A HARD DAY’S NIGHT
TWANG-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G
It’s been a hard day’s night
Ray should be sleeping like a log
It’s been a hard day’s night
Ron should be shagging like a dog
We see Katie’s had a few
And what more must Nisha do
To make her feel all right
Now Jimmy surfs all day
On the computer for Helen’s mum
Tim lifts and shifts all day
His mate is dumber, and Tim’s just dumb
But Emily needs her bleach
And Mike and Rachel just leach
While Leanne just starts a fight
Then there’s Adele
Trying to get a fake tan
While Sammy’s hell
Means she can’t bag a rich man ... No.
It’s been a hard day’s night
And Jacqui’s counting all her dough
It’s been a hard day’s night,
Laura’s still talking mighty slow
Max flirts with Gaby the Grin
Ant Murray’s riddled with sin
While Nikki’s always right.
Apologies to Lennon and McCartney, but this episode is what transpires during the evening and night of the hour-long special. Strange things happen on Brookside Close after dark. Rachel puts earphones on for some reason. Jessie snores. Katie drinks - nothing new in that. Nisha takes a bath. Jimmy and Ron bond - no, please!
The episode begins with Ron Dixon determinedly packing his bags at Bev’s flat. He’s leaving after being humiliated by Bev laughing at his tackle. (No, lez, Ron’s NOT a fisherman; but he was left red-faced with his balls wafting in the breeze a couple of hourse beforehand). Now, in high dudgeon, he’s going back to Number 8.
Down the hall at NNT, Sammy’s doing some packing too. Wishful thinking that she might be leaving herself. No, she’s packing Louise’s things for her long trip back to London the next morning.
Jimmy Corkhill stands on the doorstep of Number 8 in the dark, ringing the doorbell incessantly. The door is finally opened by a drowsy-eyed Ray, dressed in the ubiquitous old man’s sleeping attire of striped pyjamas. Ray explains briefly, after greeting Jimmy, that he and Jessie had decided on an early night. (One always lives in hope).
Jimmy ignores the remark and immediately, with just a hint of desperation in his voice, asks Ray if Helen had dropped by earlier that night.
Ray tells Jimmy that he hasn’t seen Helen, but he wants to know what’s happened.
Well, Jim begins, and for someone who’s just had a date scarper, he seems mighty chipper, well, he’d just told Helen about all his mental health problems and -
That’s the right thing to have done, interrupts Ray, solidly.
Jimmy remarks pointedly that he didn’t have much choice in the matter.
Ray asks how Helen took the news.
Jimmy replies, saying that she’d done a disappearing act. He had gone into the kitchen to open another bottle of wine. Hey, wait a minute. Did Ray think it could have been the wine? After all, it WAS cheap wine. (This isn’t anything to do with Jimmy’s perception of reality. It has to do, however, with the monumental ego this man has - just like the actor who plays him).
Closing the front door to return to his bed, Ray assures Jimmy that Helen’s neither there, nor has she been there today.
Nisha happens upon Sammy packing bags. For a moment, Nisha’s face lights up in eager expectation. Where’s Sammy going? She asks, trying to disguise the pleasure in her voice at the thought of one of the two self-centred Sugly Blisters leaving her flat.
Not her, Sammy replies. The bags are for Louise. The Ratchild’s going back to London the next day.
Nisha murmurs the all-encompassing platitude, ‘It’s for the best.’
The best for whom? Sammy snaps. Sammy or Richard? Anyway, she continues, resigning herself to the fact wearily, Louise would be away at school most of the time. Sammy would hardly see her.
Nisha tries to say something comforting, like it wouldn’t have been fair on Louise to move her from her school in the middle of term. As the two women talk, poor, pitiful, grimey, greasy, filthy, smelly, stinky Katie wafts through the room, clutching a bottle of vodka.
Ron continues packing the last of his belongings at Bev’s. Bev tries to apologise and implores him to stay. (Of course, she would. She’s losing a babysitter, which was why she was encouraging Ron in the first place). Ron chooses to ignore her pleas. He’s leaving. That’s that.
