I know some people may find it hard to believe, but I DO HONESTLY hope Brookside comes good. I do, really. Really. I hate seeing this once-unique soap phenomenon become a raving parody of itself, whilst Eastenders and Coronation Street take on Brookside’s issue stance of old and do it better - even to the public service announcements at the end.
Why, Eastenders is even having a take on the Jordache domestic violence storyline - complete with the villain named Trevor and the victim with the same initial as Mandy. And guess what? Eastenders’ Trevor (another Celt, by the way) is even more terrifying than Trevor Jordache. It’s watchable.
Brookside’s laughable. Ignorant storylines, stereotypical characters, characters who are long past their sell-by dates, and gratuitous near-nudity that borders on boredom won’t get arses on seats.
It’s so dull, no one can even raise an intelligent discussion on the dying Newsgroup.
Ah, care in the community ...
Morning has broken at Naughty Nurse Towers, and Nurse Rachet, er, Batra is bored. (Maybe it’s Brookside). Not only is she bored, she looks distinctly put out at having to cope with not one, but two of the rogering Rogers’ sisters. As Nisha enters the room, Sammy is reclining leisurely on the sofa, whilst poor, pitiful, ugly, smelly, drunken Katie is phaffing at the counter in the background. Quelle surprise! She’s actually dressed to go to work. And her uniform is clean, even though her hair is dripping grease.
As Nisha passes the couch, Sammy calls out to her, asking if she’s got any brekkie ready. Nisha gives her a withering look and pauses long enough to shove yesterday’s paper, which Sammy had been reading, into Sammy’s face. Pointing at a larger than life picture of Ron Dikko, Nisha gives Sammy short shrift and advises her to bin the paper or else Katie would be off on another rant.
Sammy loudly proclaims Katie to be in safe hands, now that she is on the scene.
Too late. As if on cue, Katie takes up the rant regarding the paper. She simply cannot believe Ron Dixon was found NOT GUILTY of manslaughter as well as murder. Why, he may as well have been let off scot free! Peering at the paper, she wonders aloud. Nine months, he got - but where does the paper get off saying that he’ll only have to serve four-and-a-half months? She moans.
Sammy tries to distract her, telling her she should go to work and concentrate on holding her job down, but sad, miserable, poor, pitiful, self-pitying Katie is having nothing of that. Four-and-a-half months! When she’s sentenced to a lifetime of mourning the sainted Clint. Four-and-a-half months was only 18 weeks. Time enough for Ron’s family and wife to plan the food for his welcome-home party. And to think that all she’d lived for for the past few months had been the look on Ron Dixon’s face when he was sentenced to life.
Jessie Hilton comes out of her bedroom into the lounge area of the bungalow. She’s surprised to find Nikki sat at the dining room table, furiously scribbling as she glances occasionally at an array of books. It’s so obvious from this scene that neither Suzanne Collins nor the Brookside writers have any idea how uni students study. For a start, it’s not smack-dab in the middle of the most used room in the house! Jessie is amazed that her granddaughter is still hard at work.
Nikki explains that she’s making up for a day lost last week when she and Jerome attended a ‘red rally’ in the city centre. Ah, student demonstrations! A pale imitation to those of my youth. And Nikki red? She’s too much a material girl. I blame New Labour. So does she. Read on.
Jessie makes a clucking noise and asks if Nikki doesn’t have to work soon as well. Political rant number one follows. Listen carefully. Nikki remarks that if Tony Blair hadn’t decided to institute tuition fees, then she wouldn’t have to work and then have to study at odd hours of the day. (Hang on a minute. I recall when Nikki began uni, back in 1998 - something which the Brookside writers have conveniently forgotten. Greg Shadwick was banging a drum about having to fork out a grand for her tuition. I still cannot for the life of me figure out why Nikki - or Rachel and Mike for that matter - is in so much debt!)
Anyway, Nikki notices that Jess is dressed up to the nines and asks the occasion for such attire. Jessie explains that she and Brigid are due for some bingo gala later today, but prior to that, they were going downtown to Christmas shop. Jessie glances apprehensively out the window in the direction of the Dixon house. She wonders aloud if she should call round and see if Anthea were up to going along. She’d been wondering that all morning, but thought it might seem too nosey of her.
Nikki suggests that her nan call Anthea, but Jessie says that she’s already tried that and there was no answer at the Dixons. She wonders aloud again how Anthea will cope with Ron away. Again, Nikki encourages her grandmother to call around at the Dixons’, but Jessie demurs, still thinking she might be perceived as being nosey.
Catching her grandmother in a vulnerable mood, Nikki changes the subject. She explains to her nan that she’s studying in the lounge as Jerome is still abed. And speaking of Jerome, she begins hesitantly, he’s pretty skint this week.
Meaning? Jess queries, eyeing her granddaughter suspiciously.
Meaning, continues Nikki, Jerome wonders if it would be OK with Jessie if he were a tad late with the rent?
Jessie is not impressed. What’s to stop Jerome getting up off his lazy backside and getting a job, she wants to know. (Er, I thought Jerome worked at the restaurant?) Nikki works and studies, she emphasises.
Antichrist Ant is on his way to school, being jostled by other students, when he suddenly notices that Imelda (who doesn’t see him) has returned. Not a good way to start the day.
Jacqui Dixon-Farnham opens the front door of Chateau Farnham to greet her brother, who’s carrying Baby Beth. The siblings greet each other and Mike enters. He asks if Jacqui still plans on visiting Ron in prison the next day. Jacqui, with a worried frown puckering her brow, admits that she is still going and hopes Mike will come with her. She’s seriously worried about Ron. Four months in that place would likely kill him, she says. What if he’s beaten up by other inmates? You hear about that sort of behaviour all the time.
Mike remembers the look on Ron’s face when the judge sentenced him. It was a look of sheer fright, he recalls.
Suddenly, Mike notices something different about the Farnham house. Smack in the middle of the room, sits a brand new state-of-the-art DVD player. Mike comments on the machine, with obvious envy in his voice.
Yes, Jacqui acknowledges, absently. Max has long wanted a DVD player. He bought it for her and the kids, as a means of taking her mind off Ron. She’s taken it on herself to try to set the thing up today, but is finding it difficult. And, she informs Mike, she’s also made a start on the Great Grannies paperwork. By the way, she asks, has Mike heard anything from Anthea at all?
Not a word, Mike replies.
Their poor dad must be heartbroken, reckons Jacqui; but Mike reckons Ron is better off without her. (Too right).
Jacqui, however, is worrying about Ron lasting the distance for his stretch in prison, but Mike assures her that Ron is NOT going to die.
Nikki Shadwick stands in front of Hotel Corkhill, talking with the cross between one of Delboy’s rubber dolls and the female impersonator who’s doubling as Emily. (Someone really should stop bleaching Jennifer Ellison’s hair. It’s so lifeless now, it looks as though it’s ready to fall out at any moment - now that WOULD be a laugh!)
