PLUS CA CHANGE ...
And so the rumours continue ... Brookside is terminal. The show is dying and Phil Redmond is in denial. But this week sees the arrival of the new family ... The Gordons ... The Saviours of the show, promising Brookside Eternal Live and Salvation.
The father is a Londoner, who thinks he's a Scouser. Never mind the fact that Brookside previously advertised the Gordons as being 100% Scouse, born and bred. Now that the viewing public, the majority of whom PRESENTLY watch Brookside for the joke of inconsistency that it is, have recognised that the fella looks like he stepped straight from a Ray Winstone film, Brookside are forced to backtrack and say that he's transplanted from London and has adopted Liverpudlian mannerisms and bywords.
Sorry, that doesn't ring quite true. I've lived with and amongst Londoners for twenty years. Londoners, like Liverpudlians, misguidedly think that their corner of the UK is the absolute centre of the universe. They DON'T change their idiom or their mannerisms for anyone or anybody, no matter where in the world they might go. So that aspect of Gordon pere's personality doesn't ring quite true to form.
Be that as it may ...
Ma Gordon looks like Jenny Agutter after a rough night. And that's being kind. The kids are a different matter. The girl, a drama school grad by her intonation and delivery, has obviously been handed a Wonderbra by wardrobe, along with a tee-shirt from the childrens' department, emblazoned with BITCH, and told to stick her tits out one way and her arse the other. After all, what's Brookside nowadays but a bit of Tits and Arse - and besides, they'll need someone to fill out those black knickers La Ellison is sure to leave behind.
The younger son is fourteen, but shaves and is actually eighteen. That will help to explain things better when he impregnates either Happy Smiling Helen's voluptuous Stephanie, or Louise Rogers-Daniels-Richardstepdaughter sometime within the framework of the next year.
The older son is ginger-haired, pasty-faced and stunted. The oldest daughter, arriving with child in tow and looking as though she had been with either Trevor Morgan from Eastenders or Trevor Jordache or both, looks common, to say the least. In fact, she's either a blonde Little Mo or a Scouse Donna, but it's certain that Brookside have 'accidentally' borrowed a domestic violence storyline that Eastenders had purposefully borrowed and bettered from them.
One is left to wonder what transplanted Eastend character is next to show up.
But our Annabelle, who's watched the programme far longer than I have, has identified the REAL force behind the Gordons. They are, viewers, none other than a thinly-disguised reprise of the Grants. Trade Union dad trying to better the family socially, cozy mum, one dodgy son, one cheeky son and stroppy daughter.
Look further ...
The Muddies are a reprise of the Dixons ... Proddy dad, devoutly Catholic mum, lazy older son, ambitious daughter, precocious younger son.
Jacqui Dixon is the third in a long line of ambitous career-minded blondes who have had the luck or misfortune to marry Max Farnham.
Mirror, mirror on the wall ... Rachel's Mandy after all.
And what else is new? Max Farnham's chasing skirt.
And Brookside's just full of new ideas ... Not.
Plus ca change, plus ca reste le meme!
It's moving day three times over on Brookside. It appears the house swap is finally transpiring.
Max Farnham stands in the front garden of Number 7, directing Tim as he moves a double mattress from the house. Standing below the upstairs front window, however, he is hit squarely and covered by the corresponding bedclothes, dumped from the front window upstairs by Plank.
Over on The Parade, poor, pitiful Katie, knocks on the door of Dr Parr's surgery, with the doctor's morning cup of tea in her hands.
Elsewhere, Marty Muddie, booted and suited, trudges uncertainly from the offices of the Citizens' Advice Bureau.
But of course the REAL action begins - where else? - at Hotel Corkhill. After his astonishing revelations to Nikki that he had, in fact, actually RAPED his wife Jackie, the Sage sits humbly in his kitchen, with his devoted disciple, Dr Nikki.
Nikki plops a fresh cup of tea on the Corhill table and sitting opposite the Sage, places a reassuring hand on his knee. She encourages Jimmy to talk to her, the eminent psychiatrist, about the incident - if he feels it would help. Ehhhm, not that she wants to stir old memories, like.
The Sage sits at the table, but facing the camera, his face bearing the standard Dean Sullivan blank stare 'this is what mentally ill people look like under stress' look.
He looved Jackie, the Sage mumbles in a low monotone. Moving his head slightly in Dr Nikki's direction, he asks her if she know what it's like to really loove someone.
Well, Dr Nikki hesitates, she and Jerome -
No, not like that, remarks Jimmy, impatiently. For him, there was never anyone but Jackie. (Well, I'm glad the tosser's admitted that much!) Never was and never would be, he affirms.
