(RANT: HOW CAN THEY DO THIS? HOW CAN THEY ALLOW THIS SHALLOW, INSIPID, IGNORANT MAN TO MAINTAIN THE MYTH THAT HE WAS A TEACHER, AN EDUCATED
BROOKSIDE VS EASTENDERS
When it was announced that Phil Redmond was directly returning to the helm of Brookside, one of the first things he did was to tip the wink in recognition of Eastenders as Brookside’s main rival. This was fair and just. It has to be said that, at the moment, and for sometime, Eastenders has stood head and shoulders above the rest of the soap genre in the U.K.; therefore, it’s only right that Redmond should recognise that and use Eastenders as the metre by which to measure Brookside’s performance in the future.
But how he must have choked on that admission, especially since Eastenders’ success is largely to do with the man who was responsible for the unparalleled success enjoyed by Brookside when the series was at its height - Mal Young.
Even now, viewers of the two soaps have strong feelings about just which one is the better. At the moment, Eastenders is better in every realm. The writers it employs are the top of their trade; they collaborate with each other, they communicate, they research their subject matter, practically to perfection, they create characters that are well-rounded, diverse and multi-faceted.
Grey areas and goal post changes are kept to a minimum. In fact, I can only think of two changes made primarily for the purpose of storylines. The first concerned the Slaters and had to do with ages of various members of the family. Charlie Slater, when he arrived, listed his age in his character biography as 50. Immediately this happened, after the family were introduced and the ages of the daughters listed, scores of viewers commented oh how young Charlie must have been when he started his family - especially in view of the fact that his oldest daughter, Lynne, was 34. The addition of ten years to Charlie’s age was slipped in unobtrusively by allowing the celebration of his sixtieth birthday to introduce the character of Uncle Harry, Charlie’s paedophile older brother.
Then there was the significant change in age to Kat Slater, herself. When Kat arrived, her age in the character biography was 28. But something happened. Introduced in an unusual in-your-face fashion and allowed to dominate proceedings in the Square as wholly as either of the most established families of Fowlers and Mitchells, the Slaters didn’t gel with the viewing public. Big Mo was too awful, Lynne too miserable, Little Mo too thick to be believeable, Zoe too pretty in a soap that only featured one, if any, babe. But the most vitriol was directed at Kat ... ‘Orange-faced slapper’ was the kindest thing anyone ever said about her. She was deemed a ‘slag’ and an ‘tart’ with a terrible voice.
And she WAS unlikeable in the extreme. Oh, dear ... Faux pas city.
But then, Eastenders achieved a masterful plan to switch reaction to Kat from one of intense dislike to one of immense sympathy. AND it involved a subtle changing of the goal posts. Kat would be the secret mother of Zoe. Never mind the fact that Kat was ostensibly only eleven years older than Zoe, it would transpire that, instead of being 28, Kat lied about her age. She was 32 and had conceived and borne Zoe when she was 14 - the result of systematic sexual abuse at the hands (and other bodily parts) of wicked Uncle Harry.
Result?
Brilliant storyline and performances from all concerned.
The other goalpost change comes in the character of Frank Butcher’s largely unseen oldest daughter, Claire. Claire appeared once in the late Eighties when she arrived in Walford to deposit, Janine, Frank’s youngest daughter and the child from hell on the doorstep of the Vic.
Claire was always a figure from afar, a career girl based first in Leeds and then in Manchester, to whom the family always turned in moments of crisis, especially when they had a stray child to abandon.
When Janine the wild child fled South in 1999, she brought with her tales of Claire having a dodgy criminal boyfriend and living in Manchester.
Two weeks ago, Claire appeared again. Only this Claire, a plain, hatchet-faced, fortyish woman, emerges as a businesswoman, with a nice, middle-class husband and two nice middle-class daughters who were stalwarts of the Pony Club and Girl Guides in a posh home in leafy Cheshire.
Did anyone notice? No. Why? Because the appearance of Claire was a one-off. She’ll reappear again, in twenty years’ time, as a pensioner when the creaking Ricky Butcher is felled and dies. By that time, she will have acquired a title at least. But we won’t care. Because Eastenders is clever - and Brookside isn’t.
This week Louise returns with a new head, a new mate and a new age. She left a rat-faced, 10 year-old with a dodgy posh accent, and comes back a Disneyfied pubescent miracle. AND she’s 13 now, NOT 10.
Give me strength. How much longer is this going to last?
It’s the morning after Jubilee Monday, which is odd, because this is supposed to be a bank holiday as well, but everyone seems to be going to work in that hive of subversive republicanism that’s known as Liverpool.
Nisha and Sammy are having a last-minute breakfast before reporting for duty, when suddenly, the door to Katie’s lair springs open and out pops the fat, beer-gutted Mark Addy clone, who’s Katie’s apparent souvenir from the previous evening’s ‘Pull-a-Pig’ night.
Without even glancing at the two women, the bloke makes an exit. Well, Sammy and Nisha spied him leaving the loo the night before, surely they aren’t surprised to find him in the flat in the morning? But they are.
Meanwhile, on the Close, the Sage begins to dismantle the People’s Timeline.
And over at Bar Brookie, Bev ensconces a smiling Josh at one of the tables, and produces a pile of what looks like children’s board games and jigsaw puzzles with which to amuse the little thug.
Sammy and Nisha are still gob-smacked that the prize pig’s spent the night with poor, pitiful Katie. Did she really snog him? Sammy asks Nisha in disbelief. (How thick does this woman, or rather how thick does Phil Redmond reckon the vierwers, have to be?)
As she’s asking this, poor, pitiful Katie emerges from the den of sin, with a scowl on her already miserable gob. She’s heard Sammy’s catty remark. Why doesn’t her sister say that to her face? She mutters, belligerantly.
Sammy’s embarrassed. The object of ‘Pull-a-Pig’ is just to snog and leave them, Sammy explains. Not to bring the pig home.
(This term ‘pig’ annoys me. What, exactly, IS a pig? I tried to ask this on the O.F., and I must have hit a nerve, because the thread was promptly wiped. In my opinion, on Brookside, Jimmy, Katie, and Nisha all qualify as pigs - disgusting, sorry, disgoosting, people.)
Well, moans Katie, defending herself, the other two were always on at her to do something to take her mind off the sainted Clint, and the minute she does, they brand her a raving looney. She IS over sixteen, she reminds them (even though she acts as though she’s fourteen). Besides, she continues, trying to inject a little lightness into the sordid episode, what’s her prize for pulling the best pig?
Nisha folds her arms primly and gives Katie a supercilious po-faced look. ‘I would have thought Mr Nice Guy was prize enough,’ she quips.
Sammy tries to fob the whole thing off as an overrated indiscretion. She’s done worse, herself, she confesses.
Nisha gives up on the immediate argument and leaves for work. After she goes, Sammy takes the opportunity to give Katie a serious pep talk. Look, she begins, Louise and her posh mate from school are due to arrive today for the half-term holiday, and Sammy’s serious about Katie not moping around the place. She doesn’t want Louise entering into a situation that reeks of doom and gloom, so Katie has to buck her ideas up a bit. And pay no attention to what Nisha says - just don’t go bringing anymore pigs home to rut.
Dr Nikki comes out of the front door of Hotel Corkhill to find her mentor, the Sage, struggling to dismantle the People’s Timeline.
Dr Nikki, who was curiously absent from the Jubilee proceedings, is surprised that Jimmy’s not allowing the Timeline to stand - sort of as an heirloom or reminder of the occasion.
Oh, he’s got something by which to remember the occasion, he jokes, and points to a scorched and blackened circle in the middle of Mick Johnson’s old driveway, the last remnant of the Jubilee bommy.
As he dismantles the board on which the timeline appeared, Dr Nikki pitches in and helps him. She tells the Sage that she’s due to write her finals psych paper soon. (Surely, Brookside aren’t going to graduate Dr Nikki from uni already - despite the fact that she’s in her fourth year and calls herself a second-year student?)
Jimmy doesn’t respond to Nikki’s information, so caught up in his own ego is he. He chooses, instead, to crow about his own proposed accomplishments. HE, the eminent SuperSage, proposes to use all his honed skills to find Happy Smiling Helen’s mum, the infamous Sylvia Morgan.
Oh? Enquires Nikki, intrigued. And how does the Sage propose to do that? She understood that the Tewbrook Sylvia Morgan wasn’t the right woman.
