AND SHIT
As opposed to the last summary, which was entitled ‘Fit’. How appropros that ‘fit’ should rhyme with ‘shit’ - two words which just about sum up Brookside at the moment.
Rumours of the show’s demise abound. One finds one can’t avoid it. Read a red-top, and there are weekly articles declaiming Brookside’s eminent death within months. Read a broadsheet and it’s vicariously described as a ‘soap in crisis’, ‘Channel Four’s soap in crisis’ etc. The soap pundits give it scant column space, if any, and then dismiss it out-of-hand, as though it were some irrelevant amateur production.
Take a look at any of the show’s forums on both official and unofficial websites, and you’ll find a barrage of questions referring to the show’s end. According to one poster on an unofficial site, the end will come in November, to coincide with Brookside’s Twentieth Anniversary.
And through it all, the spokesperson on the Official Website keeps denying and denying and denying the truth to these rumours.
Well, he would, wouldn’t he? Truth is, I doubt he knows himself, poor sod. And if he did, it would be more than his job is worth to divulge it. The show is eerily quiet about ratings. Do we know if they’ve improved? Still, no news is good news.
The pathetic little band of fresh-faced, foul-mouthed adolescents, and those of similar mental ilk, who populate the Official Forum to defend the show to the hilt, maintain that Brookside is safe - basically because it managed to walk away from the Soap Awards with two consolation prizes. But that only shows their abject naivete.
Look at Brookside at the moment. What’s happening? Anything special? ‘Brookside Up Close’ is its new ad campaign, which must be aired on Channel Four during the day, when everyone who still watches Brookside is at work or in school - well, mostly in school. So who sees it? And what is it promoting?
We’re past caring about Imelda. The pig ate her. She’s history. A few gnawed bones. (In fact, I’d be lying if I didn’t say that it’s the pig for whom I’m more concerned. What happened to the poor thing?) We’re bored by the repetitive, never-ending, on-going, boring, boring, boring, storylines of Jimmy’s mental illness, Katie’s non-existent but ever-present alcoholism (which is about to descend into nymphomania, all based on self-hate - mind you, if I were Katie, I’d hate myself too, with that gob), and Dire’s quest to conceive - taken to new depths with her constant and very public references to the sexual act with her husband. (Neil Caple, a fine actor, deserves better than this tripe).
And, of course, Brookside is just that hop, skip and jump ahead of everyone, isn’t it? We had the first of the Jubilee celebrations last week, with Jimmy’s newest rant - the People’s Jubilee, with bonfires, not beacons, if you will. It went down a bomb with the critics, not to mention the viewers.
But the single most unrealistic thing about last week’s proceedings was the lack of mention concerning the World Cup. AND IN LIVERPOOL, OF ALL PLACES!!! For the past decade, FOOTBALL has been entrenching itself as the single most popular religion amongst the populace, with Gazza and then Becks, enshrining themselves as the gods thereof, and Michael Owen as the Messiah.
If footie is the new religion, then surely Liverpool must be its Mecca. But do we get ANY reference to the festival of football beginning half a world away on Brookside? No. Never mind the fact that a person couldn’t open a newspaper, turn on the telly or listen to a radio station, ANY radio station, without World Cup overkill.
And what does Brookside do? Give us Plank Murray in an England shirt with an oblique reference to the Argentina game.
Ca-ca. And watching it, is like watching paint dry. At least the viewers can vote out the most obnoxious participants in Big Brother. Would that we could do the same for Brookside.
Another day and another pay packet for the overpaid and highly under-talented crew at Brookside.
Rachel, frowning and blinking her eyes myopically, stares out the window of Number 8.
Across the way, Adele is gazing out of the window too - but at the manly shape of the young builder, whose name, I understand to be Nick (although I would never have imagined it, due to the poor diction and even poorer sound quality of the programme). Nick’s stripped to the waist and starting a day’s labour on the bungalow, which he seems to be doing all on his own. (By the way, remember this: Nick rhymes with ‘prick’.)
Next door to Sitcom House, the camera pans across a row of pictures featuring Tim and Emily in various poses, including one of their wedding. It’s Hotel Corkhill, and this proves how audaciously the young couple have taken over the surroundings. The camera pulls back to reveal the SuperSage hanging on the telephone. What else is new?
Back over at the Dixons’, Jessie and Ray are gazing out of the front window now, also at Nick making a start. At least the builders are here at last, sighs Jessie, turning away from the window.
Ray stands gazing out the window for awhile longer, his hands in his pockets. As he turns away, he takes them out of the pockets and a scrap of paper falls to the floor. Jess stoops and picks it up, unfolding it. She begins to read from it. It’s a list of Sylvia Morgans, all of whom appear to be resident in Liverpool.
Ray hastens to explain that that’s a list of potential Sylvias that Jimmy got over the Internet. Jim gave him the list the previous week so that Ray could pass it onto Helen.
And why hasn’t Ray done just that? Asks Jessie.
Ray begins to waffle, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. Well, he begins, there’s no guarantee that any of these women are Sylvia, and he doesn’t want Helen to get her hopes up, only to be disappointed.
At least these names were a start, Jessie remarks. She thinks Ray should phone Helen with this information right away.
Rachel the Dim enters the lounge at that instant, and Jessie asks her how Beth is faring.
Rachel screws up her forehead even more, downturns her mouth and blinks furiously and rapidly. Oooh, she begins, sadly. Beth didn’ave good n-eye-ght. Not mooch sle-ehp.
Jessie becomes all motherly to the scrouging dimwit. Beth’s not the only one who didn’t get much sleep, she murmurs, sympathetically, stroking Rachel’s sleep. Then, looking over Rachel’s shoulder, she snaps at Ray to phone Helen now.
Now at Hotel Corkhill, Dr Nikki stands in the middle of the lounge, drying her hair with a blow-dryer. Of course, her hair isn’t even wet, not even close - AND she’s using a straight dryer on her perm, instead of one with a diffuser. But then, this episode WAS written by a man. Arsehole.
The gentle Sage shouts over the din of the dryer, asking Nikki to ‘do that upstairs’.
Well, she would, answers Dr Nikki, if Jimmy would just get around to fixing the socket upstairs. (What socket? Surely there’s more than one?)
Jerome-Step’n-Fetch-It-Prissy-Yowsah-Boss enters the room at the end of that remark and teases Jimmy about the tenants going on a rent strike until Jimmy had fixed everything that was wonky in that house. (Er, sorry, J, you’re asking the wrong person here - you should direct ALL your queries and complaints to Mrs Jackie Corkhill, the owner of the house).
Dr Nikki asks Jimmy if he’s had any news from Helen of late.
When Jimmy confesses that he’s heard nothing, Nikki lightly suggests that Jim could ask Ray to fix the socket upstairs; then he could take the opportunity to ask if Ray had passed the list of potential Sylvias onto Helen and find out if she’s made any progress.
Jimmy is disheartened and inclined to be negative. Maybe she’s tried all the addresses on the list, he suggests. Maybe they’ve all proven dead ends and she’s fed up with the search.
She could have at least thanked Jimmy for going to the effort of making the list, pronounces Dr Nikki, sanctimoniously.
Nisha and Sammy appear to be bezzy mates again, and they sit in the window booth at the bar, having a laugh. They are reminiscing over their latest girls’ night out and having a giggle. Sammy admits that she’s forgotten what a good time they could all have together. They’ve just done a ‘Pull a Pig’ night, to see who could pull and snog the roughest guy. (This is NOT funny, especially as these three come across as real sad losers).
This was such a change for Sammy, she says. When she was married, she wasn’t just off-duty when she was managing one of her husband’s hotels, she had to double as a hostess for him. Now she prefers the single life.
‘So many men, so little time,’ she quips. (For you, love, yes, this is true).
Sammy asks Nisha if she noticed the no-mark Katie copped off with the previous evening. Talk about rough!
Nisha’s worried about Katie. She’s actually wondering if Katie were taking to this ‘pulling game’ with a vengeance as a reaction against Clint’s death.
Katie appears at that moment, bearing a cup of tea or coffee from the bar. Her ears were burning, she remarks, hearing her name discussed.