But he HAS to admit, giggles Bev, that it was a good laugh. No need for Ron to get a cob on over that. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen his doo-dahs before. It had just been awhile and had come as a surprise.
Zipping his bag shut, Ron turns to Bev, his chin sticking out belligerently. Bev deliberately led him on, he accuses her.
‘Me? Lead YOU on?’ Replies Bev. ‘Looks ter me like yer got there of your own accord, Ron Dixon!’
Ron gathers his things and lumbers toward the door of the flat.
‘I thought we were friends!’ Bev wails after him. ‘Where are you going?’
‘Home!’ Ron snaps, over his shoulder as he walks out the door and strides purposefully down the corridor.
Bev leans out the door and shouts after him, ‘Can you still babysit tomorrow?’
(And it’s clear to us all, except to a chosen few, that Bev was nice to Ron for one reason only - free childcare).
Nisha and Sammy stare silently after the staggering figure of poor, pitiful, scrubber Katie. Nisha shakes her head and wishes fervently that Katie would just come out of herself.
She can’t stop grieving, says Sammy, sadly.
Oh, Nisha doesn’t expect Katie to be going on the pull or anything, but a night out now and then might do her some good. Come to think of it, says Nisha, she could do with a good night, herself, after all her studying. Still, she supposes Katie is in the throes of anniversary anxiety - this being the first anniversary of the martyrdom of St Clint.
Sammy sure could do with going on the pull, she mutters. But where is all the talent around Manor Park. The only person she’d seen with any potential lately has been some young lad cleaner at the Health Club.
Well, Nisha remarks, even now when she goes out, she only seems to be able to pull the pigs. (That’s probably because, Nisha, you’ve got a reputation as an easy lay, you slut). Sammy should have seen the last bloke Nisha copped off with.
(Er, sorry ... How old are these women? Twenty-nine? Thirty? Isn’t that just a little TOO old to be smarming around the club scene pulling men? Most men their ages anyway are most likely in relationships. This is NOT Sex and the City. It’s not even reminiscent of it. It’s just two sad and sorry old slappers).
No, Sammy counters, she’s the champion at pulling pigs. Suddenly she has an idea. Why don’t the three of them go out of an evening and have a ‘Pull a Pig’ night. See who can cop off with the roughest fella. They share a giggle. Nisha bets that would even put a grin on Katie’s face, and Sammy says that Katie knows she’s there for her if she needs Sammy.
Alone in her filthy, grimey, smelly room, poor, pitiful, sad, stinky, pukey Katie takes a swig from her vodka bottle and stares longingly at a picture of her dear, departed, martyred, UGLY Clint.
(OK, here’s a question to discuss on whatever forum. WHO THINKS CLINT WAS PLUG-UGLY? I do. He looked like the mascot of CBBC from the late Eighties, Edd the Duck - the one who was always with Andy Peebles. When my oldest kid was about three, she LOVED Edd the Duck. She DIDN’T love Clint, but she thought he resembled him).
Nisha knocks once on Katie’s bedroom door and, hearing no reply, tentatively enters. Katie glances up at Nisha’s reflection in the mirror, and, anticipating what her mate’s come in her room for, she snaps, irritably, ‘Don’t start!’
Nisha ignores the command, instead asking Katie tersely how much she’s had to drink.
Katie orders Nisha to leave her alone in a slurred voice that tells Nisha that the miserable cow has had plenty.
Suddenly Nisha’s FINALLY had enough of Katie’s simpering and whimpering about Clint for the past year. She sits down beside the wretch on Katie’s bed. It’s been TWELVE months since Clint died, Nisha informs her, forcing the fetid girl to face her. Katie isn’t the only person who’s suffered in that time, Nisha tells her, bluntly. But, here, why not take a drink?
And Nisha pours herself a stiff one and gulps it down, herself. After all, she says, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and pouring another, that’s the easiest option, isn’t it?