Emily is having a moan. Joanne/Jan, the owner of the salon, had promised to train her up to be a full-fledged stylist. But Joanne/Jan says that Emily cannot be promoted until she finishes the beauty course that Jessie and Margi had bought as a present for her.
So, Nikki comments, finish the course. What’s the problem?
The problem, explains Emily, uneasily, is that she sold the course to her mate, Becky Big-Tits (as opposed to Becci ask-no-questions, who is sick enough to want to start flame wars on the nearly-dead newsgroup) for £50.00 in order to buy more ale at her 18th birthday party.
Nikki is appalled at her sister’s lack of conscience. (Why should she be? She should take the blinkers off and realise that Emily is a small-minded, unintelligent, selfish, little whore who cares nothing for no one). Didn’t Emily realise that that course cost her nan and their mother £500! And Emily sold it for £50! Well, Emily could just buy it back!
Well, Emily admits, shamefully, Becky Big-Tits drank most of the ale that night, as well. And there are more complications. Becky Big-Tits has had an offer from ‘that Chelsea one’ (I knew Chelsea Clinton was unhappy in the UK, but I didn’t think she was that desperate!) to buy the course from Becky. And ‘that Chelsea one’ is offering £150 for it, so Emily has to offer Becky Big-Tits at least £100.
Nikki scathingly tells Emily that between Timily, they’d better come up with one hundred quid.
Suddenly the Sage sticks his head out the front door and roughly reminds Emily that she’s late for work. As Emily scurries off, Jimmy remarks that his newest disciple looks knackered.
Well, remarks Nikki, happily, she’s been slaving over that essay with which Jimmy helped her. It’s gonna be a good one too - enough to earh Nikki a 2.1, if she’s lucky. (What BAD publicity for John Moores!) So today, she was off to do some more research work at the library.
Back at NNT (Naughty Nurse Towers for those of you with short memories or attention spans - i.e., the ‘ask-no-questions’ types of the world), Sammy, who, I must say, has toned down the pancake and is looking a bit less raddled these days, has taken it upon herself to gee Katie up a bit about her current excessive grieving.
Verbally tackling her sugly blister, she encourages the greasy wretch by telling her that Katie MUST get over Cint. In fact, she must do everything in her power to do so. Katie stoutly refuses. Clint is all she has left, she maintains.
But Sammy won’t be swayed. Ron Dixon’s gone to prison, she says. That won’t be an easy ride. He’s getting what he deserves; now Katie must put all her energies into concentrating on getting over Clint. Katie sits on the sofa, arms tightly folded and her ugly face with an even uglier look of stubbornness on its countenance - after all, why should she give up mourning Clint when she can get all the time off work she wants, get all the attention she wants and be as rude and demanding to other people by hiding behind a mask of grief?
Sammy continues her argument. People get over death - well, most people. That’s the way of the world. Then she tries another tactic. She asks Katie if the smelly wretch remembers when their dad, Frank Rogers, died. Did Katie remember how heartbroken they were? How they thought that they would never stop grieving?
Katie scowls dumbly at her sister.
Now, says Sammy, does Katie still miss Frank?
Of course she does, Katie replies.
Does she still think about him? Asks Sammy.
Yes, replies Katie.
All the time? Sammy wants to know.
Not all the time, confesses Katie. In fact, there are some days when she doesn’t even think about him at all.
Well then, reasons Sammy, that’s what grief is like. After time, the hurt lessons, until people comfort themselves by only remembering the good things about the deceased. It’s called coping with loss. When Frank died, they got over his death by depending on each other; and now that Clint had died, they would do the same.
At Brookie Comp, Antichrist Ant seeks solace in his father’s caretaker’s room. He enters morosely, informing Marty that Imelda has returned to school. Marty is instantly on his guard, wanting to know what the girl had done. Nothing, admits Ant, because she hadn’t yet seen Antony - although he had spied her. Couldn’t he go home for awhile? He pleads, nervously.
Marty tells him that’s impossible, because Dire is at work.
Well, Ant argues, he would be OK by himself. Couldn’t Marty let him have his keys?
Marty reminds Ant of the play and the final rehearsals for later that day. Antony was supposed to be in the play.
All of a sudden Ant’s not bothered. Then he has another suggestion. Couldn’t he come back to the caretaker’s room and share his biscuits and break with Marty?
Marty points out that he gets a different break from Antony - anyway, he thought Ant would want to spend his break with his mates.
Antony gazes sadly downward, and Marty tries to encourage him by telling him that, in reality, Imelda is more frightened than he was. That was why she had the fornight off - because she knew what was in store for her if she put a foot out of line.
Mike is still visiting Chateau Farnham, whilst his sister is having a hell of a time installing the new DVD player. Jacqui gives up in a stressful frazzle, near tears, and loses her cool over her inability to suss the machine. She apologises to Mike for her loss of temper. It’s all getting on top of her - the trial, Ron and Anthea’s break-up, the kids and trying to sort out Great Grannies. She points to a section of wall where the wallpaper has been erratically stripped.
She and Max were meant to be decorating and having that done before Christmas as well, she wails. And this afternoon she had hoped to watch a DVD with the kids. They were up most of the night, she says, and that was mostly due to her pacing the floor all night. At least they were having a bit of a lie-in now.
Mike admits that he has had no kip either. In fact, he says, sneakily subservient, he wouldn’t be able to get his head down until after 4PM. He had to look after Beth all day, as Rachel was going directly from her cleaning job to her bar shift, which finishes at 4:00. The truth is, he confesses awkwardly, with Anthea gone and Ron inside, he and Rachel were struggling, when it came to Beth’s childcare. Now that he’s working 12-hour night shifts, he’s going to lose a substantial part of that sleep by having to babysit. Er, Jacqui couldn’t ... Er ... See fit to help them out a bit with childcare? He wangles.
Jacqui misunderstands his drift. She’d love to help, normally, but two kids and Great Grannies was bad enough. She couldn’t cope with three.
No, no, no, Mike didn’t mean for his sister to babysit Beth with her two. What he meant was, well, he suggests that maybe Jacqui would help him and Rachel the Dim out by subsidising Beth’s creche fees. PAY FOR BETH TO GO TO CRECHE, in other words.
Jacqui is taken aback by the cheekiness of the request. She stammers that a few months ago, that might have been possible, but Great Grannies was going through a bad time at the moment. The business had lost contracts and staff due to the stigma attached to Ron’s trial. Actually, she admits, confidentially, the business is in deficit.
Ant finds a quiet corner in the school complex and opens his lunch box. His peace is short-lived, however, because a cheekily confident Imelda approaches him from behind. She understands Ant’s dad’s been to see the head about her, she sneers. Antony warns innocently that she’ll soon get what she deserves.
Imelda grabs an apple from his lunch box and taunts him. ‘We’ll see about that,’ she shouts, running away.
