Spike Milligan died yesterday. I know he might not mean very much to a lot of people, but he was at the forefront of comedy for years. Without Spike Milligan, there would have been no Pythons, who were infinitely influenced by him; and without Spike Milligan, there would have been no League of Gentlemen.
But Milligan, like a lot of other comic geniuses, suffered from that old nemesis, manic-depression. He didn’t just suffer from it once, he lived with it all his life, constantly in and out of mental hospitals.
Get the picture? Manic-depression isn’t like a cold or the flu. It’s not even like cancer in recession. It’s on-going. Continuous. Life-encompassing.
Get the picture re Brookside? It’s not something that a roof-top confession or getting caught in a scam to bomb your mate’s marriage can cure in an instant. You live with it, and if Brookside decide to continue with Jimmy Corkhill’s character, then WE, the viewers, are going to have to live with that too - and if you thought the last rape saga or the Murray IVF fiasco was bad, you ain’t seen nothing yet, folks!
Some irrelevant, inarticulate and illiterate piece of shit who posts on the Official Forum and who’s simple-minded enough to admit that she’s only watched the programme for two years, posted a thread recently about an upcoming storyline concerning Jimmy, in a manic phase, trying to walk the motorways to Newcastle in order to see Ant and Dec. Her ill-timed and ignorant remark was along the lines of looking forward to this storyline because it promises to be one of the funniest yet.
It isn’t. It’s tragic. And this is where Brookside’s incompetence in writing shows. Ever since the mental health line was introduced for Jimmy, we, the more intelligent viewer, have been uncomfortably debating with outselves as to whether this was supposed to be funny or tragic. Any mental illness is harrowing, but Dean Sullivan seemed, somehow, to be playing this thing for laughs. And we laughed at some of Jimmy’s antics - although we asked ourselves if this were the reaction that Brookside intended. If so, and it’s clear to people with amoebic minds like Kirsty the poster, thought them comedy, then Brookside is being damned insulting to anyone and anybody who’s ever suffered a mental breakdown. If not, then Brookside needs to be getting some new and better writers, because for every viewer like myself, or Graeme Selway, Robert Hampton, Annabelle, Dr Dave, Paul Mannion etc., there seem to be dozens like the puerile K***ty who can’t comprehend, won’t comprehend and sits back to laugh. (By the way, love, if there be any big words you don’t understand, use a dictionary. It’s what it’s there for).
And now, before I begin the summary, a couple of messages to some people.
T**tle, you sublimely arrogant lame-brain, not everyone on the forum agrees with your assessment of my posts, although, much to your chagrin and dismay, I shall return - and, believe you me, I’ll make Leanne Powell’s idea of revenge look academic. Annabelle is NOT the comedian, baby - she was laughing at you and your singularly insular view of the Gospel according to Tootle, who’s always right. And Dr Dave’s response to your snide little aside about my absence was a wonderfully subtle put-down of your lack of intelligence and intellectual prowess. But then, I don’t suppose that ‘subtle’ is a word that figures in your vocabulary.
And dear sp****esa(ur). Nice to see you posting again, although, I must say that SMARM is not your style. They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but I copyright my thoughts and opinions and I don’t appreciate you regurgitating them ver batim as your own on the Offical and other websites. That’s called plagiarism, and it’s something you should know about when you attempt to write a scholarly paper at KEELE UNIVERSITY.
Oh, and don’t come the innocent with me anymore, Sunshine, because I can tick you off in any one of FIVE languages and leave you reeling.
Your comments are welcome on Alan’s or Annabelle’s site - if you dare.
The opening shot is of a well-manicured masculine hand, holding a pen, seemingly reviewing a list made on a spiral notebook. The camera pans back to show Max, sitting in the lounge area of Chateau Farnham, booted, suited and ready to depart for work.
Next we move to the Bar, where poor Bev gazes disgruntedly at the detritus of defeat surrounding her. Her look swiftly, but gradually (in only the imperceptible way Sarah White can manage), changes from despair to quiet resignation at her fate.