Nisha gulps another drink, as she and Katie start to struggle against one another. Nisha’s shouting at Katie that she’s got to let go of Clint. Get on with her life and get her life back. Nisha was with Clint, herself, she reminds Katie, and he wasn’t the saint Katie’s cracked him up to be. She shouts at Katie, telling her that Katie has to be strong and get no with her life.
Over at Hotel Corkhill, Jimmy’s making a phone call. The phone rings and rings and no one answers.
Nisha is still fighting and arguing with poor, pitiful, grungy Katie. Nisha’s a fine one to talk, Katie snarls. Sammy’s seen Nisha drunk enough times. Yes, Nisha says, but not on her own, never on her own. And if the sainted Clint could see Katie now, drinking herself into oblivion ...
Nisha drives home the point, yet again, like a broken record we’re ALL tired of hearing. Katie is STILL grieving after one year’s time. That’s NOT normal. She should be able to move on now, and if not, then she seriously needs professional help.
The two women began to slap and paw at each other aggressively in the worst display of female aggression I think I’ve ever seen on television. Suddenly, poor, pitiful Katie starts to cry, and Nisha is beaten. Near tears herself, Nisha apologise profusely, but adding that she doesn’t know how she can help Katie.
The doorbell at Number 8 rings again, and Raymundo, in his pyjamas and dressing gown, answers it to find Ron, pushing past him. Bewildered, Ray asks Ron what he’s doing there?
‘What am I doing here?’ Repeats Ron. ‘It IS me’ouse, Ray.’
Oh, no, Ray didn’t mean it like that, he amends. It’s just that, well, Ron was lucky, see, because he and Jessie had been asleep. Anyway, didn’t Ron have his keys?
Ron tells Ray that he left his keys at Bev’s. He’ll have to pick them up in the morning.
Well, Ron’s lucky Ray’s a light sleeper, Ray informs him, seriously. Otherwise, he continues, there’s young Rachel upstairs with her headphones on. She can’t hear a thing. But ... Ray thought Ron was spending the night at Bev’s-
Things didn’t work out, snaps Ron.
Had an argument, eh? Ray winks, knowingly. Well, that’s women for you, he witters. Take Jessie, for example. She’s a martyr to her catarrh, but SNORE! That woman snores like a donkey in bed. If they were at home, mind you, he’d just kip on the sofa, but here - well, there are simply too many people.
Ron shoots Ray a glaring glance, but Ray ignores the look and continues with his blarney. Of course, he says, with his first wife, Reenie, they had separate beds - separate ROOMS, even. Something to that, you know. When a man gets to a certain age, Ray says, he needs a good night’s sleep. Not that he’d want to sleep apart from Jessie, mind you, he hastily adds. But it was such a difference being with a woman after Reenie! Why, Jessie positively makes Ray feel 18 again. He means, when a body’s tossing and turning all night, it’s nice to have someone there to whom he can cuddle up.
Ron abruptly rises from the seat where he’s been sitting, unwillingly listening to Ray’s blather and announces that he’s going to bed.
Nisha now sits beside poor, pitiful, smelly, filthy, greasy Katie, trying to comfort her. How can Nisha tell her to get on with her life? Katie sobs. Clint’s death was ALWAYS going to hurt her.
Nisha coos and soothes Katie, telling her what she wants to hear, that, yes, Clint’s death would always cause a pang, and in that respect, considering Katie’s current state, Ron Dixon had ruined two lives. And Nisha’s not saying that Katie should get over Clint in five minutes, but it HAS been a year. Besides, Katie needed to hear a few home truths about Clint. Truth was, Clint wasn’t all Katie cracked him up to be.
Clint was THE ONE, Katie hisses. (Sure. Like Weird Simon was THE ONE. Like Christian was THE ONE. Like the Musgrove lads, depending on which day it was were collectively THE ONE.)
Listen, Nisha says, in a confidential tone, Nisha’s life was in a real mess when she met Clint Moffatt. She was dealing with some serious family problems. She supposes she wanted to shock her parents by going out with a bad lad, and that’s just what Clint was - a BAD lad. When she first started going out with Clint, he and Robbie had just completed a heist where they had robbed some computers off a firm by coming in through the skylight.