Sammy deftly changes the subject and suggests that they go on another ‘Pull a Pig Night’ soon.
Katie’s well up for it, to Nisha’s consternation.
Back at Hotel Corkhill, the SuperSage asks Jerome-Miss-Sca’lett-Ah-Doan-Know-Nuffin-Bout-Birfin-No-Baby if he plans on attending the Sage’s ‘People’s Barbecue’ to be held on Jubilee Monday.
Ooh, don’t know about that, Jerome teases, sounds a bit Monarchist to him, but Jimmy begins a rant about his do being a Jubilee for the people, and Jerome concedes that it might be worth a few scoops of ice cream and a hamburger. Yes, he’s up for it too.
Nikki asks Jimmy if he’s invited Helen.
Jimmy goes all shy and insecure at this question and mumbles that he doesn’t know if Helen would even turn up.
Nikki urges Jimmy to call her and ask her, but Jimmy, strangely doesn’t want to do that.
Changing the subject, Jimmy notices a strange book on the Hotel Corkhill coffee table. It’s entitled ‘The Ways of White Folks’.
Jerome Malcolm X-Muhammed Ali-Amos’n Andy replies that the book belongs to him and it’s for a course he’s studying at uni - all about the black experience in the United States (which has yet to reach these shores, as the U S is fully integrated in its population and Britain, Mr Redmond, is covertly racist - as you are). Arsehole.
Hey, Jimmy has an idea. Jerome’s grown up in Liverpool. He must have had some sort of experiences growing up black in that city. Why not do a piece concerning the black experience in Liverpool for Jimmy’s People’s Time Line collage?
Rachel’s still looking out the window of Number 8, when she suddenly sees Jacqui parking her people carrier and getting out of it. Quickly, she leaves the window and dashes out the front door, just as Jacqui’s about to enter Chateau Farnham.
She immediately begins shrieking at Jacqui at the top of her whiney, pathetic, Mancunian voice.
SHE HO-APS JAC-KEH SATISFIED!!! She shrieks. BECUZ JAC-KEH’N MAX’N RON’S DECIDED TO MOVE’N NO-AH ONE’S TOLD HER’N M-EYE-KE, RM-EYE-KE’S DOON LEFT’OME!!! ‘OW SELFISH WUZ’AT FER JAC-KEH’N RON TER DECIDE TER MOVE’OWSES!!!
Jacqui is taken aback, but looks calmly down her nose at her mentally deficient sister-in-law and remarks coolly that Rachel seems to be forgetting that Number 8 WAS Ron’s house, in the first place.
OOOOOH, shrieks Rachel. OOOOH, JAC-KEH TELL HER WHERE SHE’N M-EYE-KE WERE ‘SPECTED TER GO-AH!!!
Jacqui moves toward her house and calmly suggests that she and Rachel take the discussion inside, rather than have an open row on the street, mindful of all the prying eyes.
Just as she’s saying this, Brigid enters the Close and makes a beeline for the Dixon house, glancing at the two girls from the corner of her eye. Over at the bungalow, Nick the Builder (‘Can he pull’em? Yes, he can!), also looks up with interest at the outburst. ‘Cat fight,’ he remarks.
Rachel demands that Jacqui tell her exactly what she expects poor Rachel and Mike to do when Ron moves into Number 7.
Jacqui’s beginning to be more than a bit annoyed at Rachel’s presumption.
‘You know,’ she replies, ‘this might be the best thing to happen to Mike.’
Rachel blinks continuously and tries to comprehend Jacqui’s meaning. ‘OW KIN JAC-KEH SAY THAT? JAC-KEH NEVER THINKS O’NOBUDDY BUT’ERSELF. EVER’THIN’S A BUSINESS DEAL TER JAC-KEH.
Surely, Rachel and Mike didn’t expect to remain under Ron’s roof forever, Jacqui points out. And maybe now was the time for Mike to make a move and stand on his own two feet. Besides, she points out (quite rightly too), both Rachel and Mike were working now.
But this doesn’t cut any ice with the distinctly underclass, downtrodden and dim Rachel, who thinks the world, the Welfare State, her father-in-law and sister-in-law owe her and her worthless git of a husband a living.
‘OW KIN JAC-KEH TALK BOWT THEM STANDIN ON O-AN TWO FEET? THEY DO-AN’AVE NOOTHINK TER ROOB T’GETHER!!! BESIDES, DO JAC-KEH KNO-AH’OW THIS MEKS M-EYE-KE FEEL - L-EYE-KE ROOBBISH!!!
And the idiot darts back into Number 8, where the whole scene’s been watched with relish by Jessie and Brigid.
Jacqui’s face is a mixture of consternation and worry.
‘The very idea!’ Exclaims Brigid, turning from the window. ‘Arguing like two fishwives in the middle of the street!’
There’s something funny going on to provoke that, remarks Jessie, pensively. Rachel’s normally not like that. She thinks for a few moments and then announces cryptically that she thinks a little talk with Ron a bit later might be in order.
Then she and Brigid turn their attention to their propose excursion to London for the Jubilee. Brigid asks Jessie if she’s got her outfit sorted out, and also if Jessie’s booked the coach for the trip.
Yes, answers Jessie, excitedly. She’s booked Manor Park and Ride.
Oh, no, protests Brigid, vehemently. Liver Drivers is much better. Their coaches have much more leg room.
But Manor Park and Ride gave the better deal in prices, and there follows a riveting discussion of the merits of one coach firm as opposed to the other’s.
Outside, Jimmy’s having a riveting discussion of his own, with Nick the builder. The SuperSage has a brilliant idea of a way Nick could shift all the rubbish from the Hilton bungalow. The Sage is planning a People’s Jubilee celebration, and that celebration will require a bonfire to cap it off. What better way to shift that rubbish?
Nick the builder readily agrees, and in doing so, secures himself an invitation to the non-event of the Jubilee, Jimmy’s barbecue.
As the SuperSage and Jimmy discuss this, a car pulls onto the Close, and Happy Smiling Helen alights, bobbing her head up and down. Nice to see some things don’t change.
Jimmy leaves Nick the builder for dust and darts over to greet Helen.
Happy Smiling Helen bobs her head and smiles nervously, explaining that she’s only just popped round to see Ray.
In the background, Raymundo steps onto the Dixon doorstep and watches the exchange between Jimmy and Happy Smiling Helen tentatively.
As Ray watches, Jimmy tells Happy Smiling Helen that he only wants the two of them to be friends.
Happy Smiling Helen isn’t too happy or smiling at that remark. In fact, she’s made to feel downright uneasy by it.
Oh, Jimmy exclaims, almost forgetting. How’d Happy Smiling Helen get on with those addresses he’d given Ray?
Happy Smiling Helen looks at Jimmy like the lunatic he is. What addresses? She asks.
The SuperSage’s eyes narrow suspiciously. ‘Yer mean he didn’t pass’em on?’ Jimmy queries.
Hearing the exchange, Ray shouts out an abrupt greeting and forges toward the couple, as Jimmy explains to Happy Smiling Helen that he’d manage to find the addresses of at least three Sylvia Morgans in Liverpool, one living in Tewbrook, itself.
As Ray walks toward them, Happy Smiling Helen rounds on him, demanding to know why he hadn’t passed these addresses onto her?
Ray’s eyes widen in stereotypical panic, whilst his lips move wordlessly before managing to say that he’d forgotten to pass the list on.
Happy Smiling Helen isn’t buying this excuse, especially since she’d only rung Ray, herself, that very morning, and Ray said nothing. Happy Smiling Helen’s not impressed.
Ray begins a desperate explanation. He merely didn’t want Helen to be let down on a whim. Besides, all those things happened over forty years ago, but finally, he relents and promises to give Helen the list.
Happy Smiling Helen, however, turns abruptly to Jimmy and asks if he has a copy of the list.
Sure, replies the SuperSage, glowering at Ray. He’s got one inside.
Happy Smiling Helen takes Jimmy’s arm, pointedly, and strides purposefully towards Hotel Corkhill.