Well, the Sage begins to relate in his over-confident booming voice, Raymundo let slip the day before that Sylvia had married a sailor fella. He’d seen something in the local rag about it years ago. Jimmy plans on logging onto the paper’s website to see if he can locate the article in question.
Jimmy tells Dr Nikki this as the two walk back toward Hotel Corkhill. During the course of the monologue (as nearly ALL Jimmy’s conversations nowadays are just that), Jimmy drops a casual arm around Dr Nikki’s shoulders. Suddenly realising what he’s done, Jimmy recoils and apologises to Dr Nikki.
Dr Nikki is puzzled by this reaction.
Jimmy explains that it reminds him of that day in his room, with Nikki. Dr Nikki hastens to assure Jimmy that she’s forgotten all about that episode; but all the same, she begins to fret, she’s worried that Jimmy’s being carried away with all this Happy Smiling Helen and Sylvia Morgan quest.
Jimmy protests innocently that he’s only trying to help Happy Smiling Helen out.
‘Coom off it, Jimmy,’ Dr Nikki snaps. ‘Only a few weeks ago, yer were wuddied outa yer mind that Helen wasn’t answerin’ any o’yer phone calls.’
He’s only trying to help Happy Smiling Helen, he insists. And if they become better mates because of all of this, then that’s a bonus.
Bev is trying to get the bar ready for the lunchtime influx and play a board game with Josh at the same time, which results in the fact that Josh wins the game. Josh is no fool, however, and susses that Bev is more or less letting him win. They have a laugh about this, and as Bev has her back to the door of Bar Brookie, she doesn’t notice Jacqui entering and observing the fact that Josh is where he’s not supposed to be.
Jacqui noisily clears her throat, which startles Bev. Er, what’s Josh doing here? Jacqui asks.
Bev immediately begins to grovel. Ooh, it’s only before the bar opens and only until his childminder arrives.
Well, how long will that be? Asks Jacqui, unimpressed.
It’s Adele Muddie, says Bev. She’s due anytime.
Adele? Questions Jacqui, in disbelief. Is Bev sure the girl’s up to it? The last time Josh only managed to lock Adele outside on the balcony.
Bev promises Jacqui everything will be all right, but until Adele arrives, Josh has to remain here in the bar with Bev.
Jacqui’s still dubious about this.
‘Well, what d’yer want me ter to?’ Bev wails. ‘Leave’im oopstairs alone in the flat with knives?’
Jacqui succinctly declares that Josh isn’t the best-behaved child in the world at the best of times; but finally she agrees to Josh remaining with Bev in the bar until Adele arrives. He’d better be gone by opening time, she remarks. With the World Cup in full swing, Jacqui was expecting lots of punters.
As Jacqui leaves, Josh calls out ‘good-bye’ to her and Bev turns to him severely. Did Josh hear what Auntie Jacqui said? She asks. Josh had a bad enough reputation and he was only getting Bev in trouble.
The three Sex and the City slags are still lolling about the flat. Katie’s hungover and has a headache.
She’s dehydrated, says Nisha, shortly. She needs lots of fluids, not a painkiller.
Sammy surveys the tippy flat with disdain. The place needs to be cleaned from top to bottom. She didn’t want Louise’s posh mate to think they lived in a doss-house. And again, she admonishes Katie not to bring any pigs back to spend the night.
Oh, and by the way, Sammy interjects, would Katie mind awfully looking after Louise and her mate tonight - only Sammy has to work late at the Health Club?
Katie sarcastically agrees and leaves to go downstairs.
Nisha stares after her, reflectively. She’s worried about Katie, she remarks.
Sammy dismisses her concern. Katie’s OK. She just went off the rails a bit, that’s all.
She’s into self-abuse, Nisha informs Sammy.
Sammy can’t believe Nisha’s diagnosis, but Nisha insists this is so. Why else would Katie demean herself so?
‘She had too much to drink and now she’s got a hangover,’ snaps Sammy. ‘That’s called a good time.’
It goes deeper than that, muses Nisha.
‘What psych book have you been reading now?’ Sammy demands. ‘Like I said, I’ve copped with worse and I’ve been sober.’
Nisha shoots Sammy a withering look. Self-abuse doesn’t mean harming yourself with scissors and knives, she informs Sammy.
Jacqui has returned home to Chateau Farnham, in a mood about Bev. That Josh is too much, she informs a bemused Max. He’s headed for being locked up in a secure unit before he’s an adult, she declares, and maybe that’s not a bad thing.
Max has other things to discuss - namely the house move and the question of
squatters.
Squatters? Repeats Jacqui.
Well, actually, Ray and Jessie, confesses Max. Jacqui has to face the fact that
Ray and Jessie might not want to move, and as sitting tenants, they DO have
rights. Anyway, he was going to get onto the building society’s solicitors
who are doing the conveyancing to get their opinion on the matter.
Oh, and speaking of solicitors, Jacqui interjects, Ron had a suggestion that
both parties use the same solicitors - and save money in the long run.
Max shakes his head. That wouldn’t be allowed. It’s called conflict
of interest. (I can’t believe the line this conversation is going. It’s
like a piece of contrived instruction one sees on those industrial training
videos that John Cleese used to do - with Jacqui playing the stupid trainee
and Max the competent teacher. Jacqui’s certainly had enough business dealings
with solicitors et al to know the score on conveyancing).
Hmph! She snorts. The professional classes, and that includes her husband, were
all the same when it came to making money. (Pot, kettle and black, Jacqui. YOU
are part of the professional classes now).
Speaking of which, Max suddenly remembers that surveys of the properties will
have to be arranged.
Oh, surely not, Jacqui protests. Why, both parties know all there need be to
know about the properties being purchased, and besides, two surveys would cost
£200 apiece easily.
Then Jacqui muses a bit. Maybe Josh will turn out to be a surveyor one day,
she reckons. He’s certainly hard-faced enough. (Just like his aunt).
Katie and Sammy are doing nothing but reciting their lines and standing around
in the flat. (Did you ever notice how much Brookside characters simply stand
around and recite their lines?) Katie announces that she feels all fat and bloated.
Well, suggests Sammy, brightly, why don’t they both go to the gym sometime?
Katie reacts bad-naturedly. What was Sammy like? Her daughter was about to visit
her from boarding school and Sammy was wittering on about spending time at the
gym. She should be spending as much time as possible with Louise.
Well, Sammy relents, she’d love Louise to come to the gym with them, but
in reality, sometimes she feels that Louise doesn’t like her.
AND PAY ATTENTION, FOLKS. YOU’RE ABOUT TO WITNESS A CHANGING OF THE GOALPOSTS
MOMENT IN BROOKSIDE.
Katie replies that all TEENAGERS are like that. (Excuse me, but Louise is ten
years old. She was born to Sammy and Owen in 1992, and when she left for school
a few weeks ago, she was still ten years old. She is NOT a teenager). Remember
how Sammy and Katie treated Chrissie Rogers ages ago? Sammy should look on the
bright side - Louise chose to spend this holiday with Sammy instead of Richard.
She should enjoy her time with her daughter.
Sammy’s apprehensive. Katie WILL still be here when Sammy returns from
the station with Louise? She asks. And Sammy worries that Louise and her mate
won’t enjoy themselves in Liverpool.
Jimmy arrives at Happy Smiling Helen’s house to find that Happy Smiling
Helen has just purchased a brand new laptop and is learning all about surfing
the Internet, like a good disciple.
The voluptuous Stephanie contributes to the conversation, saying the new computer
is brilliant.
Immediately, the Sage endeavours to give Happy Smiling Helen a step-by-step
instruction on how to use the net. First log onto the web ... Then onto the
webpage.
The sullen-faced Stephanie catterwauls that Happy Smiling Helen can’t do
that now; first she has to help Stephanie with some homework.
Happy Smiling Helen bobs her head and glances at Steph’s schoolwork. She
makes a wry face. Oh, she can’t be bothered to help Steph with THAT work,
she remarks deprecatingly. It’s all about the Vikings and history is SO
boring to Happy Smiling Helen. (Well, what does the stupid bitch think she’s
doing, researching her own family HISTORY? Oh, well, those who are ignorant
of the past are condemned to repeat it. Remember that).
Immediately, Jimmy sees the textbook, he jumps up excitedly. Ooh. Ooh-ooh! HE
can help Steph with that homework. After all, he says smugly, HE used to be
a teacher and HE used to teach history.