Boot, begins Dr Nikki, uncertainly, how does Happy Smiling Helen fit into this equation?
Jimmy shrugs his shoulders laconically. He doesn't know, he admits.
Would he like to get together with Jackie again? Dr Nikki asks.
Again, the Sage shrugs his shoulders, saying he isn't certain. But he does know that there was never anyone else for him. In fact, Jackie was his sole reason for living, and now she's gone. (Driven away by you, you big lug).
Oh, Jimmy has loads of reasons for living, scoffs Dr Nikki, who knows what's best for everyone. There were Lindsey, Wills and Kylie for a start.
Jimmy shakes his head violently. He was a loser with a chemical dependency, he cries. But Jackie knew him before the pills, he continues, and this - this happened at the start of his illness, before he was medicated. He forced himself on her.
Finally looking at Dr Nikki, Jimmy supposes that neither Nikki nor Jerome could ever imagine Jackie and Jimmy at their age.
Dr Nikki urges Jimmy to drink his tea. Jimmy laughs grimly. Tea. That says it all. The British attitude. A cup of tea solves everything. That was Jackie's philosophy anyway. No, the night the rape of Jackie occurred was a night of white wine and passion.
As poor, pitiful Katie brings the doctor's tea into him, (nice link-up, tea and all, garnered a bit from Eastenders there), the doctor stops her as she starts to leave. He apologises for the scene the previous day in the surgery with Rob Dexter, and he begins to tell her the background to the story.
Rob Dexter knew Gaby the Grin through work, he explains. At the time he knew Gaby the Grin, the man was in a highly emotional state, due to the fact that his wife was suffering from breast cancer. He mistook Gaby the Grin's concern for affection, and the situation quickly got out of hand. One thing led to another and the doctor punched him one.
Katie listens, speechless.
Dr Parr sighs. They settled out of court, he says, for a crippling amount of money, and Rob Dexter lost his job. He's sorry Katie got involved yesterday, but he wants her to know that if Dexter shows up again, she's to phone the police immediately.
Katie remarks that she thinks Rob Dexter's the man various people have seen hanging about the Parade lately.
Dr Parr nods. And if Katie should happen to hear any rumours, he adds, he'd appreciate it if she would do all she could to keep them in check.
Katie promises to do just that and turns to leave the room. Dr Parr stops her, yet again. He asks her about Nick the Builder, and Katie mutters that he wasn't her type (meaning he wasn't Scally enough and didn't have a brother, with whom she could sleep as well).
Then something so totally unreal happens that I almost switched off Brookside for good. After countless days off for no apparent reason, after trying to deny a heart patient treatment, after scores of times she was rude to patients, after turning up for work twice drunk and receiving a written warning, Dr Parr offers Katie the job of senior receptionist on a permanent basis. (So are we to assume the real permanent senior receptionist, who's off on medical leave, isn't returning after all?)
Katie is embarrassed, but not too embarrassed to accept the offer. Dr Parr then asks after Sammy.
Oh, Sammy's OK, Katie assures him. Especially since she's returned from seeing Louise. All that business of Louise's father being a criminal was just a misunderstanding, although Louise's father did say that he knew some of the people involved in the criminal world. (And that's not enough reason for concern?)
Actually, Dr Parr begins, uneasily, he went to school with the son of a villain - and a successful one at that. The lad was always getting him and his mates into various casinos and exclusive nightclubs. (And we're supposed to be impressed?)
In her tastefully decorated office, Gaby the Grin's mobile rings. (As someone on the Official Forum pointed out, HOW does Rob Dexter have Gaby the Grin's mobile number? Surely she would have changed it from the time they knew each other?)
She picks the mobile up, only to see that there's a text message from Rob Dexter. She ignores the message, and then makes a call to Dr Parr, reaching his voicemail. She leaves a message, asking him to pop home so they can talk in private. (So she can just pop home from her Wirral office?) It's no big deal, she assures him in the message, she just wants to stop something from becoming a bigger deal.
Mike pokes his head into the bar, seeing Bev preparing for opening. Bev, standing behind the counter calls out, asking Mike if he's moved yet? Before he can answer, Bev says she might be forced to move soon, herself, for business reasons. Where's Ron? She asks. And is Ron still up for babysitting Josh later?
Mike says Ron's off someplace looking at second-hand washing machines.
Bev hesitates for a moment then takes the bull by the horns. Listen, she begins, is it true Mike's put in a complaint about Dr Parr?
Too right, says Mike, smugly, whereupon Bev says that was a big mistake on Mike's part, doing that.
It's really none of Bev's business, Mike reiterates.
Well, here's something that IS some of her business - and Mike's too, Bev replies. Couldn't Mike have a word with Jacqui about Bev's hours?