Interlude: Sammy Rogers, imitating Lady Muck, sits reclined on the sofa at NNT and makes a telephone call.
Mke is still trying to fanagle creche fees for Beth from his sister, but Jacqui is having none of his pleas. She tartly reminds Mike that he’s already living on borrowed time. But, Mike tries to persuade her, he and Rachel have their County Court case coming up next week. All their troubles will be over by then. Mike would make a proposal of payment to the court and the judge would have to accept it. Why, he reckons that by next week, they’ll be on top of things.
Jacqui gazes at him dubiously. Well, she relents, hesitantly, maybe she could stretch to paying for ONE WEEK in creche for Beth, but no more than that. All her efforts have to be put into re-establishing Great Grannies. Ron had to have something to look forward to when he gets out of jail. Did Mike want her to make a buttie for him?
Jimmy invites Nikki into Hotel Corkhill before her visit to the library and tells her to make a pot of tea for them both as he takes a call from Lindsey. His one-sided conversation reveals that Lindsey has only received bills in the post and that he’s sent Kylie a chocolate Advent calendar and written Lindsey a letter.
Nikki listens and smiles at Jimmy’s conversation with his daughter. She wonders aloud, when he finishes, if Greg’s face ever lit up like that when she called him. Jimmy reckons it did, but Nikki jokes that it probably didn’t when she had to ring him at 2AM to ferry her home from downtown. Jimmy takes the proffered mug of tea and remarks how thirsty he is. He’s on lithium, he explains, which makes him go to the loo a lot, so he has to drink a lot to maintain body fluids.
How long does Jimmy have to take lithium? Asks Nikki the psychology student.
As long as he’s not baying like a dog and howling at the moon, replies Jimmy. But he’s fine now, he maintains. He feels OK and this is year 0. He’s due at the bar later that afternoon for a shift, he says.
So is she, says Nikki. Jimmy remarks that Nikki’s been doing a lot of work at the bar lately.
Well, she says, she has to grab the cash while she can. At the moment, she’s subbing Jerome, who’s out of work, and she’s on a repayment plan with her uni fees. She has to repay £1000 by January or get kicked out.
Jimmy encourages her, by saying she should continue until she gets her degree - at which time, she would be quids in.
Nikki tells him that her friend Bernie had to drop out of uni, because of the stress of student debt. It was Bernie’s situation, says Nikki, which helped her think of the title for her next essay: Is It in the Interests of Pharmaceutical Companies yadda yadda yadda (a long-winded title that means nothing). Her mate, Bernie, she says, has just lost her dad, and because of his death, she’s on anti-depressants. But the anti-depressants make it impossible for her to sleep, so her GP prescribed some sleeping tablets. The tablets make it difficult for her to wake up, so she’s been put on yet another SSRI drug to wake her from her snooze each morning. And because she’s having trouble coping with her mother, who’s still grieving for her dad, she’s also on valium. (Someone’s been reading a Judy Garland biography here - no modern GP in their right mind would prescribe such a lethal combination!)
Jimmy asks if the girl rattles when she walks.
Well, says Nikki, with that sort of cocktail, you can imagine poor Bernie was a walking Zombie, a space cadet.
Jimmy has an idea! Why, he’ll help Nikki with her research. He’ll get all the info she needs on multi-national drug companies from the good old Internet. Anything Nikki wants to know about pills, Jim’s her man - and Nikki, the university student, buys it!
Mike, insulted at what he interprets as being a stingy offer from Jacqui, storms from Chateau Farnham in a strop.
Marty and Ant return from Brookie Comp. Dire is surprised to see Marty home so early in the day, but he tells her that he had to walk Antony home from school as the boy was in such a state of nerves. Imelda is back, he tells Dire. She’s also had an interview with an independent teacher.
What happened? Dire asks.
Of course, Imelda denied everything, Marty says, with disgust. She implied that the Murrays, as a whole, had it in for her. There’s been no visual proof that she’s been bullying Ant, and then there was the incident where Marty shoved her.
Dire is disgusted. That head, she says, wants to get her finger out -
Get this, says Marty, Imelda’s told Mrs Plummer that it was impossible for a girl to bully a boy, and Plummer believes her!
As Antichrists are supposed to know everything, Ant waits in the kitchen, doing his speciality eavesdropping routine, as his parents talk in the next room. He hears Marty wonder if the pair of them have turned the boy soft. He seems to be hugging Ant all the time, whereas he spent Plank’s childhood roughousing with the lad.
Dire maintains that they have done nothing to make Ant soft. No amount of hugs Marty gave Ant would stop him from being bullied.
HEALTH WARNING! READ THE FOLLOWING INTERVAL AT YOUR OWN RISK BECAUSE IT’S POINTLESS AND CONTAINS SOME OF THE MOST BORING AND BADLY ACTED AND UNNECESSARY SCENES EVER TO APPEAR ON BROOKSIDE. IN FACT, PHIL REDMOND SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF HIMSELF!!! HOWEVER, IF YOU’VE ALREADY WATCHED THE OMNIBUS, YOU’LL KNOW WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT ...
Jimmy is cooking dinner in the kitchen at Hotel Corkhill. The camera darts to the door leading from the foyer into the lounge and we catch a brief glimpse of Emily’s head, in a Talibanesque headdress, glance around the door. Jimmy catches her in the corner of his eye and glances up. Sees nothing and returns to cooking the meal. Again, we catch more of a glimpse of Emily, this time, we note that her Mullah Omar original designer headgear is, in fact, a towel and we note also the bare shoulders. Semi-nudity again, and involving Jennifer Ellison! What originality!
Again, Jimmy glances up, puzzled, and returns to his culinary experiment. Finally, we see Emily, clad only in a towel, which is held in place by the massive plateau of the balloons inserted inside her tits, dart past Jimmy and into the extension, where a boxer-clad Tim - bare-chested of course, in the hopes that thousands of ten year-old girls watching will experience their first thrill of orgasm - awaits her.
Emily, surprisingly, is embarrassed at having to dash past Jimmy. The two of them just HAD to get their own place, she moans. However, there’s not much chance of that in the future, she says, with Tim only doing bar work. She reminds him that she needs cash - one hundred quid - in order to buy back her beauty course. Yes, she tells Tim, she needs an oondrred quid. Tim assures her that he’ll get that out of Christy, but first he wants to get Emily out of her towel, as they fall on the bed and dozens of ladolescents and perverted middle-aged men enjoy a wank.
END OF HEALTH WARNING!!!
Sammy Rogers, AKA Lady Muck, is ending a telephone call, with the plaintive words, ‘But there must be some mistake -’ (cue threatening music) as Nisha enters the flat. Sammy rings off, as Nisha has something to tell her. First, Sammy asks how Katie got on at work today. Nisha replies grimly that Katie’s still ‘a full hanky’.
