Where is there left to go when just about every avenue has been explored when it comes to TV dating and relationship programmes?
We’ve had dating abroad (Love Island); dating in a restaurant (First Dates) and singles shacking up just minutes after meeting (Married at First Sight). Channel 4’s current series Open House: The Great Sex Experiment even invites committed couples to ‘test’ their bond at a swingers’ retreat.
The answer, it seems, is that you commission a series that dispatches 12 virgins to a Croatian island with the intention of coaxing them into losing their virginity – on camera – to a ‘sex surrogate’.
Just when you thought the barrel had been scraped, this latest series has managed to shave some final dregs from the very bottom.
Over the course of six episodes, the 12 virgins will undergo radical therapy that producers hope will result in them having sex in the name of light entertainment.
The first episode, which airs tonight, teases viewers by posing the question: ‘When the moment arrives, who will be ready to go all the way?’
As we meet the 12 participants and hear their stories, it’s clearly all gleefully geared towards viewers at home placing their bets on who will be the first to do the deed, and who’ll be heading home with their virginity firmly intact.
Will Taylor, 29, a bisexual receptionist who does not see herself as desirable, have sex for the first time?
New series follows 12 virgins on a Croatian island with the intent of coaxing them into losing their virginity – on camera – to a ‘sex surrogate’
Over the course of six episodes, the 12 virgins will undergo radical therapy that producers hope will result in them having sex in the name of light entertainment
What about 30-year-old civil servant Ben? The oldest virgin there, he has been on more than 40 dates but admits he is bad at reading signals and letting a girl know he likes her. To help him decipher where he goes wrong, he keeps a spreadsheet of his dates and tries to analyse the data.
Naturally, the latest controversial offering from Channel 4 is being dressed up as another of those fascinating social experiments they’re so fond of. The premise for Virgin Island is that, apparently, we are having less sex than ever before.
‘It’s happening all over the world, even the French are having less sex,’ says Celeste Hirschman, one of the therapists leading the great deflowering experiment.
The participants, mostly in their 20s, arrive at the resort for their two-week stay and are immediately launched into phase one of their coaching: desire.
The key therapists on the island are Hirschman and Dr Danielle Harel, founders of the Somatica Institute in California, a centre that offers all manner of sex coaching and has been championed by Gwyneth Paltrow.
They are helped along the way by an army of earnest, barefoot, harem-pant-wearing assistants, each with a different area of expertise.
In an early exercise, Jason, 25, an admin assistant, quickly becomes uncomfortable when he is asked to practise deep breathing: by the time the exercise moves on to dancing around the room with abandon while making loud sex noises, he’s had enough.
Shy, awkward and yet endearingly sweet and funny, Jason will become one of the standout stars of the show, I suspect.
The key therapists on the island are Hirschman and Dr Danielle Harel (pictured above with a contestant), founders of the Somatica Institute in California, a centre that offers all manner of sex coaching and has been championed by Gwyneth Paltrow
The session ends with Dr Harel demonstrating the ‘up against the wall’ technique. Just as it sounds, a therapist called Andre pushes her against a wall and grinds his crotch into her while she lets out the sort of huffing and puffing sounds middle aged people make when trying to get out of a chair.
While Jason wishes he was anywhere but Croatia, 28-year-old Zac, a delivery driver, is having the time of his life – so much so that even Kat, his assigned surrogate partner, has to tell him she’d like to slow things down.
During a touch session, he says to her he wants to ‘go all the way’, adding, ‘I would love to have sex with you, it’s why I came here’.
Feeling buoyed by his newfound confidence, Zac predicts he is going to leave the resort as an ‘absolutely professionally trained sex demon’.
I think we can all safely assume that Zac will be flying back to the UK minus his virginity and, very possibly, soon afterwards booking his first 18-30 holiday.
Tonight’s opening episode ends with the participants being asked to write a sexual fantasy story, one they are prepared to read aloud to the group.
‘I expect 12 virgins to struggle with writing an erotic story, I don’t think they’ll have much of a clue,’ says Hirschman. So why ask them?
If it was an attempt to raise a cheap laugh, then it backfires. Jason writes a sweet story imagining that he lives in a castle with his adored wife until one day he gets the opportunity to cheat on her with the sexy Colombian actress Sofia Vergara, but he turns her down and makes love to his wife instead.
Contestants on Virgin Island
Emma, 23, a fast-food server, manages just a few lines about her hope of meeting a man who is kind and will treat her with respect. She doesn’t mention sex at all.
One of the more fragile people taking part, Emma has a heartbreaking lack of confidence. Tall, slim and beautiful, she could easily be a model and yet describes herself as a ‘Duff’ (designated ugly, fat, friend.)
Let’s hope that Channel 4 has taken its duty of care seriously and will be providing the contestants with the ongoing support I imagine many are going to need.
By episode two, the coaching has moved onto ‘touch’ and the virgins are asked to participate in exercises that would make even the most sexually experienced blush.
On day three at the retreat, they are led to a communal area where a giant double bed sits in the middle of the room. They’re then invited to step forward to stroke and rub themselves up against a therapist.
Next, the 12 are encouraged to partake in what’s called the ‘animal game’ by crawling around on all fours, making bestial noises while sniffing one another.
‘Acting like a zoo animal? That’s just not for me,’ says Emma. Nor anyone else. And yet Emma is being led to believe that imitating a dog on heat is going to increase her sexual confidence.
Jason tries his absolute best and when ‘emotional intimacy coach’ Joy strokes and kisses him he announces that ‘I feel sick but not in a bad way’.
Sensing that Jason is coming out of his shell, Celeste seizes the opportunity to invite him to a one-to-one session in her tent where she ends up straddling him and simulating (fully clothed) sex.
Jason, Ben and Emma come in for the lion’s share of attention in the first two episodes and, sadly, the likeliest reason is that they are the most geeky, anxious and awkward.
And therein lies the problem with Virgin Island; it’s turning the genuine concerns of the poor souls who volunteered into low-rent entertainment.
Comedian Lucy Beaumont’s tongue-in-cheek ‘ooh err missus’ style of narration only hammers the point home.
Contestants on Love Island know what they’re signing up for and most are there hoping to boost their social media profiles and make some money as influencers.
That clearly isn’t case with Virgin Island. Instead, the show feels cruel, exploitative and horribly uncomfortable to watch.
