Like an arctic seal in the desert, there are some things that are just not meant to be on Love Island. Earlier in the season, this role fell to Chuggs, a man so brazenly middle class, I am half certain his villa ticket was sponsored by Jack Wills. Then there was Georgia, the embodiment of a normal, lovely woman and thus utterly incompatible with the biosphere of the island. Finally, we have Brett, another outcast who has somehow swum adrift onto shore. Only this time it is much worse.
He is an academic.
Simply put: This. Is. Not. For. Them. Academics do not belong here. Puerile pun jokes about PhDs are verboten, banned, prohibido. This is a safe space, away from postgraduate Twitter squabbles, conference small talks or precarious working contracts. I watch Love Island to remind myself that there is a life away from academic institutions, frantic “should i do a Masters?” WhatsApps and poorly dressed smart people. Already, academics are over represented in the fields of publishing, journalism, documentary broadcast and (duh) academia, and now they want to take our trash TV too? If you have ever met an academic, you will know that I am correct. This is Love Island, not Semiotics of Love, Island.
Of course, this is catnip for new girl Priya, a woman who has the manic energy and Disney face of a CBeebies presenter and is equally unsuited to the mores of Love Island. I must stress that this is not because of her occupation (we’ve had a medical doctor before), or her looks (like if Gwyneth Paltrow’s body was better than it already was), but for one other small reason. Thirty seconds of screentime talking about ultramarathons is 30 seconds too long.
As the non-running daughter of a fanatic marathon runner, every mention of the “r” word triggers within me visions of blotched faces on country lanes and my own painfully laboured breath. That Brett and Priya share a love of running as a date option is a crime in and of itself (sorry, dad).
Luckily, normal service soon resumed as our original cast got down and dirty in the bedsheets. If previous Love Island columns discussed the spectacle of virginity, after last night’s episode, consider the cherry well and truly popped. With drama in the house hard to come by (we want fireworks, not abuse), it almost seemed like Chloe, Millie, Faye and Liberty were turning to sex as a boredom coping mechanism, deciding to collectively shag their partners as a way to spice up their daily toil. If that’s not feminism, I don’t know what is.
With our Irish stallion Matt sent packing in the wake of Big Brained Brett, I wonder just how invested we really are in the new couples, my interest in Mary and Aaron, Priya and Brett already waning thin. But are cracks beginning to show in Liberty and Jake, or are we witnessing the slow death knell of this season?
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