Mike adamantly refuses. This is bar business, he says (and of course, he's mistaken; it's parental business, a matter of Mike taking responsibility for his son and the mother of his son). If he even starts to interfere, Jacqui will only kick off at him. Besides, he adds, Jacqui's bound to be more concerned with getting this move finished off at the moment.
Then this might be a good opportunity to bring her hours up, Bev suggests eagerly.
As Tim and Plank lift and shift, Tim expresses an eagerness to return to the pawn shop. When did Plank want to return? He asks.
When he decides for sure what he wants to do about Adele's bracelet, mutters Plank.
Well, Tim teases, if Plank were worried about facing down that Lucky bloke, they could always Marty along. That way, Marty could threaten to kill him if he didn't give the bracelet back.
Plank glares at Tim's silly attempt at humour, not amused in the least either that Tim should presume Marty guilty or that Tim took such pleasure in admiring anyone who could murder a child. He's even less amused by Tim's poor impersonation of a Mafiosi. (I'd like to see Brookside introduce a real Mafioso; it would scare the living piss out of him!)
Meanwhile, Max and Jacqui are continuing to pack and shift things from Number 7. Jacqui's regaling Max with Bev's latest request, nay demand, to be demoted from Bar Manager to bar staff.
Max asks Jacqui what her reaction to the request was.
'I told her she'd simply have ter get on with bein' Bar Manager and that was that,' Jacqui says, shortly. 'She's joost gotter sort'er child care out.'
Max wonders if that's not a bit harsh.
'Listen,' Jacqui expostulates, and quite rightly too, 'Bev's ideal job would be ter stay at home all day long and draw wages.'
As the couple, their arms laden, move toward the front door of Number 7, Max whispers urgently that they have more pressing concerns at hand - like how to get the Hiltons out of Number 8 before they or Ron change their minds.
Marty Muddy, his face a bastion of worry, trudges disconsolately along a street, stopping in front of a solicitor's shopfront window, staring up at the lettering.
The Sage is continuing with his very personal confession to Dr Nikki, who's gained so much experience from this enterprise that she'll surely need to do absolutely nothing to achieve her psychiatric qualification.
Going back to the time before his illness was diagnosed, Jimmy says that he thought at first if he could get his sex life with Jackie in order, everything else would fall into place.
And it didn't, echoes Dr Nikki.
Jimmy shook his head. He thought a romantic evening with some white wine, might do the trick, but Jackie didn't want to know, he says. Then the couple went upstairs to bed and Jimmy kidded himself that Jackie would come around. Jackie didn't want to do it! He exclaims, horrifically.
Nikki begs him to stop the tale. Why torture himself with the memory? She asks, rhetorically.
Instead, Jimmy shakes his head frantically. Inappropriate sexual behaviour, he parrots, tears streaming down his face. Jackie was the first, Nikki the second ... Happy Smiling Helen might be the third. Oh, Jimmy couldn't trust himself with anyone!
Rachel the Dim is helping Jessie move some of her belongings, as the two traipse down the stairs of Number 8. Jessie is still grumbling about the move.
Well, Rachel the Dim observes, 'T least her'n Ray'll'ave pri- er, pro-er, privacy back. Rachel'n M-eye-ke got no-ah pla-ice o'their own.
Well, mutters Jess, truculently, she couldn't say she was that excited by the prospect of moving back into the bungalow with Ray. After all, Ray was set in his ways and opinions, and he was certain that his way was always right. Oh, he didn't mistreat her or anything like that, she adds, hastily, thinking that Rachel might just be brainless enough to misinterpret her meaning.
But Ray was into shag piles, knick-knacks and home improvements, she continues, and to be honest, when they were on their own, he wasn't the greatest of company.
Oooh, Rachel says in great surprise, Jessie do-an mean she would le-ave Ray?
'Like a shot,' Jessie says instantly. 'But only if George Clooney came along with the right offer,' she adds, hastily, 'or Harrison Ford.'
Oooh, Rachel giggles, she didn' kno-ah Jes-seh thou-aght o'serch thinks, Jes-seh bein' -
'Old?' Finishes Jessie, wryly, as the two march with their arms laden with linen, into the kitchen. 'Oh, you'd be surprised what I think about whilst sitting on the dryer.'
Rachel giggles again.
Well, Jessie laughs, a body has to sit on that dryer to stop the vibrations or else it would go out the door. (Surely, that's a washing machine when it's on its spin cycle?)
As Mike enters, Jessie leaves with a bundle by the back door.
Mike wants to know what all the giggling was about, and Rachel tells him that there's more to Jessie than meets the eye.
When Marty Muddie returns to Sitcom House, Big Dire pounces on him, lying in wait behind the sitcom front door.
