Good King Wenceslas looked out, On the feast of STEPHEN, When the snow lay roundabout, Deep and crisp and even.
The day after Christmas is St Stephen’s day. Now all you STEPHENS (Pinder and otherwise, especially those residing in warrens with Damascene names as well) can celebrate ... Because this is your day. This is the day Brookside celebrates your worth, or lack of it, as the case may be. And they’ve featured your favourite, sympathetic character, in full brassy, arsy form.
Don’t know when the next major day for fan recognition is. Can’t say I know when the feast of the major Christian epistle writer is, although Easter is a good time for thumpers ... And hey, Ron will be home at Christmas.
Poor, pitiful Emily, her face moued into an imitation of ET wanting to go home, but wearing a bleached blonde wig, sits sadly on the side of her bed, caresseing all those wonderful and practical Chrimbo gifts she had bought but couldn’t be bothered to wrap for Tim.
There’s a knock on the bedroom door and Jimmy pokes his head around. ‘Only me,’ he says, in a bad imitation of Harry Enfield.
Without waiting to be invited inside, he enters the room, noting verbally (that’s a posh way of saying ‘saying’ for all you ask-no-questions or ‘blaaah’ people), that he’d heard Emily up during the night. He’s thoughtfull brought the little slut a cup of tea. (By the way, wank-boys, she’s wearing another one of Kylie’s teeshirts and her boobs are hanging down to her belly now. She must get terrible backache, but hey, she paid for it, or rather, Paul Marquess did).
Emily raises her head with difficulty, because the plastic inside her tits is very heavy, and looks at Jim. What if something serious has happened to Tim?
Jimmy can’t or won’t comment on that possibiity. Besides, Emily’s heard nothing yet. But Emily is scared that Tim is dead.
Leanne, the other grass-arse widow, unlocks and enters the bar. As soon as she enters the premises, she immediately hears a banging/clanging noise from the area in the back of the building. Cautiously, she picks up a bottle from the stock behind the bar and approaches the area from whence the sound is coming. She lets out a shriek.
Christy appears, with a badly beaten face and blood-stained from forehead to chin.
At Sitcom House, Marty and Plank are preparing to leave for something to do with football. Either they are going to watch the local amateur team play, or they are involved in a kickaround themselves, but there’s lots of father-son-bonding banter. They ask Ant and Adele if the two want to come along, but Dire appears and puts a damper on the situation. If they’re off out, she says, they can give her a lift to the supermarket.
(Er, sorry, but are supermarkets open in Liverpool on Boxing Day? Here in the soft South, they aren’t).
She explains to Marty that she has to go to the supermarket because there’s nothing in the Murray larder for their dinner, thanks to Christy’s non-appearance.
Marty suddenly has an idea. Instead of Dire going to the supermarket, how about the whole family going out to lunch together? Dire isn’t sure, but Marty is persuasive. He realises Christmas Day was a bit of a disaster with no turkey and Leanne for company (I would say she would have made an ample substitute), this is just his way of making it up, with a nice meal in a swank restaurant.
Adele is immediately put out. This family is supposed to be seriously skint as a result of the IVF fiasco. If Marty can find money to burn to feed the whole clan at a posh restaurant, why can’t he find money for her contact lenses?
Dire echoes the thought. Marty insists that he simply wants all the family to be together for a special lunch.
Jimmy still tries to calm the increasingly worried Mekon. She wails that she ‘joost ‘as ter do soomthink.’
Jimmy maintains that she can’t do anything yet. She certainly can’t call the police, at any rate.
Emily insists that she can go around the area where Tim used to live. She’s been around some of the pubs he used to frequent. She could ask around and see if anyone around there knew anything.
Suddenly the doorbell sounds, and Jimmy disappears. He reappears just as suddenly, telling Emily that it was nothing, just ‘her next door’.
Leanne and Christy sit on bar stools, whilst Leanne lovingly wipes the dried and caked blood from Christy’s face. The state of him! She clucks, lovingly concerned. Christy tells her that he’s just endured a nightmare, but Leanne is instantly suspicious. Is he certain he hasn’t been on the ale all weekend? Did Christy not realise that Leanne had to spend Chrimbo Day all on her tod at his Marty’s!
Christy insists that everything that happened was unforeseen. He confesses that he nicked a lorryload of booze and crashed it. He mutters that he told Tinhead not to go ahead with the caper, but Tim wouldn’t listen. The gang in charge of the booze caught Christy and gave him a beating. Then they locked him in some sort of lock-up garage somewhere, where it was cold and he had nowt but biscuits and water to eat. Christy suddenly starts to cry genuinely.
And then ... And then ... But he can’t bring himself to tell Leanne what happened then. Was he tortured? Asks Leanne, with ample worry.
Christy nods.
Well, if he were tortured, Leanne reasons, he should go to hospital or phone the police. After all, he’s been abducted.
Christy objects. He can’t go to the police. After all, he was nicking the booze, himself.