Jerome and Nikki, perpetually skint, are, however, seated in the bar on The Parade. Jerome is suggesting to Dr Nikki that they do something else instead of attending Jimmy’s People’s Jubilee.
Dr Nikki replies stubbornly that she has no money to do anything with.
Well, they didn’t have to have money to have a good time, Jerome insists. Why couldn’t they just go for a nice walk? Besides, Jerome urges, their exams would be coming up soon. All the more reason for them to be doing things together NOW, while they had the time.
Ron enters the bar in a triumphant mood and greets Bev, who’s serving behind the bar, happily. He’s pleased to announce that he’s just procured his first commercial laundry contract, and he’s in the mood to celebrate.
Bev congratulates him and plops a pint on the bar. Ron puts his money down and tells her to have a drink, herself. Of course, he says, the contract is only with Jacqui and the Health Club - but after all, it WAS Bev who gave him the idea for such a business.
Raising his pint, Ron toasts himself. Now all that remains, he says after taking a long draught from the glass, is to get his equipment up and running.
As Bev and Ron gossip at the bar, Rachel stomps through the door and approaches Bev. Without a greeting and totally ignoring Ron, she demands to know if Bev knows the whereabouts of Mike. He didn’t come home last night, she announces.
Bev widens her eyes innocently and declares that she hasn’t a clue where Mike is.
Rachel turns in frustration and leaves the bar.
Ron glances after Rachel in puzzlement. He turns back to Bev, who’s also glancing nervously at the doorway.
‘Was it joost me?’ He asks. ‘Or did she joost blank me?’
But Ron doesn’t let a little thing like Rachel interrupt his flow of thoughts. He’s got a lot to do before he starts his contract, he tells Bev. Not the least, sorting out his machines. He wonders if it might be more feasible to invest in those combined washer-dryers?
All the time Ron’s expounding, Rachel keeps walking up and down The Parade, pointedly glancing back inside the bar at Bev, who’s constantly eyeing Rachel’s movements.
When Ron asks her about the washer-dryers, however, Bev snaps irritably, ‘Why does everyone keep asking me things and expecting me to know the answers? I don’t know everything"!’ And she turns away from Ron.
But Rachel has suddenly discovered a brain cell lying dormant in her head and susses that Bev might just know the whereabouts of Mike.
She dashes into the bar and confronts Bev. Rachel knows Bev knows where M-eye-ke can be found. She demands that Bev tell her.
Bev purses her lips uneasily. Mike’s upstairs asleep in her flat, she admits.
Without a further word, Rachel runs from the bar.
Ron’s astounded at Bev’s duplicity. ‘Mike’s oopstairs?’ He queries.
Bev studiously avoids him.
Boy, it’s a wonder what a lack of a brain can do for you! Of course, this is something in which the Brookside writers excel - as it appears that they don’t have a brain to share amongst themselves. Why?
Because as Caroline of the Official Forum points out, Rachel, somehow, seems to be able to ENTER the area of the flats over The Parade, without buzzing from the pavement to be admitted.
We see Mike, wrapped in a duvet, sound asleep on the sofa in the lounge area of Bev’s flat. Suddenly, he’s awakened by the urgent sounds of pounding on Bev’s front door and shouting. Someone’s shouting for him.
(Pay attention, peeps. We’re about to witness one of the worst scenes EVER to appear on Brookside).
Mike gets up from the sofa, wearing only his boxies and a teeshirt. He shouts that he’s not deaf and opens the door.
Silly Rachel enters in a whirlwind, shouting and screaming incoherently, whilst beating at Mike with her fists. It’s very difficult to hear and understand what she’s saying, especially as Brookside intended this to be a scene of high drama. Instead, it’s kitsch humour.
In between hitting Mike, she’s screaming that Mike does NOT walk out on her, whilst Mike, fending off her fat fists, protests vainly that he didn’t walk out on her and that everything would be all right.
It’s NOT all right, the dimwith continues. And this was ALL about M-eye-ke. He didn’t even stop to think about her!!! She hysterically demands to know why Mike walked out on her?
Mike protests weakly that everything became too much for him. (Sorry ... HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!!! WHAT became too much for Mike? The toothache? Rachel borrowing yet more money? Jacqui’s success and her refusal to subsidise him and Rachel?)
Maybe this is a rehearsal for the real thing, Rachel suggests, still shrieking and hitting.
Maybe Rachel would be better off without him, whines Mike, pathetically. After all, Mike continues, wallowing in self-pity, Ron treats poor Mike as though he were a piece of dirt.
OOOH, POO-AH M-EYE-KE! Sneers Rachel. OOPSET BECUZZA DAD-DEH! Then she begins a terrible comparison of Ron Dixon with Rachel (and whoever wrote this dialogue should be taken out without delay and summarily shot).
All the while she’s likening first Ron, then Mike to Trevor Jordache, as Mike apologises profusely under her blows. Oooh, she’s heard ‘pologies noof t-eye-mes wi’ Trevor’n Man-deh!
Suddenly, instead of Mike walking out on Rachel, the pathetic wimp is begging the dimwit not to walk out on him. Begging abjectly and without dignity as she continues to rain blows all about his head. (Paul Byatt must really need the money to fund his high lifestyle, to submit to such a public humiliation of his character as that).
As Rachel continues shrieking and hitting, she’s indulging in a little self-pity of her own, going on about how she works all the hours God sends. Then there’s the dig at Jacqui - Jacqui has a problem, she throws money at it to make it go away (a myth: Did she throw money at Robbie Moffatt). Then there’s Ka-teh. Everytime she sees Ka-teh coom back from town, Ka-teh’s laden with bags and bags of beautiful clothes. (Well, what do you expect? Katie’s another scrounger, with Nisha paying all the rent etc. Show me a receptionist with a good wage and I’ll show you a whore).
Mike keeps blubbing that he’s sorry.
Rachel then tells Mike that he’s just like Trevor Jordache. (Sorry. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Is she delusional? Mike Dixon is no pervert and abuser.) She wasn’t about to put up with his attitude. If he didn’t want to be a husband and a father, that was fine.
In the midst of all this, Mike begins to cry pathetically. Boo-hoo. All he wants if for him and Rachel to be together. Boo-hoo. Rachel was the only person in his whole life to ever take him for what he is (a whiner and a moaner, just like her). Boo-hoo. Everyone else thinks poor, pitiful Mike is just a no-mark. Boo-hoo. All he wants is the very best for Rachel, and it’s eating him up that he’s not able to provide it (because he’s too damned lazy to get up and get the sort of work for which he was trained). Boo-hoo. He’s a grown man, thirty years old, with a wife and two kids and he still lives with his dad. (Well, whose fault is that?) Boo-hoo. He’s so sorry. Boo-hoo. He can’t give Rachel what she wants. Boo-hoo. He loves her and he’s sorry to have let her down. Boo-hoo.
And he sinks to the floor of Bev’s flat, like the worthless piece of detritus he is.
Rachel kneels on the floor beside him, having achieved his ultimate humiliation at her hands. Oooh, she do-an caah wha’ others think. Oooh, she’d live in tent wi’M-eye-ke, she would. All she wants is M-eye-ke 24/7, and she could live wi’rest.
Then the author has the couple snog and embark on a journey of emotional discovery, as Rachel starts to unbutton her blouse and Mike whips off his teeshirt. Emotional discovery, my arse! It’s a bonk on the floor of Bev’s flat. Shit, pure shit - and before the watershed too.
Arsehole.
(P.S., maybe Mike should take a daytrip to London and visit Janine, especially as he likes humiliation as a turn-on. He could become a regular customer, like Ian Beale. Two toerags together.)
Happy Smiling Helen sits at Jimmy’s trusty computer, with a frown on her happy, smiling face. She’s trying to make sense of Ray’s motive for not providing her with the list Jimmy had so painstakingly researched.
Jimmy tries to make excuses for Ray. Raymundo’s got a lot on his mind, with the builders and the Jubilee street party - besides which, he’s living with Ron Dikko - that’s enough to affect anyone’s memory. And it seems as though he’s shut down all those memories of forty years ago.
Jimmy also tries to explain, but with a sly edge, that he thinks Ray’s only trying to protect his daughter from Jimmy.