(RANT: HOW CAN THEY DO THIS? HOW CAN THEY ALLOW THIS SHALLOW, INSIPID, IGNORANT
MAN TO MAINTAIN THE MYTH THAT HE WAS A TEACHER, AN EDUCATED
BEING AND
A GOOD INSTRUCTOR? I HATE JIMMY CORKHILL’S CHARACTER AND THAT OF HAPPY
SMILING HELEN AND HER SULLEN-LOOKING, WHITE TRASH-FACED DAUGHTER. IF THERE ARE
ANY DEATHS ON BROOKSIDE, LET IT BE THESE THREE UNLIKEABLE CHARACTERS. LET A
METEOR FALL ON HELEN’S HOUSE WHILE THEY’RE ALL IN IT).
As Sammy’s preparing to go to the train station, her attention is caught
by a taxi pulling up on The Parade. The taxi stops and to her surprise, Louise
and her friend, Tania, alight. Across the way, a stranger sits in a non-descript
car, watching the events.
Tania is a smug-faced, extremely confident, little bitch of a girl, the sort
of know-it-all rich kid who’s just begging for a smack across the gob.
Sammy watches in surprise as Tania pays the cabbie with a twenty-pound note
and instructs the man to ‘keep the change’.
What on earth is Louise doing here? Asks Sammy, pleased, but concerned as well.
Louise, who has a new head and is distinctly older, informs Sammy that they
girls took an early train. The smarmy, posh Tania speaks up. It’s all HER
fault, MRS ROGERS. (Mrs Rogers?), she explains.
Sammy asks how their journey was, and Tania deprecatingly remarks that the journey
wasn’t bad. Turning to Louise, she asks that she point out their flat to
her and asks how many windows it has.
Just at this moment, Gaby the Grin arrives and greets the girls, which is surprising,
because I didn’t think she had that much to do with any of her neighbours.
Louise introduces Tania to her and Gaby the Grin tells the girls that she used
to go to Carlton Grange, a posh girls’ school near theirs. Whisking them
away from the commonness of Sammy, who’s left to shift the luggage, Gaby
the Grin and the two snotty girls carry on upstairs.
In the distance, the stranger in the car watches everything.
Back at the home of Happy Smiling Helen, Jimmy has well and truly got his feet
planted under the table, as he sits doing a ‘brilliant’ job of tutoring
sullen-faced Stephanie in the intricacies of Viking civilisation. (Actually,
he’s doing what he did as a teacher, reading from the textbook).
Happy Smiling Helen taps away at the new computer, smiling over her shoulder
and bobbing her head in approval at the cosy scene unfolding at the nearby table.
The doorbell rings and Happy Smiling Helen is forced to tear herself away from
this placid domestic scene to answer it, and - in doing so - Raymundo enters
the room, armed with a duffle-bag of tools. He seems sadly taken aback to see
Jimmy there and comfortable ensconced with his granddaughter.
Sullen Stephanie looks up and smiles a ratty, little white trash smile, greeting
the man she doesn’t know is her grandfather. ‘Hi, Raymundo.’
Ray shyly waves and asks politely how the research is going.
‘Oh, the web’s closing around, Raymundo,’ remarks Jimmy, in his
smug and hateful booming voice. ‘It’s closing around.’
Er, actually, the newspaper’s website doesn’t go back far enough,
says Happy Smiling Helen in a low voice.
‘So we’ll have ter invade the libraries!’ Booms the Sage, enthusiastically.
Ray’s come to mend Happy Smiling Helen’s coffee table, but he takes
her aside and whispers a concern to her. Stephanie still doesn’t know his
real identity. Is it right, he asks, to continue this facade of Ray being only
a friend?
Happy Smiling Helen gives a typically tactless, brain-dead, brain-washed and
cruel reply, showing just how enthralled she is with Jimmy. She primly points
out to Ray that she never knew about him at all most of her life, yet he knew
all about her and did nothing. It’s a difficult situation, she falters,
and she has to ease him into it.
Ray turns away from the hard-faced, head-bobbing bitch with tears in his eyes.
He’ll just get on with fixing the coffee table, he sniffs.
Louise and Tania sit around the table in the NNT flat, examining Sammy’s
new mobile phone, which she hasn’t mastered yet.
Katie stands in the kitchen and shouts across the expanse of the room to inform
Sammy that she was putting the advert for a cleaner back in the garage window.
Sammy protests, saying that you couldn’t expect to get a proper cleaner
by advertising in shop windows.
Oh, yes, you can, replies Tania confidently, in her annoying little posh voice.
As a matter of fact, HER family advertised in the local hat shop and managed
to find a cleaner.
There you go, offers Katie as proof.
But Tania’s not finished. Of course, their two GOOD cleaners came from
an agency, but the third one, who wasn’t very good, came from the hat shop
advert. Turning ingratiatingly to Sammy she compliments Sammy on her choice
of mobile phone. Can one play games and MP3’s on it?
Sammy looks embarrassed and snatches the mobile phone from the little philistine’s
grasp. She admits she hasn’t yet mastered the phone.
Oh, Tania knows all about that phone, assures Louise. In fact, if Sammy would
only leave the phone with the girls, they’d programme their own mobile
numbers into the phone, to save Sammy remembering the numbers to ring. And the
little twits leave the room.
When they’ve gone, Sammy shoots Katie a worried look. She’s not certain
she likes this Tania, she confides. Did Katie notice that the kid was only wearing
a Rolex watch.
Katie raises her eyebrows in mock admiration. Well, she mutters, she doesn’t
think Louise’s mate will somehow be satisfied with a plate of Scouse and
a jam buttie.
Outside, the stranger still sits across from The Parade in his car. He watches
as Gaby the Grin walks down The Parade.
Gaby the Grin walks right into the Bar, where her new-found bezzy mate, Bev,
is holding court. A funny thing has happened. Bev seems unusually friendly with
Nisha. Now correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t it about this time
last year when Bev was issuing all kinds of bitchy remarks and veiled threats
to Nisha, because Nisha was having it off with Nikki’s boyfriend, Jerome-Step’n
Fetchit-Prissy-Field-Hand-Oreo-Uncle Tom Johnson?
But all that seems to have been forgotten since Bev returned from Brazil with
her new lobotomy, as the two are quite chummy now. In fact, Bev’s remarking
on the undue amount of noise emanating from NNT the previous evening - obviously
the noise of Katie’s rutting with her ‘pig’.
Nisha tells her that the girls were on a ‘Pull a Pig’ night, and Katie
decided to take her pig home.
Oooh, remarks Bev, coyly. What did he look like?
Well, replies Nisha, before leaving with her coffee, he made ET look like George
Clooney.
Gaby the Grin stands at the bar and peers myopically around the near-empty room.
She’s looking for Dr Parr, whom she was supposed to be meeting here.
Bev asks her if she’d like some coffee while she waits for Dr Parr, and
Gaby the Grin pretentiously asks in a loud voice if the coffee Bev serves would
happen to be Brazilian?
Bev giggles and, making no effort to keep her voice down, admits that, of course,
her coffee was Brazilian.
Unseen by either of the silly bitches, Jacqui enters the bar and stands watching
the two shout across the room to each other. Ooh, twitters Gaby the Grin, she
wonders why Bev favours Brazilian coffee?
Bev giggles again and shouts that it might have something to do with her son
who longs to return to Brazil and her Latin lover. (Fred?)
Jacqui interrupts to ask Bev if she’s done the VAT returns yet, and Bev
replies briefly that the VAT returns are on the desk in the office, but Bev’s
more concerned with following Gaby to her seat, promising in a loud voice to
regale her with tales of Bev’s hot nights on Brazilian beaches with beach
boys and tequila. (Er, sorry, Brookside, but tequila’s a Mexican drink).
The man in the car sits observing life on The Parade. He walks over to the pavement
and notices Nisha enter the door to the flats. He examines the names on the
brass plates beside the door.
Sammy is enduring the agony of being in the flat with Louise and her incredibly
snobby friend. Louise is following Tania’s snotty lead, asking Sammy if
they could eat out that evening. Would Sammy rather eat in town or at The Shelf?
Asks Louise, condescendingly.
Actually, Tania interrupts, it would be better if they went into town. That
way Tania could go shopping for some new trainers.
Sammy interrupts this train of thought to ask Tania politely what her father
did for a living.
Suddenly, the mincing little cow becomes evasive. ‘Oh, this and that,’
she replies. Mostly, he imports things (oh, I’ll bet he does, like Acapulco
gold and Charlie), which is why he’s in Spain at the moment. In fact, that’s
where she and Louise were going after leaving Sammy’s flat.
