Love Island is the answer.
Don’t pretend you don’t know Love Island . Everybody, like, knows it. It’s, like, everything.
In the show, the buff and the gleaming-toothed youth of Britain sit by a pool and talk in circular conversations, with rising inflection about who will couple with whom. And how. I watched it this week for the first time expecting a descent into a Bacchanalian free-for-all. But it was much more tame, more millennial than that. Less touchy-feely, more, like, chatty-chatty.
The key thing to remember is there is a cash prize for the last couple standing. It’s in their interest to find, in Brexit-speak, an accommodation. And so almost immediately the poolside collective topping up their tans are more focused on their goals than just about everybody attempting…