Bur more importantly, Nisha has something to tell Sammy. She heard it from someone at the surgery and she wants to tell Sammy in order that Sammy knows NOT to mention it to Katie. Anthea and Ron Dixon have split up, apparently. No one knows why. Sammy isn’t at all surprised. The stress Anthea must have been under, going to bed with a murderer and waking up with a pig, she comments, heartlessly. Nisha gives her a bored look, but warns her not to say anything to Katie, as it would only start another rant of self-pity, which Nisha can now no longer bear. As she passes within arm’s length of Sammy, however, Lady Muck holds an empty mug out to her mate and asks if Nisha’s making any coffee.
Nisha’s bushwacked from her day at work and says she could use something stronger. Would Sammy join her? Oh no, replies Sammy, primly. She’s teetotal now.
Since when? Laughs Nisha in disbelief.
‘Since I got my priorities right,’ replies Sammy, smugly.
Jessie Shadwick returns to the bungalow, laden with shopping bags and looking exhausted. Nikki greets her cheekily, asking if ‘the two fat ladies’ won anything at bingo. Jess replies with raised eyebrows, and says that they won nothing. However, she and Brigid both managed to spend a small fortune downtown. But one piece of good news ... Jessie rummages in her handbag and pulls out a folded piece of paper. She hands it to Nikki.
That’s for Jerome, she tells her.
What is it? Nikki wants to know.
There’s a bar job going at the bingo club, says Jessie. It’s Jerome’s if he wants it.
Nikki laughs in disbelief. The BINGO CLUB? (How naff!)
It’s a job, Jessie reminds her tartly. Jerome needs the money and Jessie needs his money.
PUBLIC HEALTH WARNING NUMBER 2 ... MORE USELESS AND POINTLESS SCENES! IF YOU VALUE YOUR HEALTH, SCROLL DOWN. (NOT WANTING TO DIE OF BOREDOM).
Jimmy and Timily sit around the Corkhill kitchen table, having finished a feast. Jim and Tim are full to bursting. Jimmy admits that he cooked too much, but he’s used to including Kylie and Lindsey in the scheme of things. Emily observes that Jimmy must be missing Lindsey and Kylie.
Well, Jimmy says, Lindsey had her wings clipped, living with him. Off to pastures new for her (as in rattle, rattle, rattle, here come the cattle ... However, she looked more like Sea Buscuit winning the Derby in that photo of her in The Mail this week). It moost be weird without a family, observes Emily, stupidly again.
Well, comments Jimmy, overusing that word, it’s all part of the scheme of change, isn’t it. Tim and Emily were his family now. (Oh, goody). Take this house, for instance. All of the house, all of its decor was Jackie’s choice and Jackie’s taste. Even down to the mugs, he says, looking at his mug, distastefully.
Well, suggests Emily, with a view on the commission, if Jimmy didn’t like the decor in the house, he should sell the furniture and things or maybe they could flog them for him. Tim suggests that they could redecorate the house for him. It’s hard work, warns Jim. Tim says that he needs the cash, as Emily gets up and opens a drawer, which promptly breaks.
Jimmy, looking around the room, suddenly gives the young couple free rein to redecorate the house any way they want - as long as it costs Jimmy nothing.
Timily are incredulous. Why not? Says Jim, euphemistically. ‘You pay rent; it’s your house. You change it the way you want it.’
Just as long as it doesn’t cost Jimmy a penny, he stipulates.
Tim assures him that he’ll have more than enough money to pay for the equipment, himself, if he double-takes Christy at his own game.
END OF HEALTH WARNING ...
The doorbell of the Dixon House of Horrors rings and Mike answers it, to find his sister standing on the doorstep. Without waiting for an invitation, Jacqui pushes past him. Just what did Mike mean by storming out of her house like that? She demands.
Mike is equally as sarcastic. Ta, for the generous offer and all that, he sneers, but he wouldn’t be bothering her or thinking to overstretch her when she could barely afford it.
Hang on a minute, starts Jacqui, she would have Mike know that Great Grannies is running on a loss. It WOULD be a great stretch for her to pay for a week’s childcare for Beth.
It would have been better, Mike insists, if Jacqui had just turned him down flat. Anyway, he felt entitled to a little bit of Great Grannies. After all, it was he who stood by Ron ceaselessly and never let him down. Jacqui was too busy planning her fancy wedding.
Jacqui eyes Mike sharply. Before all this debt-collector business, she begins, and Ron was willing for Mike and Rachel to run Great Grannies, just what exactly did Mike expect to take out of the business?
A wage, answers Mike. The same wage that Anthea took.
Well, says Jacqui, she’s not even taking a wage. She’s doing this for her dad as a favour. And it was stressing her out. She was knackered after looking after two kids and her husband. She didn’t need this added responsibility. But she had promised her father that she would look after the business, and she intends to build it back up for him as well, so he’s got something to come back to when he’s done his time.
She stops at this point in her harangue and reconsiders Mike’s situation.
‘Look,’ Jacqui begins, in an effort to make amends, ‘maybe it was stingy just offering you a week’s childcare costs. How about I loan you and Rachel enough money to get out of debt and back on your feet?’
Now this is a generous offer, but Jacqui’s used one word incorrectly. She said ‘loan’ instead of ‘give’, and in Mike’s selfish estimation, this is unforgiveable. After all, Jacqui is his blood, his sister, and it’s her familial duty, in Mike’s lazy thinking, to subsidise those members of her immediate family who are not only unable, but also unwilling to earn their proper keep. In fact, Jacqui’s very offer is an insult to Mike’s warped pride.
‘’You patronising cow!’ He snarls. ‘You think you can come over here and lord it over me with an offer like that! Go back to your poxy fancy house and play at being a mum with your posh cars and your DVDs! You certainly got your £30K’s worth when you got Max!’
Jacqui’s not standing for these sort of insinuations. She lets fly with a few home truths of her own. Mike says he stood by Ron, but the last thing Ron needed was debt collectors turning up on his doorstep and threatening to take his possessions for a loan Mike couldn’t repay. But that was Mike all over - always on the scrounge all his life to Ron or whoever for whatever money he was short of. Ron had actually asked her to make sure she looked after Mike and Rachel, because Ron knew exactly what Mike was and of what he wasn’t capable. In fact, she levies, Ron was ashamed of Mike, because Mike showed all the classic symptoms of turning into a no-mark.
Mike summarily ushers Jacqui to the front door, telling her to get out and not to come back. And she needn’t worry about him visiting Ron either, he advises. She could tell Ron that a no-mark meant a no-visit.
Back at NNT, poor, pitiful, sad, smelly, sorry Katie returns from a grinding day at work. Immediately she enters the flat, she makes a beeline for the vodka and pours herself a hefty portion, mixed with orange juice. Glancing about at Sammy and Nisha, who stand eyeing her back, she asks if anyone wants to join her for a drink.
