RELEVANCE OF THE PRESENT IN THE FUTURE
In this day of high drama all around us, as we go about our vies quotidiennes et tres mundanes, all soaps strive for RELEVANCE. Remember Brookside? No, not this thrupenny dross you see now, but BROOKSIDE when it first began. Brookside was the first soap to be socially relevant. It set the standard. Now ALL soaps have a modicum of social relevance - some more than others.
But, at the same time, it’s important, innovative and downright clever of the genre to be relevant to people’s everyday lives as well - and this means comments on occurrences AS and WHEN they happen. Of course, this might mean a bit of extra work for the actors and production teams - actually getting certain people in to film a brief scene with comment on the occurrence at hand.
Brookside set the pace for this as well. In fact, it was one of the last truly innovative things the programme did before the rot set in good and proper. WHO REMEMBERS (and this phrase will henceforward never be the same, after repeated overuse by a poster on the Official Forum) when Diana, Princess of Wales died? THE VERY NEXT day, Brookside included a scene featuring David Crosby, in his capacity as boss of the garage, and Cassie, in her capacity as humble employee, looking at newspaper headlines and making a brief tribute to the Princess.
It was obvious that that particular scene was filmed that very day, and it probably meant more than just a bit of hasty editing was done.
So where Brookside led, others followed ... Eastenders, in particular. WHO REMEMBERS the first time in ages that England beat Germany in Euro 2000? The show had a special Saturday airing leading up to the beginning of the game, and THEN that Monday, there was a special scene inserted featuring Laura and Jim Branning, discussing the result of the game. Topical.
Brookside tried it again in September 2000, when the truckers went on strike. But there it stopped.
There was no mention on Brookside of 9/11 when that event occurred - resulting in a Liverpudlian man being atomised - except for a particularly callous and idiotic remark made some months later by Nikki Shadwick (courtesy of Heather Robson) about feeling worse than the people who jumped of the WTC because she lost her poxy job.
Eastenders made reference to the Queen Mother’s funeral on the day it occurred (c/f Dot and Pauline in the launderette). Brookside didn’t.
Last week, there was a lot of hoopla made, again on Eastenders, about the beginning of the World Cup. Brookside, whose Friday episode was meant to have taken place in the future - as a matter of fact - THE DAY AFTER THE ENGLAND-SWEDEN GAME - said nothing.
IN A CITY LIKE LIVERPOOL, WHO EATS, SLEEPS AND BREATHES FOOTBALL, NO MENTION WAS MADE OF THE WORLD CUP AND NONE OF THE ENGLAND GAME. INSTEAD PLANK MURRAY LOOKED AHEAD TO THE ARGENTINA GAME.
Well, all the bright-eyed defenders of the faith on the Official Forum will huff, Brookside didn’t know the result of the game, did they?
True, they didn’t. But the inadequate writers should have been able to cope with that.
Example:
Tim to Plank: ‘Ja see the game yesterday?’
Plank: ‘Few things get me outer bed on Soonday mornins’ boot England do.’
Jimmy, interrupting: ‘Coom on, lads, gotcher photies fer the Timeline. Coom on, chop, chop.’
See there? Mention made without disclosing the fact that the game hadn’t been played and the score undetermined. Relevance.
That said, I should write for Brookside. I couldn’t do any worse than the shower who write for the show at the moment.
IT’S JUBILEE DAY!!! Well, it’s not, really, but because it’s Brookside, and because Phil Redmond believes he’s God and, therefore, omniscient, omnipotent and omnipresent, and also because Brookside isn’t due to be aired the following week until all the jubilation has ceased for the Jubilee and hasn’t yet begun for the World Cup, suffice it to say that Friday, in the land of Brookside, in the Kingdom of Redmania, is MONDAY.
The camera pans slowly across a plyboard structure, revealing a hodge-podge of photos, mostly from the Corkhill family. This is the SuperSage’s latest project - the Jubilee People’s Timeline.
But not everyone is celebrating on the Close. Jessie Shadwick stands patiently at a bus stop on The Parade amidst a gaggle of OAPs from the bingo club. She’s gazing expectantly into the distance, as if awaiting the arrival of someone. Soon we see that that someone is Brigid, who hurries awkwardly toward the waiting throng, her arms laden with food parcels. On the way, she drops her plastic Union Jack bowler hat and stoops to pick it up. Jessie shakes her head and smiles indulgently at her friend.
Back on the Close, with the television blaring full blast, Rachel the Dim, blinks and frowns, blinks and frowns and then blinks some more, whilst bending over Beth in a concerned fashion. Beth giggles and coos and reaches toward her real-life mother, who’s standing just off camera.
