Tuesday, 25th September 2001

BROOKSIDE’S TAKE

My husband, for his sins, reads The Daily Mail (like Jimmy Corkhill). One of the most amusing aspects about that publication comes in the form of its U.S. correspondents. One is the
equivalent of Toad of Toad Hall, called Daniel Jeffreys. The other is someone who’s obviously a latent schoolgirl, named Sarah Chalmers.

Reading their articles about the US makes me stop and wonder if I merely dreamed of being born and raised in that country. The former applies a mixture of Wild West with niggaz with attitude ghetto violence in his description of ‘typical daily life’, and that’s laughable fiction. But the latter - what she knows about the US, you could write on the back of a postage stamp and still have space enough to copy out the Magna Charta long-hand. For example, when the US election was FINALLY sorted out, Ms Chalmers announced, with great authority, that Dubya Bush, to appease the Democrats, would dispense with his angina-striken Dicky Ticker VP and, instead, APPOINT the Democratic nominee Joseph Liebermann. LAUGH? I nearly died. Not only can that NOT be done, it’s unconstitutional.

And then it dawned on me ... These correspondents weren’t being over-paid to represent the US as it truly is - ordinary people going about their ordinary lives just as many do in this country simply wouldn’t sell papers. NO. They were being paid to give a ‘take’ on the US, to reassure all those people here who don’t travel that far afield that the bad old myths about the US are true to form.

Just like Brookside and its takes ... Students, business people, gays and lesbians, bigotry, crime and non-punishment, physical beauty ... We see it all through Brookside’s (rather Uncle Phil’s) eyes and mind.

The episode opens with Jimmy and Tim having a conversation at Hotel Corkhill. Jimmy has just told Tim that Jackie has truly left, and that their proposed reconciliation was a total failure. Tim can’t believe his ears. Jackie’s gone? He exclaims in disbelief. Well, in Tim’s opinion, Jimmy’s well rid of the miserable old cow. After all, Jackie hated Emily, and she wasn’t all that keen on the Timily pair remaining under the Corkhill roof.

Jimmy silently absorbs the diatribe and informs Tim that he has something for the lad. Walking into the lounge area, he presents Tim with a clipping from a recent newspaper. Tim examines it curiously. It’s a job advert for a security guard. Tim is not impressed. (Why should he be? He’s already started on what he reckons will be a lucrative life of crime).

He shrugs. What did Jimmy want him to do? A security guard’s job? Why should anyone want to give him a job anyway? No one else had bothered. Jimmy reminds him that, as Jackie had got custody of William, there was also a good possibility that the court would award the possession of the house to her as well. If that happened, not only would Jimmy be looking for accommodation, but Tim would be out on his ear as well. If Timily had to look for other lodgings, they might need every spare penny. Jimmy finishes by telling the lad that the interview for the job takes place the next day.

LISTEN UP, BOYS AND GIRLS! GATHER AROUND THE OLD T.V. IT’S SITCOM TIME! Marty and The Plank (who’s been off our screens whilst undergoing wordworm treatment) are seated at the sitcom table having their brekkie. Dire enters, wearing her usual helmet of bleach and her face fixed in a rigid plaster of Paris scowl. Adele is nowhere to be seen. Apparently, according to Dire, the girl is sulking upstairs because of the events that happened the other evening. ‘She’s still on hunger strike,’ announces Dire, sarcastically.

Marty, too, is unsympathetic. ‘I’ll give her hunger strike,’ he swears, grimly.

The Plank decides it’s about time someone stuck up for his sister. He informs Marty that the robbery that occurred the other evening wasn’t Adele’s fault.

The Blessed Would-Be Mother of All Hypocrites is shocked beyond belief at her stepson’s insouciance. Not Adele’s fault! She’d have the Plank know that Adele let a thief into the sitcom house - worse than that, TWO thieves! You’d think she’d have learned her lesson after Leo Johnson, finishes Dire, primly.

In a poor imitation of Adele, Dire flounces off. The Plank, who’s acting is improving in a minuscule fashion, glares after her and mutters something about his stepmother turning everything into a row. His patience is wearing thin rapidly.