And the glassing of that lad’s eye in the put downtown was just the tip of the iceberg.
That was down to Robbie, whines Katie, in her annoying scouse voice.
‘I’m saying that TOGETHER they were bad,’ Nisha explains. ‘I don’t know. MAYBE Clint had changed by the time you two got engaged, but MAYBE not. It was a family thing with those two. They fed off and needed each other.’
Katie stands up and shouts that Nisha’s wrong and runs from the flat, down the hall to Bev’s flat, starting to bang on the door and shout for Ron Dixon to come out. (Er, how does Katie know Ron’s there?)
She’s still banging and demanding Ron show himself, when Nisha catches up with her and pulls her away from the door, telling her that this was about Clint, not Robbie.
Katie pulls away from her and starts banging on the door again, snarling at Nisha to say that when NISHA had been through what poor, pitiful Katie had been through, THEN she would be qualified to give some advice.
At that moment, Bev throws open the door, demanding to know what the hell’s going on, and reminding the women that Josh was asleep.
A few moments later, Katie and Nisha are seen sitting reluctantly side by side on the sofa at NNT. Katie stares straight ahead, stubbornly and full of self-pity. Nisha coldly informs her that she DOES, indeed, know what it’s like to be alone in the world. As far as her parents are concerned, Nisha says, she doesn’t exist.
Bev prances into the room then, suggesting a cuppa for everyone, she says, especially if she were going to act as referee.
Ray is sitting at the Dixon dining room table, perusing a pile of papers, when Ron appears, now equally dressed in pyjamas and dressing gown. Ron explains his presence to Ray, telling Ray that he was unable to sleep. Taking a seat at the table, himself, Ron reminds Ray that it’s been one year since he shot Clint Moffatt. He’s spent four months in prison, during which time, he lost his business and his wife. Now he was on his own. Truth is, he confides to Ray, he’d give anything to have a woman look at him the way Jessie looks at Ray.
Spying the reams of paper that Ray has been studying, Ron asks what the paperwork is for.
Information about how to organise a street party for the Jubilee, Ray answers, readily, showing the papers to Ron. Nikki printed it off the Internet.
Ron admits wearily that he’s not in the same spirit that he was in back in 1977. Besides, he adds bitterly, it’s different now. The Brits are ruled by Brussels. Why, it seems to Ron that they want to do away with everything British.
Ray offers to make Ron some cocoa, and Ron readily accepts, but suddenly, he’s made aware of a small noise outside the kitchen door. At first, Ray hears nothing, and says it’s probably the wind; but immediately Ray’s said that, a louder noise is heard and it’s obvious that the two men are clearly startled from the looks they exchange.
Slowly, Ron creeps toward the back door, followed by Ray. With one movement, Ron rips the curtain back across the window of the back door to reveal Jimmy’s face, grinning maniacally.
Ron and Ray both give a startled jump.
‘Christ on a bike!’ Exclaims Ron. ‘It’s flamin’ Corkhill!’
Ron opens the door to Jimmy, who enters carrying a half-empty bottle of brandy. Pointing to the bottle, Jimmy says that he had this left over from the abortive get-together with Helen, and figured they might like a nightcap.
‘Bloody hell!’ Exclaims Ron, but Ray assures him that the brandy might be good for Ron’s heart, as Jimmy pours a hefty serving.
Back at NNT, Katie and Nisha are still sparring, when Bev enters the room, bearing a huge tray with some tea. Maybe Nisha and Katie have stopped scratching long enough to have something to drink, she quips, placing the tray on the coffee table. (This is unusual, especially since Bev previously had no time for Nisha, when she was screwing around with Jerome and making Nikki more miserable than she usually is).
As she puts the tray on the table, Bev begins a litany of the trials and tribulation of parenthood. Bev advises the women succinctly not to ever have children. Once a person has kids, she says, you life isn’t your own.