The Sage can be found hard at work outside in front of his house, busily putting the last-minute touches on the Timeline. The noise of his hammering obviously has woken Timily, who stagger from the house in various stages of undress. (Actually, they’re not showing nearly as much flesh as usual, which proves that some of TPTB ARE listening to the valid whinges and complaints of long-term viewers, but - bless them - they DO allow enough of Ms Ellison’s cleavage to be shown just to keep the merchant banker brigade happy). Needless to say, Timily aren’t too pleased at being hauled from their beds on a day off.
As they spill outside, and Emily spills out of her nightie (which looks like an old lad’s teeshirt over a sports bra), Jimmy reminds them, in his typical EGOTISTICAL booming voice, that they have yet to contribute some ‘photies’ for the timeline. He also reminds them of the Peoples’ Barbecue that’s due to take place that afternoon.
Neither of the young couple are in the least interested. Actually, Emily remarks, they were thinking about going into town for the celebrations.
Hmpf! Snorts the SuperSage. There you go. And that proved his point. This whole Jubilee malarkey is really a novelty excuse for getting drunk. Yer have ter get droonk ter appreciate the Queen.
It’s nothing to do with the royals, Tim protests. It’s just a day off and they want to have fun. Tim didn’t think too much of the royals, himself.
Except fer that Wills one, says Emily. He’s fit.
Well, here on Brookside Close, Jimmy announces, he’s intent on celebrating fifty years of the people. THAT’S the only reason Jimmy sees fit to celebrate. It’s nothing to do with the Queen, HIS celebration (but everything to do with Jimmy and the Corkhills, from the looks of his timeline).
Well, observes Emily, bewildered, if this has nothing to do with the Queen, then why is Jimmy making a point of having his do today?
It’s about the people, insists Jimmy, without giving her a reason, not about the Queen. And - HEY! - maybe, just maybe Happy Smiling Helen will come and bring Stephanie with her this afternoon. But before that, he booms to Timily, HE’S going with Helen over to Tewbrook to visit this Sylvia Morgan and see if she were Happy Smiling Helen’s mum.
Jessie and Brigid, meanwhile, are waiting excitedly for the arrival of the coach which will take them to London. Jessie wonders if any shops will be open today. She begins to reminisce about the Coronation, fifty years ago and what they did for that. Brigid remembers too. Why, they had just come off the war and were still in rationing, she recalls.
Then Jess remembers the Silver Jubilee. It’s just nothing like that nowadays, she says sadly. Brigid puts it all down to a lack of community spirit.
Meanwhile, back on the Close, Jacqui has dropped by the Dixons’ with the two Farnham children. As Rachel blinks, frowns and clucks over Beth, who continues to smile at her real mother off-camera, Ray takes the opportunity to tick Jacqui off about how annoyed he is that Ron’s selling the house and planning to swop with the Farnhams’. He’s amazed that Ron’s determined to do this, he says, irritably.
Well, sorry, but Ron’s entitled to do just that, Jacqui replies just as niggly. After all, it IS Ron’s house, she reminds Ray, and it WASN’T Ron who said that Ray and Jessie could stay. Ron wanted a smaller house and the Farnhams needed more space. End of story.
Oooh, speaks Rachel, blinking with concern. Oooh, Beth no’ feel good.
Jacqui bends down and peers closely at her niece. She suggests that Rachel take the child to the clinic. Rachel shouldn’t be put off by Gary Parr, Jacqui remonstrates. He’s OK once you get to know him. If she has any doubts, Rachel should be on the safe side and take Beth in.
The doctor’s already seen Beth twice, interjects Raymundo, loudly. He doesn’t think there’s much wrong with Beth, and the doc’s supposed to know these things. If you were to ask Ray, Ray says, he thinks Rachel worries too much about Beth and that it’s all in her head.
Despite the fact that Beth’s poorly, Jacqui is leaving Harry and Emma with Rachel today, as she and Max - surprise, surprise - are off doing something on their own. Besides, she tells Rachel, the kids would enjoy the barbecue and the bonfire.
Meanwhile, outside, Jimmy’s cornered Nick the Builder (‘can he pull’em? Yes, he can.’), who’s arrived to explain to Jimmy which of the cast-off wood from the burned-out bungalow Jimmy can use for his Jubilee beacon.
Er, it’s not a beacon, Jimmy patiently points out to the young man, who patently doesn’t have the knowledge of life that our Jim does. It’s a BONFIRE. Royalty, aristocracy have beacons, explains Jimmy the Sage, who just KNOWS everyone else around him hasn’t the intellectual calibre he has. The common folks have bommies.
