All thirty women will buzz him out long before the horrifying disco moves have ceased.He’ll then be banished from the studio, stopping only to turn and wave pathetically at the women who have spurned him, as the mournful words of Celine Dion haunt the air around him.
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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.
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.
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.