Sammy is shocked. She doesn’t think she’s heard the girl properly.
Sorry, she remarks, but there’s been some mistake. Louise isn’t going
to Spain.
But the air tickets have already been purchased, protests Tania.
And besides, chips in Louise, where would she go for the rest of the mid-term
break if Louise went to Spain?
Back to London with Richard, remarks Sammy. Now, she’ll hear no more of
this Spanish nonsense. Louise simply wasn’t going. Sammy has to go to work.
She tells Tania that the girl may use the phone to call her mother, but the
girls were to keep the door bolted and not let anyone in.
(This proves that the girls are substantially older than ten years old. If so
and if Dr Parr knew this, surely Sammy is as guilty of neglect as Bev).
As Sammy leaves the main door leading to the flats, she runs into the mysterious
man who’s standing around. Sammy glances at him curiously, before asking
if she can be of some help.
Oh, replies the man, in a startled tone. He was just looking for ... The Shelf,
he finishes hastily, still staring at the names on the brass plates.
Sammy, with a worried look on her face, points behind the man to a large sign
indicating The Shelf. It’s over there.
The man thanks her, but makes no move toward The Shelf. As Sammy walks away,
she glances back at him over her shoulder and shudders.
The Sage continues to tutor his youngest disciple. Oops! The Sage scolds his
youngest disciple. Three l’s in Valhalla! Look! The Sage, omniscient soul
that he is, is instructing two disciples at once. He turns from Stephanie and
advises Happy Smiling Helen to save the website under favourites.
Happy Smiling Helen beams up at Jimmy and bobs her head in thanks. Stephanie
holds up a wad of paper and proudly shows her silly mother all the wonderful
work with which Jimmy’s helped her.
Ray harrumps noisily and approaches, carrying his workbag, to inform Happy Smiling
Helen that he’s finished fixing the table.
As Happy Smiling Helen opens her mouth to thank Ray, the Sage interrupts to
advise her that they have to be methodical in their research on finding Sylvia.
Stephanie is excited at the prospect of finding ‘Auntie Sylvia’.
Ray interrupts the interruption to tell Helen that he’s off home now, and
Happy Smiling Helen suddenly remembers her manners and asks Ray if he’d
like some coffee; but before he can answer, Jimmy demands her attention again,
and Ray leaves unnoticed.
HELEN DESERVES TO BE SLAPPED.
Bev stands over Gaby the Grin’s table, gossiping. Gaby the Grin jokes with
Bev about finding a man for herself.
Tosh, scoffs Bev. She’s got no time fer a fella - not with Josh underfoot,
anyway.
As the two big gobs gab, Jacqui approaches from behind, fixing her face with
a false smile.
Gaby the Grin gives her an equally false one. Oh, she tells Jacqui, she was
just listening to some of the tales from Bev’s interesting life.
Jacqui smiles even more broadly and asks Bev for a word in private. Leading
her away from Gaby the Grin, Jacqui berates Bev for behaving unprofessionally.
It was not Bev’s job, Jacqui tells her, to monopolise the clientele.
But it WAS her job to keep the coostomers entertained, Bev protests, trying
to be sarcastic.
But not with gossip, Jacqui replies.
Bev pleads with Jacqui to get off her case. Most of her off-duty hours were
spent looking after Josh. And besides, when she’s working, she it can be
useful sometimes, knowing what’s happening.
Gossip, hisses Jacqui.
‘Yeah,’ replies Bev, ‘like the fact that your so-called bezzy
mate Katie is going out and copping off with all sorts ... Oh, but that’s
unprofessional, isn’t it?’
Sammy returns home (from her shift? For a break? Ever notice how many times
a day Brookside characters just pop home?), only to find the door to the flat
standing wide ajar.
She enters the flat and calls out Louise’s name, but gets no reply. She
looks in room after room, but finds no one.
Katie enters soon after her and startles Sammy. Sammy admits that she thought
Katie might have been Louise.
No, answers Katie, blandly, she only returned home to get the advert for the
cleaner.
Sammy begins a mild panic. She left explicit instructions for those girls NOT
to go out and not to answer the door to anyone.
What’s the matter? Asks Katie, unflustered. They just stepped out. They
couldn’t have gone far.
That’s not the point, argues Sammy. There’s a strange man who’s
been hanging around the Parade all day. In fact, Sammy caught him trying to
get into the flats earlier on.
Suddenly the phone rings and Sammy pounces on it. It’s Lucy Moran, Tania’s
mother. She wants to know how the girls are. Sammy calms herself enough to lie
and say that they’re fine.
Jacqui returns home to find a self-satisfied Max, grinning broadly. No, he’s
not been wanking, he’s sorted out the solicitor, without ever dropping
his or the solicitor’s pants. In fact, he’s got a discount on costs
through his Round Table contacts. And that’s not all, he tells an overwhelmed
Jacqui. He’s invited Ray and Jessie around later.
Why? Jacqui asks.
Max replies that he wants to show the older couple around what essentially is
going to be their new home until the bungalow is built. He thinks perhaps the
Hiltons might prove a problem, digging in and wanting to stay put at Number
8. If he can get them to feel at ease here, that might be half the battle.
Well, grumbles Jacqui, Max will have to do this on his own. She was only on
a lunch break and had to return to keep an eye on Bev. Honestly, that woman’s
attitude! She’s just so slap-dash about things, she complains to Max. It’s
no wonder the bar went downhill under her reign.
Max reminds Jacqui that he did warn her about what Bev was like. And now she’s
got Bev managing the bar and the She-Devil, Sammy Rogers, behind the reception
desk at the Health Club, what did she expect?
Actually, confesses Jacqui, she’s quite pleased with Sammy. She never thought
she’d say it, but Sammy Rogers works hard. She’s sold innumerable
subscriptions to the Health Club and has come up with some really good marketing
ideas. No, Sammy’s all right, asserts Jacqui. It’s Bev who’s
the problem.
Sammy’s finished talking to Tania’s mother and now loses herself to
blind panic. Where COULD those girls be? She wails.
Katie tries to calm her down, suggesting that maybe the two girls just popped
downstairs. Again, she reiterates that they couldn’t have gone far.
But they might have been MADE to go, shouts Sammy. The door was wide open when
she came upstairs. Sammy says she’s going downstairs to look for the girls
and demands Katie come with her.
Katie protests vainly that she’s due back at work, but Sammy reminds her
of Katie reminding Sammy of her duty to Louise; and the two dash downstairs.
A dejected Ray has returned to Number 8, to find Jessie waiting for him. He
hauls himself into the lounge and droops into a chair. He’s fixed Helen’s
coffee table, he announces to Jessie, and Jess would never guess, but that he’d
found Jimmy Corkhill there when he arrived, bold as brass and right at home.
Well, sniffs Jessie, unsympathetically, Ray has only himself to blame for that.
He could have been right in there if he’d thought to tell Helen what he
knew about Sylvia’s marriage.
Ray protests that that item had slipped his mind entirely. He wasn’t to
blame for being forgetful. And how did Jessie know about that, anyway?
Dr Nikki had been by to visit her grandmother, she says, and Nikki let slip
Ray’s little secret (well, she would, wouldn’t she?). Jess raises
one eyebrow, sceptically eyeing Ray. ‘I wish I knew more about some of
your little secrets,’ she remarks, cynically to her husband. ‘But
then again, maybe I don’t.’
Sammy is running to and fro along The Parade, shouting and screaming for Louise.
Katie follows behind her, trying to calm her down and telling her that she’s
overreacting. Look, she points out, Louise went all the way to London on her
own to Richard’s and she was OK.
But Katie doesn’t understand! Sammy shrieks. Sammy’s told Katie that
this strange fella was hanging around. She caught him snooping around the door
to the flats and challenged him. Oh, he tried to say he was looking for The
Shelf, but it was obvious he wasn’t. There was just something so odd about
the bloke. What if something’s happened to the girls? She wails.
Maurice Bessman wrote this. I’m sorry to say that it stank. (Wait for the
second half - he can’t even get his continuity right now).
THE ROAD TO NOWHERE
Here’s a PR idea for Brookside ... Have the cast record a single. I even have a suggestion. The current cast could be assembled to record a single and video to a re-release of The Talking Heads’ ‘Road to Nowhere’, with specially-written lyrics.