As Ray approaches, Jimmy begins a rant about what a good idea it would be if everyone were to make effigies of the royals and throw them on the bommy. The builder looks on quietly, with a condescending, little grin of tolerance on his face, the sort a person might bestow upon a naughty small child or a lunatic.
Ray catches the last bit of Jimmy’s rant, as the builder shows Jimmy the best place to pile the detritus for the ‘beacon’ (the last word being said for the sheer pleasure of winding Jimmy up. Pssssst! THIS is supposed to be funny, but no one laughed). Ray interrupts, with concern. He tells Nick that it looks as though the beacon was going to be a mite too close to the bungalow. With the evening wind et al, it might just cause another fire, and, Ray points out, he doesn’t think the insurance company will take too kindly to another claim from Ray on the same property.
Jimmy frantically interrupts to tell Ray that they would not be having a beacon, they would be having a bonfire.
‘Oh,’ remarks Ray, vacantly. ‘But aren’t you supposed to light beacons for Coronations and Jubilees and the like?’
And this sets the stage for another of Dean Sullivan’s self-indulgent soliloquies - or rants, for want of a better word.
Nick assures Ray that the fire from the bommy won’t catch the bungalow alight.
(Er, I don’t want to spoil the party, but I will, to paraphrase John Lennon. But neither Dr Nikki nor Jerome have put in an appearance yet).
Next door, at Sitcom House, Marty is found in the back garden, digging a hole. OMIGOD!!! Is it for Imelda? Maybe he’s come to his senses and is about to murder Dire!!! But noooooooo. He’s got the Antichrist and Plank lifting and shifting for free, rather than pay a dodgy Tim, as he continues to dig.
Dire appears at the back door to shout out that SHE’S JOOST’AD THAT BEV ON THE PHONE BENDING’ER EAR ABOUT ADELE’AVING ROOSLE OVER AT THE FLAT WHILST SHE WAS MINDING JOSH THE OTHER NIGHT.
Did Bev sack Adele then? Marty asks, distractedly over his shoulder as he continues to dig.
NO, bellows Dire, SHE SAID ADELE COULD CARRY ON, BOOT SHE COULDN’T BRING ANY MORE FELLAS WITH’ER, OONLESS SHE BROUGHT ONE FER BEV AS WELL. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! (Not).
Finally, it dawns upon Plank to shake the overnight sawdust from his cranial cavity and ask Marty what the purpose was for all this lifting and shifting.
Oh, replies Marty. He’s building a pond.
Immediately Marty says this, Antony shits his pants, from the abject look of horror that covers the lad’s face. What does Marty want to build a pond for? He asks, truculently.
Well, he’s always fancied a pond, says Marty, reflectively talking while he works (as, indeed, he’s one of the few Brookside characters who can do something whilst talking and look normal. Maybe this is because Neil Caple is RADA and RSC-trained and the others are a bunch of substandard journeymen and outright amateurs). In fact, Marty continues, he wanted a pond at the old place, but all the kids were small and he feared they might have fallen in.
MAYBE A POND’S NOT SOOCH A GOOD IDEA, hollers Dire. AFTER ALL, JIMMY’AD ONE NEXT DOOR AND THEIR WILLS FELL IN AND NEARLY DIED.
Is that what Antony’s afraid of? Joshes Marty. And he paraphrases Mario Puzo’s The Godfather: ‘Antony Murray sleeps with the fishes.’
Antony’s flaccid bowels turn to water and fill his pants at this image.
Jessie, Brigid and the rest of their merry gang are still waiting for their coach to arrive. It’s getting later and later and there’s cause for concern. Hmmm, the coach is VERY late, remarks Jessie, peering myopically into the distance to try to will the coach to appear.
Oh, that reminds her, prattles Brigid, she was just reading in the paper the other day about Manor Park and Ride going belly-up. Oh, it was a big financial scandal. Apparently the paper said that the company wouldn’t be able to fulfill any commitments booked, nor would it be able to refund any money to those poor people who booked excursions.
As Brigid rattles on about this event, Jessie’s face begins to turn a horrid shade of green.
Brigid glances briefly at her watch. This coach is, indeed, VERY late. Er, which coach firm did Jessie finally book? She asks Jess.
Jessie looks as though she’s desperately waiting for the ground to open and swallow her up.
Brigid’s face melts with horror. ‘TELL me you booked Liver Drivers and NOT Manor Park and Ride,’ she begs.
