We’re in London, which means that we get television shorthand: Tower Bridge, Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, the London Eye, and “Rule, Britannia” playing over the whole thing. Emily takes in the sights with Ricki and marvels at how old the place is.
And then the modern-day electric guitar really rocks it out while Chris Harrison welcomes the surviving bachelors into Trafalgar Square, while Londoners stand around, looking and thinking, “England gave you The Clash and this is how you repay us?”
The men are staying in the posh Amarillo suite in the Mayfair suite, where Sean receives a card for his one-on-one date: “Love takes no prisoners,” reads the card. Sean has no idea what that means, but that’s only because it doesn’t mean anything. “Jef” frets about the fact that he hasn’t had a one-on-one date, whilst leaving out the fact that during any alone time he’s had with Emily, he’s behaved as though she’s covered in cold sores. Which I guess, halfway into your second season on the sexually-transmitted-disease Petri dish that is the reality franchise known as The Bachelor/ette is more inevitability than risk.
Emily’s excited because Sean’s “great-looking but sweet,” instead of “great-looking and sweet,” so read into that whatever you’d like. They take in the sights around London, Westminster Abbey, Buckingham — Emily telling Sean all about the places with the confidence of someone who read a few “Facts About London” cue cards thirty seconds before the cameras started rolling. As usually, the idiots on the date talk about how perfect the setting is. It’s almost zen of them: wherever you are, there you are. I can only assume that if Sean and Emily were on a date in Paris, they’d say things like, “You know what? I kinda think Sean and I would be better suited by London.”