Well, that’s not good enough for Happy Smiling Helen, who tells Jimmy that she got on just fine for forty years without Ray - and she’ll find her mother too - with or without Ray’s help.
Jacqui and Sammy sit at a booth in the bar, which is where Sammy seems to be these days rather than at the Health Club. Sammy’s outlining to Jacqui a business plan she’s come up with to publicise the club and to bring more revenue in. Jacqui is impressed and Sammy is surprised she’s impressed.
Jacqui credits Sammy with a good idea - and any idea’s good that’ll bring income into the club.
Upstairs, Mike and Rachel dress themselves after arriving home from their journey of emotional discovery of sexual relations within a marriage. They’re hurrying in order to be out of the flat before Josh returns home and giggle about a crude remark made about a cushion - too crude to remark upon here, but suffice it to say that if this is Brookside’s idea of family entertainment, it’s sick and perverted.
Jacqui sashays behind the bar downstairs and chats to Nikki, who’s serving. After the two have talked about nothing for a few seconds, it suddenly dawns on Jacqui that Nikki should have finished her shift awhile ago.
Er, shouldn’t Nikki have finished at half past? Asks Jacqui.
Dr Nikki happily and stupidly confirms that this is so.
Well, pursues Jacqui, where’s Bev? (Er, sorry, but shouldn’t there be other staff besides Dr Nikki?)
Dr Nikki informs Jacqui that Bev’s just popped out for a moment, and Nikki agreed to cover for her until she returned. Is there a problem? She asks Jacqui.
Jacqui frowns prettily and vows that she’s on the warpath again.
Ron returns home to find a triumvirate of Ray, Jessie and Brigid waiting for him. Jessie informs Ron in no uncertain terms that something’s amiss and she feels there’s something about which Ron hasn’t exactly been forthcoming.
Ron is forced to admit that he and the Farnhams have agreed to an exchange of houses. He would be moving into Number 7 and Jacqui and Max would be taking over Number 8.
Jessie and Brigid exchange exaggerated looks of horror and indignation. Ray is put out too.
And just where would she and Ray go, Jessie asks, when this switch occurs?
Ron tries to calm her down. These things take time, he says. It’s not likely to happen for months. Chances are, she and Ray would be in the bungalow by then.
And chances are, they wouldn’t, Jessie quips. And just when was Ron planning on telling them about this? AND, she’d have him know, she couldn’t survive in a B and B the way she could survive here.
Ron tries to explain to the trio that he felt he had to swap houses because of his future, trying to put into words his inability to remain in Number 8, given its past associations with him. But Jessie doesn’t buy it.
Thanks to Mike’s generous offer of accommodation, Ray and Jessie didn’t have to depend on a grotty B and B until their bungalow was rebuilt. Now Ron’s putting all that to nowt.
It wasn’t Mike’s place to offer accommodation, Ron points out. This house is HIS property, to do with what he likes.
Jessie maintains that she lives HERE, in this house, and she arrogantly asserts that she’s not about to be turfed out.
That’s right, chips Raymundo. They pay their rent. They have rights as tenants.
Yes, adds Brigid, as per usual poking her nose in where she’s got no business, even squatters have rights!
‘And that’s exactly my problem,’ remarks Ron, with the face of a smiling cobra and leaning down close to Brigid in order that she’s left in no doubt as to whom he’s talking. ‘It’s got ter the point that whenever I come home, I never know who’s going ter be here!’
Brigid takes the hint in a huff. Summoning her dignity, she rises and informs Ray and Jessie that she’s certain her DAUGHTER Dire wouldn’t object to Brigid entertaining a couple of friends in Dire’s home. (Think again. There’s always Marty with which to contend). She’s NOT staying where she’s not wanted!
And she and Jessie make a grand exit.
Mike and Rachel run giggling, away from the Parade. This scene is supposed to be touching. It’s not. It’s embarrassing.
Dr Nikki returns to Hotel Corkhill, late from her shift, to find Jerome Shucks-Ah’s-A-Field-Hand-Miz-Sca’lett-Big-Sam-Kiss-Me-In-the-Cornrows-Mandingo waiting anxiously for her. She’s late, he informs her.
Nikki smilingly acknowledges the fact. Bev asked her to stay on, she explains.
Jerome Motown-Temptations-Wonder takes her in his arms and demands payback time. The two share a snog.
In a brilliant example of excellent mistiming, Jimmy pops out of the extension, announcing unnecessarily that he’s just about to make a cup of tea for Helen. She’s just in the extension, he explains, on the Internet.
Jerome looks distinctly put out as he mutters to Nikki that the couple never seem to get a moment to themselves in this house.
Nikki, however, isn’t exactly listening to what Jerome’s saying; she’s more concerned with the fact that Happy Smiling Helen’s actually shown up and is ensconced in the extension attached to Jimmy’s computer. (Could be worse - she could be attached to Jimmy - and that’s a fate worse than death). She’s actually concerned about Jimmy, she tells Jerome.
Jerome informs Nikki succinctly that Jimmy has an army of people paid to care for him. They’re called the National Health. Contrary to what Nikki thinks, she’s not on standby to pick up the pieces every time Jimmy falls apart. She needs to chill out.
Jerome complains that maybe HE should have a nervous breakdown. That way, he’d get a lot more of Nikki’s attention.
When Bev dashes back into the bar, she finds Jacqui awaiting her, and Jacqui’s not well pleased or impressed. With a po-faced expression, Jacqui enquires where Bev’s been.
Bev explains unconvincingly to Jacqui that it’s her ‘time of month’. (What did I tell you? This has become as standard to Brookside as ironing and the laundry basket!!! So make a note of this. Bev’s next time of month will be approximately at the end of June!!! How sick!)
Jacqui stares Bev down, mutely indicating that she doesn’t believe a word she’s saying. When she finally speaks, Jacqui informs Bev that she had to send Nikki home because Nikki should have finished at half-past, and Nikki had told her Bev had asked the girl to stay on. Jacqui reminds Bev that Nikki is only employed part-time. Bev can’t expect Nikki to cover for her every time she has to check on Josh.
Bev is forced to admit that she had to pop out in order to pick up Josh from his After School Club and she’d only been gone a minute.
Jacqui gazes down her snub nose severely at Bev. She informs Bev that she’s paid to manage the bar, not to run upstairs every two minutes in order to check on Josh. That’s not what she was paid for.
Jacqui expected Bev to be a full-time manager, not a part-time barmaid; and if Bev thinks she can’t comply with that expectation, then Jacqui suggests that she look for another job.
Happy Smiling Helen, happily smiling and bobbing her head, is escorted out to her car by the SuperSage, having acquired another disciple and potential consort. As she gets into her car, Ray steps onto the Dixon doorstep again, hovering in the background.
Fingers crossed for Sylvia Morgan, Happy Smiling Helen says, looking up at Jimmy from behind her steering wheel. Then she notices her father standing in front of Number 8. Pointedly ignoring Ray, she apologises to Jimmy for ‘that business with Ray earlier.’
Then, deliberately and defiantly glancing at Ray once again, she turns to Jimmy and asks if he’ll accompany her to Tewbrook to see if this Sylvia Morgan were really her mother. Would he just go along for moral support? She wants to know.
Jimmy readily agrees.
Ray, shaking his head in defeat, returns inside.
A few hours must have transpired since Ray returns inside the house, and Ron comes home, because Ron is now inside Number 8 on his own - and Rachel and Mike return home. (And who’s been looking after Beth all this time?)
Ron is pleased to see Mike return home and greets him warmly. Where on earth has Mike been? He wants to know.
Mike ignores the greeting and the question, choosing to answer it with one of his own. When exactly was Ron planning on telling Mike and Rachel that he was moving?
Ron’s taken aback at Mike’s query, and he’s even more upset at Mike’s next remark. Could Ron please tell Mike why he always shunted Mike to the back of the queue?
Rachel speaks, and provides us with even more evidence, in her choice of words, that TPTB at Brookside not only read Brooksider, but also the summaries.
Oooh, says Rachel, she kno-ahs Ron thinks’ee SOOBSIDISES M-eye-ke’n Rachel, boot they do-an tek’im fer granted, honest. (BOLLOCKS! They do, and supremely so).
