Wednesday, 3rd October 2001

PASSING RESEMBLANCES

Remember those cheap cover versions of popular songs done by unknown artists on unknown labels at cutright prices back in the Seventies? The ones where the singers sounded ALMOST like the originals? Now, today we have the tribute bands and performers - people who cash in on almost looking like and almost sounding like bona fide celebrities? I think Brookside is cashing in on this.

For example, right after a certain producer arrived on the scene, REmily suffered a transformation - hair bleached even moreso, St Trinian’s-style school uniform, hair in braids. Of course, it was no coincidence that the top-selling video and song at that time was ‘Kiss Me, Baby, One More Time’, sung by the pneumatic Britney, dressed in a St Trinian’s-style uniform et al. Much was made about the PASSING RESEMBLANCE of Jennifer Ellison to Britney Spears. Much is still made of it.

Now Brookside’s done it again. I’ve sussed it. The new doctor irritatingly reminded me of someone annoying, and now I realise who it is ... Spikey, trendy hair, laddish manner, dozy all the time, slaps and rubs his tummy, tee shirts ... JAMIE OLIVER!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!

And there’s the rub ... Eastenders GETS THE Susan George, THE Cherie Lunghi, THE Goldie, THE Mike Reid, and will get THE Rula Lenska in the spring. Brookside hires actors who have PASSING RESEMBLANCES to stars of the moment - for Christ’s sake, two years ago, they even gave Claire Sweeney a Posh Spice Beckham haircut!!!!!

That’s Brookside ... The Poor Man’s Celebrity of soaps.

The episode opens with a pan shot of poor pitiful, stinky, sweaty, drunken Katie’s bedroom. In the corner we see The Naughty Nurse, huddled uncomfortably on a chair in the corner, covered by a blanket. It’s morning, and surprisingly, there hasn’t been a fire in the night, considering the fact that Nisha was stupid enough to light about sixteen candles, big, thick, fat ones, before retiring for the night.

However, when Nisha awakes, she is alone. No Katie. Bed empty and dishevelled. Nisha is concerned. She calls for Katie, as she gets up from her chair.

She walks into the hallway, still calling for Katie. Suddenly, from behind the bathroom door, there is a sound of a toilet flushing. Poor pitiful Katie emerges, looking the worse for wear. HOWEVER, her hair is swathed in a towel and she’s wearing a clean dressing gown. Apparently, she’s had her first shampoo and bath since that night in May when the patron saint of ducks quacked it. Now the whole flat needs fumigation.

As Katie stumbles from the loo, she remarks to Nisha that she feels as though she’s emerging from a bad dream.

At Sitcom House, The Plank and Marty are surveying the damage done to the conservatory door. The Plank is wielding a broom, sweeping up broken glass. Marty looks tired and mutters, ‘What a night!’ The Plank looks up from his sweeping and replies sarcastically, ‘What a nightmare!’

Next door at Hotel Corkhill, Tim groans and rolls over heavily in his bed, his jaw aching profoundly. As he opens his eyes, he sees Jimmy busily taping something on the outside of the door to the extension. Jimmy looks at the lad over his shoulder and comments on signs of life emanating from the bed. Tim moans that he feels like a
punchbag, and once again marvels at the strength in Plank’s right hand. (Well, what do you expect when you are hit by a plank of wood?)

Jimmy says he’s seen Plank out back with Marty, repairing their door. Tim was lucky, he says. He could have been caught red-handed, if the bizzies had arrived. Tim sits up and rubs his jaw, wondering if it’s broken.

Jimmy doesn’t reckon it’s broken, saying that Tim hadn’t stopped talking since receiving the blow. Jimmy shows Tim what he’s taped on the door. It’s the mantra from the night before: DON’T GET CAUGHT and IF YOU DO GET CAUGHT, DON’T WHINGE. Tim has to repeat that to himself everytime he leaves to go on the rob., advises the Sage.