Sammy uneasily declines, preferring her cup of tea, but Nisha wades into the fray, knee-deep in boredom with Katie’s behaviour, mingled with concern. Katie doesn’t need to drink like that, she insists to the wretch. Getting wasted every night wasn’t the answer to her grief for Clint. It’s high time she moved on with her life.
Suddenly, Sammy steps forward. As far as cheering Katie up, she begins, she’s got some news her sister might find welcoming. A minxy look of evil mischief crosses Sammy’s face. Nisha warns Sammy not to go any further. She’d promised Nisha not to say anything.
Poor pitiful Katie’s curiosity is now aroused. She wants to know this piece of news.
Eyes gleaming with evil glee, Sammy eagerly tells Katie that she’s heard that Anthea Dixon’s left Ron.
Nisha is indignant. Sammy had no right, she says, to tell that piece of gossip. It shouldn’t be discussed until the background of the event was known.
Why not? Asks Sammy, indignantly. It certainly is the sort of thing Katie would want to hear.
Of course it is, and Katie’s convinced she knows the reason Anthea left too. It surely means Ron’s guilty of no less than murder. Anthea left because she couldn’t live with herself or Ron, after perjuring herself to save his worthless hide. Anthea knows the truth, snarls ugly, pitiful Katie, her face even uglier when contorted with self-pity and sheer jealousy.
By the very action of leaving Ron, Anthea had proven that he had merr-dered the sainted Clint. That does it, poor, pitiful, smelly, greasy Katie decides, this isn’t the end of this matter. She’s going to get a solicitor and start a civil action against Ron Dixon for wrongful death, she swears.
Nisha and Sammy stand by the kitchen counter, horrified at Katie’s pre-drunken assertions. Nisha is especially fed up with her flatmate’s incessant obsession with hatred of all things Dixon and her wallowing in self-pity rather thinly desguised as grief. She heaves a sigh of exasperation. Katie can’t do that, she proclaims, wearily. What good would it do anyway? It wouldn’t bring Clint back, and anyway, Ron Dixon’s locked up and his marriage is in ruin. Surely that’s punishment enough?
Poor, pitiful, hateful, vindictive, unreasonable, ugly Katie glares malevolently at Nisha. ‘Not nearly,’ she mutter, ominously.
I read the news today, oh boy. The English army had just won the war ... Wait a minute, wrong Liverpudlian there! An intelligent one. Sorry, my mistake.
So the relentless saga of the death of the sainted Clint continues. But then, it was a dreaded, soft Londoner who penned the words, ‘It goes on and on and on ...’
It’s early morning on Brookside Close, and we catch sight of poor, pitiful, smelly, greasy Katie, clad in her winter coat, standing on the Dixon doorstep, alternately pounding on the front door and ringing the doorbell.
Finally, the door is opened by the bovine brainless beauty, Rachel, who blinks her cow eyes twice with disbelief at the sight of Kay-teh standing there. Before she can begin to make her slow wit connect with her mouth and utter a syllable, however, Katie, in bullying mode, gruffly demands a word.
Glancing apprehensively over her shoulder, Rachel, dressed and obviously on her way to work, steps outside. What on earth’s Kay-teh doing here? She demands in a hissing whisper. M-eye-ke’s oopstairs asleep. If he wakes oop and finds her here, there’ll be hell to pay.
(Er, if Mike’s just taken a kip and Rachel’s on her way out, who’s minding the kid?)
She doesn’t care, Katie snaps. She has to know the truth and Rachel is the only person she trusts to tell her that. (Meaning: Rachel is the only member of the Dixon family she can bully effectively into giving her the information she wants). Now, she wants to know why Anthea’s left Ron.
Rachel the Dim, to her minuscule credit, makes a stand against Katie’s demands. She doesn’t know what Katie’s talking about, she insists, and tries to push past the wretch.
Katie stops her. Yes, Rachel knows what Katie means. Anthea’s left Ron. She wants to know why.
Rachel is now clearly annoyed, and remembering the fate of one Dixon wife who felt misplaced sympathy with Katie, she replies that she can’t say why Anthea left Ron, because she dooesn’t know. Now, she’s on her way to work and late already. And with an aplomb of which Adele Murray would be proud, Rachel flounces away from the greasy bitch.
Next door at Chateau Farnham, Max is comforting his new wife in her upset. He hands her a cup of tea, solicitous of the fact that Jacqui didn’t get much sleep the night before. Jacqui accepts the cuppa, but brushes the sleepless night aside, accusing herself of being stupid. She spent all night worrying about Mike’s reaction from yesterday. Max doesn’t think that she’s just playing at being a mum, does he? She asks, plaintively.
Max assures Jacqui that she’s a marvelous mother, and that the way she cares for the children shows that. She doesn’t want to worry needlessly about Mike. He’s known Mike for a long time as well. It’s always been Mike’s forte, explains Max, to mess up a situation and then try to cast the blame someone else.
But why is she being made to feel such a villain? Demands Jacqui. Why, the way Mike was talking the day before, it was almost as though Jacqui arranged for Ron to go to jail so she could get her hands on the mythical Great Grannies money. And now, to top it all, Mike’s refusing to visit Ron in jail! And Anthea’s done a runner as well.
It’s morning at Sitcom House as well, and Antichrist Ant is dawdling over his cereal. Dire rushes him along, reminding him that she’ll be late for work if he continues to procrastinate. Anyway, everything’s still OK for tonight, she asks. (Tonight being the Christmas panto at Brookie Comp).
When Ant fails to respond, Dire asks if he’s having the jitters about the play, but at that moment, the doorbell rings, and Ant dashes off to answer it. Dire rolls her eyeballs heavenward, when she hears the mellifluous tones of Christy’s voice. He enters the kitchen, laden with a Christmas tree.
Clocking the sombre looks on the faces of Dire and Ant, he remarks, ironically, that the whole household seems a fit bunch of happy campers. And here’s Uncle Christy with the Christy Christmas tree! Marty had asked him to bring it around, but it seems he forgot to tell Dire.
No matter, Christy produces a plastic carrier bag. He’s got something that Dire could help him out with too. Designer shoes. To flog at the salon. Something the ladies would love.
Ant peers inside the bag and pulls a shoe out. It’s a plastic flip-flop, he exclaims. Christy looks uncomfortable under Dire’s inscrutable gaze and explains that the shoes can go cheap. Dire tells Christy to ‘flip off’. But Christy still hopes Dire will just try to flog the shoes as a favour for him.
Dire refuses, but then she has a favour to ask of Christy. Marty’s got a union meeting downtown this evening and it’s the night of Ant’s school play. Christy couldn’t come along, could he?
Christy is reluctant, but Dire promises to try to flog a few flip-flops and Christy agrees to attend the play.
Jacqui is ready to leave to visit Ron, when she notices Max peering over a set of papers. She asks what he’s studying and Max explains that it’s some bumpf sent to him about becoming a school governor. George, from the dinner party, who used to be Leo Trendy-Couple, had sent him the information in a misguided fit of public servitude, thinking Max should get involved with the community.