Ron tries to explain to the surly, selfish couple that he felt that a smaller place, which would be more manageable. Of course, he would have told them -
Did he forget? Mike sneers. Why, Mike is willing to bet that Ron wouldn’t have forgotten to tell Jacqui something like that if she were here. And for that matter, Max Bloody Farnham knows more about Ron’s business affairs than Mike.
Ron tries to interject, saying he knows how Mike feels -
Mike doesn’t think so, he retorts, and Ron again tries to apologise.
Mike waves his apology aside, dismissively. He’s simply too tired to listen. He moves toward the foyer to go upstairs, telling Rachel to wake him at six.
When Mike leaves, Ron’s left looking helplessly at Rachel for a few seconds. Finally he speaks. Surely, Rachel knows that Ron wouldn’t see her and Mike out on the streets, he says, in a pleading tone.
Oooh, Rachel replies. She kno-ahs tha’, boot M-eye-ke dooesn’t.
Tom Higgins wrote this episode. Arsehole.
METAMORPHOSIS
Metamorphosis is all about change. Natural change. The ugly duckling becoming a swan, the caterpillar becoming a butterfly and all that.
People change too, over the years, but everyone must agree that that sort of change is gradual, unnoticeable to the untrained eye observed on a daily basis. One might say that such change is subtle.
Well, soaps are SUPPOSED to reflect life, aren’t they? And like life, they have inherent changes as well - which are SUPPOSED to be subtle - like life.
Look at Eastenders. Loads of changes there. When Jim Branning was introduced as an incidental and peripheral character some years ago, the father of the fey Carol Jackson, he was presented as a virulent racist. Now he’s a loveable old rogue of a granddad, married to Dot and with Patrick Trueman, a black man, as his best mate.
Phil Mitchell was always the more sensible and restrained of the Mitchell
bruvs. Grant acted with his fists and thought later, if - indeed - he were capable
of thought at all. Phil was the more cerebral. Over the years we’ve seen
Phil gradually metamorphose into a violent and unlikeable man. He treated his
wife so abysmally, that she went as far away from him as was almost
ly
possible. He treated his girlfriend, another mother of another of his children,
like dirt and was even physically violent toward her.
Why?
Because he couldn’t get what he wanted, which was the ex-wife of his brother. Now this woman’s walked back into his life, and he’s a veritable knight in shining armour, with an edge.
Tiffany began the soap as a little slapper and left it an angel of sweetness and light. Ric-KAY left a dolt and is returning a successful businessman.
But we don’t mind. In fact, we accept this sort of metamorphosis in Eastenders, because it’s gradual and subtle enough that we didn’t notice anything of the sort was happening at all.
Now look at Brookside.
The most unbelieveable metamorphosis has been that of Jimmy Corkhill. A petty thief and scally, he naturally progressed (or REgressed, as it may be) to the inexecrable status of drug abuser, then drug pusher. He was responsible for the deaths of no less than three people. He served time.
In the normal scale of life, this is realistic enough. He conquered his addiction and, for a time, worked with addicts, much like himself. Quite naturally, he wanted to better his life, but he wanted that improvement immediately AND he didn’t want to work for it.
There followed fraudulent qualifications, enabling him to enrol in a teaching course and obtain a job in the local comprehensive. THIS was the beginning of unreality.
That Brookside even contemplated, for awhile, allowing Jimmy to be a successful teacher shows us in how much esteem the Brookside production team holds teachers (without whom, none of them would have attained the success they hold today). After having him discovered to be a fraud, no police were called for what WAS actually a major crime. Instead, Jimmy sinks to the depths of depression.
In fact, we’re not sure, at first, if this is really depression - there was a bit of obsessive behaviour, a dash of schizophrenia, ending with a stint on the roof of the local comp, with Jimmy wearing odd shoes.
And then, we have to deal with his truly messianic emergence from the cocoon of mental illness as the erstwhile Sage of the Close, dispensing words of wisdom and guidance to everyone and anyone as varied as Tim, Ron, Anthea, Dire, Mick and Ray.
His long-suffering and loyal wife, Jackie, is transmogrified into a witch of a bitch and is vilified. Everyone is asked to believe that she’s been supremely responsible for Jimmy’s state of mind. And, as the Sage, he’s now acquired two benevolent disciples, Nikki and Helen - Nikki being the enforcer-type, a Goebbles to Jimmy’s HItler, whilst Helen can only be described in terms of the happy, clappy born-again Christian.
We NOTICE this metamorphosis, and we are irked by it, because it’s SO unreal, so blatant. Would you open your heart and mind to someone who had recently been released from a mental institution? Of course not.
But this isn’t the only abrupt and unreal metamorphosis that’s occurred on Brookside in the past five years or so.
Rachel went from being a vibrant, intelligent, outgoing, athletic, young woman to being a brainless, dimwit, heavyset housewife. She works, but achieves nothing. She whinges, she whines, she moans about her plight, but she digs her hole deeper.
Emily went to sleep one night a teenage athlete and woke up bursting from her pyjamas, a pneumatic parody of a porn queen, complete with balloon boobs and saddlebags.
Adele went from being a 13 year-old geek, who turned 15 without ever seeing 14, had an unwanted pregnancy, which she aborted and now has suddenly become a girl who’s ‘too good-looking’. Adele? A femme fatale? Get real.
Jerome went from being a street-suss ethnic black to being an even more bleached version of Michael Jackson.
Doddery old Ray suddenly acquired a past as a Teddyboy and a louche roue.
Nikki Shadwick has gone from traumatised student to eminent expert in psychology.
The list goes on.
It’s awkward, it’s amateur, it’s badly written, and it’s noticeable.
It’s Brookside.
Rachel is seen taking Beth’s temperature, whilst Beth continues to giggle and coo at her real mum off-camera.
Dire Murray stands in the middle of the sitcom lounge and stares greedily at a wad of money in an envelope.
Bev bends over an ever-truculent Josh, seated at the table in her flat. Bev’s imploring Josh to try to be a bit better behaved. If Josh continued down the route he was going, NO ONE would want to babysit him. Bev’s sorry, but she has to work to keep a roof over their heads. If no one wanted to babysit him, Bev would lose her job and they would lose their home and Josh wouldn’t be able to have nice clothes and a computer and ...
Back at the Dixons’, Mike is trying to get Beth to drink something, as Rachel the Dim phaffs in the kitchen in the background. Beth keeps refusing the drink. Mike tells Rachel that Beth says she has a sore throat. (Beth must truly be more intelligent than either of her parents. A child that young would no more know how to say ‘sore throat’ than I would know how to read the Bgavad Gita in whatever language it’s printed. In fact, I would be surprised if Beth could say anything at all).
Mike’s got an appointment to see the dentist later that day, but he isn’t so sure he wants to go now. In typical Mike fashion, he argues with Rachel about the feasibility of spending the £500 loan on his teeth. (After all, why spend it on that when it could be spent on a good time for them both?) Mike explains that his teeth aren’t giving him much trouble at the moment.
Rachel insists that he use the money for the dental treatment. That’s why she took out the loan. Besides, she’s more worried about what’s to become of them when Ron swapped houses.
Mike admits that he doesn’t want to move house either, but under the circumstances, they couldn’t afford a place of their own (not buying anyway - with their CCJ’s no one would loan them them money for a mortgage).
Again, in true Mike fashion, he suggests to Rachel that he bunk off work that evening and spend it with Rachel and Beth; but Rachel reminds him that they need all the moo-neh they can get, so M-eye-ke had better go to work.
The SuperSage gives a melancholy greeting to his number one disciple Dr Nikki. Dr Nikki is concerned at the sound of SuperSage’s voice, remarking that he sounds down. Has Jimmy taken his tablets? She asks, suddenly (as if a dose of lithium is going to make a person sound as though he’s been inhaling helium).
Jimmy assures her that he’s taken his tablets. It’s just that he’s bothered about this thing with Helen and Ray. He can’t believe Ray didn’t pass that list of names onto Helen.
