The summary may be a wee bit shorter tonight than usual; there was a major problem with the remote control for Television Number 2 in the Watts’s household tonight. But that matters not - because the summary is going to prove to be more comment than commentary, as it was arguably one of the most boring pieces of nothing ever to be shown on Brookside of late.
I’ve spent the past few weeks moaning about how ineffectual Eastenders has become and how Brookside should take advantage of its lull to step into its shoes and - wham! Bam! Thank you, ma’am! - Eastenders packs a punch with two BRILLIANT episodes about Zoe ‘the stick insect’ Slater finding out that Kat was her mother. Now, these two are probably my least favourite characters on the show, after mustachioed Mel, but boy, were they watchable! And Tuesday’s brilliant head-to-head between Zoe and Kat put Brookside firmly to shame. No surprises then that the man ULTIMATELY responsible for Eastenders these day is none other than the wonderful Mal Young, he who brought Brookside to such heights before he was dumped from a great one.
In the aftermath of Tim’s unsuccessful break-in at the Murrays’, the unfortunate culprit, having been decked by The Plank, lies unconscious in the sitcom kitchen at Sitcom House. Plank lurks warily in the darkened background. Suddenly, a second figure enters the house for a nose-around. It’s Jimmy! The maniac-cum-Resident Sage is also psychic as well it seems (how else could his sudden appearance during a planned break-in be explained?)
He enters the room and upon seeing Tim, lying in a prone position, he kneels urgently beside the lad. At that moment, the Plank emerges from the darkness and starts to lunge toward Jimmy, who turns and shouts his identity to Plank. Jimmy also shouts Tim’s identity to Plank. Plank objects at Jimmy’s restraining him from hitting out at Tim, quite rightly demanding to know what the hell the two of them were doing in Sitcom House when nary a Murray was to be seen.
Jimmy tries to calm The Plank down, as Tim slowly comes around, rubbing his sore left jaw. Jimmy is frantically trying to tell The Plank that it’s OK that Tim’s here, that Marty knew about the situation, but the Plank finds that hard to believe. Jimmy finds it equally hard to believe that Marty hasn’t told his oldest son about the insurance scam.
At that moment, Tim’s mobile rings and he gropes for the phone, which is lying close by on the floor. The Plank admits that it was the sound of the mobile ringing that alerted him to the fact that someone was in the house. Tim answers the phone. It’s Emily, demanding to know why he hadn’t responded to her earlier text message. Tim quickly lies, saying that he fell asleep and tries to get Emily off the phone.
Right about this time, Christy and Marty Murray are still sitting at the bar, Marty looking increasingly more and more nervous. Christy is trying to calm him down, when Dire appears, announcing that it’s time to go home. Marty rises to accompany her, and Christy invites himself along for a nightcap.
The Plank, obtuse as ever, adamantly refuses to believe that Marty even allowed Tim to break into the house and announces that he’s going to call the police. He marches determinedly into the sitcom lounge and dials ‘999’. The number rings twice, before Jimmy slams the phone down, asking Plank if anyone had answered. Plank says no one had answered, and Jimmy reminds him that 999 calls can be traced. He was NOT to ring the police. That was what Marty was supposed to do. It would spoil everything if the Plank rang now before the intended victims returned home.
Plank refuses to be placated. In short, he doesn’t believe Jimmy at all. He dials 999 again and again, Jimmy grabs the phone from his hand and slams the receiver down, as Tim wonders woozily into the lounge. At that moment, a key is heard in the lock. As the Murrays’ enter, Jimmy frantically drags Tim and Plank, his hand over Plank’s mouth.
The Murrays enter. Dire witters about how much she’s looking forward to a hot bath and a good night’s sleep, whilst Marty stares in disbelief at the sitcom lounge, which is neat and tidy. He was expecting the usual detritus from a burglary, but there appears to be nothing. Dire dashes upstairs, telling Marty to put the kettle on, as Marty turns to Christy and hisses at him about his apparent failure.