Taking a break from their endeavours, Marty offers Plank a cup of coffee. Plank peers seriously at his father and informs him again that he was wrong not to have included Plank in this scam from the beginning. Did Marty not realise that Plank could have been stabbed last night?

Go on, scoffs Marty, never one to take anything seriously. Tim wasn’t a REAL burglar. Why would he have stabbed Plank? Plank points out that when he came upon Tim, Tim was in the kitchen. What if he had panicked, reached for a bread knife and lashed out at Plank?

Marty confesses that he thought he and Christy had thought the whole thing out properly. He wasn’t bargaining on Plank coming home early. The whole scam’s not right, says Plank. How could Marty look him in the face and do something like that, especially when all his life, Marty had done nothing but preach to his kids about right and wrong, law and order?

Marty manages to look shameful, and admits that he got carried away by the thought that Christy had the situation sussed. Just THINK what could have happened, says Plank. Marty could have lost his job AND Dire. But then, Plank continues perilously, Dire IS the reason for Marty scamming the insurance company, isn’t she? That damned IVF shit is just bleeding Marty dry, and she just wants more and more of the treatment.

Marty can’t answer his son’s allegations, basically because he knows that they are true. So he manages to look ALMOST (but not quite) as shameful as Jerome usually looks. Plank sniffily reminds his father once again that he should have told Plank what was going on. Marty lamely replies, yet again, that he didn’t want to involve Plank.

‘Well, I AM involved now,’ observes Plank, ‘whether I like it or not.’

Nisha places a glass of Alka Selzer down on the kitchen table in the foreground. It fizzes noisily. Katie holds her swathed head in her hands, moaning about the noise the selzer is making. Why couldn’t they invent a cure-all that didn’t fizz so loudly? Or a vodka that didn’t give one a hangover, replies Nisha, smugly. Katie feels like death warmed up.

She manages to raise her head long enough to look at Nisha. Why, exactly, did Nisha spend the night in Katie’s room, she wants to know. Did she think that Katie might top herself or choke on her vomit? There was no chance of that, Katie remarks. Why did Nisha put herself out for Katie the previous night? Was it because Nisha was a nurse and felt that she had to care for her in her state?

Well. Nisha replies, reluctantly, partly because of that, but not really.

Why? Asks Katie again.

Nisha is brutally truthful. ‘Because I’m a selfish bitch,’ she confesses. ‘And I simply wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if anything had happened to you last night and I’d been in the house.’ (In other words, it wouldn’t have done my street cred nor my professional career as a carer any good if you had topped yourself on me).

Back on the Close, Ron and Anthea emerge from the Dixon house. Ron is dressed in his best suit and is adjusting his tie. They are leaving for the pre-trial hearing. Ron is extremely nervous. Anthea, unconvincing in her concern, tries to tell him that this procedure is merely a formality, but Ron is terrified of court and court procedure. He feels like a common criminal.

As the get into the Dixon rattletrap, Dire and Brigid walk onto the Close. Dire is telling Brigid that she has a scan scheduled for 11:00AM. Brigid sincerely hopes everything works out well for her daughter. Dire is worried, however, about Plank. He had a job interview later that day. She hopes it works out. Of course he’s been doing the odd cash-in-hand job, but that’s not legal, she tuts.

Well, Brigid remarks, dismissing her worries, Plank was only one of millions doing that sort of thing. Everyone bends the law these days. They have to, she reckons.

Brigid wants to know if Dire has heard anything from the police about the break-in. Dire says the bizzies reckon it was the work of kids. Whoever did it had done a runner.

As they walk toward Sitcom House, Ron and Anthea stop on the curb, leaving the Close. The couple offer their sympathies to Dire about the break-in from the night before. Ron’s disgusted. He’s had his fill of break-ins. Now the thieving, robbing scallies are trying it on with the neighbours.