Jacqui thinks that’s a good idea, but Max poo-poohs it. He’s not interested. He’s got a restaurant to run; besides, it will mean a lot of busy evenings, and Max would rather spend time in the evenings with his new wife.
Raymundo is hard at the DIY. He’s outside with a burning cauldron, when Christy leaves the Murray house. Seeing Tim and Plank standing close by the cauldron (Plank careful not to stand too close for fear of being used as fuel), he quips that Ray must be roasting chestnuts.
No, says Ray. He’s just about to burn the paint from the fence by the bungalow, before putting a new coat of paint on it. Hang on, Christy says, has Ray bought Jessie’s Christmas present yet? He’s got just the thing in the van. Going to the vehicle, he returns with an article in a white plastic carrier. He removes the article from the bag to reveal a snowman with a carrot in a particularly phallic place. By pressing a button at the back of the snowman, the carrot flashes.
Tim and Plank find this highly amusing, but Ray doesn’t reckon Jessie would appreciate the humour of the gift.
As Christy walks back toward the van, Tim calls out to him. Taking him aside, he asks if it would be all right to have an advance on his wages. How much? Christy asks.
One hundred quid, says Tim, promising to pay it back.
Christy relents and adds that he’s got a job Tim might be able to help him with as well, something to do with bottles.
As Jacqui leaves the house to visit Ron, she runs into Rachel, who’s returning from her cleaning job. She’s just popped back between jobs, she tells Jacqui, as Mike is watching Beth.
Jacqui asks ruefully if Mike still has a cob on from yesterday.
Rachel glumly admits as much, saying that Mike feels awful because he thinks that Ron doesn’t trust him. Jacqui tries to explain that all she was trying to do was to help him by offering him a loan to get him back on his feet.
Rachel reminds her that Mike does have his pride. This year hasn’t been easy for him either. He’s had to cope with the accident and being in a wheelchair, as well as all that stuff with Gobby and the break-ins. But Jacqui shouldn’t worry about Mike, Rachel assures her. He’ll calm down sooner rather than later. Anyway, she sends her love to Ron.
Final preparations are underway at Brookie Comp for the gala Robin Hood panto about to take place that evening. The cast members sit, in costume, in a classroom, receiving last-minute instructions from the teacher who’s been responsible for producing the play. Ant is seen, dressed in Lincoln Green and looking like Peter Pan, beside two older boys, as the teacher speaks to the group. He begins to relax a bit, but the camera pans away to reveal Paige and Imelda peering condescendingly through the window in the door of the classroom.
Ray is still phaffing about with the boiling cauldron in the Close, being watched by Plank and Tim. I know that the cauldron and Ray’s paint is leading to another significant event in the episode, but the presence of Plank and Tim, who, I presume, are meant to be helping Ray, is unexplained and unnecessary. They simply stand around, watching the older man phaff and talking about meaningless shit.
Tim asks Plank if he’s still seeing Nisha, but Plank morosely remarks that he’s not seen the Naughty Nurse since she returned from her hols in Tenerife. (That must have been some short break - in less than a week she was back, counselling Katie!) In truth, Plank doesn’t know where he stands with Nisha. Tim gives Plank a word of advice: Treat’em mean, keep’em keen. (Yeah, sure, Tim, just like you do with Emily - or is that the other way around?)
Anyway, Tim continues, here comes someone who could give Plank all the advice he needs concerning Nisha. And we watch a decidedly dejected Jerome, wearing his dead hairy spider cap, trudge reluctantly toward the group.
As he approaches, Tim goads Jerome into giving Plank some advice about how to conduct a relationship with Nisha, especially since Jerome got so spectacularly dumped by her. Jerome admits that their failure at a relationship was not Nisha’s fault. It was he who cocked things up.
Noticing that Jerome looks a bit on the sad side, the lads admonish him to cheer up, suggesting that he join whatever it is they are meant to be doing. Jerome tells them that he’s on his way downtown, for a job interview. Where? The lads enquire. Jerome lies and tells them that he has a top bar job lined up in a posh place downtown, but he is unable to wipe the unenthusiastic look off his face as he attempts to plod away.
Plank remarks that he has to land a job soon, but Jerome reminds him that, although Plank needs a job, at least he isn’t covered by a mountain of debt the way Jerome is. (HOW? Jerome doesn’t live in residence halls. I don’t recall Mick asking for rent off his cousin, nor Jessie before that. As far as I know, after Mick left, Jerome went back to live with Vonnie, and - until recently - he was working part-time at the restaurant. Apart from his tuition, which Vonnie, as a teacher, would assume, I can’t see HOW he and Nikki are in such debt. Someone please explain!)
Ah, proffers Plank, at least when Jerome gets his degree, he’ll be set for life with a good job. (Another ignorant assumption propagated by Brookside. This show is beginning to infuriate me royally. Look at Mike Dixon. A degree has really set him up, hasn’t it?)
Tim begins to brag cockily about his own future as opposed to Jerome’s. He reckons he’s going to be better off financially than Jerome, as Jerome trudges away to his bingo interview. He then begins to expand upon his plans for a big business empire.
In a gratuitous advert for another Channel 4 programme (which seems to be Brookside’s prime function these days), Plank makes a joking quip, equating Tim with Tony Soprano. (Tony Soprano has class. Tim is simply an arse).
Suddenly, Tim directs Plank’s attention across the Close. Nisha has just stepped from the walkway that leads to The Parade, carrying a plastic bag. Tim prods Plank, telling him now is the time to show his nerve regarding the girl.
Jacqui has arrived at the prison and waits with other visitors to be admitted to see Ron. But first she has to undergo a rigorous search by a prison warder. She’s asked to remove her coat, which is searched. Then the female warder asks for her to extend her arms, as her top is patted down, then her waist and hips. Near to tears in embarrassment, Jacqui stares wetly into the distance. As it’s obvious that Jacqui’s a proverbial nice, suburban girl, she cringes as she’s watched by smirking, low-life, Moffattesque, scally visitors. She’s then made to remove her designer boots, which are searched by the warder.
The very last-minute preps are underway for the Robin Hood panto at the school. We watch Ant and a couple of other cast members step onto the stage in the auditorium and examine the set. Paige and Imelda are peering through the window in the double door leading to the auditorium, again, sneering at Ant. They exchange giggling looks and run off.
Plank approaches Nisha, who gives him a friendly greeting and shows him the plastic carrier, telling him that it’s a present she got for him on holiday and handing him the bag.
Plank, however, appears to be non-plussed and singularly unimpressed. Trying to look mean and moody, he glances inside to bag. Plank, it seems, has only merited a bit of plonk - and duty-free at that.
He grunts in a Neanderthal way. She’s been back from her hols for days and only now can she be bothered come to see him, he pouts, and all he gets is a cheap bottle of duty-free.
Well, Nisha excuses herself, she’s been busy with work.