Leanne still isn’t convinced. Is Christy certain this isn’t all a fairy story he’s concocted?
Christy starts to cry again, telling Leanne that he honestly thought he was going to die.
Leanne holds him comfortingly.
Dire Murray has lured Jimmy outside Hotel Corkhill to survey the site of the old bath ripped out of his bathroom and propped against the front of the house. She demands that Jimmy move it. This sort of thing shouldn’t be in the front garden, she rants, why, who in their right -
And then she stops herself, realising what she was about to say. She tempers her complaing a bit. It’s just that at this time of year, she explains, there are a lot of visitors coming around and it didn’t look nice.
Jimmy is promising to remove the bath to the rear garden when Emily appears, saying that she’s going to look for some of Tim’s mates. (Funny, I didn’t think he had any!)
Max is booted and suited and ready to depart, whilst Jacqui is struggling to deal with the two children. They are supposed to be visiting Lisa this Boxing Day. Jacqui exhaustedly tells Max to give her five minutes to get ready, but Max suddenly notices how unenthusiastic she is. He comments on how tired she looks. She tells Max that she was up twice during the night and then up at 6:00AM.
Max is understanding, sussing that not only is she tired, but she also isn’t that bothered about going to Lisa’s. Neither is he, but he volunteers to take the kids, stay a short while and make her excuses - she has the flu or something - and Jacqui can get her head down and have some rest.
Leanne is still helping clean Christy up. Those villains want locking up, she says. All she wants to do is get her hands on them and she’ll show them a thing or two.
Christy admonishes her to stay out of it.
Leanne tells Christy he stinks. He needs to take a bath and then phone the police.
No, says Christy. What he needs to do is square things with the villains today or he’s a dead man.
Leanne asks what he means.
Christy says that the villains forced out of him the information that he ran a pub, and as the booze he nicked was dumped in the Mersey, they are forcing him to replace it with all the stock remaining here in the bar.
The contents of the bar? Repeats Leanne. But he can’t take the stock from the bar -
Just at that moment, Brigid and Jessie arrive to commence the cleaning. Brigid walks in on the scene and is immediately curious as to what happened to Christy. Leanne lies on her feet, saying that he’d been involved in an accident.
Jessie echoes her concern, but Leanne gets shirty and reminds the two women that she told them they could come in late because it was Boxing Day, not have the day off.
Christy regrets nicking the lorry. He shouldn’t have done that, he admits, but Tim convinced him to do it. By the way, where is Tim?
Leanne confirms that Emily hasn’t heard from Tim in days.
Then he’s either done a runner or he’s dead, says Christy. After all, he fell in the Mersey with the booze. And if Christy doesn’t hand over everything in the bar today, he’ll be a dead man, like Tim.
Leanne is still reluctant to let Christy have the stock, but Christy protests, saying that he thought Leanne loved him.
Jacqui sits slumped in front of the television set, just beginning to chill out and rest, when the doorbell rings. She answers it, and we are treated to the shrill, Mancunian tones of dippy Rachel, who’s doing her party piece of popping over unannounced. She carries Beth in her arms and tells Jacqui that she joost popped over, as M-eye-ke were asleep in front of tel-leh’n Beth were bored. She puts Beth down and the child makes a beeline for Harry’s and Emma’s toys.
‘Ooooh,’ witters Rachel, ‘joost look at’er mek beel-eye-ne fer them toys.’
Then she notices Jacqui barely able to stand, leaning against the door.
‘Ooooh,’ says Rachel, ‘you look knackered.’
Jacqui comments that she never thought having a husband and two kids could be so knackering.
Leanne is helping Christy load the bar’s stock into his white van. This is a knackering job as well, remarks Leanne, never one for hard work.
Brigid and Jessie look on the scene with curiosity, before remembering that they aren’t on speaking terms with one another.
Seeing their curious looks, Leanne swiftly explains that they have to take all the stock back to the brewery, because ... Because they’ve changed breweries, and the old brewery wanted the stuff back.
Christy is hurrying her along. He’s been getting jittery phone calls from the villains who are anxious to have their stock replaced.
Well, asks Jessie, can’t the brewery come and collect their stock.
Not on Boxing Day, says Leanne. They have to deliver all of it to them today.
Once again, Christy gees her up. The villains have called again.
The doorbell sounds again at Chateau Farnham and Jacqui answers to greet a new, clean and friendly Katie. Just like that, the animosity of the past seven months is forgotten. Jacqui and Katie exchange fond greetings, before she tells Rachel that the two of them have made up.
‘Ooooh,’ shrieks Rachel, ‘joost l-eye-ke old t-eye-mes!’ (Yes, it is, and that’s too bad).
The Murrays are seated at the one booth always shown at The Shelf, gazing at posh menus that they couldn’t begin to understand. Marty suggests turkey and trimmings for everyone, especially as they didn’t have that the previous day.
