I am unashamed to admit that I was a hugely dedicated and passionate Love Island fan. I had my doubts at the beginning and tried to avoid giving in to the cheesiness, but after accidentally catching one episode I was hooked, and there was no way of kicking the habit. I felt emotionally invested in the lives of each and every contestant (I can’t tell you the heartbreak I felt when I found out that Kem and Amber had split up).
So when the series ended I felt a significant void in my life. Come 9 o’clock every evening I found myself at a loss without the hilarity of Kem and Chris, or the sage words of wisdom from Dr Marcel (did you know he was in the blazing squad?). But my strife is finally over with ITV’s new show Survival of the Fittest!
One week of episodes in and I can definitely say that I am doomed to repeat the same mistake and spiral into a slightly unhealthy addiction once more. It’s practically the same set-up as Love Island except it’s less about the coupling and more about boys v girls challenges (but that isn’t stopping them all from necking and flirting left, right and centre).
It’s set in south Africa, providing the stunning backdrop of a safari at sunset for the ever-so-loveable contestants. Their phones have been replaced with smart watches and they all actually get their own bed this time (my one major criticism would be the distinct lack of personalised water bottles!).
So far we have met the Welsh cheeky chappy Callum, who is wasting no time in chirpsing the ladies, farmer’s daughter Lottie, and West Country boys Warren and David who worryingly couldn’t solve a 10-piece jigsaw that my 6 year-old cousin could do in her sleep. We also met Dani Dyer, the imaginatively named daughter of TV’s Danny Dyer, and Made In Chelsea’s Toff’s ex-boyfriend James, with many more contestants still to enter the camp.
The contestants have to compete against each other in mental and physical challenges, and the winning team gets to eliminate other members. It’s a battle of the sexes through pointless and largely irrelevant and skill-less challenges such as seeing who can untie a massive rope knot the quickest (that classic marker of physical prowess and mental agility).
Of course, this kind of programme lends itself to so much blatant sexism that it’s shocking that they continue to air it, and your inner feminist screams at the TV when the boys go on about how “of course we’re going to win, we’re boys”. It isn’t helped by the shrill giggling and faffing by some of the girls, or the assumption that at the sight of a topless man, the women will lose all inhibitions and become unable to think or move or do anything but succumb to their muggy magic, but somehow I still can’t stop watching it.
I think it’s safe to say that I am unashamedly a hugely dedicated and passionate Survival of the Fittest fan, merely a week in. Not unlike Love Island, you’ve got to take this programme with a pinch of salt and not take it too seriously. Thank you, ITV, for filling the crappy reality TV shaped whole in my life with a show that I simultaneously love and despair at. As a nation, we are eternally grateful.
Edited by Tia Ralhan
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