Marty reminds him that Dire’s on edge because she’s about to start her next phase of - guess what? - IVF treatment. (YAWN. Time to have a nap). She’s going for tests later that day to determine what point of cycle she’s in at the moment. (In my opinion, she’s in permanent spin).

The Plank is less than impressed. Oh, well, that explains it then, he remarks, sarcastically. Everybody’s got to be on their best behaviour, as St Dire’s about to start another IVF phase. He actually tells Marty that he’s sick of having to listen to the wailings, trials and tribulations of St Dire and her quest to have a baby. Since the robbery, she’s been bloody unbearable, bleating on about the thing. He wants Marty to know that there are four other people in this house that are currently being robbed big-time by Dire’s obsession. (HOORAY! Where’s Gepetto! The Wooden Puppet has become a real-live boy!)

Jerome and Tim are walking toward The Parade, having a conversation. It does not reveal where, exactly, Jerome is living at the moment, nor does it concern any relation Jerome might have with regard to residents of the Close or The Parade. Jerome is accusing Tim of being low enough to rob neighbours, referring to the fact that Tim is currently in possession of the articles taken illegally from the Murray home.

Tim corrects Jerome. He didn’t rob from the Murrays. He robbed from the robbers. Jerome reckons that won’t make any difference if The Plank should find out. Tim is dismissive. The Plank wouldn’t mind. Anyway, Tim did the family a favour. He reckons that right now Dire’s making a long list of things to buy with the insurance money. He chides Jerome for acting like an old granddad, but asks him not to tell Emily what he did.

Mrs O’Leary, meanwhile, is paying an early morning visit to her sister, the divinely pre-Raphaelite Miss Shadwick, natural successor as resident sweet ingenue, following the recent marriage of Mrs Farnham.

Emily is bragging to Nikki that she hopes to fly to Brussels soon to visit Margi. Brussels? Laughs Nikki. Where did Emily hope to find the money for the airfare? Two hundred pounds? (Hang on a minute, aren’t there flights to Brussels for about fifty quid?) Was Tim going to rob some granny’s handbag? She jokes. No, wait a moment, she corrects herself, she forgot. Tim was a gun-runner.

Emily admonishes Nikki, reminding her that Tim’s the love of her life (as long as he keeps her in style). Tim, she informs her older sister, is paying legitimately for her fare. Anyway, she doesn’t care where the money comes from, as long as it gets her to visit her mother.

Jessie enters the room at that moment, curious to know about what or whom the girls were talking. She asks hopefully if they are alone in the house, and on finding out that Do-A-Little isn’t about, her face is crestfallen.

Emily jokes to her grandmother that she was just telling Nikki that Tim had found a job robbing old grannies’ handbags, but then complains that Nikki had been slagging off Tim, basically because Nikki didn’t have a fella of her own. (There you go, jealousy again).

Jessie smiles mysteriously and hints that Nikki’s present singles situation could be about to change. She ran into Jerome the other day, she says coyly, and Jerome is dead keen on getting back together with Nikki.

Over on The Parade, the working day has begun for Nisha the Naughty Nurse (‘A Whore by any other name could not compete ...’). Poor pitiful, smelly, stinky, sadsack Katie, however, is still trudging self-pityingly around the flat in her pyjamas. Nisha reminds her of the time, asking if she plans on coming to work in her pj’s. Katie isn’t keen on going to work, but Nisha says that she had covered for her enough recently, and people were beginning to lose patience with her prolonged inability to cope. Katie, in short, had to return to work.

Nikki is shocked at Jessie’s announcement about Jerome, especially since Jessie has revealed that Jerome had actually called round the bungalow. Why did he come around here? She wants to know. Emily is more forthright. She hopes that Jessie told him distinctly where to go.

Jessie glances with raised eyebrows at her younger granddaughter. Shouldn’t Madam be off to work? Emily cheekily replies that she was just getting comfy at her Nan’s. Jess rejoinders that if Emily is that comfortable, perhaps she’d like to give Jess a hand with a spring clean, and Emily jumps quickly to her feet, suddenly mindful that she shouldn’t be late for work. As she departs, Jess asks if Emily can book a cut and blow-dry for Jess the following week. (Gotta look young for luurve).

Emily shouts a warning to Nikki not to even contact Jerome. Nikki shouts back that she has no intention of doing so.