Adele plays awkward and says that she can’t read the menu. Now if she had contacts -
After being told off peremptorily by Marty, she opts for the tagliatelli. Plank can’t believe she wants that stuff. Antony is interested in a tuna dish, but Marty remarks that he thought Ant wanted turkey. Ant protests that he likes tuna. Adele asks if the tuna dish is made with dolphin-friendly tuna, while Dire notice that the dish Ant has ordered costs $14.00. Unsolicited, Adele begins to give the family a lecture about the ethical killing of animals for food chains.
As Jessie leaves the Bar, she encounters a despondent-looking Emily. She wonders where she’s been. Emily lies and says she’s been downtown at the sales. Jess asks if Tim’s still staying at his mum’s and Emily confirms that he is.
Just as well, Jess says. He’d only be slaving for Christy Murray otherwise.
Emily asks if Christy is in the bar and when she hears that he is, she tells Jessie suddenly that she has to go.
The Murrays have been served their meal and Antichrist Ant, like the spoiled little bugger he is, finds he can’t eat the tuna dish. He doesn’t like it. Marty gets annoyed and lectures the lad about the cost of the food. He orders him to at least eat his veg and potatoes.
Plank volunteers to switch dishes. He knows about the tuna dish and likes it. He used to come there for meals a lot with Trona.
The Mekon bounces into the bar to confront Leanne. She demands to know the whereabouts of Tim. Leanne spares no words. She tells Emily that Tim took off in the middle of a job and left Christy to take the beating. Now because of that, a bunch of gangsters are taking all the bar’s ale. Emily plops her plastic bottom on a plastic bar stool and vows to remain there until Christy returns.
Jimmy enters at that moment to begin his shift and looks around at the lack of staff. Is the bar open or not? He asks.
Emily tells Jimmy that Christy reckons Tim ran out on a job, but Jimmy reckons someone’s not telling the truth.
Jacqui, Katie and Rachel are seated in the lounge of Chateau Farnham, having a goss. Katie is telling the other two about Nisha giving Sammy a rubber sheet for Christmas. Rachel, being Rachel and having no brain, doesn’t ‘oonderstand’ the gist of this, so Jacqui explains that once years ago, when Sammy had been out with Nisha, she had too much to drink and passed out and wet her knickers.
Oooh, Rachel ‘members that Sam-meh when she were here last.
Nisha hates it when Sammy drinks, so she gave Sammy the rubber sheet as a warning and a joke, Katie says.
To top all that, Katie continues, Louise’s school fees hadn’t been paid and the school had sent her home. The kid had travelled all by herself on a train at night from Leicester.
Jacqui warns Katie that Sammy’s trouble, and Katie had better be careful in dealing with her. Well, Katie replies, Sammy’s family. But Jacqui reminds Katie that family or no, Sammy’s not worth Katie getting stressed our over.
Back at The Shelf, the Murrays are about to order dessert, when Marty notice that spoilt, little prick Antichrist Ant, sitting opposite him and looking decisively bored. Exchanging a sickeningly twinkly look with Dire, Marty suddenly produces a small package and hands it across the table to Antony, wishing him a Happy Birthday for Saturday.
This immediately provokes a howl of protest from Adele. There they sit, all enjoying a swank meal and then Antony gets an early birthday present, yet she’s not allowed to have her contact lenses. After all, the monthly cost is only £17.00, which isn’t earth-shattering.
Plank springs to her defence. He can see his sister’s point. She’s sixteen and embarrassed about wearing glasses. Or doesn’t Marty ever remember what it was like to be sixteen and embarrassed about his appearance?
Marty is forced to reflect on this, and suddenly Dire, who’s accustomed to switching sides in an argument when it suits her, comes down firmly on Adele’s side, when the girl pleads again and offers to pay for the lenses herself with her garage money. Marty finally agrees that Adele can use Brigid’s vouchers. And he brings up the subject of ‘afters’ again.
Antony doesn’t want any dessert; instead, he asks Marty if he can watch the swimmers in the Health Club pool below. (I’m AMAZED by this. This is supposed to be Boxing Day. Restaurants being open, I can buy; but HEALTH CLUBS??? But then, I do live in the soft South).
As Ant leaves, Plank asks if Dire and Marty have thought anymore about sending Ant back to school. As the couple discuss their options and the way the school has handled the bullying, Ant does his party specialty act of eavesdropping. (He’s another Brookside character, who’s sublimely annoying - but at least, he’s watchable).
Back at Chateau Farnham, Katie has to take her leave. She really ought to go back to NNT, she excuses herself. After all, she left Sammy asleep and Louise on her own. After Katie’s gone, Jacqui confides to Rachel that she’s worried about Katie. She’s only just got over Clint, and now she has to deal with Sammy’s reappearance. What happens to Katie if Sammy turns out to be the way she was of old - an alcoholic?
Whilst Plank, Marty and Dire have a conflab at the table of the restaurant, Adele joins Antony, who’s watching the people swim below. He remarks to Adele that he hasn’t been swimming since being kept off school. Adele gets straight to the point with her younger brother. Why doesn’t he just hit back when the bullies torment him?