Jessie can’t meet her eyes. The Jubilee Trip is dust.
The poor man’s version of Sex and the City are milling about their tippy flat, trying to plan how to fill their sad and empty lives with meaningless diversion. Sammy looks about the untidy flat with disdain. When was SOMEONE going to take the initiative and hire a cleaner? She asks, plaintively.
Well, until one IS hired, sighs Nisha, helplessly, it appears that they were going to have to do ALL the cleaning ALL by themselves. (I find this ludicrous - not only the fact that three grown, healthy women are unable to cope with the cleaning of a relatively small area that a flat encompasses, but also the fact that two RECEPTIONISTS, for Christ’s sake, without any other means of financial support, make enough between them to afford designer gear AND a cleaner. I want to work in Liverpool, where, it seems, money for old rope is the norm).
Katie has other things on her mind. She’s up for having another girls’ night out on the town. AND she insists that it be another ‘Pull a Pig’ night - as if at least two of this trio can be described as anything other than COWS. In fact, wouldn’t it be funny if, on their ‘Pull a Pig’ quest, they ran into a trio of blokes out on a ‘Why Buy the Cow when You Can Get the Milk for Free’ night and everyone copped off and ended up with a prime dose of clap? (Already, I can hear Heather Robson furiously scribbling a lecture about STD’s as she reads this summary - as I know she does).
Oooh! Squeals Sammy, in an apt impersonation of a pig. It’s a good thing she brought her camera at the last outing. She asks Nisha if she can use Nisha’s computer to scan and e-mail the pictures to Louise, so Louise can have a go at chosing who got the best pig.
Nisha’s not too bothered about another Pig night; in fact, she tries to dissuade the other two from doing it; but Katie is unusually determined.
SuperSage and his newest disciple stand on a neat street filled with pretty terraced houses. The street is in Tewbrook. Happy Smiling Helen is bobbing her head, as per usual, but she isn’t smiling very much. She’s dreadfully nervous at the prospect of meeting a person who could be her biological mother.
Perhaps she should have rung first, she whispers to the Sage.
Oh, no, booms Jimmy, with authority. These sort of things are always better in person. (Yeah, sure, Jim. Especially if the recipient of the call doesn’t want anything to do with the person from the past). Is Happy Smiling Helen having second thoughts? He asks.
Happy Smiling Helen bobs her head and manages a shaky smile. Really, she says, unconvincingly, she doesn’t know if she’s nervous or not. What should she say? She asks, turning to the Sage, who knows all and could surely tell her what to say to her long-lost mother. What if Happy Smiling Helen doesn’t like the woman, or - worse still - if the woman doesn’t like her?
The Sage, a master control-freak, puts his hand on the woman’s shoulder and guides her masterfully across the pavement, up the drive and to the front door of a house. He makes Happy Smiling Helen ring the doorbell. As they wait for the door to be opened, Happy Smiling Helen surreptitiously reaches out and clasps the Sage’s hand for support. The Sage looks as though he’s on a promise - i.e., even SMUGGER than usual. (Am I the only one who would like to clout Jimmy?)
The door opens, and Sylvia Morgan is revealed. She’s an Asian woman in a sari.
Even though it appears to be early afternoon, the Sex and the City slags are preparing for a long night on the pull. I must say, however, that Rachel Lindsey looks absolutely fantastic, but then she’d look good in a sack. I wish I could say the same for Diane Burke - but some things are better left unsaid.
As the two apply their make-up, Sammy takes the opportunity to have a sisterly word with poor, pitiful, stinky Katie, who - even though she’s clean, for once - doesn’t scrub up at all well.
Sammy wonders aloud if Katie’s REALLY up for this night out.
Katie looks at Sammy as though Sammy’s suddenly acquired two extra heads. Of course, she’s up for it.
Well, Sammy remarks, casually, Nisha’s not so sure Katie is. In fact, she discloses, Nisha thinks Katie’s ‘overcompensating’, acting as though she’s determined and forcing herself to do something she normally wouldn’t dream of doing, and thus compensating for her loss of Clint.
Again, Katie gives her sister a crazy look.
Well, Sammy tries to explain. Nisha is a nurse and she should know these things.
Katie tells Sammy that if she says she’s up for a night on the pull, then she is; and she leaves Sammy standing.
Happy Smiling Helen sits dejectedly in her car, neither happy nor smiling. In fact, she looks upset. Jimmy tries to jolly her. Look, he encourages, it would have been really lucky if the first try had turned out to be the real Sylvia.