And onto another venue, and another masculine hand - this time in the process of packing a suitcase, which lies on a bed nearby. As the camera pans back, we see it’s Jimmy.
Max leaves the house, closing the front door and walking down the pathway to the pavement. His mobile sounds and he takes the call. It’s a caller from Great Grannies, seeking Jacqui. (It’s obvious that Jacqui’s had all her mobile calls diverted to Max’s). As he walks and shuffles his briefcase and phone about awkwardly, Max explains to the caller that Jacqui’s not here, but he was her husband and he was dealing with matters in her absence. From the gist of Max’s one-sided conversation, we glean that it’s another complaint about a cleaner not showing up.
Max asks the identity of the errant cleaner and is told that it’s none other than Jessie Hilton. Max promises to have a word, but from his reactions, it’s clear that he’s getting untold verbal abuse from the other end ot the call. He tries to calm the caller down, saying that he understands the reason that he/she’s upset, but then the caller must have really launched into some invective (hmm ... maybe they should post on the Official Forum), because Max quips to the person that he doesn’t have to put up with that sort of abuse and rings off.
Meanwhile, Dr Nikki Nightingale and Tim the Dim are faffing about in the kitchen of Hotel Corkhill, while we hear Jimmy humping and bumping about in the extension. Nikki is concerned about Jimmy, she tells Tim. She wonders if perhaps one of them shouldn’t call Lindsey, about Jimmy’s planned trip to Newcastle. What if something happened and he had a manic phase on the way there?
Tim, who’s too stupid to understand what Jimmy’s disease entails, scoffs at the idea. Jimmy’s a fifty year-old bloke, he reminds her. He can look after himself. Besides, Tim has his own inherently selfish reasons for wanting Jimmy out of the picture. Emily would go ballistic (not THAT I have to see, she’d be jet propelled by her implanted tits) if Jimmy didn’t go to Newcastle. The selfish, little, peroxided bitch was really looking forward to having the house to themselves for a bit.
Jimmy emerges from the extension, talking aloud to himself about forgetting to pack his shaving foam.
Just to appease Nikki and allay her fears, Tim asks Jimmy how he’s feeling.
‘Sound as a pound,’ Jimmy announces, as Nikki departs to the lounge area.
By the telephone, she finds a message left for her. She’s shocked and asks Tim about the message.
Oh, yeah, Tim admits, he forgot to tell her. Her bank rang for her earlier. Nikki is not impressed and immediately rings the bank. As a background to Tim and Jim’s conversation, we hear her identify herself and say that she’s returning a call she got earlier.
Tim asks Jimmy when he plans on returning. Jim says he should be back on Tuesday, but - he adds - you never know. If he likes things in Newcastle and if Linds doesn’t object, he just might not come back at all. He’s always fancied being a part of the Toon Army, he says and swans away in his own world.
By now Jessie has actually turned up at a cleaning job and - hey! - she’s actually not needed. She’s at the bar with Bev, and Bev is telling her that she won’t be requiring hers and Brigid’s cleaning skills any longer.
Ron won’t be happy to hear that, Jessie tutts.
Ron, says Bev, happens to be the least of her worries at the moment. She simply couldn’t afford to pay Jessie and Brigid. Oh, she moans, it’s all down to that damned Leanne Powell. The bar and everything Bev worked for was ruined.
Jessie agrees. She always found Leanne a hard-faced, little madam, she declares. But what was Bev planning on doing now? Asks Jessie.
Bev shrugs. Same as she always did when she had nothing - simply get on with it. Anyway, Bev vows, that selfsame, hard-faced cow Leanne had better not show her face around here anytime soon.
A letterbox opens and through its slit, we see a pair of female eyes. The box snaps shut, and in the next shot, we see that Helen’s come round the Close, looking for Ray. She stands back from the Dixon house, indecisive as to whether or not she should remain or leave.