Ant replies that he can’t hit back. He’s always been told that it’s wrong to hit girls.
Then, says Adele, Antony was simply going to have to put up with their torments, until they got bored and found another culprit. That’s what she had to do.
Antony is astonished. He never knew Adele was bullied.
Of course she was, replies Adele. A specky goody-two-shoes, who always did her homework and liked Kate Bush? She was ripe for it.
Ant asks how she coped. Did she tell their parents?
No, she didn’t, she confides. She just kept telling herself what morons the people were who were bullying her and ignored them. They soon got bored when she wouldn’t respond to their taunts. The point is, does Ant want to go back to school?
Antony admits that he wants to return to school, but he’s scared.
Then he has a choice, says Adele. He can either grin and bear it and ignore the bullies ... Or he can hit back.
The two return to the table, where Plank and Marty are discussing football. Ant interrupts the conversation. He’s been thinking, and he wants his parents to know that after the holidays, he wants to go back to school.
Dire asks if he’s absolutely sure about this.
Ant replies that the longer he’s off, the more he’ll feel like a geek.
But Dire reminds him that the girls would still be there, waiting for him.
Max returns early from visiting Lisa with the children, to find Jacqui dozing on the couch. He’s surprised. He thought he’d find her sacked out in bed upstairs.
Jacqui admits that she thought as much too, but first Rachel and then Katie dropped by. Besides, Max was home early.
Max says that Lisa had other guests, and anyway, Emma had started crying and acting out. He admits that he’s tired as well. He had thought that he would return home to find Jacqui rested and ready to cope with the kids whilst he relaxed.
Jacqui’s more than tired, she says, she’s knackered.
Max is suddenly worried that Jacqui is finding it hard to cope, but Jacqui assures him that she will cope just fine.
The Murrays return to the Close on foot from the restaurant, to find that Jimmy hasn’t removed the old bath from the front garden. Instead, he’s put a festive plastic Santa (from the same manufacturers who gave us Emily) in the bath. The family laughs and teases Dire for bringing the subject up with Jimmy in the first place).
Christy has returned to the bar to be confronted by the plastic bimbo, herself. Where’s Tim? Emily wants to know.
Jimmy adds that Leanne told him and Emily all about the job and the nicked lorry. Leanne interjects to reiterate that Tim had got himself off and left Christy to carry the can in this one.
Christy begans to tell Emily about the caper. It was a nightmare from start to finish, he begins. He shouldn’t have nicked the lorry at all, he says, but Tim made him. It was too big, he continues, and he knew there would be big-time villains involved in this, but again, Tim wouldn’t listen.
Tim was trapped in the back of the van and Christy was forced to nick it. The villains pursued them, and Christy skidded near the riverside and the van dovetailed. The contents and Tim as well, went into the Mersey.
Jimmy refuses to believe this story. It’s all Christy’s usual tales and rubbish, he exclaims. But Emily interrupts him. If Tim went into the river, she admits, he’s dead. She and Leanne exchange worried looks.
Are we worried? NO. Do we hope Tim dies? YES. Do we wish someone would melt Emily? TOO RIGHT.
MERRY CHRISTM-ARSE FROM BROOKSIDE
That about sums it up, folks. We’ve spent over a week, wondering if Brookside’s writers and producers are latently stuck in the Oedipal stage - specifically, the ‘sucking’ stage which occurs around the chronological age of two - when tonight we get something for the ladies to admire. C’mon now, girls, we’re all supposed to get all hot and bothered by the brief glimpses of Philip Olivier’s bum wafting in and out of his hospital gown. And in episodes to come, we’re going to go all aglow when Leon Lopez streaks across the Close.
Yum, yum?
I think not, Finknottle.
I would just like SOMEONE, ANYONE from Brookside who can string together a recogniseable sentence using a subject and a predicate and with correctly spelled words, to tell me WHY the show seems to exist off gratuitous nudity, near-nudity and hints of nudity. Other soaps don’t. Brookside is supposed to be a cut above. Does that mean to say that the INTELLIGENSIA regard nudity as freedom of expression or indeed, an expression of something, itself? Then the INTELLIGENSIA of this country must read The Daily Star or The Sport.
Admit it ... It’s all because of the ratings, or lack, thereof - considering the fact that for the week ending 16 December, the figures were below 4 million again.
It’s the day after Boxing Day, and the plastecene Mrs O’Leary appears to have the phone melded into her ear. She’s speaking, quite rudely in fact, to the police. She’s rung them - yet again, it would appear - to see if they have any news about ‘me oosbund’.
The officer on duty must have asked her what news she was expecting, because she blows a gasket in her dense little bimbo brain and shouts back: ‘Whadderya mean what noose? I want yer ter f-eyye-nd’im!’
Then, in a voice of utter boredom, she relates the personal details about Tim: ‘‘Ees name’s Tim O’Leary; ‘ees twenty’n ‘ees bin missin’ fer days.’