At the Dixons’, Ron Dikko is unwell. He’s been suffering from chest pains and is being ministered to by that other sublime hypocrite, Anthea, his wife. Ron’s been suffering from chest pains ever since seeing his solicitor the previous day. The man, he says, literally put Ron through the wringer again and again, going over and over his story. Ron was in such a state when he left the solicitor’s office, that he had to have a puff on his inhaler. Anthea reckons that the solicitor is only trying to do his job, trying to see if Ron slips up in anyway regarding his story. (Maybe she’s secretly hoping that the continuous hashing and re-hashing of events will get the better of Ron’s health, the cow).

Ron wants a lie down, but Anthea is trying to persuade him to go to the medical centre in The Parade and get checked out. Ron adamantly refuses. Doesn’t Anthea realise that Katie Rogers works there? That’s all he needs is another run-in with that one. Anthea soothes him, saying that she’s already rung ahead to the centre. She was told that Katie wasn’t in today, and when she heard that, she booked an appointment so Ron could get checked out. (Is she lying, malicious or what?)

Jessie is still battling in Jerome’s corner in her efforts to deflect Nikki’s attention from Do-A-Little. Jerome WANTS to see Nikki, she cajoles the girl. Well, sniffs Nikki, she has nothing to say to Jerome.

Jessie dismisses Nikki’s attitude, reminding Nikki that Jerome was aware now that he had made a mistake in his treatment of her in the past. A mistake! Exclaims Nikki. He was carrying on behind her back with that Nisha one for months! Hardly a mistake!

Jessie assumes her Christian outlook and lectures Nikki on forgiveness, but Nikki, quite rightly in this instance, refuses to listen. In fact, she declares that she never wants to go near Jerome again in her life. But Jess is persistant. What harm would a night out with the lad do? And then, Jessie tries a bit of psychology, intimating that perhaps Nikki is afraid to face Jerome, because she still has feelings for him.

Why is her grandmother trying to persuade her to get back with Jerome? Nikki asks, in exasperation. And as for forgiveness, Jessie was one of the first baying for Jerome’s blood when all that brouhaha with Nisha surfaced a few months back. She sure is singing a different tune now. Jessie soothes her, telling Nikki that she just wants Nikki to be sure of herself. She doesn’t want the girl to spend the rest of her life, looking back on her relationship with Jerome and wondering all along if he were the one for her.

Nikki is still dubious (and she’d be even more dubious if she knew her grandmother’s motives behind this argument). Jessie reminds Nikki, in a senseless piece of illogic, that Jerome is still the same lad and nothing had changed about him from the way he was BEFORE Nisha (or during and after, for that matter). Nikki should be mature enough to give him another chance.

Back at Sitcom House, Dire Murray is preparing to leave for her interminably boring IVF appointment. She can’t find her handbag, however, and she searches frantically for it throughout the lounge, looking behind chairs, cushions etc. Marty joins in the search, asking where she last left it. By the window, she replies, and suddenly the thought occurs to her. The bag must have been taken by Bullethead and Baby Bro Thugfest during their robbery.

What did he have in it? Questions Marty. How much money, precisely? (Money? I thought the Murrays were skint). Only about fifteen or twenty quid she says and her keys. But she wasn’t worried about that. (Not worried about having your house keys stolen from your house, you moron? You’re skint! And you’ve just virtually given free access to your house to some scallies, and NOW you have to pay out big-time to get your locks changed).

It’s only money, she says, and the insurance will cover the loss of that. No, what’s really eating the Madonna of the Bleached Head is that the bag contained the photies of the scan showing the foetus that Dire miscarried. The only photies of the only baby she looks likely to ever have conceived. Boo-hoo. The tear taps turn on full blast as Marty takes her in his arms.

Nothing else matters, she sobs, except those pictures. Now she only has memories. (Pardon me, but how can you have memories of a child that never existed except in larvae form?) Talk about Ron Dikko over-reacting! Geesh!

Nikki Shadwick is making a telephone call, as Jessie enters the room, carrying - oh no! - a lethal weapon ... A laundry basket. She pauses to ascertain to whom her granddaughter is speaking. Confirmed that she’s conversing with Jerome, Jessie smiles. (It’s good that Nikki called him, else she would have felt the full force of the laundry basket against her head).