Jimmy emerges from Hotel Corkhill, having spied her, and approaches. She’ll get no answer, he says. Everybody there was out. (And Jimmy would know).
Helen explains that she’s looking for Ray.
Well, Jimmy replies, if she has a message for Ray, he’d be happy to pass it on.
Helen declines, gracefully, saying that she’d prefer to wait for Ray’s return.
Could be awhile, says Jimmy, and it’s freezing.
Helen replies that perhaps she’ll wait another five minutes.
Jimmy then introduces himself and Helen does the same. Jimmy realises that this is Ray’s long-lost daughter, and he immediately invites her into the warmth of Hotel Corkhill to wait for Ray - that way, he says, she could keep warm and keep an eye peeled at the window for Ray’s return. Why, Ray would never forgive Jimmy for allowing Helen to wait in the cold like that. He’ll put the kettle on for her.
Next door at Sitcom House, Plank is sitting in the conservatory, working on a greasy bit of car part. Adele enters, dressed in her ‘Stop-for-a-Drink-and-A-Snack’ garage sweatshirt and eyes him with disgust, sorry, disgoost. Dire wouldn’t be too pleased at Plank plonking about with dirty car parts in the house like that, she warns.
Ah, brags Plank, this was his job, and the money would come in useful, omitting the fact that the bulk of the money he’d contributed of late, came not from fixing cars, but from heists with Tim. All this money, says Plank, will one day see him have a career of his own, which is more than he can say of Adele, wanting to blow a bitch load of money on going to the sad equivalent of a Mediterranean Blackpool. Anyway, he continues, how much money, exactly, did Adele have saved to pay for this holiday ... £2.50?
Adele admits that she doesn’t have much money saved toward it.
How much did she need? He asks, scathingly.
Adele says she needs - what a coincidence! - another £500. (Hmmm ... I wonder where she’ll ‘find’ that?)
Plank laughs scornfully. She’ll never come by that amount from her part-time garage job!
Well, retorts Liverlips of Liverpool, at least she had a life. She wasn’t caught up in some pie-in-the-sky plans for setting up a mobile garage with precious little. (Or going on the rob). And besides, she continues, she reckons she’ll be on holiday before he gets that old rust bucket on the move. Oh, and by the way, Plank was to tell Dire that Adele wouldn’t be home for tea.
Jim’s made Helen a cup of tea and now he’s less-than-subtly fishing for the reason behind her visit - or does the SAGE smell the possibility of another disciple for the fold?
Is this a surprise visit? He asks, politely. Well, Ray WOULD be made up. He gathers Ray doesn’t see as much of Helen as he would like and that he had suddenly come by a new family -
Helen swiftly interrupts to say that hers was not a proper family, for Ray, not in any sense of the word. Changing the subject, she asks Jim if he’s known Ray long.
Since he moved onto the Close, says Jimmy. Ray’s a nice fella.
Helen admits that Ray’s mentioned Jimmy on several occasions. In fact, if she remembers correctly, didn’t Jimmy have a go at Ray about her situation? And didn’t he, in fact, throw Ray out of his house?
That upset Ray very much, she says.
Jimmy looks ill at ease at that memory. Truth is, Jim confesses, it hit home with him. He had had a few family problems, himself. Family was a bit of an issue with Jim. He explains that he has quite a ‘family history’. He got divorced last year and his daughter had moved to Newcastle. As a matter of fact, he was going to visit her today.
Helen is immediately apologetic for intruding. Why, if Jimmy’s going on a trip, he’d have loads to do.
Jimmy waves her concern away. His train didn’t leave anyway until 5PM, and besides, his conversation with Helen was the best bit of conversation he’d had in a long time, he flirts. He remarks upon how tense she seems.
Helen stammers that she’s had a difficult week.
Oh, Jim is intrigued. Did she have a fall-out with someone?