She then screeches down the phone at the bizzy on duty (and pity the poor chap’s eardrums): ‘Whyn’t youse lot found’im? Ee could be dead’n youse lot’re doin nuttin.’
Did you understand the shit from that gob? No. Good. You weren’t supposed to. REAL actresses from Liverpool take diction lessons. Street scum who pretend to be classically trained dancers don’t have to. They just rely upon the power of a fake tan, bleached hair and plastic tits to excite the great unwashed multitude of ladolescents whom the producers seem bent on trying to attract.
Interlude: We have a shot of Tim, lying unconscious in a darkened hospital room. Pity the scally’s not dead.
Jimmy enters Hotel Corkhill to find the Mekon seated and wearing her dressing gown, doing an impersonation of a cross between ET and a sex toy. Emily tells Jimmy that she’s been ‘oop all night’. She thinks Tim’s dead.
Jimmy is hopeful, however, but the silly slut won’t be convinced. Jimmy heard what Christy said. Tim’s probably at the bottom of the Irish Sea right now. (Boo-hoo. No such luck).
Jimmy implores the scag not to give up hope, but Emily wails that Tim’s been gone for days, and she needs, sorry, she NEEEEEEEEEEDS (let’s keep in character here) to know where Tim is. And thrusting her prow against Jimmy’s chest, she wails that she can’t live without Tim. (She needn’t worry. Dean Sullivan’s gay).
Interlude II: In the darkened hospital room, Tim gains consciousness and takes in his surroundings. He must be some kind of superhero, but I wouldn’t want to raise any illusions of the great unwashed scally and otherwise females who can’t spell. Normally, someone who’s been out like a light for a few days, awakens slowly and is certainly unable to get out of bed and lumber around. Has Brookside ever heard of muscular atrophy? Ususally when one is confined to bed for even a few days, the leg muscles atrophise, making one extremely weak in standing or walking. However, since most of the Brookside casts’ brains are atrophied, I doubt their legs matter much.
Over at Chateau Farnham, Maxim is booted and suited and ready for a hard day’s graft (don’t make me laugh) at The Shelf. He’s concerned, however, at the fatigued state of his wife. Max asks if Jacqui had a rough night with the kids. (Max must be some sound sleeper). Jacqui replies that she was up at 3:15, 3:50 and 4:15 with Harry, who was putting up a fuss about coming into sleep with them. At 5:00AM, she just gave up and got up with the two children.
Max is concerned that Jacqui’s finding the care of the two children and the house too much. (He should rightly remember that both his former wives, who both had two children for whom to care, did so with the help of nannies and cleaning ladies and neither of them gave up their careers; in fact, Patricia was chomping at the bit after giving birth to a Down’s Syndrome child to get back to her PR career). He reminds Jacqui that she’s not superwoman. (Well, she could be - if she had a nanny and a cleaner). Max suggests that Jacqui relent and have the child in with them for a couple of nights to calm him down.
Jacqui refuses. She doesn’t want the children to develop the habit of wanting to sleep with their parents. Max doesn’t see anything wrong with that at present. After all, he says, the kids were never out of Susannah’s bed. (HA! HA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHHHAHHHHHHHAHA! Say that AGAIN? Does he mean Harry and Emma - and he was never around Susannah when BOTH children were about? Or could he mean Matthew and Emily? As far as Harry and Emma were concerned, I’d say there was no room for them in Susannah’s bed. The only people who were never out of Susannah’s bed were Max, Greg, Mick and Darren!)
Well, Jacqui replies, she’s not Susannah. As a matter of fact, she points out, it was a policy of DD’s never to let the children come into bed with her and Ron, unless they were ill.
Max points out that Jacqui may not be Susannah, but neither is she DD.
Besides, remarks Jacqui, she didn’t want to tangle with having Harry’s elbows in her eyes or his knees in her stomach. (And you’re a mother?) She wants Max to let her tackle this situation her way.
She then mentions to Max that she plans on going over to the Health Club that morning in order to have a swim.
That’s a good idea, says Max. It might tire the kids out.
Sorry, explains Jacqui, she meant to have a break from the kids. She hasn’t been out of the house, she explains in the past four days. She was hoping Max could babysit this morning whilst she took a break.
At first Max is reluctant, but finally he compromises. He’s got some paperwork he could work on from home, as long as Jacqui’s back by 11AM to enable him to bet to The Shelf in time for opening. Besides, he supposes the kids could amuse themselves by watching their videos. (Sorry, but is this the way people bring up their children in Liverpool - plopping them in front of a television whilst getting on with other things? What happened to spending time with the kids? And why couldn’t Jacqui drop them at the nursery as she did during the trial for a break from them?)
SuperTim has emerged unscathed from his hospital bed. He stands, without any apparent weakness, having a rummage through his filthy and mud-encrusted clothes. He stops and thinks, remembers he has a brain and thinks some more. He remembers what happened. SHA-ZAM!