Well, Nikki observes, reluctantly, at least Helen didn’t run away from Jimmy THIS time when she came around.
Jimmy sings a different tune now. Oh, she didn’t run away the first time, he amends. Jimmy DROVE her away. He shouldn’t have listened to Ray, in hindsight, he says. He TOLD Helen about his illness too soon.
Well, now maybe Jimmy could talk to Helen, Nikki offers. Jimmy has to be postive and not wade right into the fray with all this Sylvia mess.
Of course, Jimmy’s really worried that Helen’s not been in touch with him since he last saw her, ostensibly only a few days before. In his obsessive and selfish way, Jimmy thinks Helen should report her whereabouts every hour on the hour.
Dr Nikki counsels patience. If Helen really has feelings for Jimmy, she’s sure to be in touch.
But, Jimmy points out, what if Helen’s been to the Sylvia Morgan Tewbrook address and decided not to get back in touch with him?
(I don’t get this conversation, which is all over the place. It was obvious from the last episode that Helen wanted Jimmy to accompany her to find this Sylvia. It’s as thought one writer didn’t liaise with another, which is highly likely).
Then Sylvia’s an ingrate, pronounces Nikki, bluntly.
Next door at Sitcom House, it’s Plank Murray’s birthday. He’s 22 - at least Brookside knows enough to know that that age comes after 21. Some of the Murrays (or Muddies, as Roosle calls them), are showering Plank with gifts.
Adele has produced some freebies from the garage, as she’s saving all her dosh for the projected Ayia Napa holiday. There’s a card and some CD vouchers from the Antichrist.
Finally, Dire, with her most martyr-like face, reluctantly hands him an envelope.
‘THAT’S FROOM ME’N YER DAD,’ she bellows. ‘YER CAN GET THAT NEW CAR-TUNING THING NOW.’
Before he opens the envelope, Plank asks the whereabouts of Marty.
MARTY HAD TER SEE THE HEAD THIS MORNING, booms Big Dire. THERE’S GOING TER BE A MEETING WITH THE BIZZIES AS WELL. ABOUT IMELDA. SOOMTHINK MRS CLOUGH WANTED.
Plank opens the envelope to find the £500 he’d handed over to Dire and Marty awhile back. He’s speechless, and big Dire interjects to say that the money wasn’t doing anything in the building society (except gathering interest). He’d be better off with it.
Adele is gazing over Plank’s shoulder with hungry greed at the money. Cheekily, she asks Dire if her parents would sub her money for her birthday to fund her Ayia Napa holiday (which is another pointless piece of discontinuity, as Adele’s birthday is in September). Suddenly the holiday’s become more expensive as two of the girls have dropped out.
Dire’s face folds into a furious frown of hate, directed toward her step-daughter. ‘SHURRUP ABOUT THAT STUPID HOLIDAY’N GO TER SCHOOL!’ She belloweathers.
Back at Hotel Corkhill, the SuperSage puts the phone down, smiling that same smug smile we’ve all come to hate.
That was Helen, he informs Nikki, beaming with self-satisfaction. SHE called Jimmy. AND she wants him to go over to hers.
Dr Nikki is suspicious again. Is Jimmy certain Happy Smiling Helen’s not just using him?
Using him? Repeats Jim, narrowing his eyes in disbelief at his disciple.
Well, his facilities, amends Nikki, like his computer.
Jimmy informs Dr Nikki that he and Happy Smiling Helen were mates.
It’s not that, Nikki struggles to explain, it’s the way Jimmy keeps building things up.
Look, Jimmy replies, exasperated, Happy Smiling Helen’s invited him over , and that’s the main thing. Now, if Nikki didn’t mind, he was off outside to work on his Jubilee Timeline.
Back at the Muddies’ (AKA Sitcom House), Plank is off out too. He’s going to look at some tuners. Suddenly, as if to make sure, he turns and asks Dire a second time if she’s sure about this money.
Dire is absolutely certain.
But what about Dire’s IVF? Queries Plank.
‘OH, YER DAD’N ME’LL TRY THE NATURAL WAY,’ Big Dire announces in her megaphone voice. ANYWAY, IT’S BETTER USED HELPING PLANK EARN A LIVING FIXIN’ CARS. (And paying no VAT or tax).
Well, if Dire’s serious, says Plank, dubiously. After all, it WILL mean more customers for him.
Across the Close at Chateau Farnham, Jacqui is taking the kids’ temperatures. She’s in dread of them catching this bug Beth seems to have, she tells Max.
When she’s finished, she hands Max a small packet of papers. These came this morning from the solicitors, she tells him. They’re the property sellers’ information pack and there are some things Max has to complete and return to the solicitors. It’s all go for the house swop.
Jimmy’s working on his Jubilee Timeline board, situated in front of his house, when Ray approaches him. Jimmy glances over his shoulder at the older man and asks if Ray knows what time the builder is supposed to arrive. Only Jimmy has to speak to him about stuff for his bonfire.
Ray announces nervously that the builder seems to be late again.
Nikki leaves the house at that moment, announcing to Jimmy that she’s off to work. Jimmy calls out to her to try to find something to go on his timeline board.
Ray suddenly remembers that he has a steel comb from his days as a Teddyboy.
Really? Asks Jimmy, suddenly interested. Was Ray a Ted then?
Ray rocks back on his heels in pride. Yes, he was, he announces. In fact, he had all the gear - crepe soles and winklepickers, drainpipe trousers, jacket, the works - still had the jacket, as a matter of fact.
Well, Jimmy suggests, why doesn’t Ray wear the jacket for the party?
Ray readily agrees, saying that he enjoys a good street party.
It’s NOT a street party, corrects Jimmy, punctiliously. It’s a BARBECUE.
Over at the bar, Nisha and Katie are discussing the impending Jubilee. Katie announces that the talk about the Jubilee makes her sick. Why were they celebrating it anyway? She moans. The Queen never did anything for them, and, anyway, who remembers the Coronation?
She asks Nisha if she remembers anything about the Silver Jubilee, as Nisha would have been three at the time.
No, Nisha admits. Although, she does remember when Charles and Diana married. She muses about her parents, wondering what they would be doing for the Jubilee. If she knew her father, he’d be planning a mega celebration.
Sammy drops by and joins them. Katie immediately says she’s up for another night out with the girls. How about that night?
Nisha demurs. She’s working that evening. So is Sammy, Sammy confirms.
Katie suggests Friday or Saturday night, but again, Nisha refuses. With the bank holidays, everyone would be out those nights.
Well, continues Katie, how about Jubilee Monday? It would be different going for a night out on a Monday, she pleads. They could have another ‘Pull a Pig’ night.
Ooh, yes! Agrees Sammy, excitedly. And maybe one of them could take a camera. Louise is coming to spend half-term, and maybe she’d get a kick out of seeing some of their conquests. (Er, sorry, but I don’t think so. I think a kid seeing their thirtysomething mother up to shenanigans like that, would be mortified).
Nisha, agrees,but her face reveals that she’s highly reluctant to go.
Behind the Bar, Nikki and Bev are discussing the Jubilee as well. Bev’s downbeat about the whole thing. To be honest, she tells Nikki, she lost interest in the Royals when Diana died.
But that Wills is fit, remarks Nikki, showing how truly shallow the writers have made her character.
Oh, yeah, agrees Bev, but has Nikki noticed that Wills is becoming a bit more like his uncle, Earl Spencer?
Nikki frowns, clearly not knowing who Earl Spencer is or what he looks like.
Bev puffs out her cheeks and holds out her arms in an exaggerated imitation of a fat person, which only shows Bev how little SHE knows about Earl Spencer or Prince William. Earl Spencer has a fat face, but is a thin man. And Wills is looking more and more like the horse-faced Hanovers than the Spencers as he grows older, whilst Harry looks more and more like James Hewitt. Hmmmm ...
As the two are talking, the phone rings and Nikki takes the call. She shouts for Bev. It’s the school, she tells Bev.
Bev hastens to take the call, which is brief; but Nikki hears Bev get into a bit of a barney with the unheard person on the other end of the line - something about whoever’s speaking not being able to disclose to Bev the nature of the phone call. She rings off in disgust and frustration, rushing past Nikki.