Elsewhere, the Naughty Nurse returns early from a night out. She enters the flat, chattering to an unseen, unseen and unconscious poor pitiful, sad, drunken, sodden, pissed Katy. Nisha is complaining about all the flotsam and jetsam at loose ends and trying to pull in the town centre that night. As she witters on aimlessly and selfishly, we are treated to the sight of poor pitiful Katie’s hind quarters lying prone on the bathroom floor.
As Nisha enters, she is shocked wordless. Poor pitiful whingeing, whining Katie lies on the floor, surrounded by litter and her face streaked with vomit. Nisha’s medical training quickly kicks in, as she puts Katie in the recovery position and feels for a pulse. Thank God, there IS a pulse. If Nisha had to give Katie the kiss of life, it might very well have made Nisha barf too. She continues to shout and talk to Katie, trying to get her to regain consciousness. She shouts asking if Katie’s taken any pills, but Katie doesn’t respond.
Over at the Shadwick Hiltons’, Ray sits polishing his brogues, whilst a distinctly dissatisfied Jessie sits in the foreground, trying to read a book, but clearly not concentrating. Ray announces that he’s going to bed. Jessie grumbles that it’s only ten to nine, for goodness sakes. Ray reminds Jessie that every hour spent sleeping BEFORE midnight is worth two AFTER midnight. Jessie is less than impressed, rolling her eyes heavenward.
‘You know,’ she remarks, caustically, ‘I can remember saying the same thing to my Greg when he was a lad ... I didn’t believe it then and I don’t believe it now.’
Ray tells her that he’s sorry she didn’t enjoy her afternoon at the bowls’ club. Jessie tells Ray that she thought the company there was a bit too staid for her enjoyment, as well as the sport, itself. Ray then tries to explain to Jessie that when one is retired, a lot can be said for gentle relaxation and sport. Jessie surrenders any argument and simply tells Ray that she’s not really that much into sport in general.
Poor Ray trudges off.
A disconcerted Marty Murray and Christy amble into the sitcom kitchen, where they find evidence that Tim HAS broken in. There’s a broken pain of glass in the conservatory door and several knicknacks have been broken as well. They are speculating as to what has happened, as they are clearly puzzled. The only premise they can surmise is that Tim must have been disturbed ... But by whom?
At that moment, Diane storms disgustedly into the kitchen, having discovered that their bedroom upstairs has been trashed. They’ve been burgled AGAIN! She exclaims. Looking around the kitchen and conservatory area, she sees the fellas have discovered the same thing.
Oh, my, Christy tries to act shocked. This is terrible. Have they taken anything?
Diane is more disgusted than angry, as she dials 999. There wasn’t much left to take, she replies. She logs the call, and discusses with Marty the fact that this looks like the work of kids doing it for a lark. As she’s telling Marty her opinion, we see the blue light of a bizzie car, flashing through the window. Diane remarks, with surprise, how quickly the police have responded.
By now, Jimmy, Tim and The Plank are ensconced in the kitchen at Hotel Corkhill. Plank is still finding it hard to believe that Marty would organise a burglary in his own home, but he finally accepts it; just as Jimmy finally realises that Plank was kept in the dark about the event. Reluctantly, Plank is forced to accept Jimmy’s explanation; and Jimmy reiterates how important it is that Plank play along with the ruse.
Plank demands to know who knew about this scam. Jimmy explains that Christy thought of the scam, and Marty agreed to it. Tim reveals that Christy agreed to pay Tim to break into Sitcom House, trash it up a bit and leave. How much is Christy paying Tim, asks Plank.
‘Fifty sheets,’ says Tim, a bit proudly.
Plank snorts. ‘You come cheap then,’ he remarks. Tim reminds Plank that Christy has yet to pay him the money owed him as well. Plank doesn’t hold out much hope of Tim ever seeing the money, and he goes onto apologise to Tim for decking him.
At first Tim tries to act big and say that he wasn’t hurt, but once Jimmy reminds the lad that he was out cold, Tim admits that Plank has a vicious right. Jimmy points out that Plank is a trained boxer, and Plank advises Tim to use a packet of frozen peas as an ice pack.
