The modern way of finding a date

Since the demise of _Blind Date_, the dating show genre has hardly been at the forefront of groundbreaking television, so you would be forgiven for opting not to watch _ITV’s Take Me Out_… but you would be missing one of the best shows to hit primetime television.

Now in it’s third series, _Take Me Out _has managed to bring new life to a format that seemed destined to remain in the confines of VH1. The premise is simple: a single man must try and impress 30 women. If they are unimpressed, they will turn off their podium’s light, hence the bizarre-yet-brilliant catchphrase ‘no likey, no lighty!’ Eventually he will be given the opportunity to select one of the remaining women to take on a date to the wonderful isle of Fernando’s – or as it is more commonly known, Cyprus. Should he fail to impress any of the 30 women, he is sent off with the cruelly appropriate tune ‘All by Myself’.

With a concept so dependent on first impressions, the show is unsurprisingly, fairly predictable; tall, slim women will always get picked, just as tall and athletic men will always have their pick of the ladies. Yet for every predictable match, there are wonderfully awkward moments you will never find anywhere else: the fake smiles of men who are clearly not pleased with the woman they’ve ended up with; the equally fake smiles of women who watch men appear from the ‘love lift’ and don’t like what they see; and my personal favourite, the blind panic that can cross a woman’s face when she realises she’s the only who still has her light on

Week two already provided some comedy gold. Ollie told the world his first word was money, not mummy, prompting virtually every woman to turn off her light. Some supreme googling skills told me that yes, I had heard it before, and it was Shibby from 2010’s _Apprentice_ who said it first. Vile as well as unoriginal it seems. There was also Jermaine, whose talent turned out to be a cringe-inducing version of that 50 Cent classic, Candy Shop, complete with fur coat and crown adorned with sweets.

You’re right, a programme can hardly be considered worthy television when it’s largely built on humiliation – the look on a man’s face when his mother chose to reveal his very disturbing obsession with all things _Disney_ was as uncomfortable as it was hilarious – but _Take Me Out _makes up for it with the brilliant Paddy McGuinness as it’s host. Just watch him attempt to play the banjo and you’ll get the idea: he doesn’t take him self seriously, which allows him to carry off some pretty shocking puns. He introduces each single man with a so-bad-its-good catchphrase such as ‘let the booty see the licious’ and ‘let the onion see the bhaji’. Yet for every cheesy pun is a witty retort to one of the woman’s equally cheesy chat-up lines: quite frankly watching the banter between Paddy and the women is reason enough to tune in.

It takes a certain level of confidence to submit yourself to rejection on national television, especially if you are one of the ‘original’ women still waiting patiently for a date on the final episode, which makes it all the more surprising that the women of _Take Me Out _don’t have Apprentice-sized egos. In fact, most of the contestants come across as really likeable. Some are notoriously picky, calling single men up on their questionable fashion choices and instantly dismissing anyone who seems a little too dependent on their mum, whilst others seem willing to give almost everyone a chance. Rooting for your favourite woman to get picked is an integral part of the show, as everyone who watches the show will tell you. Nothing has quite brought me to happy tears like the moment when last year’s Lucy finally got a date.

There may be more cheesy chat up lines than the average person can handle, but if there is any show I’ll be watching religiously on catch-up, it’s _Take Me Out_.