WELL? She demands. AND WHAT DID THE CITIZENS' ADVISE HAVETER SAY TER HIM?
Marty sighs wearily, flopping onto the sitcom couch. They were only too willing to provide him with a list of local solicitors, suggesting that he contact one.
THEY HAVETER SOOOGEST HE SEE A SOLICITOR, Big Dire says, knowingly, TER COOVER THEMSELVES!
He just keeps thinking about that Mickey Edwards, Marty says, bleakly, and how he served 2 years for a crime he didn't commit.
BOOT'E DID ATTACK SOOMONE, Dire reminds him.
He was locked up, Marty replies, and he wouldn't have been let out if someone didn't confess. He's worked at two school, Marty continues, and two girls - no, two BULLIES - go missing; and Marty's hauled into the police station for saying he hated bullies. And did Dire know what was supremely ironic? He asks. He had the perfect alibi for his whereabouts that day - a Health and Safety meeting that didn't take place - and that just blew it out of the water.
As Mike and Rachel pack stuff from the Dixon kitchen, Rachel asks Mike why Bev wanted to see him.
As Mike packs crockery, he tells Rachel that Bev merely wanted him to have a word with Jacqui about Bev taking voluntary demotion, in order to spend more time with Josh.
Hmph! Rachel snorts. M-eye-ke means Bev wants'im ter m-eye-nd Josh, l-eye-ke as not. Has M-eye-ke doon an-eh-think bowt com-put-eh job?
Well, Mike sighs, reluctantly, he wrote asking for an application form, but the advert said that they wanted graduates, not ex-graduates like him. (Er, is there a difference? A graduate is a graduate). Maybe this wasn't the job for Mike after all, he reckons hopefully (not when Ron and Jacqui were around to dole out money).
Oooh, Rachel remarks, M-eye-ke got-teh set s-eye-ghts h-eye-gh.
Ray potters about in the background of the kitchen, and then leaves unobtrusively.
Then Jacqui enters, remarking that she'd just seen Plank and Tim go off in Plank's van.
Mike tells her that the lads said they'd be back, that there was some family business that Plank had to attend to. Oh, and by the way, Mike adds, stopping Jacqui as she turns to go get more of the Number 7 kitchen stuff to move, he'd had a word with Bev that morning.
'Oh, aye?' Says Jacqui, raising her eyebrows. 'And what does SHE want now?'
Mike tells Jacqui that Bev really wants to be demoted from bar manager to bar staff. She really needs to spend more time with Josh, he says.
Jacqui shakes her head the whole time Mike's offering this spiel. Nope, sorry, she says shortly. Bev took the Manager's job, after giving Jacqui assurances that she would arrange adequate child care for Josh. That's her problem.
But this is more than a work problem, Mike argues. Bev is family.
Jacqui thrusts her face up into Mike's. And did Mike realise the difference between Jacqui and Bev? She asks. Bev was unable to separate work from family and so, sought to take advantage. Now she had this move on her mind, and she didn't want to know about Bev's problems at the moment.
(I have a question: Why does Mike and Ron and everyone else constantly refer to Bev as 'family'? Bev is the mother of Josh, Mike's son, and she used to live with Ron. She's nothing more than that. When she came back in 2000, she was quite willing to dissociate herself from Ron and his family and now that she's on hard times, having been rescued by the Dixons' yet again, she's willing to milk the tenuous family connection for all it's worth. Please discuss.)
Gaby the Grin has arrived back at the marital flat and sits on a chair in front of their dining table, as Dr Parr hovers over her, demanding to know what was so urgent that she needed to see him back at their home.
Keeping her feral face firmly away from her husband, Gaby the Grin begins her tale of woe by saying that this was the last time Rob Dexter's name would be mentioned, but she had to say that without managing to physically BOTHER her, Dexter had succeeded in making his horrible presence known.
Dr Parr, noble man that he is, remains standing, throws his head back and views his bitchy little wife with disdain through eyes narrowed with suspicion. Funny she should mention Dexter, he remarks. The man actually paid him a visit at the clinic only the day before. Came to see him just to let Dr Parr to let him know that the doctor's 'beautiful wife' was having an affair -
Oh, that's utter rubbish! Exclaims Gaby the Grin, righteously horrified.
In fact, the doctor continues, unmoved, Dexter claimed to have seen her only the day before his clinic visit, tete-a-tete with another man at The Shelf.
Oh, that, says Gaby the Grin, breathing a sigh of relief. Actually, she went into The Shelf two days ago to book a table for them both and ended up having a chat with Max Farnham. Rob Dexter saw them and jumped to the wrong conclusion, that's all. And she finally turns her face upwards to her husband's flashing her rodent-like, little grin and batting her eyes like Vivien Leigh in Gone with the Wind.