Anthea explains that they are on their way to the pre-trial hearing, and Brigid and Dire offer their best wishes. Ron thanks thim, commenting that their feelings toward their own robbery makes him feel as if more people are on his side. Anthea screws her sour face up in a poor imitation of a tart piece of fruit.

Meanwhile, at Hotel Corkhill, the post has arrived. Jimmy opens the electric bill, but he doesn’t seem too concerned about that. Lindsey stands nearby, looking as though her hair could do with a wash as well. He’s told her all about the events of the night before, and Lindsey asks after Tim. Jim says he’s sent Tim down to the walk-in clinic to have his jaw tended.

He opens another envelope and stares pensively at its contents. It’s his decree nisi. All downhill from here, he mutters, hopelessly. Lindsey is puzzled at his reaction. Surely this is what Jimmy wanted? Why be happy, replies Jimmy, when he was about to be turfed out into the street?

Lindsey protests. Jimmy couldn’t possibly know that, she says.

Ah, yes, replies the Sage, who knows all. It’s all in the Child Welfare Officer’s report. Jackie has custody of his son; it’s only natural that the court should see that she should have the house as well.

Lindsey scoffs at Jimmy’s rationale. He’s only guessing. Jackie would never do anything like that. Does he seriously think Jackie is out for revenge against Jimmy?

Jimmy doesn’t reply. Lindsey voices her opinion that Jimmy should attempt to talk to Jackie one more time, to get her to see his side of the argument. It couldn’t hurt. He has nothing to lose.

At Sitcom House, Brigid has just received the guided tour from Dire, illustrating the lack of damage done to the home. Brigid remarks that things don’t look so bad. At least nothing was stolen. Well, Marty replies hesitantly, they hadn’t done a full check of items yet. Anyway, Marty announces, scan time - IF Dire’s up for it.

Dire moans that she’s supposed to have peace and relaxation in preparation for all this treatment; but everytime something monumental like this approaches in her treatment, all hell breaks loose at home.

Suddenly, the Plank speaks sense. He points out the broken window in the conservatory door, the only REAL damage done to the house. If Dire wanted, he could split the door frame, you know, rack up the claim a bit. Dire looks a bit concerned.

Well, Plank shrugs. She said, herself, that the broken door alone was the only real damage and would only be covered by their excess. The police were called last night. The Murrays were given a crime number. Why couldn’t they claim for the other items that were taken from the home previously by the Thugfest brothers?

Dire looks first at Plank, then at a hopeful Marty, then at Brigid. Brigid decides. She thinks the Murrays should ‘go for it’.

Raymundo is dressed in his boiler suit - NOT for kinky sex with Jessie, but for domestic maintenance duties about the home. Jessie sits in their bedroom, having a spring clean of her cosmetic case. She catches a glimpse of her discontented and ageing face in the mirror and briefly, she examines her features. Ray enters, announcing that he’s about to start work on the fascia board for the front of the house.

Oh, and, yes, he informs her, Nikki asked him to tell Jessie that she and Do-A-Little had gone out for a drink. These young people! They sure know how to have a good time. Would Jessie like a pot of tea before he started work outside? Jessie harrumps grumpily and remarks that going for a drink wouldn’t do her and Ray any harm once in awhile - and she didn’t mean a cup of tea either! Ray leaves and Jessie sulkily dumps the contents of her cosmetic case into the rubbish bin. Her eyes begin to turn green.

Back at Sitcom House, Plank and Marty make a verbal list of ‘damage’ to be done to the property. The split door-frame and the broken fence should count for something, Plank reckons. Marty is jumpy about this - won’t the insurance company want to see the crime report? The bizzies said nothing about this sort of damage.

Plank takes matters in hand. The bizzies never even examined the rear of the house. They aren’t to know about a broken door frame OR a broken fence. Maybe that’s how the burglar gained access. For all intents and purposes, the insurance assessors would think that was part of the damage incurred.

