Blind dating blu ray quotes dating younger men
Each week on the show, three grinning imbeciles were asked fluffy and meaningless questions by a contestant who was perched behind a partition, in reply to which said imbeciles recited a series of quips so cheesy they could be garnished and served as starters in a French gastro pub.
The female contestants would always deliver their quips with a saucy giggle and a Timotei-style flick of the head, while the men would deliver theirs in a spirit of such oily slickness that Greenpeace would eventually have to be called in. In 'weather' or not you’re going to choose me, of course. I'll take you to Cloud 9.” At this point the audience would woop and ahhhh so loudly that time would cave in on itself, and Cilla would link hands and dance on stage with a chorus-line of dinosaurs and Mongol warriors.
Even his name is redolent of an Irish theme bar in Magaluf. ” “Ay oop, Paddy, I tell thee, ah wouldn't mind ‘im rakin' about in ma lady garden!
Paddy's hosting duties include trading in entendres so singularly explicit that they're basically line-readings from 1980s porn films, and teasing banter from the lairy ladies around the subject of their approval or disapproval of the plucky bachelor. ” (Ethel proceeds to snort like a dying walrus) Paddy's most famous catchphrase is ‘No likey? ’, which is almost Shakespearian in its poetic succinctness.
The disembodied voice of God – who in those days operated under the pseudonym of Graham – would occasionally boom out its approval, doubtless becoming increasingly nostalgic for the Old Testament days of wine, locusts and genocide (Incidentally, ‘Wine, Locusts and Genocide’ is also the title of Mel Gibson’s upcoming autobiography).
Once the three had been whittled down to one, the partition went back and the two contestants - chooser and chosen - locked eyes for the first time.
Striding in Cilla’s place at the helm of this pheromonal Armageddon is Paddy Mc Guinness, a catchphrase-spouting, pathologically winsome creature who was surely created in a special lad-boratory somewhere on the outskirts of Wigan by splicing together the DNA of a Butlins redcoat and the entire canon of Nuts Magazine.
There's a certain schadenfreude in watching men being made to feel, for even a short fraction of time, how most women have been made to feel for the past 60,000 years at the hands of men, but it's probably wrong to extrapolate the idea that Take Me Out is somehow Germaine Greer's favourite TV show. So much has changed since the 1980s, both on TV and in society itself, that what returns to our screens may not be a straight-forward, fully-intact teleport of the format, but rather a mutant mish-mash: a half-fly Jeff Goldblum of a show just begging to be put out of its misery.The truth of this inevitable transformation can be seen in the steps already taken up the light-entertainment evolutionary ladder, most notably in the DNA of ITV's long-running post-Blind Date offering, Take Me Out. When I think back to the Saturday nights I spent as a boy on the cusp of my teenage years, I can almost smell the heady scent of my mother's perfume as she readies herself for a night out with my step-dad and a gaggle of other couples.Just before my mother left our house to enjoy a lorra lorra laughs with her friends she always came into the sitting room to give me a quick reminder of her maternal affection: a peck on the cheek.That's rather apposite, because Blind Date was undoubtedly the light entertainment equivalent of a peck on the cheek: nice, wholesome, earnest, comforting, and always leaving a faint but pleasant impression.
The only thing that could be more damaging to his self-esteem at this point would be if the women decided to forgo the buzzer in favour of chanting 'YOU SEXUALLY DISGUST ME! ' at him until he fell to the floor, weeping himself into a tight ball.