Jimmy is still trying to comfort the blow-up doll. Tim’s tough, he assures her. He’ll get out of this. After all, would she rather the bizzies found him and have him end up back in jail? Someone would find him, no worries.
Tim peeks through the curtains in the hospital and sees the corridor crawling with police. As they make their way to his curtained partition, Tim sneaks into the next cubicle and shouts to the bizzies that the patient is in the loo.
Christy and Leanne are reviewing their situation at the bar, after having given all the stock to the villains. Christy tries to remain optimistic, because Leanne is wailing about not being able to open. They would open, he says, the weekend AFTER Christmas. It’s usually a waste of time to open until then anyway during this period.
But they HAVE to be open by New Year’s Eve, Leanne protests. And they had no profits because they had no booze to sell; therefore they are unable to replace the stock.
What about her savings? Christy asks Leanne.
Well, she’s forced to admit. She’s been living a bit of the high life since Bev left. What about Christy’s so-called investments?
Christy admits that he had, indeed, speculated, but he hadn’t accumulated. He’s sorry, he apologises to Leanne, he’s let her down. There they were - no money, no prospects.
Leanne isn’t dissuaded. They still have each other, she maintains. That’s more than that Tim and Emily have, if what Christy said was true.
Tim sneaks through the hospital corridors in his hospital gown. As he flits to and fro, we girls are treated to the gratuitous sight of his naked bum occasionally. OMIGOD!!! TIM IS SO FIT! HE IS JUST 2 FIT 2 B TRU, OMIGOD! TIM IS A SEX GOD!!! Not. That’s just what some of the idiots say who watch this show, so I was just reliving the moment for them. He arrives at a phone booth in the hospital, picks up the handset and dials a number.
The phone at Hotel Corkhill rings. Jimmy and Emily exchange hopeful looks. Jimmy suddenly jumps to answer the phone, listens a moment and then turns to Emily. ‘Would we accept a reverse charge call from Tim O’Leary?’ He asks euphemistically. Off-camera, we hear the shrill squeal of a pig being butchered.
Er, sorry, that’s Emily screeching, and coming on camera, bouncing up and down - boing boing boing. Where is he? She demands. Is he OK?
Tim tells her that there are bizzies all over the place at the hospital. He supposes Christy grassed him up. He asks her to meet him at the hospital in half an hour with some fresh clothes. She agrees, and asks Jim to pack a bag for Tim whilst she calls a taxi. (For someone who’s perpetually skint, she seems to have a lot of dough for taxis).
Jacqui, Rachel and Katie are sitting in a jacuzzi at the Health Club. Rachel is worried. Oooh, won’t Jac-keh get in trooble fer sneakin’ friends in? She weren’t member.
Jacqui patiently reminds her mentally-challenged sister-in-law that she still owns the Health Club.
Oooh, witters Rachel. She still feels guil-teh. She left Beth with M-eye-ke, who’d joost got in from work.
Jacqui tells the other two about her night with Harry. He’s been fidgety for awhile, pretending he’s got stomach ache trying to get into bed with her and Max. As she and Rachel the Dim exchange mother stories, Katie glances all about the room in an exaggerated manner of boredom.
Jacqui suddenly realises and apologises to Katie for rabbiting on with Rachel about their kids.
Oooh, says Rachel, suddenly, what did we talk ‘bout before we ‘ad kids? (She’s too stupid to remember, because Jacqui hasn’t had kids that long.)
Men, says Katie and the three share a laugh.
Christy and Leanne are still trying to figure out a way out of their dilemma. Leanne suddenly remembers that she still had the Christmas Eve takings from the till. She was keeping it back to use for the after-Chrimbo sales.
How much is there? Asks Christy.
Four hundred eighty-three pounds, admits Leanne.
Christy says that amount was a start. They could go to the Cash and Carry and buy some booze, then as they sold it, Christy could go out during the evening that they opened and buy some more with the other profits. He tells Leanne to go upstairs and get the money.
Tim runs down the corridor toward the ambulance bay. As he runs, we see more gratuitous flashes ob bum. As he approaches a group of nurses, he slows to a walk, but as he arrives at the bay, he sees some police on guard.
As Emily prepares to leave, she tells Jimmy that Tim says the place was crawling with police. Fooney, she remarks, there was no mention of the stolen lorry, or the fact that he’d fallen in the Mersey.
Tim stands surreptitiously in the ambulance parking bay, constantly eyeing the police. He enters the nearest ambulance, which just happens to have its key in the ignition and a spare yellow jacket inside. Putting on the jacket, he starts the vehicle and drives off. We should all live in the cloud coo-coo land of Liverpool and Brookside.
Jacqui, Katie and Rachel are still in the jacuzzi, but now Sol, the Health Club manager, sits by the side of the machine, talking business with Jacqui. Any problems? Jacqui asks, like the conscientious owner that she is.
No, replies Sol, confidently.
What about that receptionist he was having trouble with awhile back? Jacqui pursues.