That was the school about Josh, she explains, rapidly on the hoof. There’s been a problem, but they won’t say what. She has to go, she says, grabbing her jacket.
But, Nikki protests, vainly, Bev can’t just go and leave her -
The last time, Josh almost got expelled, Bev cries, darting towards the door. She just has to nip out; won’t be long.
Mike Dixon and Plank Murray meet in the garage area at The Parade. Plank is telling Mike about getting the 500 nicker with which to purchase a tuning machine. As they talk, the SuperSage wafts fragrantly in their direction.
Oh, goody! Goody! Two potential converts! He greets the lads and asks what they’re planning to do on Jubilee Day.
Both men shrug nonchalantly. Mike replies that he’s most likely going to be working, and Plank says he’ll probably have a pint somewhere.
Jimmy immediately apprises them of his proposed People’s Jubilee and invites them to attend. His proposed celebration would encompass all the ordinary man’s memories of the past 50 years. It will be a celebration of ordinary life, he says.
After all, the SuperSage continues, gaining verbal momentum now, this country is all about people such as he and the two lads to whom he’s talking. And there they were, condemned by some stupid cow to be SUBJECTS of people who achieved everything by dint of an accident of birth.
Halting himself before he goes too far and sounds too barmy, Jimmy stalks off, leaving a bemused Mike and Plank looking after him. Mike wonders if it’s worth going to this People’s Jubilee.
Plank shrugs and laughs, saying it might be all right for a free burger.
Back at Number 8, Rachel is trying to get Beth to eat. Beth laughs and looks at her real mother off-screen.
Bev returns breathlessly to the bar, where Nikki and Jacqui stand behind the bar, awaiting her. Jacqui looks even more po-faced than usual.
Seeing her standing there, Bev immediately launches into a hurried explanation of her absence. Well, nothing about that was Josh’s fault, she begins defensively. Did the other two realise, Bev thinks that poor Josh is being victimised. He’s been made the scapegoat because he’s noisy.
Did the other two realise, continues Bev, that they ONLY accused Josh of locking some other kid in the cupboard? Well, that was impossible, because Josh knows nothing about locks and keys. Now, she says, avoiding Jacqui’s steely gaze, she just has to pop upstairs and get Josh settled, as the sitter’s due any moment. Could Nikki cover for her until she returns?
Nikki looks away from Bev to Jacqui, without saying a word. Jacqui speaks for her, telling Nikki not to cover for Bev, instead to go home. Jacqui would remain there until Bev returns, and Bev had better be quick.
Jimmy stands on Happy Smiling Helen’s doorstep. Happy Smiling Helen opens the door and invites him in, apologising for the state of her house. She hasn’t had a chance, she says, bobbing her head, to tidy up.
Oh, Jimmy knows what that’s like, he concurs. After all, he lives with Tim and Emily. His place is like a tip, the way they’re always in and out. Happy Smiling Helen asks if Jim wants coffee.
No, Jimmy shakes his head vehemently. No stimulants.
Helen suggests orange juice. As she goes to the kitchen to get the drink, she tells Jimmy that she’s decided to visit the Sylvia Morgan listed in Tewbrook. She hasn’t been able to sleep at night since she got hold of that list of names.
Jimmy eagerly and stupidly suggests that they go that very day. Right now. Right away.
Happy Smiling Helen laughs uneasily. Oh, no, not today. She’s far too nervous, she protests, bobbing her head up and down. But when she DOES go, would Jimmy go with her? She asks.
Jimmy doesn’t know what to say, but Happy Smiling Helen says that she can’t very well ask Ray to go with her. Happy Smiling Helen smiles persuasively.
As Bev prepares to return to work, she gives Josh some stringent orders. The boy sits at the table, his prepared tea on a plate in front of him.
Josh is on a yellow card, Bev warns him.
The recalcitrant, little thug stares pugnaciously ahead of him, not deigning
to look at Bev. He didn’t DO it! He maintains. The other kid lied.
The downstairs buzzer sounds, signalling someone wanting to come up. Bev answers
it and we hear a garbled female voice. Bev tells the voice to come upstairs.
She turns her attention back to Josh.
The Supervisor of the After School Club has spoken to Bev, she tells the truculent,
beetle-browed Josh. He can stay on for the time being, but if he continues to
be naughty, then his luck’s run out and he’s out. If Bev keeps being
called away to deal with Josh’s discipline, then she’ll lose her job
and they’ll get kicked out of the flat.
Be good, she admonishes him, and watch some telly. She walks to the door, upon
which someone is knocking.
Opening the door, we see Adele has arrived to babysit Josh.
As Bev gathers her things to leave, she tells Adele that Josh hasn’t had
a good day today, so he’s not exactly normal.
‘Thank God,’ mutters Adele, under her breath.
Bev turns sharply and asks her what she was saying. But Adele convinces her
it was nothing.
Bev leaves. As soon as she goes, Josh glowers at Adele and shoves his plate
of food onto the floor.
Adele is annoyed. Now Josh’s wasted all his dinner. She orders him to go
to his room and play, but Josh cheeks her, telling her to make him go.
Suddenly, the downstairs buzzer sounds. Adele presses the button, allowing the
visitor to speak. It’s Roosle, asking her if she’s alone.
Adele glances at Josh, who’s staring insolently back at her. Not exactly,
she says. Roosle wants to come up, but Adele is reluctant to let him. Bev might
get annoyed. #
Only for a moment, he pleads, and Adele relents.
When Roosle enters the flat, Josh arrogantly demands to know who he is.
He’s a friend, says Adele and tells Josh that her mate’s name is Russell.
Josh immediately deems him a ‘wuss’. ‘Russ the wuss’, Josh
taunts.
‘That’s rude!’ Adele scolds him, as Russell, insulted, asks if
she’s going to let the kid talk to him like that. Adele tells Josh, once
again, to go to his room and play, but Josh refuses.
Roosle wants to talk to Adele, and seeing that she’ll get no privacy, she
suggests that she and Roosle talk on the balcony. They step onto the balcony
and Roosle reveals the real reason he’s visited her. Roosle’s had
a wonderful idea. How about he comes to Ayia Napa with her.
No way, says Adele.
As the two debate this issue, Josh creeps toward the balcony door and turns
the lock, trapping Adele and Roosle outside. Then he turns on some loud music
on the stereo.
Of course Adele, hasn’t noticed any of this. Adele is explaining to Roosle
that she arranged her holiday before she knew him, after he’s levelled
an accusation at her that she plans to cop off with other blokes on hols.
She turns to go back into the flat and finds the door bolted from inside. Josh
stands on the other side, grinning evilly and making faces. Adele demands that
he open the door and he refuses.
Back at Happy Smiling Helen’s house, Happy Smiling Helen is debating whether
or not to pursue Sylvia Morgan. Helen panics. What if her turning up out of
the blue proves to be too much of a shock for Sylvia, she asks, assuming this
IS her mother. After all, she’d be in her sixties now. And what about Ray?
What if Sylvia had put him completely out of her mind?
(Now pay attention. Here comes another totally irrelevant soliloquy, which is
endemic of the silly social thinking of the chattering classes, with absolutely
no perception of changes of time and mores during social history).
Helen admits to Jimmy that she finds it hard to accept that Sylvia had given
Helen away.
The Sixties were still a dire time, Jimmy points out, especially for unwed mothers.
Why, some were even put in insane asylums, he says. (Too true. Unmarried mothers
were not the social norms they are today. If anything, they were social pariahs).
But Sylvia wasn’t forced to give her away, Helen replies. She just handed
her over. (Get real, silly. Sylvia would have been royally ostracised in the
climate of the very early Sixties. She would have no future with a baby and
no husband. There were two options for girls who got up the duff before marriage
- get married to the impregnator or go away, have the sprog and put it up for
adoption. Sylvia took an option. If she’d kept Helen, chances are, Helen
wouldn’t be at the point she’s at at the moment).
Helen wonders how Sylvia’s felt about that? Does she think she missed out?