It’s a lot more complicated than that, Helen admits, but as she starts to explain, Jim spies Ray through the window, returning to the Close. He’s back, he says, looking over Helen’s shoulder. Now’s her chance to get this thing sorted.
That’s what she intended to do, Helen says, as she leaves.
As Ray walks toward Number 8, Helen emerges from Hotel Corkhill and runs after him. Ray’s surprised to see her, asking why she didn’t call. She tells him that she has something to talk to him about and, it was better to say it face to face.
Bluntly, she asks Ray what he meant by turning up at her house the other day?
Ray’s taken aback, but recovers himself in time to suggest that Helen come into Number 8 and talk about this in privacy.
Adele arrives at the Garage. As she opens the door, Leanne steps out from the storeroom, wearing a Garage sweatshirt, and stands behind the counter.
Adele is aghast. What was Leanne doing there? She asks, in horror.
‘Same as you,’ snaps Leanne. ‘Werrkin’.’
Adele finds this hard to believe. However did Leanne manage to get this job? (Or any job, with her police record).
Leanne quips that she fluttered her eyelashes at the Garage manager. And just so’s Adele knew, Leanne is considerably up the pecking order from part-timers, so Adele could make herself useful and put the kettle on - because Leanne was gasping.
Inside Number 8, Helen comes straight to the point and tells Ray that he managed to scare Stephanie half-to-death the other day.
Ray tells her that he has a right to see his granddaughter.
‘She’s nothing to you,’ says Helen. Jessie was right, she continues. Helen should have thought about the repercussions of finding Ray and not just blundered in blindly.
Ray guesses that Helen hasn’t told her daughter anything about him yet.
That’s right, says Helen, and she doesn’t want Stephanie to know anything. She tactlessly tells Ray that he suddenly can’t expect to become a part of her unit overnight and then show up every Sunday, expecting to play Granddad. Besides, Helen, herself, doesn’t know what relationship she has with Ray, if any. She’s his daughter, but only biologically.
Ray looks downcast.
Oh, maybe they’ll have some sort of relationship in the future, she concedes, but right now, it’s all too much too soon. It’s best she leave things alone.
She rises and strides to the door. As she leaves the house, Ray begins to protest frantically, promising to do anything for her, but at the same time, Helen protests her point as well. As she exits the front door, Ray is reduced to begging her plaintively to give him a chance. He’s near tears, but Helen purposely ignores him and walks away, without looking back.
Jimmy twitches the curtain at the front window of Hotel Corkhill and watches the scene. When Helen leaves, he steps onto the doorstep and gazes at a distraught Ray as he re-enters Number 8.
This was an episode of hand shots, and back at the garage we see a pleasingly plump paw reach out and grab a chocolate bar from the display on sale. The camera pans back and we see Leanne pocket the item.
Adele, watching from behind the counter, remarks that she hopes Leanne intends to pay for that.
‘Like you pay for the comics that fall into your bag?’ Sneers the mistress of all putdowns.
Adele holds her own by asking if Leanne’s seen much of Adele’s Uncle Christy lately.
Leanne puckers her lips and narrows her eyes, avoiding Adele’s gaze. Christy, she lies, is away on business.
Really? Remarks Adele. And here she was, thinking he’d done one! Mind you, she tells Leanne, Dire thinks he’s gone off on a bender.
Seeking to change the subject, Leanne spies Bev across the street, emerging from the Bar. There’s Bev, she says to Adele.
Adele takes a look, commenting on the awful thing that had happened to Bev recently. Why, talk was that she might even have to close the bar down.
Mmmm, says Leanne, assuming a look of wide-eyed, exaggerated innocence. Wonder who could have done that? Bev must have really upset someone to have something as horrific as that happen.
Tim emerges from Hotel Corkhill to find Plank washing his rattletrap red van. He hails Plank, likening the two lads to two sad DOLE-omites, about to sign on. But not them, he continues. In five years’ time, he predicts, Plank will be servicing all the rich housewives around, whilst he and Emily would have their posh home and swimming pool on the Wirral.