But Dr Parr's still not won over by this argument. He's interested to know just what it was Gaby the Grin found to chat to Max about.
Well, she gropes desperately, they talked about Bev's childcare problems (none of her business or Max's and an obvious lie), Max's estranged family in Canada (again none of her business and why should Max Farnham concern the likes of her with this? This should be discussed with Jacqui, not a woman who professes no interest whatsoever in children), oh and her problems with Rob Dexter, she adds in a small voice.
Dr Parr places one hand on the back of the chair in which Gaby the Grin is sitting and another on the tabletop and leans into her wife's ratlike face. Then, he says, he'd be even more interested to know why Gaby the Grin chose to discuss what was essentially a private matter with Max Farnham instead of her own husband? (Because she's out to snake him, Doc, and if you're smart, you'll retaliate by snaking the current Mrs Farnham).
Oh, she was just so desperate at the time! Gaby exclaims, and she truly didn't want to cause Dr Parr anymore bother. Then she bats her eyes once more and suggests that they continue this discussion over lunch. She could take him to The Shelf and show him a discreet, little booth near the rear of the establishment -
He'd rather go to Bar Brookie, remarks the Doctor, sourly.
And down the street at Bar Brookie, Jacqui's dropped by to see Bev. Mike had told her Bev wanted a word, Jacqui says, as she comes throught the door.
Bev immediately launches her latest moan about the trials and tribulations of being a working mother. Josh needs her at home, child care is so difficult to find yadda yadda.
Jacqui listens with a look of boredom on her face, having heard it all before and knowing exactly what Bev wanted. Bev doesn't have to tell her about how hard it is juggling a career and motherhood, Jacqui says. She has two kids of her own and two businesses.
Boot, Jacqui knows what a handful Josh is, Bev wails, piteously. Josh needs her to be at home more. So ... what SHE is suggesting is that she revert to being a barmaid, and Mike could return as Bar Manager.
'Mike!' Jacqui exclaims. 'Now I've heard everythink! You know how unreliable Mike is! I soogest yer find yerself a childminder!'
'Josh needs a mum not a childminder!' Retorts Bev.
'And YOU wanter stop whingein' and start werrkin',' quips Jacqui, turning to leave.
Bev take a couple of paces forward and grabs Jacqui by the arm. 'Oi!' She shouts. 'Yer can't talk ter me like that, when it was ME what built this bar up!'
'And it was YOU who blew the lot!' Rejoinders Jacqui. 'Leavin' the like o'that Leanne Powell in charge while yer swanned off ter Brazil fer yer jollies! I won't be taken fer that ride again!'
And Jacqui leaves Bev standing.
(One point here: I was under the impression that Bev bought a thriving business off Jacqui when she bought the bar, and within a year had already proceeded to begin to run the bar into the ground - by virtue of the fact that her accountant had told her that she had eaten into the capital of the trust fund left her by her benefactor to such a degree that she had to run the bar for a profit-only concern and not as a byline, which she had been doing for the year she'd owned the enterprise. The fact that, by being stupid enough to believe Leanne's cock-and-bull story about Immigration being after her, she let the Bar run itself into the ground, is self-evident that Bev was never a businesswoman, as was obvious when she worked for Ron at The Trading Post).
Tim and Plank park the van outside the pawn shop again, and get out of the vehicle. Tim is remarking that he's amazed that more people aren't murdered each year. Plank's logical response to this is that if someone doesn't want to get murdered, himself, he doesn't go killing people.
Tim asks Plank if he reckons Marty's innocent of killing Imelda.
Of course he is, Plank defends his father. He knows as much because Marty simply wouldn't have the bottle to do something like that. Plank is carrying Max's surveyor's box into the shop.
As they enter, Lucky, the proprietor is behind the counter. Tim calls out, asking him if he did lock repairs.
As they plop the box onto the counter, Lucky takes a brief look at it and assesses £40 for the repair, whilst Plank looks at the bracelet.
Repairing the lock wouldn't take that long, Lucky says.
Plank ups his nerve and points to the bracelet. Any chance Lucky would return that bracelet to them, he asks. It was brought in by mistake by his little sister. She thought this was a regular pawn shop.
Lucky glances at Plank dubiously. People bring junk like this in all the time, he says. They agree a price, take the cash and leave. No questions asked. No chance of them getting that bracelet back unless they paid the asking price for it - 500 nicker.
'Boot she's joost a kid!' Exclaims Plank. 'She didn't know!'
'Well,' quips the man, 'life's a learning curve.'
