It’s been a turbulent few weeks, and the winds of change are still whipping at our ankles, but breathe deep and worry not because: it’s back. Don’t Tell the Bride is back.
We’re so relieved about its return to our screens that the 15 or so minutes of television now snatched from us for adverts (since the show’s move from BBC1 to Sky1) is just about forgivable. There are no ostensible differences to the format: hapless men are still handed a wedge to the tune of £14,000 and three weeks to plan their wedding, while their brides-to-be sit at home twiddling their thumbs and crying into their “wedding dress ideas” Pinterest boards. Probably.
In tonight’s opener, we are introduced to Adam and his heavily pregnant fiancée Bianca, who met on Tinder and travelled the world together before settling back at home in Wales. In a fantastic and rare display of male forward planning, he has devised a strategy based on the dating app, in which Bianca must blindly choose left or right from a set of mystery options placed before her, which will make all the wedding decisions and render Adam, the charmer, absolved of all blame, should the ceremony – get a load of this – not quite match the fairytale of her dreams. It’s so genius, I’m dumbstruck.
I love this programme, for it continually challenges my already baffled understanding of the opposite sex.
I don’t know about you, but I’ve never found anything quite as romantic as the extra legroom seats on a budget 737. It seems that Adam’s of the same ilk – his lasting memory of the many months he and Bianca spent backpacking is apparently of the aeroplane, so he’s decided to fly all their guests on a 45-minute round trip from Bristol airport to Bristol airport, taking the nuptials mile-high.
I won’t ruin proceedings further, because like Bianca – a devout Catholic dead set on a traditional bash, by the way – you only really get the full effect after a tantalising build-up. But the game bride takes in her stride things that would have made me jump headfirst out of the emergency exit. Thank God for Don’t Tell the Bride.
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