Well, sighs Sol, she didn’t turn up for work on Christmas Eve.
Jacqui is concerned. Isn’t she the one who’s on a written warning? She asks. She decides that she’ll have to have a chat with the girl once the holidays are over, tell her to sling her hook.
Already taken care of, says Sol. He sacked the girl yesterday. He kept the holiday spirit until after Christmas, then struck like a viper.
He takes his leave and Rachel remarks, ‘Ooooh, ‘e seems l-eye-ke good mana-geh.’
He’s good-looking too, says Katie. (Hey, this is Brookside. If you’re plain, your weird, a geek or just plain bad).
He’s also married, quips Jacqui. But the other two want to talk about Sol.
Somehow, Emily sees Tim’s ambulance and susses he’s inside. She climbs aboard and the two exchange a passionate hug. (Yawn). She admits that she thought Tim was dead. The two snog and there’s an unnecessary love scene, where Tim wants to get dressed and Emily wants to have sex in the ambulance. How boring.
Leanne has been upstairs to Bev’s flat, where she’s squatting (as I know there are some viewers who can’t remember past one hour ago), and not she returns to the bar, laden with the full extent of the Christmas Eve takings - £483.00. In cash.
Christy swipes the dosh, admitting that they would at least be able to open on New Year’s Eve. With the profit made from the sale of the booze bought with this money, they could buy some more and stay afloat.
Another Interlude: Max is trying to finish his paper work at the Farnham dining room table, whilst the kids are making loads of noise upstairs. Max is not amused.
Timily lie on one of the stretchers in the stolen ambulance in what Brookside approximates as being ‘the afterglow’. Of course, in real life, Tim would be snoring loudly, but sex between this blessed couple is pristine and pure ... Not. BIG BORING ARSEHOLES!!!!!
Tim surmises that once he catches up with Christy Murray, he’ll break every bone in Christy’s body.
ET in drag looks distinctly uneasy, realising that Tim reckons that it’s Christy who shopped him to the police. She confesses to having phoned the police, alarmed about his disappearance. She merely told the bizzies that she thought he’d fallen into the Mersey (oddly, enough, they didn’t seemed to arsed to ask why she thought that). So it’s OK if Christy hasn’t said anything.
Tim’s a bit relieved. All that panic over nothing, when all the bizzies wanted to know if he were the missing scally reported having fallen into the Mersey. But it’s not OK for Christy, Tim vows. That one had left him to drown in the Mersey. Just wait until he gets his hands on the creep. (Actually, you div, he really didn’t have much choice. Oh, why don’t you just die, so the producers will axe your pneumatic girlfriend and the pair of her and you can get the shit off our screens and stop fucking up a soap!)
Max is still being distracted by the children’s antics upstairs, and he’s visibly annoyed that Jacqui apparently is late. As one of the children starts to cry, he slams down his pen and storms to the bottom of the stairs, shouting upstairs that if the children couldn’t learn to share toys ... But as the sprogs start to cry again, he storms back to the table and sits down in a state of frustration.
As Timily head back to Manor Park in the stolen ambulance, which no one has bothered reporting yet, they pass the time by thinking of all the various and sundry places they’ve managed to shag each other. I won’t bore you with the details as this couple are beginning to bore and annoy me so much I am seriously considering leaving out all scenes between the two in future summaries. You have been warned.
Jacqui Dixon Farnham, meanwhile, instead of scurrying home, has decided to pay a call at Hotel Corkhill en route. When Jimmy invites her in, she explains that she received a Christmas card from Lindsey and Kylie, but Lindsey didn’t leave a return address. She wanted to reply and was hoping Jimmy had Lindsey’s address.
Jimmy invites her in, suggesting a cup of tea, but Jacqui demurs, saying she really should have been home an hour ago. As she enters the house, she admires the new Corkhill kitchen. Why, it looks just like the kitchen she had in her old flat.
Tim was responsible for getting hold of this, Jimmy says, as he opens a drawer where the address book is found.
And funny, Jacqui notes, as Jimmy prepares to open the door. That very drawer in her kitchen used to stick all the time.
When the drawer sticks, as Jimmy tries to open it, the penny drops for Jacqui.
This is her old kitchen, isn’t it? She asks.
Jimmy tries to deflect the observation by finding Lindsey’s address and reading it out. But Jacqui has opened an overhead cupboard, to find several of Darrens belongings still inside.
Jimmy looks ashamed, as Jacqui realises what’s happened. He asks if she’s going to grass Tim up.
Jacqui sighs and says she admires Tim’s initiative. In fact, she admits, she’s jealous. This kitchen is miles better than the one at Chateau Farnham.
The doorbell sounds again and Jimmy opens the door to find his latest disciple, Nikki, standing there. She’s just calling round to see if any news has been received about Tim.
Tim’s safe and sound, Jimmy announces. In fact, Emily’s gone round to the hozzy to pick him up. Nikki should come in, he invites, and share a pot of tea with him and Jacqui Farnham.