All the time Lucky and Plank have been talking, Tim's been moving toward the door. Quickly, he picks up a golf club from a golf bag by the entrance and waves it about ominously, demanding that Lucky return the bracelet to them. Lucky reaches behind the counter and reveals a sturdy baseball bat to challenge Tim's golf club. Swiftly, Plank moves in Tim's direction and begins to push him out the door.
Jacqui has returned to the kitchen of Number 8, only to be asked by Mike if she sorted things out with Bev. Jacqui is, at best, annoyed.
'If yer mean did I let her have her way and demote herself ter barmaid, no, I didn't!' She remarks. 'And anyway, it's oop ter Bev ter sort her child care out and make the best of it. Besides,' she adds, glancing from Rachel to give a disparaging look of scorn in Mike's direction, 'I can't be responsible fer Mike's family situation. He should learn ter keep it in his trousers.'
As Plank pushes a reluctant Tim toward the van, still holding the golf club, Tim whinges that that Lucky needs a good smack.
'Is that all you ever think about?' Demands Plank, as he shoves Tim into the passenger side of the van, and turns to re-enter the shop.
Tim asks him where he's going. Plank replies that he's returning to get Adele's bracelet and warns Tim to stay in the van.
As Plank enters the shop, Lucky looks up from the magazine he's reading, laughs and asks Plank where 'the head case' is.
Plank casually picks up one of a variety of baseball bats on display and casually remarks that if Lucky couldn't be persuaded to part with the bracelet, suppose they sort this matter out one on one, sort of baseball bat to baseball bat.
No need to get violent, replies Lucky, easily. He's willing to part with the bracelet for £150.
Plank isn't willing to listen.
OK, continues Lucky, £120 and the box repaired.
How about £80 and the box repaired? Haggles Plank.
One hundred pounds, says Lucky. Eighty now and twenty next week.
Plank tentatively agrees, but then asks what makes Lucky so sure that they'd return with the £20 owed the next week.
'Ron Dixon,' says Lucky.
'What?' Asks Plank.
'I got yer address from the bill of sale I made ter yer sister,' explains Lucky. 'When yer came in here bloosterin' about, I made a call ter Ron. I've known Ron Dikko fer years. He vouched fer yer as good lads.' He hands the bracelet to Plank and adds: 'And yer can keep the bat. It's split anyway.'
Plank grins and skips out the door and into the van, showing Tim the bracelet.
Tim is immediately both envious and admiring, thinking Plank robbed the bracelet. Not dispelling his mate's illusion, Plank revs up the van and tells Tim they'd better hurry out of there.
Ray enters the room where Jessie was barricading herself and says the only articles left to remove belong to the Hiltons'. Is Jessie ready to move next door.
Jessie eyes Ray with obvious disdain. She's TOLD Ray that she's not moving anywhere.
Ray replies that he knows what's best for Jessie, and that's to move next door with him, for the short term and for the long term, to move into the bungalow. What's the problem with that? He wants to know.
Oh, blusters Jess. Ray was as bad as Ron, not listening to her and taking her for granted.
Is that what Jess reckons is wrong? Ray remarks. Well, he happens to think it's deeper than that.
'And what's YOUR diagnosis?' Asks Jess, scathingly.
Ray huffs and puffs a bit and draws himself up dignifyingly to his full height of 5'8". 'It's sex,' he announces, solemnly. 'It's having all these young men about that's set your head a-spin.' But never mind, Ray continues. He's quite prepared to see a doctor, maybe get some of that Viagra.
Jess is flabbergasted beyond belief at Ray's misreading of her situation, whilst downstairs, Max is pleased with the progress of the move and tells Tim and Plank, who are returning from the pawn shop mission, that all they have to do now is finish up and then get paid. This spurs the lads onto moving more quickly.
Marty Muddie has returned home to Sitcom House and is bellowed at by his unsympathetic wife, Big Dire. 'OW'D 'E GET ON WI'THE SOLICITOR? She asks.
He merely got as far as making an appointment with the solicitor, Marty explains.
Then Tim and Plank enter, brandishing the retrieved bracelet and announcing to all and sundry that they've got it. Plank asks his father how he got on at CAB, and Dire interjects to say that Marty's got an appointment with a solicitor.
'Is it THAT heavy?' Asks Plank, in disbelief.
Tim tries to encourage Marty, telling him he's doing the right thing.
The doorbell sounds and Dire answers it to find Max, who's come to gee up the lads about finishing the move.
How's it going with the house swap? Dire wants to know.
Max sighs wearily. Well, all he could say is to advise them NEVER to enter into a legal arrangement involving family and family property. Honestly, he continues, the trouble they've had. The Muddies didn't know how lucky they were to be well shot of solicitors, legal wrangles and the likes.