They have noticed that the police car has left Sitcom House, and Jimmy instructs Plank to have a little walk around before making his entrance, and make it seem real. But Plank tells Jimmy that he’s going to have to have a few words with Marty and Uncle Christy for keeping him in the dark, as he leaves Hotel Corkhill.
Nisha is still trying to rouse the hapless Katie from the bathroom floor. She slaps Katie’s cheeks and repeatedly calls her name in an attempt to get her to respond. Nisha rises and disappears for a few moments into the lounge area. Suddenly she dashes back in, holding an empty tablet bottle and starts smacking and shaking Katie once again.
She’s found this empty bottle, she shouts. Has Katie taken these tablets? There were several tablets all over the lounge floor, she says. Still Katie doesn’t respond. Nisha implores Katie to wake up. How many tablets has she taken, she demands. Slowly, Katie’s eyelids flutter and she groans. Nisha continues to shake her slightly, asking her if she took any tablets. Katie groans again and turns onto her side. It’s becoming obvious to Nisha that Katie just wants to continue with a drunken sleep. Finally, she shouts again, asking her if she’s taken tablets.
Katie mutters sourly that she didn’t take any and tries to snuggle down on the tiled floor for a snooze.
Jessie Shadwick is standing over an extremely steamy iron, lovingly folding a freshly pressed shirt, which obviously belongs to Do-A-Little. As she tenderly folds it, she pauses for a moment to gaze at it fondly, as the steam from the iron rises around her, emphasising her state of arousal. She gently strokes the fabric, unaware that she’s being watched sceptically by Ray.
Ray tetchily remarks on the way Jessie runs around after Do-A-Little, doing his washing, his ironing, fixing special meals. It was more than a normal landlady would do for a lodger, he remarks. Sometimes, he feels as though Jessie thinks more of Do-A-Little than she does Ray. Jessie, not surprisingly, scoffs at that observation.
The police have left the Murrays, and Christy and Marty sit edgily on the sitcom sofa. They discuss the break-in. Christy wants to know when Marty is going to put the claim in, but Marty is having second thoughts about the whole ordeal. Having the police nosing around again was bad enough, he says. Especially that song and dance they gave about two 999 calls being made from the house phone BEFORE Diane logged hers! He wonders if it’s worth it.
Christy eggs him on. Marty CAN’T back out now. Why, this scam could be the end of all his financial troubles. Dire enters at that moment. She, too, is puzzled by the police’s revelation that two emergency calls had been made from the house prior to hers.
Marty and Christy sit wide-eyed on the couch, in a bad impersonation of someone caught in a lie. Marty tries to persuade her that perhaps the emergency services made a mistake. Dire looks suspiciously at the two men. They seem awfully calm about this sort of thing, but Christy assures her that the pair are still in shock. Er, by the way, Dire WOULD be making a claim on the insurance, wouldn’t she?
A claim? Was Christy being serious? Nothing was taken, Dire replies.
But, Marty points out, there WAS damage done to the property. Dire responds that, besides the broken pane of glass in the conservatory door, nothing of value was damaged or taken. The insurance wouldn’t even cover the door - that would have to be paid for by their excess. She stomps off angrily. As she does so, Marty hisses at Christy: ‘This was supposed to get me out of schtook. Now it only looks as though I’m going to be out of pocket as well!’
Christy squirms uncomfortably.
Next door, Jimmy is fiddling about with the computer, writing some sort of large script on the screen. We see the word ‘DON’T’ in extremely large case. Tim enters with a bag of some sort of frozen vegetables held against his face. He winces with pain. He wonders why the police haven’t been around to question Tim and Jimmy. Jimmy tells him that the bizzies obviously have no suspects. Anyway, if they did show up, Jimmy was here on the computer all evening and Tim was here as well.
Jimmy feels no sympathy for him. Tonight, he informs Tim, the lad came up against the risk all robbers take - someone waiting in the dark for him. Jimmy lectures Tim about his amateurish style. Of course, the Sage has been there, done that, read the book, bought the tee-shirt and seen the movie. Tonight Tim learned a valuable lesson. NEVER break into a house with your mobile phone turned on. Look what happened tonight. Tim just got decked. It could have been worse. He could have had a run-in with someone like Ron Dikko and end up as toast.