Plopping herself down between the two women, Bev announces that this get-together is just like something off Sex and the City, another free plug provided by Brookside for another Channel 4 show. Making a reference to Kim Cattrall, Bev remarks that that actress from Sex and the City was born just up the road. Hey, that could easily have been Bev, living in New York, getting her baps out. But then, that actress has all the looks, eh?
Frustrated by Bev’s wittering and inept attempt to get the pair of them to calm down, Nisha announces rudely that she has to go to work the next day, and Katie agrees that she does too. Bev hoists herself up, saying that she had better get back to her own flat, in case Josh woke up and found himself alone.
After Bev leaves, Nisha announces to no one in particular that she’s having a bath, but Katie stops her. She didn’t realise, she says sheepishly, that Nisha had family problems.
Nisha replies coldly that she never let her family problems mess up her studies.
As Bev is about to enter her flat, she runs into Sammy returning from a shift at the Health Club. Bev informs Sammy that ‘her Katie’ was round there earlier banging on the door earlier on.
Sammy asks Bev anxiously if Katie were drunk. Oh, she KNEW she shouldn’t have left Louise with her. (Boy, these Brookside Brats sure can sleep soundly!)
Bev instantly asks Sammy if she has a good childminder for Louise. Hey, maybe they could go halves on the cost, because she’s looking for one for Josh -
Sammy interrupts her to tell Bev that Sammy’s taking Louise back to London the next day as the girl would rather stay with Richard.
Well, Bev sighs, at that age, kids only think about themselves. Josh has driven her potty recently ALWAYS going on about Brazil and wanting to be there.
Well, as far as Louise is concerned, Sammy counters, it was satellite TV and the Pony Club - things Sammy couldn’t provide.
Bev invites Sammy into the flat, where the two of them begin to reminisce about what life was like when they had money. Bev says that she had a luxury four-bedroom apartment in Brazil; Sammy replies that she and Richard always wintered in the Seychelles.Bev remembers the ocean view from her flat in Brazil. She walks to the front window of her flat and pulls the curtain aside, revealing a rainy night, a garishly-lit garage and someone sweeping the forecourt.
Nothing can beat that view, Bev remarks, sarcastically.
Nor the warmth of this local community, laughs Sammy.
Down the hall in NNT, Katie discovers that Nisha never locks the door when she’s in the bath. Opening the door, she enters and we’re treated to another gratuitous nude shot. Weary Nisha isn’t reclining in the bath, with bubble at strategic points covering her boobs. No, she sits, curved forward, clasping her knees, showing just enough flesh to confirm to all the horny, little adolescent lads that Nisha the Naughty Nurse is NUDE.
After living with Nisha for more almost a year, Katie finally asks about Nisha’s family problems. (BEFORE WE START ON THEM, I PUT IT TO YOU THAT THESE ‘PROBLEMS’ ARE A FABRICATION - AND A RECENT ONE- TO AID IN THE CHARACTER TRANSFORMATION OF NISHA.LAST SUMMER, ABED WITH PLANK, NISHA CRIED OFF ON TWO OCCASIONS TO FURTHER DATES, SAYING THAT SHE HAD TO VISIT FAMILY FOR A FAMILY DO. ANOTHER GREY AREA.)
Nisha asks Katie if she remembers Nisha’s family. Katie remembers when Sammy used to work for Nisha’s dad. Nisha says that her dad was hard and stubborn. In fact, her mother used to say that Nisha and her father were cut from the same cloth. The problems all surfaced when her older sister, Anna, fell pregnant at 17. She was in the middle of her A-Levels.
Katie is shocked at this news.
Anna never told their parents, Nisha says. She was always the good, conscientious child, destined for university. He boyrfriend’s dad told Nisha’s father, Nisha says,after Anna had had an abortion. Nisha’s father reacted like a typical Victorian dad, she says. She recalls him saying that Anna’s life was over; she was no child of his. He began to make plans to send Anna back to India, getting her a good job with his brother’s software firm.
Nisha was the only person in the family who took up for Anna, but still they sent her back. After that, it was all downhill . Nisha’s mother said that this was merely an excuse for Nisha to quarrel with her dad. Nisha decided then and there to get out of the house and not come back. The family haven’t spoken to her since. (So, she’s been on her own since she was about sixteen, right? How did she live? Who financed her education? This is a load of BOLLOCKS!!!)