Plank pulls the plonk from the bag. Hmpf! Is that the only thing she’s brought him back from hols?
Nisha’s dark eyes narrow. What exactly is he insinuating? She demands.
Plank finds it hard to believe that she didn’t go off on hols with a bunch of her girlie mates and not cop off with someone of the opposite gender.
Nisha is highly insulted, even moreso as she catches sight of the watching audience of Tim and Ray. She storms off, but not before leaving the door to the barn bolt-open. Give her a call, she shouts, when he’s grown up.
Jacqui enters the prison visiting room with scores of other visitors. She spies Ron and runs to him. Father and daughter exchange a lengthy hug, Ron being near tears. They pull apart, with Ron holding his daughter at arm’s length. Looking about, he asks her where Mike is.
Plank plonks back to the querying glances of Ray and Tim. He’s not amused at best. He blew it, he announces, irritably. Tim wants to know what Plank said that caused Nisha to beat such a hasty retreat. Oh, he only accused her of getting up to all sorts in Tenerife, remarks Plank, sarcastically.
Tim laughs, but Plank reminds him that he was only following Tim’s advice - treat’em mean, keep’em keen.
Tim laughs again. That’s something Plank doesn’t want to do, he says, follow Tim’s advice. Ray approaches the lad with a bit of what appears to be scrap metal. Have a look at that, he says, showing them. That’s a piece of what was Jimmy’s arch.
The lads have a laugh. Plank vaguely remembers seeing the arch when the Murrays came to view their house. Ray admonishes the two. They shouldn’t laugh, he says. Jimmy worked hard on that. It was a reminder of their Liverpudlian heritage.
Yeah, scoffs Tim, dismissively, black-and-white telly and ricketts.
The trouble with this generation, begins Ray, is that they’re too soft. They thought they were tough, but they were nothing on the tough blokes of Ray’s youth.
Ray was never a scally? The lads are in disbelief. They never imagined Raymundo as a fighter.
Oh, he was a fighter, all right, Ray brags. A real Teddy-Boy. One of the first in Liverpool. And a gang member as well.
Jacqui sits opposite Ron at the visitors’ table. Ron is bemoaning the fact that Mike hasn’t come with her. He’s only allowed one visit per month. You’d think at least his own son would want to visit him.
Jacqui looks uneasy and explainsto Ron that she and Mike have had a falling-out.
Over what? Ron asks.
What do you think? Quips Jacqui. Money.
‘Was Michael on the scrounge again?’ Asks Ron.
Jacqui explained that she offered to help him and Rachel by loaning them the money they needed to get out of debt. But Mike’s pride was offended and now he was refusing to talk to her.
But she wasn’t here to talk about that. She wants to know how Ron’s coping.
Surprisingly, Ron tells his daughter that the place isn’t as bad as he feared. In fact, there are worse places, he says. He’s even started taking a few classes, in order to make the time pass quicker.
Jacqui finds this hard to believe. Is Ron saying that he’s not getting any hassle from the other inmates?
It’s not like that, he assures her. The hard cases mainly keep to themselves, he says. And as he’s not a druggie, a child molester or a sex offender, he’s left to his own devices.
Jacqui asks if he’s heard anything from Anthea. Ron nods. He’s received a letter from her. She’s in Baltimore, visiting Megan.
Jacqui then asks why Ron binned Anthea, and Ron tells his daughter that there was no point in Anthea staying. He’s got the rest of his family to keep him going. He only wishes Mike had come with her.
Dire and Christy enter the darkened auditorium and take their seats. Christy is armed with a camcorder. He’s going to video the play for the sake of the absent Marty. (The Murrays must not be so skint anymore as they seem to have replaced their video).
Christy asks Dire what the Christmas panto is about and she explains it’s about Robin Hood. Hey, Christy reckons he’s a bit like Robin Hood, himself. Robbing from the rich and giving to the poor. Yes, quips Dire, but Robin Hood didn’t flog knock-off gear. She hopes Ant’s OK, she worries.
Christy asks her the cause of the worry, and Dire explains obliquely that the lad’s been having some trouble at school.
Uh-oh, reckons Christy, has the halo slipped then?
No, replies Dire, primly. He’s been being bullied.
The play begins. As Ant waits in the wings for his cue, he’s suddenly joined by Paige and Imelda, who greet him as the Christmas Fairy. Ant is astonished. They aren’t supposed to be backstage. Only people helping with the play are supposed to be back there.
They volunteered, says Imelda, smugly.
Ron is holding the old photo of Mike, Jacqui and Tony as he talks to Jacqui, all the time caressing the image of Tony with his thumb. He’s recalling the events surrounding the photo. How it was taken at Christmas and how afterward they had gone on a family outing to the local safari park. Jacqui laughs, recalling Ron’s reaction to the monkey who jumped on the car and tore off the windscreen wipers.
Ron gazes sadly at Tony’s picture. There’s nothing worse in the world, he muses, than losing a child. He looks steadily at Jacqui. He did a terrible thing in killing Clint Moffatt, he admits. He deprived Clint’s mother of her son’s life. Sitting there day after day, he almost wishes he could talk to Ma Moffatt, let her know that he knows exactly how she feels. But he doesn’t want to burden Jacqui with those problems.
A warder passes through, announcing that the visiting hour was over. Jacqui and Ron exchange another long hug, Jacqui telling him how much he was missed and making Ron promise to call her that evening.
Dire and Christy watch the play, with Dire wondering if Christy’s got the nous to have the camcorder on. As the play begins, a fat bald man enters the auditorium and takes the seat directly in front of Christy. Christy climbs awkardly over Dire to the end of the row, telling her that he has to get a better angle of shot. As he reaches the end of the aisle of seats, he crouches beside the chair of a very attractive woman, wearing a short skirt. Christy has a hard time deciding whether he should film the panto on stage or the woman’s thighs.
Backstage, however, a panto of another sort is occurring. Paige and Imelda bait Antony remorselessly. They reckon he looks more like Maid Marian than Robin Hood, they snicker. He escapes them for the moment, however, as he receives his cue. As he steps onto the stage, Dire smiles maternally.
Rachel, meantime, leaves the Dixon house for her afternoon shift at the bar. As she steps onto the doorstep, she is startled by the appearance of the obsessive, poor, pitiful Katie, who’s obviously been awaiting Rachel’s departure.
Rachel is clearly annoyed.
Katie, being a bit of a bully, herself, when it comes to Rachel the Dim, insists that it’s time Rachel talked to Katie.
Rachel attempts to push past the wretch again, asserting that she’s already late for her shift at the bar. Katie blocks her way. Rachel must talk to her about Ron and Anthea and talk she will.
Rachel glances guiltily over her shoulder in the direction of the Dixon house and tells Katie that they’ll have to talk outside on the Close. Mike would go ballistic if he caught her talking to poor pitiful Katie.