It wouldn’t cost much to do, surely. Everyone could stand en masse in front of the Brookside Close sign and march in place, whilst Dean Sullivan, complete in denim jacket, takes on David Byrne’s lead singles - can’t you just imagine Sullivan leading the chorus and marching maniacally back and front in front of the assembled cast, shouting, ‘Hep! Hep! ... Hep! ... Hep, hep!’
It was MADE for the cast.
Let’s see:
‘We’re on the road to nowhere,
‘Haven’t a clue,
‘We’re losing viewers weekly,
‘What shall we do?’
‘But Mr Redmond says the show
‘Is safe and sound.
‘What does it matter if the
‘Viewers all bound ... Not a sound.
(Accordion riff played by Ben Hull)
(Next verse sung by Hull & Caple) ‘How the hell did we get here?
‘We want to know.
‘Amongst a bunch of ama-
‘Teurs in this show.
(Caple) ‘I was trained well at RADA
‘Trained for the stage.
(Hull) ‘I could have gone to London
‘And become the rage ... Of the age.
(Accordion riff now played by Mickey Poppins)
(Vicki Gates) I had a storyline last
Year. I had a part.
Now I am lucky if on
Screen, I get to fart.
They’ve turned my character in
To one big joke
I’d like to tell them where their
Job they could poke ... I’m bespoke.
(Vocal riff of sounds provided by Alex Fletcher, Diane Burke and Suzanne Collins)
Ehm, eem, erm, ehm, eem, erm, ehm, eem, erm, ehm-a-ehm-eem-erm
(Ellison) I could have been an actress
And been a hit
Instead they made me show a
Lot of my tits.
My implants and hair extensions
Meant to save the show.
I’ve lost my credability
Now where do I go? A sex show?
(Fletcher, Burke & Collins) Ehm, eem, erm, ehm, eem erm, ehm, eem, erm, ehm-a-ehm-eem-erm
(Raymond Quinn) I’ve won awards for Brookside
They gave me my chance
But all I want to practice
Is ballroom dance
I play a child who’s heard and
Frequently seen
But when I grow up I will be
A dancing queen ...who’s real mean
(Steve Fletcher & Philip Olivier) Wank, wank, wank, wank, wank, wank, wank, wank, wank, wank-a-wank, wank wank
(Stephen Pinder) Oh how I miss Susannah
She had some class
I have to do near-porn scenes
And show my arse.
I changed my posh bird for a
Council Flat tart
You think they could have give me
One with a heart ... For a start
(Accordion riff by Kenneth Cope in white suit)
(Kerry Peers) I used to be an actress
I had a role
Soon I’ll be yesterday’s news
And on the dole
They tell me just to bob my head
And to grin
These storylines are awful
They’re really a sin ... When’s it end?
(Sunetra Sarker, Rachel Lindsey
& Sarah White) Gob gob gob gob gob gob gob gob gob gobba gob gob gob
(Dean Sullivan in final rant) I’m the Sage of Brookside Close
Heaven knows where I will go
When it ends ... I got no friends
I’m Omniscient, I know all
Brookside’s heading for a fall
In the fall ... In the fall ...
(Cast en mass a cappella) WE’RE ON THE ROAD TO NOWHERE ...
(Trumpet riff by Vince Earl and Marg Campi)
(Cast a cappella) WE’RE ON THE ROAD TO NOWHERE ...
(Dean Sullivan, goosestepping across
the screen) HEP HEP ... HEP HEP
(Cast a cappella) WE’RE ON THE ROAD TO NOWHERE ...
(Sullivan, strutting) HEP HEP ... HEP HEP
(Stephanie Chambers, Katy Lamont and the girl who plays Laura appear in bikinis, twirling batons)
(Sullivan, ranting) BROOKSIDE’S GOING DOWN THE PAN
BUT PHIL REDMOND’S STILL THE MAN
AND THAT’S ALL RIGHT
BABY THAT’S ALL RIGHT
(Cast a cappella) WE’RE ON THE ROAD TO NOWHERE ...
(Sullivan, ranting) HEP HEP ... HEP HEP... HE-
(Cue giant axe to fall solidly on Sullivan, slicing him in half).
(Silence)
(Bernie Nolan, taking a disdainful look
at Sullivan’s bleeding body, speaks) THANK GOD, THAT’S ENDED. I BLOODY THOUGHT IT WAS GOIN’ON FEREVER! OH WELL, THAT’S ME OFF TER ITV!!!
(Brief pause)
(cast a cappella) WE’RE ... ON ... THE ... ROAD TO NOWHEREEEEEEEE!
(Lone drum solo as cast amble off uncertainly in different directions).
That should easily hit number one and gain a lot of publicity for the show.
Another morning of promis has broken. Would that we ALL had so much promise in our lives. Sammy reaches into the cupboard at NNT, dressed in her Jackie Corkhill original dressing gown, and takes out a glass. She turns to face the camera, holding the glass and staring pensively into the distance, a look of grave concern on her face.
Another scene of blissful domesticity unfolds at Chateau Farnham. The door to the marital bedroom opens and Mr Farnham enters, also dressed in a dressing gown and bearing a tray laden with breakfast delicacies. The fragrant Mrs Farnham, third of that line, turns in bed to greet him with a smile. Although it’s first thing in the morning, and she’s only just opened her eyes, she has not a hair out of place, and her make-up is perfect.
Next door, at the poor relations’, however, Mike and Rachel hover over Baby Beth, who’s lying on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket. Rachel the Dim feels the child’s head, blinks several times and looks up appealingly at Mike. Baby Beth coos and reaches for her real-life mother off camera.
The mysterious man in the car is still parked opposite The Parade.
Sammy now has the two recalcitrant girls sitting at the kitchen table in the NNT flat. She’s doing her nut with them for disappearing the day before. The girls, however, appear cocky and show no remorse, treating Sammy with the respect (or lack of) which they show children or people less intelligent than themselves.
There’s no need for Sammy to be in a mood, sooths Louise, superciliously. She explains that the girls had merely left the flat to go and get a video. They decided to take a bus to the video shop, as Tania had never been on a bus.
That’s right, Tania recites, deprecatingly. When HER family go out, THEY usually take a taxi or one of the cars.
That’s not the point, Sammy scolds. She specifically told the two of them to stay IN the flat until she returned and not to let anyone in. Yet they run off without permission, not even leaving a note as to their whereabouts and leave the door to the flat wide open. Why, anyone could have come in!!!
‘There’s no need to worry, Mrs Rogers,’ Tania assures Sammy, condescendingly. ‘We’re very grown-up and independent for our age.’
Sammy’s flabbergasted for a moment. ‘I’m sorry,’ she argues, ‘but if you were THAT grown up, you’d understand a bit of what responsibility was. Tania’s mother’s trusted me with the responsiblity of lookin’ after yer, and yet you roon off out o’me sight and tell me noothink. ANYTHING could have happened. Do you understand how serious that is? And besides, yer out anyplace, and Tania’s mother happens ter phone. I had to lie to her about where yer were.’
Oh dear, mouths Tania, with mock concern, getting a dig at Sammy. She certainly hopes her mother wasn’t too angry.
Well, SHE, Sammy, was about to call the police yesterday. In case they didn’t realise it, there’s been a strange bloke lurking about the Parade, and Sammy was concerned. Why, he might be up to all sorts!
A PERVERT? Ask the girls with interested glee.
Sammy’s had enough of their antics. ‘Yer think it’s all a big joke!’ She exclaims. ‘But it’s NOT!’
The fragrant Mrs Farnham and her husband cuddle close in bed and examine the contents of the breakfast tray. Jacqui’s intrigued by the fresh food and the breakfast in bed. What exactly were they celebrating? Max reminds her that it’s their anniversary. Exactly one year ago today, they enjoyed their first serious kiss. (My, my ... Doesn’t time fly when we’re having fun?)
Max pushed the tray aside and the two begin a voyage of emotional discovery - in other words, a massive snog. Jacqui’s worried the kids might hear, but Max continues. However, he stops briefly, as if to wordlessly get Jacqui’s permission to continue. Jacqui then shyly confesses to Max that she wants to try for another baby.
Next door, Rachel and Mike hover around Beth. Mike has not long returned from work. He examines Beth closely. Maybe Rachel’s overreacting. Maybe Beth just had the sniffles.
Oooh, replies Rachel, blinking. Ooh, she no’had good n-eye-ght las’n-eye-ght. Ooh, Rachel had ter’ave ba-beh in bed wi’her.
Mike nods, concerned. He knows how Rachel feels. He can’t relax, he says, when he knows Beth is uneasy.