The second thing Tim had to do, if he was going on the rob, is ALWAYS anticipate the worst and have a contingency plan, an escape route, worked out before hand. Jimmy clicks onto the print icon on his computer and the fastest inkjet printer in the West chugs out a message to Tim: ‘DON’T GET CAUGHT’.
That’s the first credo Tim has to live by, Jimmy says, handing the message to the lad. Tim should tape that up on his bedroom wall. He clicks onto the print icon again, and a red-printed message emerges: ‘IF YOU DO GET CAUGHT, DON’T WHINGE.’
That was Jimmy’s second bit of advice. If Tim DOES get caught, don’t whinge about it, because he, himself, had made the decision to enter a life of crime.
Tim moans about his sore jaw. He wonders if it’s broken. That Plank sure could pack a punch. Jimmy informs Tim that if his jaw were broken, he wouldn’t be able to talk. Anyway, Tim observes, that this bag of frozen sprouts was doing nothing for the pain in his jaw.
‘Yer blert,’ says Jimmy, ‘Steve said to use a bag of frozen peas.’ (One is left in considerable doubt about the viability of Tim being a successful criminal).
Jessie Shadwick has finished her ironing and sits trying to read (and comprehend) a Heavy Metal music magazine, which obviously heralds the puerile taste of Do-A-Little. Ray pops his head around the door, to say for a second time that he was off for bed. Is Jessie coming?
Jess gives him a patently bored look, trying to be engrossed in her new-found interest. She remarks that she won’t be coming to bed for awhile yet. Ray trudges off again, and Jessie gives up on the magazine. She sits alone, a picture of aging sexual frustration.
Dire is beginning to clear up the mess of broken glass, as Christy and Marty remark that they’d best make a start on repairing that pane of glass. Dire is STILL puzzled about the two emergency phone calls. At that moment, Plank enters, playing the innocent.
He looks about, asking what happened. Robbed again, Dire says. Probably kids out for a lark. Nothing was taken. Smackheads, remarks Marty. Hey, wait a minute. It could have been one of the Moffatt’s mates back for revenge on Ron Dixon.
Dire brushes this aside. It doesn’t bear thinking about. But she tells Plank about the police informing them of two emergency phone calls made from their phone before Dire made hers reporting the burglary. She finishes sweeping up the glass and retires upstairs for the night.
When she leaves, Plank leans low over his dad and uncle and hisses that HE made the two 999 calls. The two men are shocked. What did Plank mean?
Plank explains that he disturbed Tim in the middle of his little scam. He thought at first that the house was genuinely being robbed; so he decked Tim. Then Jimmy came in and stopped him from doing further damage. Why, HE could have been up on a charge similar to that of Ron’s, had Jimmy not appeared. Thing was, he says, Jimmy told him all about the scam. Why didn’t Marty trust him enough to include him in on the plan?
Marty looks uncomfortable; he tries to explain to Plank that he didn’t want him involved in case something did go wrong. Well, says Plank, he IS involved now. But they would talk about that involvement tomorrow. Right now, he reminds his father and uncle, they had a pane of glass to mend; and he, Plank, was going to bed.
Marty and Christy exchange uneasy glances.
Nisha has put poor pitiful, vomit-faced Katie to bed. Not only that, but she has lit about ten fat chunky candles around the room, several framing the bedside picture of the sainted Clint, giving it the appearance of a shrine in a Catholic church. (Not a very bright thing for a nurse to do, especially if the drunk in question rises during the night for a call of nature and knocks over a candle). She informs Katie that she’s going to be there for her all night long. She wouldn’t leave her side, and she nestles down in a chair with a blanket in the corner of the room to attempt to go to sleep.
Katie lies on her side, her face still steaked with barf. She gazes silently at the picture for a few moments and then silently begins to cry.
And a singularly boring episode has come to an end. (Not before time too).
Summary © 2001 Marion Watts
Brookside and all related materials are © Mersey Television 1982-2001