Happy Smiling Helen won’t be consoled. She’s deeply disappointed. (Is this woman thick? Does she think life so easy?)
Why, continues the Sage, philosophically, they could go through thousands of false leads before they find the real Sylvia.
Happy Smiling Helen manages to give the Sage a sour look. Jimmy only grabbed the name ‘Sylvia Morgan’, she reminded him, watching his halo slip. Why, the woman could have married! This wasn’t research; this was guesswork. Well, Happy Smiling Helen isn’t in the mood for anymore of Jimmy’s alibis.
Sammy, Katie and Nisha swagger down The Parade in the middle of the afternoon, looking like three prozzies on the game. The three share a giggle about the dodgy bloke Sammy had pulled the night before. As they laugh, Nick the builder passes them in the opposite direction. He asks cheekily if the three are out on the pull.
They effect to annoy him, and Nisha asks what sort of fellas they’re looking for that evening.
‘You know the type ter look fer,’ snarls Katie, pointing to Nick. ‘Pigs like’im.’
Back at Sitcom House, Marty’s still hard at it, digging his hole.
Dire appears at the back door again, and bellows that IT’S TIME TER GO TER THE BARBIE-CUE.
Marty replies that he’ll be along just as soon as he finishes digging the hole for the pond.
Dire doesn’t understand what all the urgency’s about.
As the trio enter the bar, they encounter Dr Parr and Gaby the Grin. Dr Parr jokes with Nisha, asking if she’s come to inspect the local talent. The bar, unusually, is hopping - and with a lot of men.
Naah, replies Nisha, affecting a cool demeanor, they’re only after mingers tonight. It’s ‘Pull a Pig’ night.
The doctor wishes them good luck and leaves with Gaby the Grin. Bev makes a sarcastic remark, whilst nearby some bloke who looks like Mark Addy from The Full Monty (the bloke who went onto play Fred Flintstone) tries to chat Katie up. Katie’s begun to drink in earnest from the moment she set foot inside the bar; but she gives him a snarl and a close-up view of her mustachioed upper lip, and the poor bloke goes running.
Back at the de rigeur People’s Jubilee (which precious few people seem to have attended, by the way), Dire Murray stands with the Antichrist and Plank in front of the People’s Timeline collage. In one of the few instances of interaction with her fellow neighbours since arriving, Dire ostentatiously pins a picture of herself (actually Bernie Nolan in the days when she sang with the Nolan Sisters) onto the board. It was taken 25 years ago, which means that BERNIE would have been sixteen, but DIRE should have been thirteen (but then Dire was a good girl who always ate her greens).
Plank has a laugh at his stepmother’s expence, and Antony seems curiously reluctant to join in the proceedings. A passing Sage booms a welcome and asks the whereabouts of Marty. Dire replies that Marty was going to be late.
In the distance, we see Ray leaving the Dixons’ house, attired in a lime green (and oddly new-looking) Teddyboy jacket.
The Sage is trying in vain to cheer other unimpressed guests, namely Timily. It’s obvious Emily had her heart set on going downtown, and she’s not keen on joining in the festivities. But there’s the barbecue to look forward too, Jimmy promises, and then the bommy and maybe some fireworks.
He wafts away, the master of his own universe.
Emily screws up her mouth and looks unenthusiastically at Tim. She hates barbecues, she says in despair. They remind her of all the barbecues over which her late father would preside - and as for fireworks ... Well, they reminded her of explosions, which reminded her of Greg’s death. And Ben’s accident, adds Tim.
The Sage wafts by once again, and Tim calls out, asking him if he’d called Happy Smiling Helen to invite her.
Naah, replies Jimmy, in passing. Waste of time, that.
Rachel appears, with the Farnham kids and Beth in tow, to be greeted by the Sage, warmly.
Oooh, says Rachel, staring about in wonder and blinking. Oooh, she thow-at ter bring kids ter see street paaargh’y’n be-acon.
It’s NOT a beacon, insists Jimmy, in frustration, it’s a bommy.
Oooh, replies Rachel, blinking, boot she caan’t stay. Beth not well.
As Emily stands by the People’s Timeline, Tim emerges from Hotel Corkhill and places a picture of him as a child, along with his late father. Maybe, he says, reflectively, maybe at a time like this, he should think about family. He doesn’t see that much of his at all, and he misses them. He’s been thinking a lot lately about his mum, Ben and Melanie.
(Now THIS is interesting if the other O’Learys return, especially if Brookside moves the goal posts and has Ben walk back into Jacqui Farnham’s life. AND Mel ... She would be about Emily’s age now. Maybe this is the dark-haired girl, aged between 18 and 22, Brookside advertised for in The Liverpool Echo a few years ago).