Mike’s got an interview, supposedly for a better job, the next day. If he gets that job, he promises Rachel, they’d be quids in, and could maybe afford a place of their own.
Rachel’s more concerned about Mike’s teeth. He has an appointment with the dentist for 1PM that day. Meanwhile, Rachel feels Beth’s forehead, as the child continues to giggle and make faces at her real mother off screen.
Oooh, M-eye-ke, Rachel squeals, blinking. Oooh, Beth got tem’cher!!! Oooh, she’s real-leh hot.
But never mind, Rachel still plans on taking her over to Jacqui’s and asks Mike to watch Beth while Rachel gets ready.
Over at Hotel Corkhill, Dr Nikki has outlined Jimmy’s plans for finding Sylvia Morgan to Jerome Mandingo-NAACP-Huey Newton-Black Panther-Martin Luther King-Not, who’s developing a social conscience in anticipation of his near departure and storyline.
Dr Nikki’s worried about Jimmy’s actions in this search. What happens if they succeed in finding Sylvia Morgan and then find out that she doesn’t want to be found? She wants to know.
Jerome isn’t listening. He’s just finished reading Richard Wright’s Native Son (which is not about the Arsenal goalkeeper’s days of growing up as a tractor boy in Ipswich; it’s about growing up black in America of the 1930’s). Finishing this book means Jerome now consider himself a social expert in all things black and beautiful. He announces sanctimoniously tha the’s now ready to assume responsibility for his actions. The book is a revelation. He never used to understand Mick’s preaching on that subject before, he says. (So, does that mean that he’s going to try to trace Ryan Musgrove and confess to hitting his car?)
The Sage, himself, leaves Hotel Corkhill, only to find Raymundo standing in the middle of the Close, looking at the bungalow. Over his shoulder, Ray notes Jimmy walking toward him.
At least, living in Number 8, he’s able to keep an eye on the bungalow, remarks Ray. Although, he doesn’t know what’ll happen when Ron and Max exchange houses and turf him and Jessie out. (ER, WHAT HAPPENED TO THE INVITATION ISSUED THE HILTONS BY MAX THE PREVIOUS DAY?)
Jimmy makes a snide face at the mention of the house swap. Oh, well, he comments, deprecatingly superior, that’s the middle classes fer ya. They need bigger properties ter look good.
Ray ignores this and Jimmy puts his foot in one step further - he tells Ray that he wants the two of them to remain mates, just the way they were before Helen came on the scene.
Ray walks away from Jimmy, pointedly. (Good for Ray! Jimmy is unbearable of late!)
Back at Chateau Farnham, Maxim and Jaxim are having a roll in the hay - not too explicit, mind you, Brookside wouldn’t DARE try anything so stupid after their last bit of spin. Nope, all we see is a bit of bare flesh on Jacqui’s arms and NONE of Max’s cellulite.
As Timily have a thing about keeping a record of everyplace they’ve made love, Max and Jacqui go one better. Not only do they keep a record of unusual places where they’ve coupled, but they give each performance a rating. After this journey of emotional discovery, the insecure Max asks Jacqui how he fared on a scale of 1 to 10. Jacqui remarks playfully that she rates that performance 10 out of 10 and then jokes about watching the paint on the ceiling.
The two have a laugh, and Jacqui reminisces about having a bonk in the bus shelter, as well as the hospital examination room in A & E.
Just think, Max muses, happily, flopping off of Jacqui and onto his back, in just a couple of weeks, they would be miles away from all of this ... at Ron’s.
Oh, well, sighs Jacqui, at least they’d be in a bigger house - and they could always convert Ron’s garage.
Max wants a proper celebration of the anniversary of their first kiss, and Jacqui suggests a nice dinner that evening; but Max can’t. He’s got a charity do he’s attending. However, he suggests, they COULD meet for lunch. (At Bar Brookie, where else? Why not The Shelf?)
The scene ends with Jacqui making a hopeless double entendre about Big Ben. Oh, I wonder to what she was referring?
Silly me, (chuckle, chuckle) why, that was Brookside’s attempt at risque humour.
The mysterious man in the car still watches The Parade. He watches as Dr Parr leaves the flat entrance and walks to the Clinic.
Back at Number 8, Rachel enters the lounge, having been upstairs with Beth. Oooh, Beth’s ‘sleep, she informs Mike. Oooh, she’s not sho-ah bowt Beth. Beth no’well, she whines, blinking furiously and working her lips.
If Beth’s truly not well, Mike suggests, then perhaps Rachel ought to take the child down to the surgery? (A sensible suggestion, as it’s clear Mike has to think for his brainless wife).
Oooh, dunno, replies Rachel, trying to remember how to think and use logic. Oooh, she would tek’er, boot she thinks Beth worse. Beth too baaad ter go Clinic.
As if to confirm her worst fears, at that moment, we hear a baby cry upstairs - a baby who sounds considerabl younger than Beth, I might add.
Mike urges Rachel to take the child to the doctor; surely if she’s that ill, she needs to see a doctor.
Oooh, blinks Rachel. She would boot got ter look af-the Har-reh’n Emmer. Oooh, she got idear! She wa-ait haf-how-eh ter see if Beth bet-teh’n then tek’er ter doc-teh.
Mike suggests that it might be best if he lay off work that night and stay close by to help Rachel with Beth.
Rachel shakes her head and blinks, proud of the fact that she can accomplish two simple tasks at once. Oooh, noo, she says. Need moon-eh.
Meanwhile, it seems a half-hour has passed (doesn’t time just FLY when you’re having fun?), as we now visit the surgery. Instead of doing clerical jobs and looking after patients, Katie and Nisha are having a gossip in the staff area. They’re talking about Louise’s bitchy, little friend Tania. Nisha is defending Sammy’s attitude. She doesn’t blame Sammy for her reaction to the girls’ disappearance from the day before, she says. That was well out of order.
Sammy’s more concerned about Louise’s association with Tania, Katie tells her. For a kid so young, she’s well sophisticated - or at least, she reckons herself to be.
Dr Parr emerges and requests some patients’ records.
Oh, by the way, Nisha mentions, as he prepares to go back into his office, Rachel Dixon’s been on the phone again. It seems that Beth’s not well.
‘You don’t say,’ replies Dr Parr, a mite sarcastically.
Nisha and Katie exchange knowing looks. Nisha explains to Katie that it’s the general opinion of the medical staff that Rachel overreacts when it comes to Beth’s symptoms. Beth sneezes, says Nisha, and Rachel’s convinced it’s pneumonia.
Katie wishes Sammy had overreacted like that with Louise in the past, she grumbles, and maybe Louise wouldn’t pose the problem she does now.
Rachel next pays a visit to Chateau Farnham, to find Jacqui in a spin about her busy lifestyle. There’s just so much to do in the house sale and purchase and in the weeks leading up to the move, explains Jacqui, breathlessly. So much to do and so little time. So little time, in fact, says Jacqui, that she and Max will positively have NO time to pack, which leads her to something she’s wanted to ask Rachel for awhile. Would Rachel mind packing for Max, Jacqui, and the kids - oh, and Jacqui would pay her, it goes without saying.
(Excuse me - and this is genuine: HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! Now that was genuinely funny, sorry FOO-NEH! Is Brookside trying to abjectly humiliate the characters of Mike and Rachel in the hopes that one of them will leave? Too busy to pack! You MAKE time to pack. You take time off work!!! How long before we see scenes of Rachel scrubbing the Farnhams’ floors or wiping the collective arses of Jacqui, Max and the children?)
Oooh, Rachel speaks, blinking and not comprehending what Jacqui’s asked of her. Oooh, Beth peak-eh terday.
Jacqui immediately adopts her characteristic, suspicious frown. Er, how peaky? She wants to know, as Max wafts through, fully dressed and carrying that morning’s breakfast tray. Beth’s not well, Jacqui tells him, over her shoulder.
Oooh, Rachel says, is Jac-keh wur-red bowt Har-reh’n Emmer catchin’ soomthink?
Oh, no, scoffs Jacqui, because if Beth’s got something like measles, then her kids are OK, because Harry and Emma have had their jabs.
Max reminisces about Measles Parties and explains that when he was a kid, if another child nearby had measles, all the mothers in the neighbourhood would take their children round that kid’s house for a measles party, in hopes that their sprogs would catch the childhood disease.
Jacqui and Rachel are not impressed by such mediaeval goings-on.
As Max prepares to leave, he reminds Jacqui of their celebration lunch later at Bar Brookie.