Jess has no qualms about eavesdropping as Nikki reluctantly suggests to Jerome that they meet for a drink. Jessie voices her approval of Nikki’s behaviour when the conversation ends, but Nikki is quick to remind her grandmother that Jerome is only getting one more chance.

Christy Murray sits in the office of the bar, meticulously plucking excess nose hair. Tim opens the door quietly and watches this procedure for a moment, surprising Christy with the observation that he’s missed a hair. Annoyed at being taken unawares, Christy demands what Tim wants. Tim re-phrases the question by asking Christy what HE wants. Tim has some gear and Christy might be interested.

Ron Dikko stands at the reception desk in the Walk-In Clinic. Surprisingly, the place seems full of patients, waiting to be seen. Usually, you have to pay people to come in for a cup of tea. No one is to be found on reception, however, and Ron is lamenting the state of the place to another fellow patient, whilst clutching his chest.

Suddenly, poor pitiful, miserable, sad, smelly Katie emerges from the rear room. Ron is shocked at her presence, and she is shocked to see him there. Ron remarks openly that he was told that Katie wasn’t at work today. She ignores him, but he reminds her that he has an appointment to see a doctor, and he’s suffering severe chest pains.

Katie tells him, curtly, to take a seat. There’s a queue of people waiting to be seen.

Ron reiterates that he’s not come as a walk-in patient. He has an appointment, and he is having chest pains. He needs to be seen now. (This is not being over-bearing. Ron knows his status as a heart patient. He had booked an appointment, he’s a patient with a history of serious heart problems, and he is entitled to be seen without delay, especially as he appears to be in distress).

Katie, even more curtly, orders him to take a seat. A nurse will attend to him shortly.

Ron objects. He has an appointment. He has chest pains, and he doesn’t want to waste his time being seen by a nurse. He needs to see a doctor ... And now. Is Katie trying to stop him from seeing a doctor?

Katie shouts at Ron now to take a seat, but again (and rightly so) Ron objects. By now, the people waiting to be seen are openly staring at the performance, especially the open rudeness and hostility on Katie’s part. Ron points out to her that he could have a heart attack at anytime, right here in the waiting room.

‘I wish,’ snarls Katie.

The waiting patients openly gasp at her attitude, and Ron is close to going ballistic. When he recovers his power of speech, he informs Katie that he could have her sacked for her attitudes and remarks.

Katie shrugs insolently. ‘You’re confusing me with someone who gives a damn,’ she remarks, to the abject consternation of the assembled waiting room. To add insult to injury, she adds that she’s showing Ron the same amount of consideration that Ron showed the sainted Clint the night Ron shot him down in cold blood. Ron was nothing but a callous murderer, she exclaims to all and sundry.

Hearing the commotion, Nisha appears from the examining rooms at the rear of the surgery, naturally wanting to know what was happening. Ron wastes no time in telling Nisha that he was patently being refused treatment by Katie. He was suffering from chest pains and needed to be seen. Katie tries to defend herself by telling Nisha that Ron started the altercation, but Ron replies that it was Katie who first had the go at him.

Trying to restore a modicum of order, Nisha calmly takes Ron in hand and leads him toward the exam rooms, whilst telling Katie to return to her desk.

Now it’s Marty Murray who’s having a rummage in the sitcom lounge. The Plank enters and watches his father scurry for a moment, before asking him what he’s looking for. Marty is looking for the Contents Insurance documents. He has to make a complete list of items stolen in the burglary in order to make a claim.

The Plank reminds him that he’s already given a list of items stolen to the police, and they, in turn, have given him a crime number. Marty advises The Plank that if he makes a claim on the few items taken now, the premiums will go sky high. He’s compiling a more composite list.

‘You mean you’re planning a fiddle,’ observes The Plank, whose prolonged absence may have been to remove the sawdust from his head and replace it with a reconditioned brain. What would Dire say to that?

‘Everyone does it,’ says Marty. And anyway, Dire won’t know. And speaking of Dire, he adds, he’d appreciate it if The Plank would go a bit easy on his stepmother for the moment. Why, at this very moment she was down at the hospital getting the results of further IVF tests.

