The cultural monolith of ITV2's Love Island ended last night, crowning Kem Cetinay and Amber Davies its winners (Olivia and Chris, obviously, were the rightful champions but that is an argument for the incoherent Twitter thread I'll be making after two beers on Friday). Over the summer it has provided constant high quality entertainment – i.e. a steady stream of televised shagging – and it's also been an unlikely hotbed of musical talent.
"I'm watching it every night […] Well, Saturday they don't show it, do they? The cunts. You've got to do something else. It's not cool, man. I've got to do things on a Saturday now, go out and shit, you know what I mean?"
I had the same problem to be honest.
Liam also appreciated the show for what it was: "I'm just into the fact that it's shit, you know what I mean? It's just stupid. I'm not getting anything out of it. I'm not learning anything out of it, it's just on." And isn't that, my friends, the perfect encapsulation of the beauty of Love Island, given by genius of our times Liam Gallagher? Postmodern brilliance, all of it. Oh, and tell your Oasis-loving stepdad who digs you out for watching that LG's watching too, it'll shut him up.
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