Oooh, asks Rachel, blinking with wonder, is it Jac-keh’s anniversary? (Rachel’s wor-red the year’s gone so fast, it might be September and she might not have realised it. What a STUPID question! Even if Rachel didn’t attend Jacqui’s wedding, she surely knows when she got married!!!)
Oh, no, laughs Jacqui. It’s just Max’s romantic way of celebrating their first proper kiss.
Oooh, wonders Rachel, wha’ will Max do ter celebret first bonk?
(OK, this is SUPPOSED to be FOO-NEH. Why is no one laughing? Silence. Oh, well, they tried.)
Louise and Tania still sit at the NNT breakfast table, reciting their lines like good little wannabe actresses who are earning a nice little earner for their real-life parents. Tania’s telling Louise how they’ll both go horseback riding in Spain. Oh, and she’ll make sure the stables have a gentle horse for Louise.
Sammy standing at the kitchen counter and trying to look as though she’s doing something, turns around and advises Louise not to get too carried away about the prospect of going to Spain. In fact, hands down ... Louise simply wasn’t going to go.
Why not? Whines Louise, in her usual spoiled fashion.
‘Because you two can’t be trusted,’ says Sammy, shortly. ‘Yer proved that yesterday.’
Again, Louise takes up the cry. But where will she go and what will she do for the rest of the break, if Tania goes to Spain?
‘I told yer before,’ Sammy reminds her, ‘back ter London with Richard.’
But the airline tickets have already been booked, Tania reminds Sammy, with a condescending sneer.
Well, then Tania will just have to cancel them, Sammy tells her, with a superior little grin. The Morans could tell the insurance company that Louise took ill or something similar.
Nick the Prick, the builder with the mouthful of spit, enters the surgery, limply holding his hand. He’s cut his hand, he tells Nisha and Katie. Thinks he needs a bandage.
Nisha tells Katie to get him registered and leaves to prepare an area for his treatment.
Actually, flirts Nick the Prick, when Nisha’s out of earshot. This hand thing was just an excuse to come see Katie.
Katie gives him a snarling reply about wasting medical staff time.
He was just having a laugh, Nick explains. He can’t help it if he’s got a way with women. In fact, why doesn’t he take Katie for a drink sometime?
No, snaps Katie, and as he’s got such a way with women ... Perhaps he ought to consider changing his technique?
Jacqui and Max are seated at a window table in Bar Brookie, awaiting their celebratory meal. Jacqui asks Max if he’s seen that odd fella who’s been hanging around The Parade.
Perhaps he’s just waiting for someone, remarks Max; but Jacqui’s suspicious that he might be some sort of sex offender. She reminds Max that the little Clough girl is still missing. Oh, and by the way, Jacqui tells Max that she’s asked Rachel if she would mind helping them pack when moving time comes around. Of course, she said they’d pay her.
At that moment, Gaby the Grin enters the bar and spies Max and Jacqui. She makes a beeline for their table and immediately asks if she can join them.
Before either of them can open their mouths, she plops her arse down on the seat and takes out her mobile. She was due to meet the doctor here for lunch, she explains, well, now they could make a foursome of it. She phones Dr Parr and tells him she’s in the bar and that they’re having lunch with the Farnhams.
Just down The Parade, Nisha takes another phone call at the surgery from - guess who? - Rachel. Dr Parr is going over some patients’ records and enters the reception area to overhear Nisha’s polite, but firm conversation with Rachel. Nisha tells Rachel that if she’s worried about Beth’s present state of health, she should bring the child to the practice to be seen.
Rachel, however, insists that Beth’s too ill and appears to be demanding that Dr Parr make a home visit. All the home visits for today have been arranged, Nisha explains patiently. If Rachel were truly concerned, she should bring the baby over as quickly as possible.
Rachel is adamant, and Nisha covers the phone and tells Dr Parr that Rachel is demanding a home visit.
‘Tell her to bring the child to clinic as soon as possible,’ Dr Parr instructs, brusquely. Nisha conveys the message and rings off.
In the meantime, the doctor says jocularly, he’s off to lunch; and Nisha makes a flirty joke about doctors having time for lunch. It’s called ‘time management’, the doctor replies and leaves.
Katie emerges from the rear area of the reception area and asks Nisha sullenly if ‘that builder’ had finally gone.
Him? Oh, yeah, replies Nisha, who hastens to add what a nice bum he had. Katie is astonished, especially as she thought Nisha gave tetanus injections in arms. Well, laughs Nisha, she couldn’t pass up the chance for an inspection.
(Er, excuse me, but isn’t this sexual harassment?)
Katie laughs, and Nisha remarks that this is the first time in months that she’s actually seen Katie laugh. She remarks that seeing Katie lively is better than seeing a dead leg with a long face.
Outside, the mysterious man in the car drives off.
Dr Nikki sits at the table in Hotel Corkhill, with a look of sheer displeasure on her face. She glances at her watch with annoyance. Suddenly, she hears the sound of the front door opening and Jerome Big-Sam-Mr Bojangles-In-Dem-Ole-Cotton-Fields-Back-Home enters along with the Sage, who’s looking more smug and self-satisfied than usual. Both men are excited.
Nikki will never guess, exclaims Jerome, but Jimmy’s only found Sylvia Morgan!!!
Yep, Jimmy smiles with pride. He managed to find a record of her marriage to the Scandinavian about whom Ray had told them.
‘Well, here’s one thing yer DIDN’T remember,’ snarls Nikki, rising from her chair and approaching Jimmy. ‘Yer forgot yer home visit appointment. The psych nerrrse waited ages. It was embaddassin’.
But the Sage isn’t ruffled at all. That, he dismisses it, why he could make an appointment with her anytime, and he saunters off into the extension. Nikki’s eyes follow him, frowning with disapproval.
‘What is it with you?’ Demands Jerome, irritably. ‘Yer wuddied when he’s oop and yer wuddied when he’s down. Ye got ter give the man soom space.’ (He’s real uni material, is our Jerome! So articulate!)
Dr Parr stands at the counter of the bar with Jacqui. The doctor is ordering lunch, and Jacqui, out of politeness insists on paying for his meal. After all, she says pointedly, he’s her ‘guest’. Nisha dashes into the bar and grabs a sandwich, but also tells the doctor that Rachel’s called back and agreed to bring Beth into the surgery.
Dr Parr explains to Jacqui that Rachel feels that Beth is poorly again, as he and she return to the table where Max is sitting with Gaby the Grin. Jacqui expresses her concern for her own children, especially as Rachel is looking after them today.
Gaby the Grin smiles her rigid, false smile and admits to Jacqui that she’s heard all about Jacqui’s ectopic pregnancy. She tuts in false sympathy, acknowledging the fact that Jacqui must be worried she’ll be able to conceive in the future.
Actually, Jacqui admits, the pregnancy, itself, was an accident. It wasn’t planned.
Oooh, remarks Gaby the Grin, mischievously, how did that happen?
Jacqui explains that she was on antibiotics, and looking jokingly at Dr Parr, remarks that she wasn’t told that some antibiotics render the Pill ineffective. (Silly bitch! She didn’t read the label).
Gaby the Grin shoots a sly sidewise look at her husband. ‘Well,’ she simpers, ‘I’d say the doctor needed a slap around the legs for that.’
Rachel frantically grabs the Dixon phone and dials a number. It’s the Health Club as she’s in search for Jacqui, only to be told that Jacqui’s not there. She leaves a breathless message to tell Jacqui to phone her as soon as possible. As soon as Mike returns home, she plans on taking Beth to the doctor.
Meanwhile in NNT, Louise and Tania are packing their bags in preparation for leaving. Louise, ignoring ALL of Sammy’s previous protests about her accompanying Tania and her family to Spain, whiningly asks Sammy where her passport can be found.
Simultaneously, Tania turns to Sammy and looks up at her with what she thinks is a winning grin, but WE know it’s full of insincerity. Smarmily, she apologises to Sammy for causing the bit of bother engendered by the girls’ disappearance the day before. She realises now that it was wrong to disappear like that, so would Sammy PLEASE let Louise go with her family to Spain?
No, snaps Sammy, shortly and she explains that she can’t allow Louise to go because neither of the girls were sensible enough for Sammy to trust them. She shoves the telephone into Tania’s greedy, little mits. And Tania could phone her mother too. Lucy Moran rang the previous day, especially to speak to her daughter. Oh, and when Tania is finished, Sammy would like a word with her mother as well.