Marty and Dire exchange grim looks.
Mike and Ray interrupt what they think is a risque conversation between Jessie and Rachel. Rachel is asking Jessie how long since they'd done 'it'? Jessie replies that they haven't done 'it' in months, because Ray's knees were weak. Ray asks Jessie what she's talking about and Jessie reveals that Rachel was telling her about the picnic she, Mike and the kids had had previously. (That begs a question. The three kids have been curiously absent all day. Who's got them?)
Jessie explains to Ray that the last picnic they had, Ray continuously complained about his aching knees.
Max thunders into the house, pleased with the progress the move was making. What a surprise this will be, he says, when Ron returns, to find that everyone was moved and settled in.
Jessie sits down in a wicker rocking chair suddenly. She told Max, she says, she's not moving anywhere. Tim and Plank have followed Max into the room.
'We'll see about that,' vows Max, and instructs Tim and Plank to lift the chair containing Jessie and move it bodily out the door. As they hoist the chair, Tim jokingly asks Max if they'll get paid more, for Jessie's added weight in the chair.
And they proceed to move, procession-like from the house - Ray first, then Max, then the lads carrying a stony-faced Jessie, as if she were Cleopatra, herself, then Rachel, Mike and Jacqui.
They set the chair down outside, amidst a welter of packing cases, cardboard boxes and the Farnham sofa. Immediately the chair is set on solid ground, Jess jumps up and scurries through the confusion of personal property, scattering belongings everywhere, and makes a beeline for the Dixon house, slamming the door behind her.
Max and Jacqui collapse side by side on the Farnham sofa, now on the Dixon front lawn.
'Well,' snaps Max, throwing his arm around Jacqui and drawing her near, 'and I thought everything was going so well.'
Andy Lynch wrote this. Passable.
WHO LIKES BROOKSIDE?
That’s a question I’m posing with the beginning of this summary, basically, because I’ve given up trying to ask that question on the Official Forum; because the thread usually gets high-jacked by inarticulate dumbasses intent on starting a flame war.
I genuinely want to know who LIKES Brookside. I’ve looked at the official forums concerning Brookside, Eastenders and Coronation Street, and Brookside is the only one where most of the participants regularly slag the show off for being shite. Oh, on the EE and Corrie forums, there ARE things about the show that people don’t like and they say so - Zoe and Ant-a-nee or David Platt usually arise as topics of derision; but Brookside is consistently slated.
If I were among TPTB on that programme, I’d be literally bricking it at some of the criticism levelled against a programme for which I was responsible; and I’d also be paying extremely close attention to what these critics - the more articulate of them - are saying about what’s wrong with the programme.
It seems to me that the majority of the long-term viewers of the programme, those who have watched PRE-1997, when Brookside began to go into freefall, say that they now watch the programme out of ‘a sense of loyalty’, that they watch ‘in the eternal hope that the show might, JUST MIGHT, get better.’ Then they admit, sadly, that it won’t. Well, that pretty much sums up why I watch it.
In fact, I seriously think from time to time, that I can’t be bothered with this tripe anymore - that I can’t stand to have Ron Dixon cropping up a bigot here and there, that I don’t want Max to chase another woman, that I can’t stand to hear another whinge off Mike Dixon or Katie Rogers, that if Rachel blinks those bloomin’ eyelids one more time, I’ll bloody brain her, that Dire’s voice gives me a headache, and that Jimmy should be consigned to burn in Hell. But I carry on watching ... Out of loyalty ... In the vain hope that things just have to get better, because they can’t get any worse.
It also seems to me that the only people who have a good thing to say about Brookside, who GENUINELY like the show, are either extremely young adolescents (or those between the ages of 14 and 21 with extremely low intelligence levels) and Scousers. The former watch because they like to put their hands down their trousers and have a wank at the sight of Jennifer Ellison (extremely rare these days on Brookside) or because they thing Ben Hull is ‘fit’. (Never mind the fact that the man is a genuine talent and probably, being the professional he is, would hope to be admired for his acting skills rather than looks alone).
The latter simply have chips on their shoulders and refuse to accept the fact that the way in which Mr Redmond presents Liverpool to the rest of the country is exceedingly pejorative and adds to the media myth of the dim, violent, dodgy, but good-natured Scouser. I know Mancunians who dislike Coronation Street; I also know Londoners who would rather be shot dead than be caught watching Eastenders; so such misguided geographic loyalty is not exclusive.
Take the new actress who portrays the Gordon mother. Apparently, she is a professional actress, of the supporting role variety, and she’s lived and worked for years in London (another commuter, which means she won’t last long on the show). Yet she’s pilloried by an ignorant cuss of a Scouse girl on the forum (who lives up to every stereotype ever propagated by the media regarding Liverpudlians, incidentally) because her Liverpudlian accent isn’t strong enough and instead of using slang words cognisant to only people from a certain area of Liverpool, her script calls for her to use words understood by the nation as a whole, as it’s broadcast nationally.
