‘Take Me Out’…The Back…And Shoot Me…In The Head

As I sat, watching the screen, I found myself wondering how we came to this. As a society I mean. Now we all know that the Saturday Night TV Schedule is full of soul destroying shite to keep middle aged women occupied while the kids are out having the fun they wish they were having. One of the more recent additions to the line up is ‘Take me out’.

It is very difficult to describe the format of the show. It is as if Paddy McGuinness had dug up and raped the bloated corpse of Blind Date leaving behind the post mortem abortion that is this show. A show where a lonely male weirdo is paraded in front of 30 whooping and gyrating women who he has to impress into a date. Watching this initial part of the process makes me think that this is what it must have been like for any Christian unlucky enough to piss of the Romans.

These ‘Lions’ have clearly been bused in from the nearest female prison, hopped up on gin and pheromones and sent out to assess the unsuspecting person laid out in front of them. There isn’t one amongst them who doesn’t look vaguely deformed with a slight sense of confusion and bewilderment. But then that’s just the Gin.

At this point Paddy attempts to get them excited with pointless Forsythe-esque catchphrases such as “No likey, No lighty” but it’s too late. The Miaow Miaow has kicked in and they are no more listening to him than they were to their Weight Watchers coach, they went to see once, a week before bikini season before realising the futility of it all and returning to the Big Macs.

Before the lonesome male is produced Paddy always seems to make some sort of pishy pun that rarely makes sense.
“Let the Gear see the Stick.”
“Let the Pea see the Pod.”
All I can think is Let my boot see your face you daft twat.

The loner is brought in (he might as well be in handcuffs, an orange jumpsuit and a hood) and the crowd goes wild. A flood of dampness spreads across a multitude of pants and the snarling and barking begins. They check out the sacrifice placed on the altar of casual sex and judge his looks initially, turning off their lights if he’s not appealing to the eye. And here’s me thinking that judging someone on looks alone was a bad thing. Must just be fat birds who don’t have feelings.

I watched on in shock as he then had to justify his existence as one by one women turn off their lights when a part of his life was unappealing to them. One guy lost several lights because he worked with kids and two more when he mispronounced the word ‘genuine’. Just goes to show women really are fickle, sexist bastards just like the rest of us.

Let’s face it, what self respecting single woman decides that the best place to meet a man is on a TV show on a Saturday night. Why are they not out trying to meet real people? The only explanation I can think of is that their knees can no longer support the scar tissue from years of blowing bouncers in the alley behind their local nightclub.

After this section of the show it is the man’s turn to get his own back as he is asked to whittle the girls down to two by turning their lights off. He dances up and down the line up, like the pied piper with a boner, hitting buttons as the woman use their pack mentality to protect their light switch from his greasy, cum stained finger.

Once down to two the humourless McGuinness steps in and gives him a fact about one of the two slags left. Facts such as “one of these girls was once engaged to Darren Day”. How the fuck is that a useful fact? All it tells you is that one of them is a blonde slag with low self esteem. Actually, on reflection, that is a useful fact. He then picks who it is he will be going on a date with, to enough screams, shouts and jumping up and down to help him immediately regret his decision. The rest follows the usual videos of last week’s dates before the whole hideous procedure starts again.

Equality for women has gone a long way but it seems that this quest has been in vain as they seem to have turned into the thing they hate the most, namely men. Now I remember a time when women would have been disgusted if a ‘sister’ was subjected to such an ordeal. In face it would be a matter for the courts. However it seems that now it’s ok for the reverse to not only happen but be televised for our enjoyment. As long as it’s a man being subjected to the sexually charged line up then it must be ok because, sure, a man can’t be sexually assaulted by a woman.

Unfortunately for me I had watched too much. This horrendous spectacle had drawn me in and I found it impossible to turn off, if only through a desperate need to see which saddo would be dragged out next and sexually abused in front of me, like a dinner party at the local parish.

Come back Noel’s House Party, all is forgiven.

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