Love Island review: The Joe-Tommy-Lucie relationship has become a horrific Goodnight Sweetheart season finale

Meanwhile Anton joins a rich seam of veterans to have self-defined as funny, without ever actually making anybody laugh

Can the Instagram generation be blamed for what appears to be a struggle to cope with the idiosyncrasies of what was once real life?

Because it’s day four now on Love Island and Lucie is no closer to understanding the root cause of the problem she faces. Which is to say, it is not so easy keeping one’s options open when the options are not static heads grinning out of your private messages folder, but actual human forms, right there in front of you. It is not so easy to play the field, when the field is precisely the size of one bedroom that all the field dwellers must sleep in together.

The Joe-Tommy-Lucie storyline has now become some kind of horrific Goodnight Sweetheart season finale, the gap in the space-time continuum on which all dramatic jeopardy depends has been slammed in upon itself with stunning finality. The unities are re-established, all characters are in the same place, breathing the same air, eating the same toasties from the same fridge, and Lucie, the Nicholas Lyndhurst of the piece, continues to refuse to accept some difficult life choices must be made.

But where modern life taketh away, it also giveth. In bygone days, say 2016 or so, one’s actual real-life personality was something one just had to accept. Way back then, someone like Anton would have made peace with his role in life, which is as the kettle bell character in Beauty and the Beast that Disney somehow forgot to draw. But it’s 2019 now, the world’s more pervasive, more tolerant, more understanding. And if Anton wants to self-define as a big personality, as “really funny” it seems he can. And no one appears to want to stop him. Naturally, he joins a rich seam of Love Island veterans to have self-defined as funny, without ever actually making anybody laugh. Not for the first time, the words “you make me laugh” have come to resemble a Mrs Brown’s Boys studio laughter track, a surrogate noise for the fact that no one ever laughs ever.

Still, his entrepreneurial spirit cannot be questioned. I’ve actually timed it now, and it is, I can confirm, 15 seconds between Amber telling Joe, “The minute you start being honest is the minute you stop being a prick,” and her being persuaded to take up a freelance role as Anton’s PR rep, launching a multi platform campaign to convince Anna she is his “number one”. When she herself starts being, in her own terms, “a prick”, is a full 1.5 seconds after that, when she admits the most challenging aspect of her new project is that it’s “not true”.

But these are white lies by comparison. When it comes to deception, Curtis is the one to watch. So determined is he not to blow his cover as the asexual, in-house, relationship therapist he has actually had the temerity to kiss someone, namely Amy. Don't be surprised to find this story revisiting you when you wake to the Today programme headlines fourteen years from now, like those police special agents that fathered secret families in trees over the Newbury bypass. Full public inquiry to follow.

All of which leads us ask, by the way, is Callum trapped in the toilet?