The Plank, needless to say, is noticeably not impressed and openly bored with the subject of IVF. He’s more than that, he’s annoyed. This obsession of Dire’s is costing the family a mint and breaking Marty financially. Couldn’t his dad see that?

Marty objects. Dire isn’t the only one who wants a baby, he reminds The Plank, loyally but unconvincingly.

Oh come on, scoffs Plank. Can Marty honestly say he wants, much less, can afford another child? Here’s old Mart, breaking his back to earn enough money to spend a fortune on a non-existent kid that might never happen, when he has two others whose financial needs he’s ignoring, waiting there at home.

Marty looks uncomfortable, but tries to fob his eldest off by saying that Ant and Adele are OK about the IVF.

OK? Laughs Plank. Why, they’re afraid to ask for as little as a pair of cheap trainers, because if they do, they know they’ll get IVF and an ensuing lecture on the latest techniques rammed down their throats.

Marty promises Plank that this attempt at IVF is the absolute last chance for Dire. If this attempt fails, there will be no more.

The Plank gives his father an openly sceptical look as if to say, ‘Yeah, sure.’ (Who NOW says that Dire Murray isn’t a selfish, obsessive bitch?)

Emily, spying Nikki on The Parade, runs from the Salon to greet her sister. Where is Nikki going? She wants to know. Nikki replies cryptically that she’s only going to the bar for a drink. Emily susses that this means Nikki has agreed to meet Jerome. Why did she want to do that, Em asks belligerantly.

Nikki assures her that this is just a drink and just to have a talk.

That’s not good enough, argues Emily. She voices the opinion that Jerome is nothing but a dirty rat, after the way he betrayed and humiliated Nikki.

‘And of course Tim can do no wrong?’ Counters Nikki.

Emily replies that at least she can trust Tim. Nikki reassures her sister once more that she’s only going to have a drink with Jerome. It’s no big deal.

Inside the bar, Jerome is waiting for her. Nikki apologises for being late, but Jerome jokes that that aspect of Nikki’s character hasn’t changed. As the pair seek a table, Ron enters the bar. He approaches Jimmy, who’s working his shift, and asks if Jim’s seen Anthea. (Now why would Anthea appear in the bar?)

Jimmy replies that he hasn’t seen Anthea, but notices that Ron isn’t looking well. Ron relates the tale of his chest pains and how Anthea had made an appointment at the clinic for him. But when he got there, Katie Rogers tried to refuse him treatment.

Jimmy asks about Ron’s condition, but Ron says the doctor said the pains were down to stress. It’s no wonder, says Jim, with what you have on your plate. That’s not the point, Ron continues, and relates the events that occurred with Katie. Why, she was ranting on as if Ron were some sort of monster.

Jim reminds Ron that Katie’s been through a lot lately, herself. But Ron has a trump card to play. After he’d seen the doctor, he went directly into see the practice manager and lodged a formal complaint about Katie’s attitude. With any luck, she’ll get the sack. He reckons that will be the last anyone will see of her around there.

At that moment, Nisha is on the phone to the practice manager, herself, and it looks as though she’s on the end of a rollicking, although she’s weakly trying to defend Katie’s actions. Nisha points out to the faceless voice that Katie has been under a lot of pressure lately. (Too bad. Your personal life is separate from your professional one. If you can’t manage that, you need to sort yourself out - away from work). Yes, Nisha realises the importance of the receptionist’s attitude and demeanor. She finishes her conversation.

A sullen Katie sits nearby. When Nisha finishes, Katie asks petulantly what the ‘witch’ had to say. Nisha explains that the practice manager wants a written report from Nisha as to what occurred and one as well from Ron Dixon.

‘So that’s it then,’ mutters Katie. ‘I’m sacked.’

Not at all, says Nisha. She’s explained to the practice manager that Ron started the altercation. (WRONG WRONG WRONG. Ron was within his rights as a patient with a history of severe heart disease. He should not have had to draw the medical centre staff’s attention to his plight. That was a failing of the centre, not Ron. That Katie behaved as she did, was an abject failure. That Nisha should defend Katie’s actions by saying that Ron started the fracas, is not only unprofessional, it’s puerile. With attitudes like this, it’s not hard to see why the US won’t tolerate a socialised medicine scheme).