Ant returns backstage to the waiting Paige and Imelda, who taunt him about his performance. At least he got a part in the play, Ant asserts. There wasn’t a costume big enough to fit Imelda. The two start pushing the lad about, and loudly taunting him. It seems that the audience can actually hear what’s transpiring backstage. Suddenly, it’s time for Ant to make another appearance and he misses his cue and is late.
As he runs onto the stage, he’s so undone by Paige’s and Imelda’s antics that he fluffs his lines and starts to run off. In doing so, he gets entangled in the scenery props and causes a great deal of the backgound scenery to go crashing to the ground.
Max Farnham gazes out his front window at a sleek, shiny, new black sports car parked in front of his house, as he smiles to himself. Jacqui enters the lounge, having just emerged from the bath. She remarks on how she’s tried to wash the prison smell off her body.
Max asks after Ron. Jacqui tells him that she thinks Ron’s in a particularly bad way, but he’s trying to appear strong for her sake. She had to struggle herself, she admits. She didn’t want him to see her upset, but he looked so fragile in that environment.
Max reminds her that Ron’s survived three heart attacks. He’s resilient and would survive this.
Yes, Jacqui concurs, but she only wishes Mike would swallow his pride and visit his father. Anyway, it’s time she began to cook dinner for Max and the kids.
But Max wants her to wait a moment. He’s got something he needs to show Jacqui. At first, she’s intrigued in a sexual sort of way, but Max indicates that the surprise awaits outside.
Dire and Ant return home in high dudgeon, accompanied by Plank. Antony is beside himself, convinced that everyone at school will hate him for ruining the Christmas play. Dire tries to reassure him, telling him that Paige and Imelda were just looking for trouble. She vows to have a word with Mrs Plummer once again.
Plank is not impressed, but he’s angry all the same. What good would badgering the head do anyway? He wants to know. She’d do nothing. That girl, Imelda, needs to be kept on a leash. He’s of a good mind to call round her house and batter her dad. That seems to be the only language that sort understood.
That would make things ten times worse, Dire remarks. Is he forgetting that Marty almost lost his job because he lost his cool with the girl and pushed her?
Plank answers back. Dire hasn’t helped matters any, he asserts. After all, she’s kept Ant wrapped in cotton wool since he was little.
Ant interrupts to say that if he stands up to the girls, it just gets worse. Anyway, he doesn’t like fighting.
Dire orders Plank to but out and let her and Marty sort this situation. She’s going to make an appointment to see the head, yet again, on the next day.
Fat Rachel waddles determinedly away from the Close, hoping that Kay-teh will get the message that she neither wants to be seen with nor talk to the wretch. Katie, however, grabs the brainless beauty by the forearm in the walkway to The Parade and physically stops her.
Not here, Rachel insists.
Katie demands roughly that Rachel tell her why Anthea left. Rachel, stupidly, tells her that she doesn’t know. (She DOES! Please, someone tell me, why Rachel can’t tell this insipidly obsessive sadsack that RON binned Anthea. That RON dispensed with her because of Anthea’s erratic behaviour and her inability to see why Ron did what he did. That he ditched her because she allowed herself to be bullied and swayed by the actions of not only poor, pitiful Katie, but Ma Moffatt and Gobby as well. That ANTHEA wanted to stay, but RON didn’t want her after her performance). But nooo......
Katie, however, insists that Rachel does know. In fact, she puts words in the girl’s mouth. Katie assumes she knows why Anthea left. ‘It’s because she had to coover fer that merr-derer,’ she snarls. (Katie does nothing but snarl through her ratty teeth these days). ‘It’s because she perr-jerred’erself.’ She gives Rachel a rough shake by the arm.
Coom on, Rachel has to tell her. Because she’ll get the truth from Rachel. All she’d get was lies from Jacqui and Mike. (Meaning: I can’t bully Jacqui and Mike the way I can bully you).
Rachel, in the true spirit of magical Christmas pantomime, begins to turn into a cow. She gives her characteristically bovine impression of big chocolate eyes turning dewy and doubtful, whilst her mouth works silently, but frantically, as if in imitation of chewing cud.
Max, with his hands over his wife’s eyes, walks her from the house to the driveway. He’s got her a present, he says, that will ease the burden of her life as a young mum.
In the background, we see Ray, carrying a bucket of paint, moving in the direction of the Farnham house, whilst appearing to paint the fence.
As Max removes his hands from Jacqui’s eyes, her first sight is the sleek, black sportscar.
‘Oooh, Max!’ She drools. ‘It’s beautiful!’
But Max appears uncomfortable. Er, that’s not her car, he says. That’s his. Her’s is parked in the driveway. He turns her around to see a turquoise Citroen people-carrier. Just the thing for a busy young mum.
At first, Jacqui seems disappointed for a second, but she suddenly recovers herself, remembering that she’s no longer a fancy-free, young and independent businesswoman, but a responsible married woman with two small children. She hugs Max passionately, telling him what a wonderful, kind and considerate husband he is. The two exchange a lingering and sincere kiss.
(Question: How did Max manage to get rid of Jacqui’s car for part-exchange without her knowing?)
Standing at the opening of the walkway, poor, pitiful Katie’s attention is drawn to Jacqui and Max’s open embrace. Look at the pair of them, she points out jealously to the hapless Rachel, who’s really quite jealous herself, in her own lazy way. They sure do like to rub it in, those two.
Katie breaks away from the bovine no-brainer and stalks ominously toward the Farnham house.
Well, she shouts, startling Jacqui and Max, it certainly didn’t take Jacqui long to get over Ron, she remarks.
Jacqui and Max turn to face her, while Jacqui tries to say that Katie’s all wrong again. Ron is actually in bits about what happened.
But Katie isn’t chosing to hear her. This isn’t about Clint at all. It’s purely about Katie’s jealousy at Jacqui’s situation. There she and Max were. They had to lord their prosperity over everyone in the Close. Jacqui could have all the flashy motors she wanted, Katie maintains, senselessly. It still wouldn’t change the fact that her father was a merr-derer! At least Anthea had the decency to accept that and to leave the man. She couldn’t abide the thought of getting into bed with a killer.
Jacqui interjects that Katie has no right to say that. As a matter of fact, she begins, it wasn’t Anthea’s choice in whether she stayed or went -
But again, Katie pays no attention. By this time, silly Rachel has arrived on the scene and is trying vainlessly to pull Katie in the direction opposite to the Farnham home. Ray, too, appears to try to calm the greasy wretch down.
Suddenly, however, Katie grabs Ray’s tin of paint and tosses its contents in the direction of Jacqui’s new people carrier. A great swathe of scarlet paint lathes the vehicle diagonally, and a great deal of it covers Jacqui’s trousers and shoes.
‘Merry Christmas!’ Screams maniacal, poor, pitiful Katie, before
she scurries away from the Close, like the cockroach she’s become.
Summary © 2001 Marion Watts
Brookside and all related materials are © Mersey Television 1982-2001