Bev and Sammy are still bonding as irresponsible mothers.Sammy moans that she knows she’s selfish for bringing Louise back to Liverpool. Bev argues that Sammy’s anything BUT selfish, for wanting her daughter with her.
She honestly DOES love Louise, Sammy says. It’s just that she has trouble coping, when the child is nearby. (In other words, she’s a great mother, from a distance). It’s the working AND being a mum, she wails. Some people cope better, she continues. Look at Jacqui Farnham.
Yes, says Bev, but Jacqui’s married and she can afford to pay Rachel to look after her kids. Look, she tells Sammy, Louise is moody and takes Sammy for granted. Maybe a spell away from Sammy would make Louise appreciate her more.
That’s easy enough for Bev to say, says Sammy. Josh doesn’t want to live with someone else.
Listen, Bev argues. Louise is just about to enter her teens. She’s living with Richard. So WHO copes with the rows? Who copes with the tantrums? Sammy’s got the best of the deal.Sammy gets the quality time, Bev says, furthering the case of women who don’t want to be mothers, asserting that Sammy can be a weekend mum.
The two women exchange a laugh about being thirty.
Ron, Ray and Jimmy are enjoying their nightcap, while Jimmy examines the Internet information Ray has got about organising a street party. Jimmy muses about the information pack’s admonishment to ‘celebrate diversity’. Ron’s not at all enthusiastic, and Ray announces that he’s going to bed. As he leaves the room, Jimmy calls out to Ray to be sure and speak to Helen on his behalf.
When Ray’s gone, Ron asks Jimmy if Jim thinks he’s in with a chance with Ray’s daughter. Well, Jimmy admits, he thought he was, until tonight. At the rate he was going, Jim would have to place a Lonely Hearts add. Can Ron imagine it - Good sense of humour, non-smoker, mentally ill. Think he’d get any takers?
Ron admits that he’s just been knocked back too. He must be losing his touch, he complains. He had always prided himself in knowing what a woman wants. Take tonight with Bev, he says. She was sending out ALL the right signals, Ron would swear to it. Then the next minute, she was off him.
Bev was like that, admits Jimmy. Take their encounter on the pool table. She was all over him that night - twice, he did it too in that one night; and then the next day, Jim got the big E. Didn’t want to know him.
Hang on a minute, Ron says, amazed at what Jimmy’s just said. Is Corkhill saying he’s had a go with Bev?
Twice in one session, Jimmy replies, blithely. On the pool table, after hours at the bar.
Ron stares at him in disbelief.
Well, Jimmy reasons, there was no one else around to put their 10p down.
Ron still stares indignantly.
He would have told Ron sooner, Jimmy says, but he reckoned Ron was in with a chance, himself.
Nisha is still hunkered in the bath, talking to poor, pitiful Katie, who could do with a bath, herself. Nisha apologises to Katie for moaning at her. But she wanted Katie to know that she, Nisha, did have problems with which to contend too. If she allowed herself to think about her family too much, she says, she’d be in bits all the time. So she learned to rely on herself. Because everyone lets you down sooner or later.
Katie murmurs obstinately, that Clint never let her down.
Maybe he didn’t, says Nisha, suspiciously, but chances are that, had he lived, he certainly would have. In reality, Nisha says bluntly, the only person Clint REALLY cared about was his brother. Now maybe he’d grown up a bit by the time he met Katie ,but she thinks Katie’s built Clint up into this wonderful Mr Perfect image, making him incomparable to anyone else, all in order that she wouldn’t have to let go of this image and possibly risk getting hurt again.
Katie’s insulted by this, and leaves the bathroom in a fury. Before she goes, she reminds Nisha that she’s just finished a prescribing course, NOT a psych course.
Neil Jones, Hollyoaks alumnus, wrote this. He likes excess flesh.
Summary © 2002 Marion Watts
Brookside and all related materials are © Mersey Television 1982-2002