But, Nisha continues, the practice manager would still like to see Katie. Seeing poor pitiful Katie’s woeful, self-pitying face sag even lower, Nisha suggests the panacea of all would-be alcoholics: a drink at the bar. Katie refuses. Nisha tries to persuade her, saying that it might help. Katie assures her that she’s coping well enough. Nisha thinks otherwise. A night out might help.

Katie blasts Nisha verbally out of the room with the rough side of her even rougher tongue. She wants to be left alone, she cries.

As Nisha skulks from the room, it’s easy to see that her philanthropy towards Katie, for which she gets scant reward or appreciation, is wearing noticeably thin.

Interlude: Marty Murray, phone in hand, begins to speak to his insurance company about making a claim.

As she leaves the surgery, looking totally fed up, Nisha is hailed by The Plank. As he greets her, he asks if she’s OK. He meant to keep in touch with her. He wanted to apologise for that night he had to dash off and rescue Adele, leaving Nisha to her own devices.

‘You mean that night you left me swinging?’ Says Nisha.

Plank begins a chat-up, by remarking that Nisha looks as though she could use a drink (as you do. Wow. I’m swayed already). She admits she’s had a bad day. Well, then, he’s just the man to treat her to a lemmo and crisps.

Nisha can’t help but smile. She thought The Plank was skint. Plank explains he has some dosh from doing a few ‘foreigns’. Nisha is still dubious. What about Plank’s numerous family commitments? Plank assures her that there will be no further family commitments.

Jerome and Nikki sit inside the bar, having a talk. Who would ever have thought, marvels Jerome, that the two of them might be going out again together? Well, Nikki jokes, she had a choice: not to talk to him or just to go out with him. Jerome remarks that he’s surprised that he’s even on speaking terms with Nikki’s nan. And there Jessie was telling Jerome that Nikki would be up for going for a drink with him.

Nikki looks surprised for a moment, reckoning that her nan is an interfering old bat. (Not far from wrong there, Nik). But, Jerome reminds her, at least Jessie got them talking again. Nikki laughs, but her laugh is cut short as the Naughty Nurse and the Plank enter the bar together. Nikki notices that Jerome is eyeing Nisha with Plank.

Poor pitiful, stinking, steamy, smelly, greasy, filthy Katie returns to her room in the flat. She sits on the side of the bed she didn’t share with the sainted Clint but did share with Gobby, and opens a litre bottle of vodka. She pours a stiff glassful and downs it like a trooper.

In the back of The Parade, Tim displays the ‘gear’ he has on offer to Christy. It still remains in the boot of Bullethead Thugfest’s car, which Tim still has in his own safekeeping. Christy comments on the owner of the car. Tim tells him the car belongs to a mate. And the gear? Does that belong to Tim’s mate too?

Tim confirms that it does, but it’s all kosher stuff. It’s surplus stock from his mate’s market stall downtown. Christy eyes the stuff suspiciously, remarking that Marty has a telly just like the one in the boot. (Sorry, but didn’t Bullethead and Baby Bro ‘leg it’ with the Murrays’ telly after Tim had absconded with the car?)

Christy looks professionally dubious. Hmmmmmmm ... Stuff like videos and the like had low resale values and were hard to shift. Second hand gear like that usually does go on the cheap. Christy thinks. Tim offers him the gear for £160. Christy feigns disinterest. Take it or leave it, snaps Tim. If you don’t want it, I’ll flog it elsewhere.

Christy warns Tim not to be so hasty. He didn’t say he was THAT disinterested. They begin to haggle. Christy offers £100. Tim wants £160. Christy offers £120, and Tim lowers his price to £140. They shake on the deal.

Back inside the bar, Nikki and Jerome are eyeing The Plank and Nisha, and The Plank and Nisha are eyeing Nikki and Jerome. Nisha notices the commotion they are causing with the other couple and comments on having an audience. The Plank wants to know if it bothers her that Jerome and Nikki were here. Not at all, bluffs Nisha. After all, it was only a brief fling that she had with Jerome at best. She was glad he appeared to be back with Nikki. She just wished he would stop staring at her.

Nikki notices Jerome’s obsessive staring too. She’s mightily put out by it. She remarks sourly that she came here for this drink because she thought there might be a tiny chance that the two might have something worth salvaging in their relationship. She didn’t come here to watch Jerome make eyes at Nisha all evening. Anyway, says Nikki, it looks as though Nisha is after the Plank now.