As Jimmy prepares to pile the discarded wood in preparation for the bonfire. Ray notices and immediately begins to whinge about the proximity of the bonfire to the bungalow.
Jimmy pauses in his task and pointedly asks Raymundo if he’s spoken to Helen that day.
No, replies Ray, honestly.
Jimmy informs Ray that he and Happy Smiling Helen had taken a ride to Tewbrook that morning to the address he’d found for Sylvia Morgan. It wasn’t the Sylvia they were seeking.
Ray shakes his head, sadly. How’d she take it? Ray wants to know.
Well, she doesn’t want to go on looking, Jimmy admits. But Jimmy’s not about to LET her give up, he pronounces. No, sirree, he’s not about to give up after this setback, he vows. He’ll carry on searching, through the web, through the phone directory, even if it meant knocking door to door.
As Jimmy’s making his vow to find Sylvia, Raymundo’s face becomes pale with fright. Suddenly he can take no more of this. ‘You’ll never find her that way,’ he blurts. ‘She’s married!’
Jimmy is astounded at Ray’s virtual admission of his knowledge about Sylvia. But he’s distracted by the arrival of Jessie and Brigid from the abortive Jubilee excursion.
The three good-time girls sit at a table in the bar. Neither Sammy nor Nisha look particularly happy; and Katie is drinking heavily. Sammy gazes about the bar morosely. There certainly are a lot of pigs about tonight, she observes.
Nisha leans across an oblivious Katie and asks Sammy if she wants to call it a day.
Sammy’s ready. Besides, she needs to give the flat a tidy-up before Louise and her mate arrive the next day.
Katie, however, isn’t ready to go; but Nisha takes it upon herself to act like the good nurse and give her a pep talk. Katie’s doing brilliantly, she says, encouragingly, but she doesn’t have to stay out if she’s not feeling 100 per cent. Take it slow, Nisha advises.
Katie suddenly stands up unsteadily. She doesn’t need anyone lecturing her, she snarls. (Katie snarls a lot lately). If they weren’t lecturing her when she was moping about the flat grieving Clint, they were lecturing her when she wanted to go out and have a good time; and without saying another word, she staggers across the bar to the counter, where the Mark Addy clone with the beer gut stands. Katie grabs him by the face and starts sucking his lips.
In the background, Nick the builder looks on, shaking his head, sadly.
Back at the People’s Jubilee, Brigid, Dire, Ray and Jessie stand reflecting on the events of Jessie’s and Brigid’s day. Just think, Brigid muses, by rights, they should be enjoying a West End meal right now; and she glares pointedly at Jessie.
Jess looks uncomfortable. All Jessie was concerned about, continues Brigid, was shopping on Oxford Street, when they were supposed to be going to London to show their solidarity for the Queen. The Queen NEEDED their solidarity, she rants, especially when she’d only just lost her mother and her sister this year.
Plank, munching on a burger nearby, states rhetorically that the Queen never did anything for him. Why should he honour her?
Why the Queen does a lot, Jessie replies breathlessly. She promotes the tourist trade and does a lot of charity work.
That’s the problem nowadays, she continues, everyone’s so cynical of the country these days.
Plank points to the three lions on his cheap imitation England shirt. Hey, he’s wearing the England shirt, he says.
Well, that’s one thing they WON’T be able to do now, Brigid bitches, show their solidarity for the Queen in London.
Jessie looks exasperated. How was SHE to know that Manor Park and Ride would go broke? She cries, and walks away in a huff.
Dire ticks Brigid off ‘royally’. Brigid should go easy on Jessie, she says.
Hmmph! Brigid snorts. If the shoe were on the other foot, Jessie would be right there demanding that Brigid apologise and wanting her forty-pound deposit back.
Meanwhile, the Sage has cornered Ray. Was there a secret about Sylvia Morgan Raymundo had somehow forgotten to share? He asks.
Ray begins to blub in a confused manner, opening and shutting his mouth several times before words emerge. W-w-w-w-w-well, he begins to stutter, there was this rumour that Sylvia had married. A fella called Bard... A-a-a-a-a seaman. Scandinavian, he thinks.
Of course, just as Ray’s revealing these vital facts, a car pulls up and Happy Smiling Helen and her daughter Stephanie arrive. Stephanie was originally supposed to be eighteen in one episode, but by the second in which Helen had appeared, someone had had a rethink and Stephanie was now twelve. This girl looks sixteen, and that’s probably for a purpose.
