Escape from Love Island

I have looked on in horror
at the desiccated coconuts
of the Love Island winner.

O! Proud stallion!
Tanned and fernackerpanned,
he's the colour of creosote,
with the charisma of creosote,
seeping through an underworld
of undercrackers.

Now, at long last,
he hath attained his dream.
He may be no more than
a shell of a man
but he's one hell
of a sexual machine.

All of the contestants
jump into bed to celebrate.
The whole island reverberates
to the rhythms of the duvet,
drowning out the last words
spoken by the last man
to pass a GCSE,
whispered feebly by dry, parched lips:

Stay in school, kids!

B.P.R. 16/07/2017



Just some of the specimens parading themselves on Love Island 2017.
Who are these people?
Why are these people?