Dire appears, ready to depart for her scan. She listens as her husband and stepson discuss what could be included in their bogus claim. Why not claim for the telly and video that were stolen last month? Steve suggests. Yes, muses Marty, they COULD claim for that. There was evidence of forced entry now.

That’s it, Dire sneers uneasily at Marty, go ahead and put him up to it!

Marty attempts to convince her of the validity of the act. Can’t she see? It’s their chance to get something back off the insurance. It’s simple. He and Plank would ‘construct’ damage done in the break-in, claim for it on the insurance, get a few estimates off some local builders, submit the estimates with the claim, get the bundle of money and do the repair work themselves. They would be quids in.

Oh yes, quips Dire. It’s simple all right, but it’s not honest. But Marty has a trump card up his sleeve, something that would ensure that she would bless their scam with her approval. He informs her that any money made from the scam could be used to pay for the baby. Dire looks immediately hopeful and blissful.

As she leaves, a dark look crosses Planks face.

Nisha is still sitting at the kitchen table, listening to poor pitiful Katie pour her heart out into a teacup. She’s taking Nisha through the trials and tribulations of her terribly self-pitying life. Every time she’s tried to get close to someone in her miserable life, Katie moans, something goes wrong.

First, her Dad dies on her, then she gets involved with Weird Simon, and then there was the love of her life, Jacqui. They were together for so long that she felt as if Jacqui were a part of her. Oh, yes, she almost forgot! There was Clint as well.

Nisha is trying to appear interested, but only succeeds in coming across as an ineffectual agony aunt. She lamely offers Katie the solace of reminding her that everyone goes through bad times, but things will change in the future. (Nisha doesn’t understand something that Jacqui does understand ... That Katie doesn’t want things to change, that Katie thrives on jealousy, resentment and psychological bullying. When Katie feels good, that’s peachy-keen for Katie and tough for anyone who doesn’t share her mood. But when Katie is miserable, she wants the whole world’s sympathy).

Nisha continues. Katie should start to try to sort things out right now.

Poor pitiful Katie sighs dejectedly. Why bother? (See what I mean?) She just can’t face the future. (Meaning: Poor pitiful me. Pity me and be unhappy for me and with me. Jacqui would; I’d see to that). No, poor pitiful Katie doesn’t WANT to face the future, not if it’s anything like the past. She just doesn’t have the energy anymore to snap out of it.

Nisha is losing more than a bit of patience with this whining bag of miserable flesh. She reminds Katie succinctly that she’s trying VERY HARD not to patronise the wretch, but she wants Katie to know that she IS there to listen to her problems and try to help her.

But, Katie points out, Nisha’s not there every minute of the day. (Unspoken thought: Not like Jacqui was).

Nisha suddenly suggests that she and Katie go away for the weekend. Maybe a change of scene is just what Katie needs.

Katie moans sadly that she needs a change of life. (And she sounds as though she’s going through just that at the moment!)

Tim emerges from the walk-in clinic, gingerly rubbing his jaw. He spies Plank, booted and suited, walking toward him. Plank asks after Tim’s jaw, and Tim replies that he thinks it’s split on the inside a bit. Plank is on his way to a job interview and Tim wishes him luck. As he leaves, Tim asks him to remind Christy that Tim is still owed some dosh for the break-in. Christy? Laughs the Plank. Tim would be lucky to get that money off Christy.

Jimmy’s at it on the computer again. Tap... Tap... Tap. Lindsey is curious as to what occupies his time so much on that machine. Jimmy replies absently that he uses it as a medium for getting all his thoughts down, a diary of sorts. He’s got his web page almost all set up. (We’ve been waiting for that one in trepidation from the less than adequate official web page of Brookie).

What does he write about, Lindsey asks. Oh, just his opinions on things like what could be changed in society ... Like custody laws, for example. Why aren’t fathers ever considered for custody? And mental patients’ concerns, for another example. (A hint that the web page is about to appear).