Plank comments briefly that he prefers Chester.
Tim tells Plank that he and Emily will be having the house to themselves for a bit as Jim was about to go to Newcastle for a few days.
Plank notes that Tim doesn’t seem to be too happy about a fortuitous absence, and Tim tells him he’s worried that Jimmy won’t come back. And if that happens, he and Em could be turfed out by Jackie ... WHO STILL OWNS THE HOUSE!!!!!
Jessie Hilton is walking along The Parade, apparently having just got off the bus from Tesco’s, if her carrier bag is anything to go by.
Max Farnham sees her and calls out to her, running to catch up with her. He wants a word, and without much ado, he tells her of the complaint he received that morning about her not turning up for a cleaning job the day before. Max comes straight to the point. Great Grannies couldn’t afford to employ cleaners who couldn’t be bothered to turn up.
Jess immediately grasps the intent of Max’s words. She apologise for her absence, but points out to Max that Ron Dixon was her boss - and in his absence, Jacqui.
And in Jacqui’s absence, Max, he asserts, as Jacqui was away for a couple of weeks.
Jessie explains to Max that she’s had a lot on her plate recently, not the least of which was losing her home. She thought that Max could endeavour to be a little more understanding.
And on the subject of homes, continues the new Mad Max, does Jessie know if her insurance company has stumped up on the rent for Number 8 yet?
Jessie promises to look into that matter, she replies with dignity, as for Great Grannies, she promises that her faux pas won’t happen again.
As Plank washes the van, he moans to Tim about his current state as opposed to what he enjoyed with Trona. If he were still with Trona, he reckons, he’d have his own flat now and probably his own business, even if it did mean bowing from the waist to Geoff Evans.
Tim scoffs that Plank didn’t want to bother with a waster like Geoff.
Yes, argues Plank, but a body has to bow down to wasters like Geoff Evans in order to get on in life. Anyway, what did Tim have planned, apart from robbing ales and such, and doing so awkwardly and for little money?
Not true, says Tim. That first load of ale was prime stuff. It just ended up at the bottom of the Mersey. Why, there were loads of opportunities out there to be taken, Tim says, expansively.
At that moment, Max Farnham and Jessie Hilton simultaneously return to the Close. As both prepare to enter their respective homes, they exchange a brief, cold stare.
OK, Tim concedes, the last job wasn’t organised properly, but the next one would be. Or did Plank want to just sit around waiting for the next bimbo with a rich daddy to make an appearance? Then Tim expounds upon his life’s philosophy. Life’s no lottery, he says. If you want something, you gotta take it, yourself.
Jessie’s returned home, to hear Ray’s latest tale of woe. In an abject about face from her performance the previous week, she’s now bewailing the injustice of Helen denying Ray the opportunity to see Stephanie.
Ray moans that Helen behaved as if all this were his fault.
Honestly, huffs Jess. What did that woman expect? Stephanie WAS Ray’s granddaughter, after all. What did she think would happen as she was insensitive enough to go opening such cans of worms in the first place. Jess insists on getting Helen on the phone and giving her what for.
Ray suddenly stops her, adamant that she shouldn’t interfere. It was Jessie’s interfering that caused this brouhaha in the first place. And doing this, would only make matters worse. Jessie should simply STAY OUT OF IT! Ray shouts, and as he turns, he runs into Mike, who’s been upstairs asleep and has been awakened by the noise.
Embarrassed, Jessie apologises to Mike. Did they wake him up?
No, Mike answers, he was about to get up anyway.
Mike must think Ray and Jessie argued all the time, Jessie witters.
Mike dismisses the comment politely and asks if Ray and Jessie had heard anything about their insurance claim yet.
Not yet, Jessie replies, misinterpreting Mike’s interest, but she wants Mike to know that shortly, she and Ray would begin paying the Dixons rent.