Jerome admits he feels uncomfortable in Nisha’s presence. (I’ll bet he does. It’s good he’s sitting down then, innit?) And Nikki observes wryly that Nisha still appears to have a hold over Jerome as well.

The Plank has a wry observation to make, himself. He’s astounded that Jerome could find so much to stare about. There was nothing going on between him and Nisha. Nisha suggests that The Plank remedy that and give her a kiss. The Plank plants a chaste kiss on Nisha’s cheek, but that’s not good enough. She grabs the lad by the shoulders and executes a full-on snog.

Jerome’s staring now to the point that he’s all but ignoring Nikki. That’s it. She’s had enough. Rising, she announces that she didn’t agree to see Jerome only to sit there all night watching Jerome ogle Nurse Ratchet. Nothing had changed about Jerome at all. And, like her sister before her, she flounces out of the bar.

Timily are back in their cosy extension at Hotel Corkhill. Tim has a surprise for Emily, as she asks where he’s been all this time. Deftly, he produces the airline tickets. Emily is thrilled. But that’s not all. He’s also bought her a swank new tacky bracelet that she’d been admiring. And THAT’S not all. He’s bought the pair of them WAP phones, Tim’s being water-proof and all, so they could ditch their own mobiles and text and phone each other more often when Emily was abroad. (How the hell much money did he come upon?)

Emily is happy, but warns Tim to be careful. Tim assures her that he will. He even has a job interview lined up for tomorrow as a security job, he says. Now, Emily had better hurry. She’s due to be at the airport in the next couple of hours. But Emily has other plans in mind to fill her time as she and Tim collapse onto the bed. (YAWN ... Er, has anyone bothered to inform Margi that Emily’s coming to visit?)

Back at the Shadwick Hiltons’. Nikki has told Jessie everything about the failed evening. Jessie apologises, but Nikki demurs, saying her nan was only trying to help and truly meant well. It was Nikki’s own fault, the girl reasons, she was just weak and pathetic for even agreeing to go out with Jerome. She should never have gone anywhere near him. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more Nikki was tempted to take Do-A-Little up on his offer and go out with him. Jessie’s face is an absolute picture of jealousy and panic at this revelation. Clearly the funniest scene of the night!

As Christy finishes shifting the last of Tim’s gear into the bar office, he notices Nisha taking her leave of his nephew. She thanks The Plank for the drink and gives him another full-on snog as a means of saying good-bye. Christy approaches The Plank, appreciative of his nephews manoeuvres. He asks The Plank if he knows anyone in the market for another telly.

As a matter of fact, says The Plank, he does. They lost their telly and video in a robbery on Friday night. Christy is shocked. Do they have any idea who did this? Yes, says Plank. A couple of mates of Tim whom Adele had met and let into the house. Realisation creeps over Christy and, without thinking, he exclaims, ‘I’ll kill him!’

Kill who? The Plank wants to know. Christy quickly amends his remark. He means he’d kill anyone who’d dare to rob from his house. But not to worry, he vows, someone will catch up with them.

Marty Murray is still rooted to his sitcom chair, but in a hopeless and wordless sort of way. Dire enters, having arrived from her endless IVF testing. Before she notices anything different about Marty’s demeanor, she starts wittering eight to the bar about her two favourite subjects - herself and IVF.

Everything’s going according to plan, she gabbles. She’ll be fertile in a day or so and they can plant the embryos then ... Yadda yadda yadda yadda IVF IVF babies me me me me me me me me me ...

Suddenly, she notices Marty isn’t oohing and cooing responsively to her rantings. What’s wrong? She asks.

Marty informs her that they won’t be able to make a claim for the items stolen. According to the insurance company, their claim is invalid. The lads didn’t forcibly enter the house. They were ‘invited guests’, as it were. There will be no pay-out.

Dire is struck dumb at the thought. Why, it will costs hundreds to replace what was taken, thousands (a cheap portable and a video ... £140 at the most for the pair!). They couldn’t do it. They simply couldn’t afford to do it. (Well, yes, they could, Dire, if you weren’t such a selfish sow, but we won’t talk about that now ... Save it for another time).