating behaviour, but when we men do it we tend to resemble a drunk uncle at a wedding.
Just before my mother left our house to enjoy a lorra lorra laughs with her friends she always came into the sitting room to give me a quick reminder of her maternal affection: a peck on the cheek.
That's rather apposite, because Blind Date was undoubtedly the light entertainment equivalent of a peck on the cheek: nice, wholesome, earnest, comforting, and always leaving a faint but pleasant impression.