The latest Love Island episode was another classic psychological phenomenon pared back to its undergarments and doused in Hawaiian Tropic

There are currently twenty eight separate abdominal muscles and only slightly fewer brain cells competing for Kendall’s affections and yet it was her who drew first water from the Love Island well of tears

Tom Peck
Wednesday 06 June 2018 11:36
Love Island: Adam and Kendall's first date ends with a kiss

Another night, another classic psychological phenomenon pared back to its undergarments and heavily doused in Hawaiian Tropic.

In 1973, in the vaults underneath a branch of Kreditbanken, three Swedish bank workers had to be tortured for six full days before the acclaimed psychiatrist Frank Ochberg had the required base psychiatric ingredients to define the condition now widely known as Stockholm Syndrome.

If only he’d have waited for Love Island 2018, Episode 2, when, against her own volition a Blackpool shoeshop manager fell hopelessly under the spell of a surprisingly lifelike Renaissance sculpture who had date-napped her just moments before, and then subjected her to nothing more traumatic than a giant bowl of “aliloli”, a mysterious foodstuff that must have been the food of the Newcastle based Greek Gods since the days of pre-history.

Not 24 hours before, it appeared the delicate flower of love was unfolding between Niall and Kendall, but resolving last night’s cliffhanger, Adam steamed in there with his garden shears and that one’s in the compost now, rotting down to mulch, fertilised with Kendall’s tears which we will come on to shortly.

Because first there’s the big question. Seriously, what is “aliloli”? According to reports subsequently repeated by at least six occupants of the Love Island villa, Kendall and Adam enjoyed a wonderful date, but when pressed for details, only appear able to mention having eaten this mysterious foodstuff, "aliloli."

And it must be especially delicious, as taken in isolation, Adam appears to have all the patter of a late middle aged woman being indulged by a weary high street shop assistant.

“I’m going to try really really hard not to spill this,” declares Adam, “Because you know what I’m like!”

Yes, what are you like Adam? Notorious spiller of wine or merely unimaginable dullard?

Adam, in time, will doubtless be revealed to be a love rat, but for now he is the Highway Rat, and Niall’s biscuits and buns undoubtedly belong to him.

Should Niall be worried? Maybe. There’s a game of musical beds going on, the music’s going to stop on Friday and yet, somehow, it is Kendall commanding sympathy.

By my estimate there are currently 28 abdominal muscles and only slightly fewer brain cells locked in a death battle for Kendall’s affections and it was nonetheless her, so overwhelmed by the strain of juggling two conflicting emotions, both almost 24 hours old, that drew the first water from the Love Island well of tears. (Too much love will kill you, just as sure as not enough, once sang Bryan May, several decades before a tedious male model by the name of Eyal would boldly reinterpret his hairstyle for the instagram generation.)

Calm down, Kendall. It could be worse, you could be A&E doctor Alex, who on Day Two spoke only to confirm, “I feel like a leper.” Well, you’re the one with the qualifications doctor, but if you want a layman’s view, I’d say you’ve got that bang on.

It’s hard to say what Alex’s lowest moment was. Was it in the baggage challenge, when he won the technical right to snog Hayley and as he prepared to do so, she physically winced in a fashion more often seen in this televisual realm by a Brookside barmaid steeling herself to bite into a kangaroo’s testicle?

Alex, mate, someone’s going home on Friday. It’s time to stop skulking the ante-rooms of the villa like a Cistercian monk, occasionally wandering silently out the back of someone else’s very mild trauma as if you’ve accidentally interrupted a TV news reporter in the middle of a live two-way outside court. If not, it's going to be you.

That said, all is not necessarily lost. It looks like there’s a Welsh lawyer going in tomorrow night, so no doubt by this time Thursday the professional classes will have taken themselves off to the snug for a wild night discussing property prices and the customs union. Fingers crossed...

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