Yeah, Dani is great, but DANNY is better
Love Island has started, ain’t it? And as I think we can all agree, Dani Dyer is the best person on it and if there is any hint of justice in this rancid world, she will win. Like, even if she’s not in a couple, she should just win it. “The real love story was between Dani and the British public,” Flacky will say, kissing her ring, while all the other contestants are loaded into a cannon and fired into a volcano or something. It’s a bit different this year.
But would you like to know something? Would you like to know what would be even better than Dani Dyer being a contestant on Love Island? There is one thing, and that is, unequivocally: Danny Dyer being a contestant on Love Island. Dani Dyer’s dad, Danny Dyer, inexplicably on Love Island, sharing two important things: the hearts of the public, and the same name.
How 100% good would that be?
Well, this 100% good:
Upon entering the villa
Danny would strut down those steps like you wouldn’t believe. Those feet pointing outwards at almost 90 degree angles, blindingly-white Sergio Tacchini shorts cutting off the blood supply to his Pumas, chin about to poke someone’s eye out. Problematic first words on the show aside (“I’d smash the granny out of all of ya”), obviously all the girls step forward, absolutely clearly obviously, because it’s Danny Dyer. Danny takes his pick, justifying his choice because “I just like the look of ya”. A new favourite has arrived. The other boys promptly, and utterly, drop their guts right there on the terrace.
On the first night
It’s well-documented that there are harsh limits on alcohol in the Love Island villa, so Danny’s got the right hump; a full on cob-on, has Danny. “What’s this? Where’s the booze? How do you expect me to have a pwoper tear-up with a bollocky selection like this?”
Luckily, all the other contestants are rightly too scared to deny the man any booze, so they offer it up as tribute and he necks it all, getting absolutely off his nut and falling in the pool with all his clothes on.
During a conversation with a girl who says she likes “deep” blokes
“My name’s Danny Dyer, and I believe in UFOs.”
As a result of the smoking ban
This series they’ve banned cigs, because last time it was all that anyone did. Standing up? Have a cig. Sitting down? Have a cig. In the shower? Have a cig. So this series, there’ll be a smoking area round the back, and contestants will only be able to go alone. This of course means that we’ll only get about ten minutes of Danny each episode as he’s chaining the sweet heck out of some Marlboro Reds outside the villa 22 hours a day.
During the re-coupling
On the last series, Muggy Mike got a nickname that will stick with him for the rest of time, but you better believe that Danny’s coining way more than just one headline-grabbing moniker. Any time anyone does anything even remotely muggy, Danny’s straight out with a cracker:
Actually, Jack’s Alright
Eyal Though, He’s A Right Smug Prick Ain’t He? What’s That Barnet About? Needs A Hoof up The Bollocks, He Does
(This is how all tabloids and gossip mags will refer to Eyal from now on, in full)
When all the lads are sitting around the pool talking about politics
“Can’t believe it’s been nearly 17 years since them slags smashed into the twin towers it still freaks my nut out to this day.”
On a date
Danny Dyer is an old-school romantic, you just don’t know it yet. Prior to his candlelit, one-on-one meal in front of the sunset, he knows to keep the bad language at bay, to dress smart and to treat his date like a princess. Shame then, that he just snuck out to the smoking area for a quick blem and a “crafty bump up me snout for a bit of the old Dutch” beforehand, and it’s all gone out the window.
Five minutes in and he’s had a nosebleed, six minutes in and he’s said “I can’t wait to see your fanny.”
Getting a text
*spits fag out*
*Picks fag back up*
Having sex on television
I’ll admit it, I’ve never really thought about Danny Dyer having sex - not really ever been the kind of thing that’s flitted into this flighty head of mine. Never had the need to think of what Danny Dyer’s arse might look like going up and down underneath some sheets, in night vision. As such, I don’t know how this would pan out, I’m afraid.
I mean, I’m sure he’s not bad, but I can’t imagine him being some sort of sex God either - probably just “quite good” at having sex, like most people that go on Love Island. You never really see a marathon Sting/Trudie type performance on the show - it’s normally just a quick bonk, a swift rut, a hasty shift of hushed rumpus. There’s a lot of pent up downstairs-energy in that villa, how do you expect anyone to put in a lengthy performance?
Aside from that, he would definitely say “spunk” at some point.
Winning Love Island, which he would do, obviously, if he was on it
“Cheers for voting for me, you lot. My daughter - who is also called Dani, by the way - was going to come on this but then a rather unpopular internet journalist said it would be funny if I went on instead, so I did, for the purposes of this article which is essentially a one-note joke but has been spun into an actual feature. I’m not listening to that slag again - his ideas are soppy bollocks!”