As Helen and her over-developed 12 year-old sprog make their way towards the activity, Dr Parr and his wife stand perusing the People’s Timeline, as if this would NORMALLY be something that would remotely interest this couple. (And speaking of them, what the hell are they doing at something like the People’s Jubilee in the first place? I got the distinct impression that the Sage was more than slightly less than fond of his GP and there’s no one on the Close, other than Max Farnham - who hasn’t attended the function - who would even think of inviting Gaby the Grin, and even if they did, this is far TOO proletarian for her tastes. This is a mistake by Brookside to place the couple here, even to mosey along out of curiosity. It simply wouldn’t have interested them in the least, and it’s a cheap and amateurish way to reveal a little of their own personal history. A better scriptwriter would have found a better way of getting the message across. Unfortunately, ‘better scriptwriters’ as a whole, are not a commodity to be found at Mersey TV).
Anyway, for some reason, known only to God and Phil Redmond (who MIGHT be one and the same, who knows?), the doctor and his wife are taking a real interest in examining the Timeline and relating the events shown on it to events in their own personal lives.
1998 ... Christmas 1998 was eventful for the doc. High point in his relationship with Gaby the Grin ... Endless commutes between Liverpool, where he was working and Cardiff, where she was based at the time. 2000 ... The year they married. 2001 ... Ah, THAT year was definitely a downer, says the doctor, decisively.
‘Oh, but that’s all behind us now,’ purrs Gaby the Grin, sidling up to her husband, unconvincingly.
Dr Parr looks across the Close to see Rachel making her way towards the Timeline, with Jacqui’s two kids in tow. He waves at her in a friendly manner, remarking about how much of a handful Jacqui’s kids looked. (Bad mistake, that, Doc. To show friendly to a scrounger like Rachel is to open ones friendship up to abuse. Learn that about the trailer trash class).
At the sign of the wave, Rachel trots worriedly toward him. Ooooh, she cries, plaintively. Would doc-teh m-eye-nd’avin’ looook a’Beth? Oooh, Beth fev’rish.
Caught out on the trot, Dr Parr sets his mouth sourly and glances reluctantly at his wife, before remembering his Hippocratic Oath and jogging toward Rachel.
Marty Muddie has finally joined the sparse attendance at the barbecue and stands with his big-gobbed wife and their Antichrist son, nearby. Dire announces THAT SHE HAS REASON OF HER OWN TO CELEBRATE TODAY. IT’S AN ANNIVERSARY.
Marty briefly looks worried, doing a rapid mental calculation to try to figure out what important date in his married life he’s forgotten. Seeing his confusion, Dire helps him out, again at the top of her voice.
‘IT’S ME TIME O’MOONTH!’ She bellows. ‘NO BABY AGAIN.’ (Thank GOD for that!!! Please, would someone explain to me the significance of Brookside’s apparent obsession with menstruation?)
Inside the Dixon house, Dr Parr examines Beth for about the seventh time. The child seems fine. In fact, he tells Rachel rather succinctly that he thinks she’s worrying needlessly. Still, he relents, if she doesn’t seem any better after four or five days, Rachel should bring her by the surgery.
Oooh, Rachel apologises, profusely. She sure sor-reh ter both-eh doc on day off.
Dr Parr smiles wanly. Better safe than sorry, he says.
Meanwhile, the People’s Timeline continues to dominate the guests’ attention. The Sage stands proudly gazing at it, along with the voluptuous Stephanie, Happy Smiling Helen’s daughter. Stephanie notices a picture of Ray on the board. She recognises him, she says to the Sage. In fact, she’s seen him round their house from time to time, visiting her mum. He appears to be a friend of Happy Smiling Helen.
Oh, him, notices Jimmy. That’s Raymundo.
As the girl turns to walk away, she spies Ray standing nearby. As she passes him, she greets him with a friendly, ‘Hi, Raymundo,’ - as you do, when you’ve never met a person personally, but only seen his picture. (Geesh, give me strength).
Hearing Stephanie speak to him, Ray seeks out Happy Smiling Helen, who’s less than pleased with Ray. Of course, Happy Smiling Helen is standing close to the Sage, who’s got her in his power now, the silly, insipid woman. (I like this character less and less).
Ray greets Happy Smiling Helen tentatively, but Happy Smiling Helen bobs her head and tells him in no uncertain terms that she’s not wanting his charity. In fact, she doesn’t understand Ray at all. It seems each new day brings out a secret that Ray’s held back from her about her birth mother.