Nikki and Do-A-Little leave the bar and stroll along The Parade. (I don’t like this Poor Man’s Jamie Oliver. I know Dazza spent a lot of time in the bar, but we DID occasionally see him with patients and he DID appear to be a doctor. This guy is a joke). Do-A-Little remarks that he’s not on call that evening. (When DOES he work?) He wonders, perhaps Nikki would like to go out tonight.

Nikki ponders the question. Does he mean go out ‘as mates’, she asks, warily, or go out ‘as in getting to know you better?’

Do-A-Little is at a loss for a smart riposte for this one. He hums and haws a bit, before deciding that maybe it’s best to play it safe. Only as mates, he assures Nikki.

Good, Nikki announces. Because she’s not up for relationships right now, so soon after Jerome and all. Do-A-Little looks a bit down at this remark, much like a man being led a chase by a dick-tease, but he manages to reply that relationships aren’t his highest priority right now either, as Nikki walks away.

Jessie is going out and passes Ray, atop a ladder and struggling with the fascia board. She announces that she’s going out. Ray starts doing a one-legged dance on his ladder, asking her to wait a moment, as he would like to go with her. Jess demurs, telling him to concentrate on the fascia, before screwing her face up in contorted frustration as she walks away.

Ron and the sour-faced prune known as his wife are returning at that moment as well. Jess approaches them, asking how the pre-trial hearing went. It was only twenty minutes’ long, moans Ron. What he wouldn’t give for his trial to be that short, with a ‘not guilty’ verdict at the end of it.

Anthea, giving Ron a cold look of only sustainable tolerance, informs Jessie that it was only a formality, so the judge could be certain that both sides were ready to roll. Jessie asks if the Moffatts were there. Well, Ma Moffatt showed up, says Anthea, referring to her almost-friend. But there was no sign of Gobby.

They briefly discuss the break-in at the Murrays. Another one in this neighbourhood. Ron remarks grimly that whether what he did was right or wrong, it didn’t seem to act as a deterrent. Jessie admits that she’s afraid, and silly Anthea, who doesn’t appear to recall anything that Jessie told her in confidence (proving that Anthea is so obtuse and selfish that she doesn’t listen to anyone but herself and Jimmy the Sage), points out to Jessie that at least she has Ray, and that was a blessing. (Just what the other sourpuss wants to hear).

Nisha stands in front of her mirror, meticulously applying lip gloss before finally leaving for work. If nurses spent as much time in patient care as they do in applying lip gloss, the NHS might be a better place. Katie appears in the mirror behind her. Nisha eyes her edgily. Nisha is going to work shortly, she says. Is Katie OK?

Katie says that if Nisha means will Katie slash her wrists or stick her head down the loo if left on her own, then no, she wasn’t contemplating doing those things. But, she wants Nisha to know, she might not be there when Nisha returns.

She explains that she’s decided to visit Sammy for a few days, to try and cheer herself up.

Nisha is uncertain about this. She was given to understand (something the viewers have yet to be a party to) that Katie and Sammy were on decidedly ‘iffy’ terms with one another at the moment, due to Sammy’s ‘situation’. Katie assures Nisha that everything will be fine, but Nisha makes Katie promise to call her as soon as she arrives at Sammy’s. As Katie leaves, Nisha asks her once again if visiting Sammy is such a good idea? (A hint that Sammy Rogers is about to re-join Brookside).

Lindsey enters the kitchen at Hotel Corkhill from the back garden, carrying a potentially lethal weapon. Yes, folks! It’s a LAUNDRY BASKET. And it’s filled with clothes from the line, so it could be a fatal encounter if knocked against a person’s skull. She spies Jimmy standing with his back against the counter and staring at the two mantra signs he’s taped to the door leading into the extension.

DON’T GET CAUGHT ... IF YOU DO GET CAUGHT, DON’T WHINGE.