Did she have other children? How could anyone just hand over a child? She’s
thought about a lot, she says. She couldn’t begin to imagine that she would
be able to hand over Stephanie, her daughter. Surely, Jimmy understands, she
says. He must feel the same way about ... And she hesitates, not recalling Lindsey’s
name.
Jimmy nods.
Happy Smiling Helen suggests that they visit Sylvia on Monday. Is that all right
with Jimmy?
Jimmy nods again. It’s Jubilee Monday, he says. As long as they go in the
morning, he says. He’s got his People’s Barbecue in the afternoon.
Jimmy stands up to go, remarking that Stephanie must be due home soon.
Oh, no, says Happy Smiling Helen, Steph’s spending the night at a mate’s.
Why doesn’t Jimmy stay for tea? Helen suggests. She’s got enough for
two.
Jimmy agrees, and as Helen disappears into the kitchen, he sits down and rests
with his hands behind his head, smiling that same ugly, smug smile which tells
us all that he’s on a promise.
Suddenly, he notices a big tome placed prominently on Happy Smiling Helen’s
coffee table. It’s a book about bi-polar depression.
Meanwhile, back at Bev’s flat ,Adele stands helplessly with Roosle on the
balcony, shouting at anyone passing for help. Suddenly, she spies her elder
brother, and she shouts at Plank to draw his attention.
‘Help! Help!’ The silly moo shouts.
Plank, seeing Roosle with his sister, immediately jumps to the conclusion that
Roosle was harming his sister. ‘What’s he doing ter yer?’
Adele tells Plank to go inside the bar and get Bev. Josh has locked her and
Roosle on the balcony.
At that moment, Jacqui happens to pass by and notices the commotion between
Plank on the ground and Adele above. Jacqui doesn’t need telling that Josh
has been up to mischief.
Plank can’t quite believe what Adele’s asking. She seriously wants
Plank to go into the bar and get Bev.
Hang on, interjects Jacqui, clearly annoyed. She volunteers to take care of
this, and without another word, she storms into the bar.
Adele crumples her face with worry, sincerely hoping Bev doesn’t give her
the sack.
Jacqui makes a beeline for the bar where Bev’s in the middle of serving.
(Just WHERE the hell ARE the staff here?) She doesn’t beat around the bush
with Bev either.
‘What is it about this place?’ Jacqui begins, standing beside Sammy,
who happens to be impersonating a barfly propping up the bar. ‘It’s
joost one thing after another with you!’
Bev looks at her curiously. What does Jacqui mean?
‘Your Josh,’ Jacqui replies, indicating the door with her thumb. ‘He’s
only gone and locked Adele and her fella on the balcony, and they’re putting
oop a right racket. Honestly, people will begin ter think this bar’s a
madhouse!’
Bev doesn’t waste any time, she darts past Jacqui and shoots upstairs to
the flat.
Jacqui glances briefly at Sammy and comments that Josh is in serious need of
a shrink. (And this is an apt assessment of the little bugger).
Mike’s returned from the dentist and asks Rachel about Beth. Beth’s
asleep, Rachel tells him. In fact, she’s not moved all afternoon. Rachel
asks Mike how the visit to the dentist went.
The dentist only spent some time filling Mike’s mouth with putty, which
is considerably more than Mike’s mouth is usually filled with at the moment.
Taking an impression he says. The dentist did this, Mike says, in order to make
a bridge for Mike, as they’re going to pull his dodgy tooth and put a false
one in.
Oh, and by the way, he tells Rachel, phone in sick for him tonight. He didn’t
fancy going to work. (Uh-oh ... A dangerous pattern is evolving here).
Nisha and Katie are in the bar with Sammy. Nisha is dubious about having another
‘Pull a Pig’ night. Is Katie absolutely certain she wants to go ahead
with this?
Katie replies that she’s fine about this, and Sammy confirms that she thinks
it has all the markings of a good night out.
Nisha is still reluctant.
Bev stands in the middle of the lounge in her flat, having unlocked the door
to the balcony, and also having twigged that Josh had been telling her one monumental
lie about his involvement in locking another student in the cupboard.
‘Yer made a right show o’me at school!’ She shouts at the belligerant-looking,
little thug, standing over him.
Josh starts to have a go at Bev, but she silences him, sending him to his room.
Now it’s Adele’s turn.
‘And as fer YOU,’ she screams at the girl, ‘What’s this
lug doing here?’
They were revising, Adele lies.
‘Oh?’ Sneers Bev, raising her eyebrows, sarcastically. ‘Then
where’s yer books?’
Caught in a facile lie, Adele looks down at the ground.
‘I pay yer ter look after Josh,’ shouts Bev, ‘not entertain fellas.’
Roosle, fearing the worst, makes a hasty retreat. ‘Yer not makin’
a fool o’me,’ Bev threatens Adele.
Adele twists her liverlips superciliously at Bev. ‘OK,’ she snaps,
moving toward the door. ‘See ya.’
Suddenly, Bev realises she’s about to lose another babysitter. Hang on
a minute, Bev grabs Adele by the arm, she’s perfectly willing to give the
girl another chance.
Bev’s clearly desperate.
As Jimmy prepares to leave Happy Smiling Helen’s home, after his tea, he
suggests that after visiting this Sylvia Morgan of Tewbrook, Helen attend Jimmy’s
Citizen’s Barbecue - and, hey - why not bring Stephanie? It would give
him a chance to meet her. (How arrogant of Jimmy, knowing that Ray had yet to
meet his granddaughter! Jimmy’s ego is astounding!)
Well, that might be Happy Smiling Helen’s cup of tea, but it might not
be Stephanie’s, Helen tells him. She’s not sure she’ll come.
Jacqui returns home to Max and the kids, absolutely exhausted from a day of
dealing with Bev and Bev’s problems. Honestly, she tells Max, if Josh were
her kid, she’d bump him off. Hers were no angels, she says, but Josh is
terrible. She asks Max if he’s finished the homeseller’s questionnaire.
Max has and has posted it to the solicitor. But Max reminds Jacqui that he didn’t
plan on remaining in Number 8 indefinitely - only until Ron’s secure and
on his feet.
Well, says Jacqui, deflecting the comment, they’d best get things moving
if they didn’t want to be operating amidst Ron’s new launderette.
Plank has returned home, laden with his newly-purchased second-hand tuning machine,
which now has pride of place on the Muddie coffee table. Dire thinks it looks
a bit dodgy.
Well, it shouldn’t be, Plank asserts. He bought it off a copper. Antony
seems to be passing through at this moment, and he stops, interested in what
Plank says next.
Sure, he bought it off a copper - in fact, this bizzy is actually working on
the Imelda Clough case.
Antony listens even more closely.
Plank continues. This copper told him that they were planning a re-enactment
of Imelda’s last known movements around the school. (Antony looks as though
he’s just shit himself). Apparently, Mrs Clough’s been bugging them
to do it every day.
Plank stands up. He’s off into town with Tim and some mates, he tells Dire,
as he leaves.
Dire’s pensive about what she’s just heard. Maybe this re-enactment
will help track Imelda down, she mentions to Antony. Someone somewhere must
have seen something.
Antony looks horrified.
Jimmy has returned to Hotel Corkhill in a euphoric mood. He’s waxing lyrical
to a cynical Nikki about Helen. Did Dr Nikki know, Happy Smiling Helen’s
only gone and got herself a book about bipolar depression?
Nikki looks sceptical. Does Jimmy want tea? She asks.
No, ta. He had his at Helen’s. Her daughter was out at a mates and Helen
fixed a meal for them both.
How convenient, remarks Nikki, bitchily. Jimmy wants to be careful of this,
she warns.
Jimmy looks at her, as she begins to sow some doubts in his mind. So is she
coming to the barbecue, then?
Well, er, Jimmy says she wasn’t sure.
Be careful not to move so fast, Nikki warns. And Jimmy shouldn’t be surprised
if Happy Smiling Helen DOESN’T show up at his barbecue on Monday. Jimmy
should realise that maybe, just maybe, Happy Smiling Helen doesn’t want
Jimmy to meet Stephanie.
Barry Woodward wrote this. (Yawn).
Summary © 2002 Marion Watts
Brookside and all related materials are © Mersey Television 1982-2002