After Mike Thalassitis’ death, the anxiety, abuse and fleeting fame from Love Island prove that heartache is the least of reality stars’ woes
IT was a surprising — and in many ways worrying — statistic to say the least.
As last summer’s Love Island hopefuls were getting comfy by the pool, it was revealed that more people applied to be on the reality show than for a coveted university place at Oxford and Cambridge COMBINED.
Forget true love, though. The 85,000 desperate for a spot in ITV2’s Majorca villa wanted a slice of the fame and fortune they assumed came as part of the deal.
But in the wake of Mike Thalassitis’ suicide last week, and the death of former Islander Sophie Gradon in similar circumstances in June last year, it is increasingly hard to see life after Love Island as the Promised Land.
Amid widespread criticism from former contestants about a lack of aftercare, The Sun revealed yesterday how ITV has launched an emergency plan to safeguard its “stars” past and present.
In a letter to this newspaper, the channel said it would offer compulsory therapy sessions, social medial training and financial management advice to all contestants.
The truth is the gulf between the elevated expectations of many hopefuls and the reality of dwindling work opportunities, constant trolling and pressure to cling to fading fame can leave many struggling.
Jonny Mitchell, who was in the 2017 series, says: “There needs to be more clarity at the start to show people that this is not a glamorous way to go.
“It’s only the ten per cent that go through that get looked after and go on to other things.
"The rest have to go back out there into normal life.
“There is a shelf life with this sort of lifestyle. It’s chasing the next gig, the next show, it’s never going to last for ever.
“If you’re not making money somewhere else, or you’re not doing something else to carry on, that’s what causes these states of depression.”
If proof was needed about the fleeting fame the series brings, 119 contestants have set foot in the villa over the show’s four series.
For those who get a taste of the high life, giving it up is all the more difficult.
When they first arrive home from Majorca, they are greeted by frenzied interest, freebies, endorsement deals and millions of new Instagram followers.
Talent manager Professor Jonathan Shalit, chairman of InterTalent, says that at the beginning it is “like Christmas Day every day”.
He adds their new-found fame is “like a drug — and they don’t want to give it up”.
Unfortunately, unless they are very savvy, reality stars can find that interest in them wanes rapidly.
Jonathan explains: “Reinvention is key. Love Island is a great show but it doesn’t require a particular talent.
“To do something like BGT or X Factor requires a talent to start with, something that people can book you for and you can use to build a career.
“Looking sexy and being a good kisser on Love Island is great but doesn’t necessarily provide a career foundation.”
Some Islanders manage it. Series three winner Amber Davies is starring in West End musical 9 To 5, while Montana Brown, who was in the villa with Amber, is building a career as a presenter.
That still leaves a surplus who are not famous enough to build a sustainable future in showbiz, but just famous enough to make returning to a “normal” life tough.
Psychologist Jo Hemmings, who has assessed contestants for other reality shows, describes it as a “twilight zone” of fame, with former reality favourites frantically trying to stay relevant as a new slew of hopefuls arrives each year to take their place.
She says: “They have this pressure to appear on social media like they are having a fabulous time, but that outward confidence is not what they are feeling inside.
“For most people it is a massive struggle to get anywhere near the level of fame they tasted when they first came out of the show.”
Instead, they attempt to cling on to the status they do have in increasingly desperate ways.
Alex Beattie, from series three, resorted to opening a Poundland in Birmingham.
Then there was Jess Shears and Dom Lever, also from series three, getting “married” in their swimwear at a pretend ceremony officiated by presenter Richard Arnold live on Good Morning Britain.
The couple were also mocked for agreeing to appear at the launch of a kebab shop in Leicester — an engagement they later cancelled.
Others, who initially profit from lucrative Instagram deals with clothing brands, start to rely on more dubious endorsements to scratch a living.
Laura Anderson, from series four, plugged a plastic surgery clinic, while Georgia Harrison, from the previous series, promoted a weight-loss aid.
Reality stars can also earn £1,500 a time doing personal appearances at nightclubs. But this constant immersion into late-night entertainment comes at a cost, with drink and drugs in plentiful supply.
Last season’s winner, Jack Fincham, was caught bingeing on cocaine and blamed “a new world of partying”, where he was constantly offered the drug.
Series four “villain” Adam Collard embarked on a four-month, 61-date tour after his eviction — more than three club nights a week.
Meanwhile, series two’s Alex Bowen spoke of how these appearances triggered anxiety, which he did not have previously, and made him feel “so sick that I couldn’t even walk into the club”.
Unable to stomach this lifestyle, some choose to go back to ordinary careers. Doctor Alex George, from last summer’s series, had enough of showbiz within five months and returned to his job in the NHS.
Series three’s Harley Judge is now an estate agent.
As so few Islanders forge a sustainable path in showbiz, why are so many still queuing up to take part?
Jo Hemmings believes it is down to the inherently optimistic outlook of the hopefuls, who focus only on the few former Islanders who are successful.
She says: “I always have what I call the ‘talk of doom’ with contestants, about how they are going to cope if they are hated, how are they going to cope with bad press, how are they going to cope if they don’t get the career they want out of it.
“They are not always listening though. It’s not what they want to hear.”
How to get help
EVERY year, 1,600 people under 35 take their own lives – and former Love Island contestant Mike Thalassitis is among them.
It is why The Sun launched our Let’s Talk campaign to raise awareness of suicide prevention.
Together with leading suicide prevention charity Papyrus, we are urging people who are driven to think about suicide to TALK, to share their concerns with friends, loved ones and professionals before it is too late.
You can get advice at the Papyrus HopeLineUK on 0800 068 4141, or email [email protected]
Unfortunately, many find that while money and career opportunities dry up, trolls are there to stay.
Megan Barton-Hanson, who claims she was cast as a “pantomime villain” in the most recent series, is one of many contestants insulted online daily.
She says she was getting death threats while still in the villa. The pressure to look like you have it all, while facing a torrent of abuse, is a toxic combination.
Zara Holland, the former Miss GB who was stripped of her title after having sex on series two, also suffered “horrendous” online abuse.
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Despite these warnings, there will still be a good-looking line-up of hopefuls eager to follow in their footsteps this summer.
As talent agent John Noel — who represented many Big Brother housemates in the show’s heyday — puts it: “Having fame thrust upon you can be very difficult to cope with.
“But that’s nowhere near as bad as having that fame taken away.”
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