Back at the bar, the Farnhams and Parrs are sharing a table. Bev arrives, bearing plates of food for the doctor and his wife. As she leaves, Gaby the Grin, leans forward in a way that denotes gossiping is about to begin, and whispers her admiration for Bev and the way she runs the bar. And all on her own too, she jibes. Did either Jacqui or Max realise that Bev’s really struggling, what with running the bar and trying to bring her Josh up all on his own?
Gary Parr looks very uncomfortable, sensing the direction in which his bitch of a wife is going, and so does Max, who clears his throat and remarks cautiously that Gaby would be well-advised to take whatever Bev says with a grain of salt. Bev IS inclined, he continues, to lay it on with a trowel, especially when it comes to her own problems.
Oh, but Bev DOES have a legitimate gripe in some cases, Gaby the Grin protests, assuming a look of innocence, but narrowing her eyes maliciously in Jacqui’s direction. Take Josh’s father, for example. Do Max and Jacqui realise that he doesn’t even want to know his son? Now how’s that for a father, not wanting the responsibility of a son -
‘Excuse me!’ Jacqui interrupts, with a look of indignation covering her face. ‘Boot that’s MY broother you’re talkin’ about!
Max interjects to defend his wife’s family. Gaby would be well reminded that she didn’t have all the information concerning Josh from ALL interested parties and therefore, she really couldn’t comment.
Oh, silly me, apologises Gaby, rising to go, she DID forget that Jacqui and Mike were siblings. And she excuses herself sweetly and leaves.
Poor Dr Parr looks as though he’s praying to Jesus and all the Saints for the earth to open up and swallow him. (And now for a positive word about Brookside: Ben Hull. He’s an EXCELLENT actor, and I’d like nothing better than to see him in something deserving of his talent). After Gaby’s gone, he looks abjectly embarrassed and he apologises in a strangled voice for his wife’s blatant and evil rudeness.
Jacqui and Max exchange a look of concern that melts into sympathy and Max grudgingly accepts his apology, feeling the need to explain his acceptance. Sometimes, he says, haltingly, people get it into their small minds to say things about which they have no intimate knowledge and, in doing so, suddenly find themselves over their heads in the situation.
Louise and Tania exchange sly looks as Sammy speaks on the phone to Lucy Moran.
As Gaby swans from the bar in superior triumph, she passed Mike Dixon, who’s going in the opposite direction. Now Gaby doesn’t know Mike, never has met him or been introduced; but for some reason, she knows who he is and calls out to him, stopping him in the street. She begs his pardon and asks if he IS Mike Dixon, to which Mike responds in the affirmative.
Well, just a helpful suggestion, she begins, maliciously. Perhaps he’d like to have a word with Bev. He really should, she advises.
Mike is curious about the woman’s motives, but before he can remark, she continues. You see, she explains, condescendingly, Bev really DOES need all the help she can get with Josh -
‘Hang on a minute,’ Mike interjects. ‘If Bev needs help with Josh, then she can come and see me direct. She doesn’t need to employ anyone else to do her bidding.’
Then perhaps it’s time that Mike assumed more responsibility for Josh, spent more time with the boy-
‘Sorry,’ states Mike, ‘boot I really don’t think this is any of your business -’
‘Pricked your conscience, have I?’ Sneers Gaby.
Mike leans close to the woman’s little ferret face threateningly. ‘Yer know, yer looky yer not a fella,’ he hisses. ‘Otherwise, yer’d be gettin’ a smack across the face fer pokin’ yer nose where it dooesn’t belong!’
Gaby winces and realises that she’s overstepped her mark, as Mike carries on walking, turning to glare briefly at her.
(OK, someone explain to me the purpose of this scene and the diatribe in the bar. Perhaps tonyhiggy, he who slags these summaries off on the O.F. , or sunflower, who benefits neither from the sun nor from flowers, could apprise me. Both served NO purpose. Gaby Parr should have and probably doesn’t value Bev as a friend at all. Why is she using her? Oh, and perhaps SHE’D like to babysit Josh for free, which seems to me to be Bev’s biggest gripe, that she has to pay for child care).
Tania and Louise are virtually bombarding Sammy with pathetic promises and beggings for Louise to be allowed to go to Spain. Please, please, they beg, promising that they’ve changed in the span of 24 hours. Once again, Tania apologises profusely to Sammy.
Louise winds her arms around Sammy’s neck and begs to know why Sammy doesn’t want her to go.
Sammy sighs and replies that she reckons it’s just because she’s afraid that the more Louise is away from her, the child might just cease to love her.
Louise plants a kiss on Sammy’s cheek and promises to always love her mother. (Yeah, sure). With that promise, Sammy relents and allows Louise to go to Spain.
Mike arrives home at the Dixons’ with Jacqui in tow, who’s just got Rachel’s message. OOOH, pfaffs Rachel, flapping her hands. Beth wo-orse. Oooh, gotter get ba-beh ter doc-teh.
Mike looks briefly at Beth, who seems to be crying and holding her hands out to her real mother off-screen. Forget the doctor, he snaps, they’ll take her to the hospital. And he orders Rachel to phone for an ambulance.
Jacqui suggests that maybe it would be better to take the baby to the surgery, but Rachel says she’s too ill to go to the surgery; anyway, she’s rung Dr Parr several times and he can’t make a home visit.
Mike demands that an ambulance be called.
Well, hang on a minute, Jacqui intervenes again, an ambulance might take some time to arrive (subtle criticism of the ambulance service in Blair’s Britain - oops! THAT won’t get you a knighthood, Phil). Why not take her car? She suggests.
As Dr Parr re-enters the clinic area from lunch, Katie informs him that Rachel’s rung, yet again, complaining that Beth was no better. (Er, sorry, but people don’t get better in a matter of minutes).
Outside, Tania and Louise are saying good-bye to Sammy as a minicab waits to take them to the station. As she says good-bye to Tania, Sammy notices that the girl is wearing what appears to be a very expensive necklace. Sammy advises her to take care of that expensive piece of jewelry; there are a lot of bad people about.
Oh, it’s custom-made, Tania informs her, smugly. Sammy says good-bye and waves as the car pulls off with the two apprentice bitches.
In a tribute to ER, a hospital trolley, with trauma nurses and staff in attendance BURSTS through the double doors into the A & E area of the hospital, the trauma nurse shouting Beth’s medical history and symptoms to the waiting team. (Abby, Haleh, the late Dr Green, Dr Benton, Carter and Luka would CRINGE if they saw this cheap imitation).
The ER team immediately whisks Beth away, whilst Rachel and Mike are told that the child will have to undergo tests. Beth starts to cry for her real mother off-screen.
As Nick the builder arrives back on the Close from his surgery appointment, he meets the waiting Ray and Nikkiwith an announcement that he had fallen in love with a girl he’d seen in the surgery. Katie, her name was. (Er, I think Nick must have got a lot of sawdust in his eyes. THEY need to be examined.)
Nikki remarks under her breath to Ray how awful Nick is, but Ray asserts that he’s a good lad.
At the sametime, the Sage wafts gently onto the scene, approaching Ray, with a cocky air. Ray would never guess, but he, the Sage, has found Sylvia Morgan!! A-HAAAAA! And
Ray, standing on Jimmy’s doorstep, staggers back against the door frame, overcome. ‘This is too much!’ He exclaims, in alarm, as Jimmy wafts by and enters the house.
Nikki grabs his arm in concern, but it isn’t concern felt for Ray. What does Ray mean? She demands, frantically. Does he think Jimmy’s losing it again?
‘No, NO!’ Wails Ray. ‘It’s too much for ME! Dragging up me past that was dead and buried! And this would only serve to damage Helen too, I know it!’ (Did it ever occur to anyone that there might be a reason that Ray doesn’t want Helen to meet Sylvia? What could Ray know about her?)
Mike grabs a payphone in the hospital corridor, as Rachel emerges from the examining room where Beth is, blinking, crying and grimacing, making her look like a fat Geena from Coronation Street on a bad hair day.
Mike sees her and puts the phone down. He was just phoning Ron to tell him that Beth’s in A & E.
Oooh, squeals Rachel. Ooooh, it’s awful! Oooh! Doc-teh say Beth got meni- er, mani- er, moon- er ma-ny-g-eye-tis!!!
Maurice Bessman wrote this again. Shit, if he doesn’t give a hoot in
hell, why should we?
Summary © 2002 Marion Watts
Brookside and all related materials are © Mersey Television 1982-2002