If it’s autumn, it must be time for new TOWIE. The reality lodestar is such a seasonal institution that it has just been granted its own channel, ITVBe. (Sure, it also hosts the Real Housewives franchise, but all other shows are basically TOWIE promos, featuring hours and acres worth of bronzed, tattoo-painted flesh.)
Technically this is TOWII, because the gang have abandoned Brentwood for the White Isle. It begins horrifically, with Arg wearing ‘vintage Versace’ (mate, they saw you coming, the market trader had minutes to add a couple of zeros to the price tag and rip out that Man At C&A label while you waddled over) and giving himself a messy facial with champagne, or possibly blanc de blancs cava – impossible to tell while his meaty fist is placed securely over the label. He takes Lydia for a romantic walk to look at a big rock – ‘In one of the top 10 beautifullest places I’ve ever been in my life,’ says Lyd. Arg adds, ‘It’s meant to be the most magnetitivest place in the world.’ So that sets the tone.
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The questionable edumacation policy does not let up. Gemma has brought Bobby to a nudist beach for a ‘treat’. Because there’s no gift like the present of the wrinkly buttocks of ageing, European strangers. Bobby is prepared, however, and drops his trunks to reveal the much-celebrated and photographed modesty device. You know, the ‘boil in the bag cock’ one. The image that means none of us will ever be able to set foot in a Spud-U-Like ever, ever again. ‘By it being so glittery, it will reflect, and penetrate my skin.’ says Bobby, who is hoping to get a tan on his balls. Or possibly, he just wants to burn them off.
TOWIE has always been good for an inadvertent LOL (mainly because half of the cast can’t drive), so it was a bit of a shock that TOWII was nothing but rank in its discussion of tragedy. It was heartbreaking to hear that Dannii had a miscarriage, and Lockie was about as supportive as that bra I had to throw away after I realised I bought it in 2004. ‘I had commitments, I had to work,’ claimed Lockie. Meaning you had to do a PA in Hull for a couple of bottles of Sol and some promotional badges? BOOOOOOOOO!
Lightening the mood slightly was new character Tommy Mallet. A pun lost on anyone under 25 who does not remember terrifying kids TV host Timmy Mallet, and his alarming holiday breakfast show Wacaday. Way to make me feel old, TOWIE. Tommy buys his shirts from the same marketplace as Arg, and has his own special dance, called the Mallet skank. That’s all you need to know.
It’s Jess’s birthday! (I’m certain Jess had a birthday during the summer series, too. Is she the Queen?) and Lydia is celebrating by wearing a special shade of lippy called Period Product Purple. However, Bobby upstages her with some sex chat. ‘Here are my olives, here’s the salami, get involved in the deli!’ is his new line. To be fair I would definitely accidentally sleep with someone if I believed they were harbouring cured meats in their trousers.
Vas is still best pals with Popey, and talking about that time he was in Ibiza with ‘Lindsay’ and ‘Orlando’. Vas, I know people who were at that PA, and no one cares that you spent 500 euros to be within beer-breath-sniffing distance of a sleb. ‘By the way, Lewis cheated on you!’ he adds, cheerfully. I hope Vas leaves the show soon, because he makes me want to kick the screen in and I can’t afford another new TV.
Georgia reveals she has had sex with Dan, but hasn’t slept with him, and he’s sent her pics of his salami. Lewis is cross with Lauren: ‘I’ve had zero sex with you, Lauren’, and Lauren confronts him. ‘On my brother’s 21st birthday, I slept with a girl in Dubai.’ OH, IT WAS A SPECIAL OCCASION, LEWIS, WE FORGIVE YOU! It’s impossible to celebrate a sibling reaching the age of majority without putting your penis somewhere that it doesn’t belong. ‘It is what it is, you know?’ Lewis then accuses Lauren of being 40, and storms off. Oh, Lauren, push him in the sea! I’m going to keep a custard pie in my handbag at all times in case I see Lewis in the street.
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Elliot is obnoxious about Mario’s – let’s be honest, questionable – desire to hang out with Chloe and resume a friendship with her. There’s lots of grim stuff about respect, which does nothing to counteract the assumption that Elliot sees women as possessions. They’re much more exciting than a new pair of sunglasses, but slightly less so than a really nice car.
Finally, and grimly, Dannii has it out with Lockie and explains that when your girlfriend has had a miscarriage, it’s not nice to get on a plane and bugger off to Marbella. ‘Obviously there’s no point saying I’m sorry,’ claims Lockie. ‘How to we get from where we are to where we need to be?’ The sea, Dannii. Liaise with Popey, and push him into the sea.
In conclusion, The Only Way Is Ibiza made me feel desperately sad and angry about the state of modern manhood. But we did get to see a foil-wrapped schlong. Let’s hope that they head back to Blighty with the aid of a moral compass.
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This article originally appeared on The Debrief.