Love Island viewers outraged as show delivers exactly what they want

Can the inherently cruel show endure in the era of wokeness?

In Gladiator's most famous scene, Russell Crowe's Maximus elaborately and brutally slays a group of gladiators before turning to the crowd in the arena and bellowing in disgust: "Are you not entertained? Are you not entertained? Is this not why you are here?"

A remake of sorts was staged in Love Island this week, as contestants Dani and Georgia were emotionally ransacked and reduced to tears for the nation's viewing pleasure. There were no maces or meteor hammers involved here however, doubt and jealousy instead being the weapons wielded.

The first blow struck Dani, who was shown an Instagram Story-style video of the moment her show boyfriend Jack realised the latest contestant in the ancillary Casa Amor - which functions as a The Purge-style space for male contestants to indulge their libidinous instincts without risk of (at least immediate) punishment - was a girl he'd been dating before he entered the house.

It wasn't incriminating; Jack was in fact nothing short of saintly in the villa, declining to "crack on" and instead whittling statuettes of Dani out of sun lounger legs and self-flagellating with his microphone cord while pledging fealty to House Dyer. But Dani took the producers' misdirection and ran with it, assuming Jack's repeated "oh my god"s were out of excitement instead of shock. It's a little-known fact that the Love Island pool is filled with the tears of contestants, and Dani provided it with an extra foot of depth, wailing about how this always happens to her.

The next day it was Georgia's turn to be put through the emotional wringer, as she stood by her coupling partner Josh, rejecting other suitors, only for him to return from the casa with a new squeeze, obliterating her suspicion that she might have fallen in love in under a month. "How f***ing dare you?" she seethed, managing to fight back tears.

In the case of Dani, 2500 complaints have at press time been made to Ofcom by viewers alleging "emotional abuse" on the show producers' behalf, with the regulatory body confirming that they will assess the complaints and if necessary investigate ITV, if indeed 'being a dick' is in contravention of broadcasting code. With Georgia, there have been thousands of tweets declaring Josh a "snake" and the show cruel. Then there's Adam, the series' most natural casting choice for Maximus, though he's been using a more blunt instrument with which to impale other contestants. He is nothing short of a pariah and will be heartily booed when he eventually lands at Luton, cap pulled down over his eyes as he grabs a meal-for-one from the arrivals lounge M&S.

That the men have behaved shittily is indisputable, at least if this was happening in the real world. It's not though, and a more accurate assessment is that they're acting shittily in a game that is run on and actively encourages shittiness. The idea that the show is about finding and maintaining love is so thinly ostensible that there are family dogs viewing the show from the carpet who have seen through this. Being entertaining is the goal here, above winning, and that means rabidly chasing drama. I could ponder all day on the issue of how to be a successful Love Island contestant, which seems to require maintaining a paradoxical and incredibly tricky balance of being involved in enough relationship bust-ups to be interesting but not mean, and being virtuous without just shacking up and spending two months counselling others and playing Jenga with gym weights.

If contestants can't be blamed, perhaps the show can? It's a case of 'don't hate the player hate the game?' ITV2 can legitimately be charged with filling our heads and nightly schedules with nonsense, sure, but they're not the sickos, the viewers are (myself included).

Had Casa Amor seen the boys and the new female contestants sit out down and debate future ethicals concerns for A.I., before original couples were reunited to comfortably and confidently plot what colour lamps they might choose for their new shared flats when they get back home, ratings would have plummeted. Viewers expose their own guilt and shame in complaining to Ofcom, gleeful attendees at a public hanging complaining about the well-being of the hanged.

Love Island's inherent incompatibility with modern performative values may ultimately be its undoing, the content the British public craves having to be shunted to some kind of Schadenfreude Dark Web.