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Ben was spotted enjoying a date with Lindsay on Thursday night in LA, putting a protective hand on her back as they walked outside. It's early and they are taking it slow." Weirdly enough, Lindsay once played a body double for Jennifer Lopez - another ex of Ben's - during a goofy TV sketch.
The Batman V Superman star also met up with Lindsay - who looks a lot like his ex Gwyneth Paltrow - while he was in London for work recently. The romance news comes two months after Ben finally moved out of the family home he's shared with ex-wife Jennifer Garner, two whole years after they announced their split.
He’ll then be banished from the studio, stopping only to turn and wave pathetically at the women who have spurned him, as the mournful words of Celine Dion haunt the air around him.
The only thing that could be more damaging to his self-esteem at this point would be if the women decided to forgo the buzzer in favour of chanting 'YOU SEXUALLY DISGUST ME! ' at him until he fell to the floor, weeping himself into a tight ball.
Every few minutes a swirling vortex would appear in the air next to Cilla, and she’d shove her hand into it, grabbing out handfuls of Scouse banter and showering it over the audience like confetti.
If he's chooser or chosen, then he wins, and gets to go on holiday to the Isle of Fernando (the real location was too embarrassed to use its real name) with a woman who will ultimately grow to loathe him in less time than it takes Jack Bauer to save the president from a terrorist attack.
HOT SEAT CONTESTANT: “Contestant 3: If you were a cloud… ” SERIAL KILLER NO 3: “A cloud who enjoys murdering people. ” If Blind Date was a peck on the cheek, then Take Me Out – its flashier, noisier, nastier offspring – is a full-blown tongue down the throat, complete with unwelcome groping.
During Cilla's reign as Queen of Saturday night light entertainment she managed to capture the essence of that bygone, buttoned-down Britain of saucy postcards and bus-trips to Blackpool.
Take Me Out, with its shrieking cavalcade of bouncing boobs and barely decipherable neck tattoos, offers instead the promise of a lorra, lorra chlamydia, and a quick reminder from our God of why we don’t deserve to endure as a species. Thirty immaculately-coiffed nightclub banshees stand behind specially designed ‘sex lecterns’, passing judgement on a single male who descends into the studio on a small platform known as ‘The Love Lift’ (which I’m certain must be street slang for ‘Viagra’).
Imagine that the stock exchange traded exclusively in the concepts of self-esteem and dignity, and that its traders were all angry monkeys on heat. The man begins the game by ‘dancing’ for the ladies' delectation.