Tim and Emily are still trying to count the number of places where they’ve bonked ... YAWN.
Christy and Leanne have counted the money, and Christy announces that he’s off to the booze shop. Leanne giggles and in a free advert for the upcoming series, reckons that this reminds her of doing the shopping on Big Brother.
Their attention is diverted, however, by an ambulance, which stops outside the door of the bar. Christy realises that it’s Tim and runs to greet him, as Tim announces his arrival by asking if anyone needs an ambulance.
But he makes it clear that he’s not happy to see Christy, In fact, he wants to teach Christy a lesson. He begins to lay into the older man, making it clear that this is his revenge for Christy leaving him to die. Leanne tries frantically to explain what happened to Christy in all this, whilst the Mekon is clearly disgusted by the violence.
Leanne threatens Tim with the sack, but Tim announces that he’s resigned and that he’s also owed back pay and danger money. Finding the cash for the booze, he seizes it. Leanne threatens to tear the face off Tim’s bimbo girlfriend (OH, how I wish) if he doesn’t return the dosh, but Tim counter threats by telling her if she messes around with Emily, he’ll be back.
The boring couple (Timily) leave. Once again, as always in Brookside, looks triumph over talent.
The Sage of The Close and his latest disciple are having a heart-to-heart. Jimmy announces to Nikki that he’s made a significant New Year’s resolution. The subject of her essay has inspired him - about medicating away legitimate pain. He’s been logging onto a website on the internet belonging to some ‘bipolar fella’, who espouses the right of all manic depressives to feel legitimate pain in their lives. (Nice one, Jim. A loony).
Nikki is concerned.
Jacqui entere Chateau Farnham and rushes into the kitchen, where a bad-tempered Max is waiting. Instead of greeting his wife, Max announces that the kids have been fighting all morning and where the hell had Jacqui been anyway? She was supposed to be back by eleven and now he was late for opening.
Jacqui ignores all that. Instead, she launches enthusiastically into plans for redecorating the house. She’d just seen the Corkhills’ new kitchen, she annouces, and she wants one too. Oh, couldn’t she and Max start renovating the house right away?
Corkhills’ new kitchen? Repeats a flabbergasted Max. He thought she was going to the Health Club for a swim!
Yes, she did, Jacqui witters, and she had a sauna, a massage and a goss with Rachel the Dim and Katie -
But, she’s one hour late, sputters Max, incoherently, and that had made him late -
Jacqui protests that it’s been ages since she’s been out with her mates. She’s spent the past few months looking after the kids exclusively (only because she didn’t have Katie to divert her). In fact, she hasn’t been out of the house in days. Max is moaning because he had to look after them for a couple of hours - well, now he knows what it’s like for her day in and day out.
Max shouts that he DOES know what looking after two small children is like, but Jacqui asks him to keep his voice down.
Max, trying to be reasonable, offers to arrange something to help Jacqui cope with the childcare. (Too right. He should remember that Patricia and Susannah had Margaret/Anna/Trona to look after the kids and Bev/Julia/Jessie to clean the place. AND the two other Mrs Farnham’s pursued careers). He realises what a struggle it must be for Jacqui.
Jacqui begins to protest, but Max reckons that it’s no shame in her admitting that she wasn’t cut out to be a stay-at-home mum (neither were Patricia and Susannah). Lots of women aren’t.
Jacqui insists that she’s not trying to prove a point or anything. (Oh, no?)
But Max reckons that she’s overcompensating. Hearing this, Jaccqui digs in. She’s made a decision to care for the children full-time, and she’s sticking with it.
Timily return home to Hotel Corkhill, smugly ignoring any questions proffered by Jimmy and NIkki, especially Nikki. When Nikki asks if the two were going to tell her what happened, Tim cockily answers in the negative, as the annoyingly shitty couple traipse upstairs discussing the bonk they shared in some stupid place at some stupid time.
Nikki is left alone to continue her discussion with Jimmy. This bloke on the Internet is advocating all manic depressives to come off their medication and learn to cope without it.
Nikki can’t understand Jimmy wanting to do this. After all, she reasons, there were some dodgy people on the internet. (Don’t we know it?) Jimmy has just arrived at a point where he’s fit and healthy. Why give it all up to maybe end up back on a roof?
Jimmy points out that Nikki ended up on a roof as well, but Nikki had a right to feel bad. Nikki, he says, came to terms with an act. Depression was not an act. It was ongoing.
But Jimmy should think, says Nikki, of what would happen to his body and his mind if he came off his medication. Look, she faces him squarely, she’s only a second-year psych student. (No, she’s a THIRD year, psych student). This is out of her league, but maybe Jimmy ought to speak to his consultant, rather than listen to some crackpot on the internet.
Jimmy confesses that he wants to get back to being the old Jimmy Corkhill.
PERISH THE THOUGHT!!!!!
Summary © 2001 Marion Watts
Brookside and all related materials are © Mersey Television 1982-2001