Ray notices that Jimmy’s standing close at hand, rocking triumphantly back and forth on his heels, with that despicably smug look on his face.
Listen, Ray begins in a shaky voice, trying to defend his actions. He had his life in order, then Helen came out of the blue. Well, he dealt with that; he took all his life on board, with her and Jessie, and considered the rest to have been dealt with.
Helen just doesn’t understand. She never knew Ray existed until recently, but Ray knew all about her all her life, and he never once attempted to contact her. (THIS is too unrealistic and it panders to the mentality of the intolerantly looney Left - the idea that a man of his generation, who probably came from a severely repressed background, considering Kitty, would flaunt convention and maintain contact with a lovechild which was the result - not of a youthful fling - but from a sordid adulterous affair with a woman of easy virtue who was supposedly a friend of his wife’s. Both parties acted in accordance with the social mores of the time. STOP trying to put a 21st Century slant on this situation. It doesn’t work and appears to be silly).
Ray contends that he’s doing what he’s doing for the best. Helen’s his daughter and he loves her. What he keeps from her is for her own protection, he adds, glaring pointedly at Jimmy. (Pardon me. Ray MUST know the full extent of Jimmy’s past, of which I think the Sage has been less than honest with Happy Smiling Helen. WHY doesn’t he apprise the silly moo of exactly what Jimmy’s done?)
Seeing Happy Smiling Helen in thrall to the Sage and noting that both of them return Ray’s stare for stare, Ray breaks down and declares frantically that he last saw Sylvia some 25 years ago. As far as he can recall, she did marry someone - er, a man named Bard, a Scandinavian. He recalls a picture in the local paper. Sylvia was in hospitality and there was a do at the Town Hall. The article included a picture of her and this sailor at this do.
Jimmy and Happy Smiling Helen exchange triumphant smiles.
It’s now the end of the day and Sammy and Nisha stand propped against the bar, looking the worse for wear. Nisha admits that she feels too wrecked to go into town, and Sammy agrees, suggesting that they return to the flat.
Nisha peers about the throng of people. What about Katie? She couldn’t see her and needed to tell her that they were going.
Oh, don’t worry about Katie, dismisses Sammy. Katie would have a look for them, suss they were gone and go to the flat anyway.
Just to be on the safe side, Nisha stops Bev as the women are leaving and asks her to tell Katie that the two of them have gone home.
As they leave, the camera hones in on Bev’s wary and disapproving face.
Now that it’s properly dark, Nick the builder stokes the raging bonfire. Ray hops about in apprehension, worrying aloud that the fire’s too close to the tree that stands next to the bungalow and worrying that the fire might glance onto the bungalow again.
Brigid, scoffing a burger and carrying another on a tray, approaches Jessie. Jessie turns to Brigid, surprised that she’s still eating and Brigid proffers the burger on the tray as a peace offering. The day’s turned out to be a good’un after all.
The Sage stands nearby, ruler of all he surveys and King of the Close, flanked by the two newest recruits to his Cause - Happy Smiling Helen and voluptuous Stephanie.
Stephanie asks Jimmy if she can use his computer to get onto the Internet. Not worried at ALL about his phone bill nor what she can get up to unsupervised, Jimmy agrees and the girl runs into Hotel Corkhill. Happy Smiling Helen admits that Jimmy’s been an instant hit with her daughter. (Cue dangerous music). Happy Smiling Helen wants to know where they go from here to find Sylvia.
Well, begins Jimmy, warming to a new project, first they log onto the paper’s website to see if they have the article to which Ray referred was online. If not, they would scour the Library’s archives to find the picture. They would find that article, he declares, and they would find the bloke.
Happy Smiling Helen is full of misguided admiration for the Sage, just like silly Anthea and silly Dire, both of whom have departed and will depart soon. Hopefully, this means a short shelf life for Happy Smiling Helen.
As Nisha and Sammy enter the darkened flat, they’re having a giggle about the unattractive men frequenting the bar tonight. Sammy reminds Nisha of her promise to let Sammy use the computer to e-mail a picture of Katie’s pig to Louise.
The two pause outside the loo, reminiscing about how ugly Katie’s pig turned out to be. Suddenly, the door of the loo opens and the fat, beer-gutted Mark Addy bloke emerges, dressed only in his boxies, and makes a beeline for poor, pitiful, filthy, stinky, sweaty, greasy Katie’s lair.
Nisha and Sammy exchange looks of disbelieving horror.
Neil Jones wrote this. I must say it’s up to his usual substandard.
Summary © 2002 Marion Watts
Brookside and all related materials are © Mersey Television 1982-2002