Rent? Asks Mike, in surprise. Who said anything about the Hiltons paying rent?
Jessie confesses to a run-in with Max on The Parade. He cornered her and ticked her off about not turning up for work the previous day, she tells Mike. It seems that Max is now in charge of Great Grannies, in Jacqui’s absence.
But who said anything about paying rent? Mike wants to know. Ron certainly wouldn’t expect that of the Hiltons. They were his friends.
‘All I know,’ replies Jess, piously, ‘is that I was spoken to like dirt by Max Farnham.’
Mike tells Jessie that she wants to remember that Great Grannies is his dad’s business and nothing to do with Max Farnham, as the doorbell sounds.
Max is putting petrol in his car, when Bev crosses The Parade to enter the garage. Max greets her, telling her he had heard about the bar getting trashed. He sympathises with her and asks her what she plans to do now.
Bev is depressed. There doesn’t appear to be anything left to do but up stakes and go, she says.
The two enter the garage together, where the first sight to meet Bev’s eyes is Leanne, kitted out as a garage employee. Bev is horrified. She remarks that she was certain that Leanne would be at some JobCentre now.
Leanne smiles her classically evil smile and baits Bev mercilessly.
‘Someone must really hate you, Bev,’ she preens, ‘to do that to your bar.’
‘It was YOU!’ Bev retorts, accusing Leanne justifiably. Adele is intrigued. She pointedly asks Leanne if she really did trash the bar.
Leanne snorts dismissively. Did Bev really think Leanne would waste her time on that bar and its slut of an owner. Bev should face facts. She’s a loser, always was, always would be.
Hurt to the quick, Bev immediately pounces on Leanne and a full-scale barny erupts in the garage, while poor Max tries to pay for his petrol. Worried that the fight will get out of hand, Adele begs Max to do something, and Max manages to pull Bev off Leanne, walking her outside to calm down.
Leanne is going full blast from this incident. She accuses Bev of wantonly attacking her. Turning to Adele, she tells the girl that Adele is her witness and points to the CCTV camera above, claiming further evidence. Running after the departing Bev and Max, she screams that she’s going to sue Bev for every penny she’s got.
Poor Bev flees in desperation across The Parade and disappears into the bar, where she begins to weep in despair. (A bravura performance by the magnificent Sarah White).
Nikki has meandered over to visit her grandparents, expressly to ask if they’d heard anything from their insurance claim. Jessie assures her that they’d, as yet, heard nothing. Nikki is worried that the claim is taking so long. She is forced to admit to her grandmother that she’s in a spot of financial bother, especially concerning her student loan.
Jessie is surprised to hear about this and asks Nikki to explain.
Nikki hastily explains that she owes so much money to the uni, that she’s been forced to take out a hardship loan.
So Nikki’s in debt and she incurs MORE debt, remarks Jessie, sceptically.
Nikki hastens to explain that a hardship loan isn’t exactly a loan, it’s more of a grant.
‘It’s still robbing Peter to pay Paul,’ says Jessie.
The point being, continues Nikki, that in order to get this hardship grant-loan, Nikki had to provide the uni with a copy of all her bank statements, and the bank had informed her only today that, to do that, there would be a £30 admin charge. Nikki was wondering if Jessie could sub her the £30 needed to pay for the statements.
Jessie doesn’t waste any time saying that money is tight with the Hiltons at the moment. She’s so quick off the mark that the arch typical tightwad, Ron Dixon, would be proud. Couldn’t Nikki wait just a few more days? She asks.
Well, no, she couldn’t, Nikki confesses.
Jessie admits confusion. Nikki’s after a hardship loan. Whatever happened to her student loan? Where was that?
Gone, says Nikki, shortly.
Jessie is astounded. Just how deep is Nikki’s debt.