He confides to Lindsey that Tim needs to hear those catch phrases every day.

He’d been thinking about where he’d got the idea for those mantra signs, and now he remembers. He tells Lindsey that when she was a little girl, and Jimmy was constantly on the rob, those phrases were Jackie’s stock phrases used on him. ‘Don’t get caught,’ she would always say to Jimmy, when she had tried to convince him NOT to enter into some hare-brained robbery. And ‘Well, if you get caught, don’t come whingeing to me’, was what she always said when she was made to give into his schemes. Jimmy wonders aloud. Is he turning into Jackie? It’s as though Jackie were still in his head.

Lindsey points out logically that Jimmy and Jackie WERE together a long time (but she tactfully omits any reference as to how long they were together). Out of the blue, Jimmy asks Lindsey to ring Jackie. Lindsey looks hopeful for a moment. Why, she was going to ring Jackie this very day. Did Jimmy have a message?

Yes, Jimmy replies, slightly frantic. Lindsey must ring her mother and tell her that Jimmy needed to see her, as soon as possible, tomorrow. Tell her that Jimmy has some news for her.

News? Asks Lindsey. What news is this? Is it about the house?

‘Never you mind,’ warns the Sage, smugly. Just tell her to come round tomorrow. Lindsey looks concerned.

Marty and Plank are about to split the door frame and enter Sitcom House. Brigid is just leaving. She tells Plank that Nisha phoned and left a message that she has some plonk and a video, if he wants to come round for the evening, whateverthat means. Brigid mumbles that in her day, the couple would have gone for a nice meal and a film.

Dire returns from the scan. She’s been thinking about what Marty said about the bogus claim. In fact, whilst she was having the scan, she managed to do some quick mental figures. After all the necessary expenses (meaning primarily IVF), she reckoned that the claim would net them some 200 quid in the black.

Marty can’t believe his ears. Does this mean she’s not angry about the bogus claim? He asks. Dire sighs. As long as it has nothing to do with her, she doesn’t care if Marty claims. (In other words, if you’re caught, you’re on your own, soft lad. I’m outa here! Just like Anthea and Jessie).

Marty looks at Plank. OK, he says. Split the door frame. Plank attacks it with a vengeance. Marty is startled at his exuberance, but Plank says that if they are going to do this scam, they have to do it properly. He doesn’t want to do it; indeed, he isn’t comfortable with doing something fraudulent like this; but Marty started the ball rolling and Plank is furious.

Marty witters about their financial troubles soon being over.

Plank snorts shortly. ‘This isn’t the last time you’ll need money,’ he warns his dim dad.

Marty asks Plank what he means by that remark, but Plank refuses to clarify himself. Marty pushes, wanting to know the meaning behind Plank’s words.

OK, Plank admits he’s fed up with not having any say in what’s going on in the house. He wants Marty to know that DIRE got the family into the financial mess they were in at the moment, and MARTY went along with her all the way. Every spare piece of change that comes into the household is put aside and splashed out on IVF, and if the treatment wasn’t successful this time, there would soon be another reason to have another go.

Marty objects to Plank’s argument, trying to say that all the money hasn’t gone on fertility treatment. But it has, Plank says, reiterating his argument. And it wasn’t fair to make the rest of the family suffer after an obsessive whim of Dire’s. Marty points out that Plank had always previously referred to Dire as ‘Mum’. Why the change?

Plank decides wisely not to provoke his father by revealing his true thoughts, that this woman is less and less like a real mother to him daily and more and more like an obsessive and selfish cow who only cares about her stepchildren when the cater to her demanding whims. But he lamely replies that he refers to her both as ‘Dire’ and ‘mum’ depending on the situation.

Marty is finally forced to tacitly admit the predicament is Dire’s doing, but begs Plank not to mention the subject in front of the fearful and frightful madam. Plank’s face is like thunder, and he makes no promises.