Nikki admits that she owes the bank and the university, amongst other things. Her debts have simply mounted up, and she simply can’t explain where the money has gone -
Jessie interrupts. She could explain, all right. Nikki is talking about thousands of pounds gone in a few months’ time! As far as Jessie could see, that money has all gone on clubbing and designer clothes. (And Jessie is absolutely right!) In Jessie’s opinion, Nikki’s got herself into debt from having too good a time.
‘Nan,’ Nikki pleads, ‘the university’s threatening to throw me out for non-payment.’
And Nikki expects Jessie to bail her out with insurance money from the fire. Speaking of everything going up in smoke, Jessie taunts, whose fault was that?
Nikki is struck speechless. Surely Jessie isn’t blaming her for starting the fire in the bungalow?
Jessie smirks. Well, Jess wasn’t the one to go around lighting silly candles.
Nikki retorts that there would have been no need for that anyway, if Jessie hadn’t started acting silly over Ray and Helen.
Jessie calls Nikki’s remark unfair, and Nikki flounces out, telling Jessie to stick her money elsewhere!
Bev sits tearfully on her own in the empty bar, when Mike Dixon and Josh suddenly appear at the door. Mike demands to know where the hell Bev’s been and what she’s been up to all afternoon. The school only called him, because she hadn’t arrived to pick up Josh. What’s been happening?
Jimmy is making last-minute preparations to leave and is going over some things with Tim. He asks the lad if he’s certain Tim and the others will be OK on their own and admonishes him to look after the place.
Tim’s got other worries and brings home to Jimmy the remark Jimmy made that morning about perhaps staying on in Newcastle. Tim selfishly wants to know what would happen to him and Emily if Jimmy did decide not to return.
Well, muses Jimmy, he reckons the couple would get the bum’s rush off Jackie ... But eventually, he adds, not right away.
Tim’s face drops dramatically.
But surely Tim didn’t expect to stay at Hotel Corkhill forever? Jollies Jimmy.
Tim displays his stupidity by remarking that he thought unrealistically that he and Emily would have had their own place by now.
Jimmy advises that such things take time and hard graft. Tim needs to seriously think about getting a legitimate job, he says.
Tim brushes that piece of advice aside. He’s all right. He’s just had a run of bad luck, that’s all.
Jimmy looks mildly cynical at Tim’s naivete. That’s what Jim told himself for 40 years, he says to Tim. Now look at him - a looney ex-popman, who’s divorced.
Tim refuses to give up his quest for a successful life of crime.
‘I kept saying that too,’ Jimmy confesses, ‘and it got me nowhere.’
As he prepares to leave for Newcastle, he admonishes Tim not to go doing anything stupid while he was away.
Mike is seated at one of the bar’s tables with Bev, as the new Son-of-Gobby Josh sits perched behind them. Mike is amazed at Bev’s behaviour. How could she forget to pick up her kid, THEIR kid? And then there she was, fighting in the streets with the likes of Leanne Powell, like a common fishwife! What the hell kind of mother was she?
One who’s trying to bring up her kid, retorts Bev, helplessly.
Mike tells Josh to go into the office and watch some telly and then turns back to Bev. Bev has seriously got to sort this out, he says. She has an 8 year-old kid to look after.
Mike’s kid too, Bev replies. And while they’re on the subject, how much attention did Mike pay to Josh? He’s only having a go now because he was inconvenienced into picking the child up from school.
How much he saw Josh wasn’t the issue, Mike says, as Bev accuses him of having been negligent in the past.
Mike admits that maybe he should help Bev out with Josh more, but one thing for certain, Bev was paying far too much attention to the bar and little to Josh. Why was she throwing herself into the bar, anyway? From where he was sitting, it looked as though she were fighting a losing battle. And the more time she wastes quibbling over bar problems, the more it would affect Josh. (Thus speaks the attentive and experienced father).
He continues. Bev needs to accept that her first priority is Josh. The bar, says Mike, is history.
Sue Mooney wrote this. Quite a good episode, actually.
Summary © 2002 Marion Watts
Brookside and all related materials are © Mersey Television 1982-2002