I mean, with all due respect to Annabelle, why is Pobol y Cwm aired only in Wales? Exactly.
Never mind the fact that Debbie Gordon comes from an era when one of the ways people tried to better themselves socially was to tone down or lose all together their regional accents. Listen to Paul McCartney’s or John Lennon’s Liverpudlian accents, as opposed to George Harrison’s or Ringo Starr’s. McCartney and Lennon were middle-class grammar school boys - McCartney was the son of professionals, for goodness sake. Harrison was the son of poor folk, who had to scrimp and sacrifice for him to attend grammar school, where he was always looked down upon with derision by the other boys in his class - specifically McCartney and Stephen Norris, who were head boys. Ringo was a street scruff with no education whatsoever.
The younger Gordon daughter is criticised by the same Scouse authority (training to be a legal executive - so remind me NEVER to buy a house in Liverpool) for the fact that she’s a ‘drama school girl’ who has excellent diction and delivery - something the likes of Ms Burke will never have.
But that’s Brookside. Put in a few bona fide actors and they’re either pilloried or plaudited for the wrong reasons.
But I genuinely still want to know the answer to my original question, and maybe Annabelle or Alan will oblige me by introducing a discussion on the topic: Who likes Brookside and why?
I want to know.
It’s the beginning of another day on Brookside Close. A removal van is parked outside Number 5, where Mick Johnson, the Rogers and the Grants used to live. Marty Muddie pulls back the Muddie curtains in order to watch the procedure.
Across the Close, Ron and Mike Dixon also clock the removal van from the front window of Number 8.
The E-reg Volvo, belonging to Alan Gordon, pulls slowly onto the Close. This time, it contains Big Al, the Brookside Bike, a ginger-haired second son, the wife and a daughter.
Jimmy Corkhill turns from watching the arrival at the front window of Hotel Corkhill and stares blankly at the bottle of tablets gripped tightly in his hand.
Now we get to see our first proper sight of la famille Gordon. Immediately, they get out of the car, certain members of the family begin mega moans. The wife, whose name is Debbie and who looks like Jenny Agutter after a rough night, whines that there’s no place to park other than the driveway. (Er, what do they expect? A courtyard like Buck House?). The daugher, whose name is Kirsty, has D-cup tits (what else? This is Brookside, after all), wears a teeshirt which formerly belonged in the wardrobe of Kylie Stanlow, and is emblazoned across the front prominently with the word BITCH. Unusually, she’s a brunette (but give TPTB time, they’ll bleach her blonde - especially when Ellison leaves). She also sounds like a spoiled ten year-old.
She sets up a whine too. She wants to go get her car-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r! (Er, why didn’t she just ‘drive’ the car and follow her parents? That’s the usual form.)
Apparently, the removal men have just dumped the stuff in the driveway and left, because Big Al immediately orders the Gordon sons to hop to it and move the stuff out of the driveway. He doesn’t want it left outside amongst the neighbours. It’s inconsiderate. (OMIGOD! A man with scruples -but then, he’s not a Scouser, is he?)
The family traipse inside, the daughter, whose already getting on my nerves, still whingeing and whining and looking sullen.
Oh, by the way, son number two looks like a ginger tennis ball and looks as though he’s fourteen - he’s the elder of the two at 16 and is named Ali. Ali G. Get it. The Brookside Bike, the scrubby, little thug is supposed to be fourteen - show me a fourteen year-old with a five o’clock shadow like that and I’ll show you a paedophile.
Gaby the Grin is sitting in her posh Wirral office, only a stone’s throw from Manor Park, when her mobile sounds, indicating she’s got a message. It says that if she doesn’t contact him, he’ll kill himself. She ignores the message.
Inside Number 5, as the family whinge, whine and are ordered about by Debbie Gordon, Big Al takes a call on his mobile in the driveway of the property. It’s from the haulage company for which he works, from a colleague named Kevin, who’s not coping with Big Al being away - probably because Big Al, being a Londoner, is more intelligent and capable of organising a booze-up in a brewery, and Kevin, being a Scouser, is just stupid.
Big Al is shouting into the mobile that he’s booked these two days off for the move ages ago, and Kevin will just have to deal with any problems in his absence. While he’s shouting, Debbie prods him in the shoulder and quietly demands the keys to the house. Big Al shouts to Kevin about the firm being down two lorries and at the same time, he nags at the scurrying kids to be swift about getting the gear inside. Finally, he ends the call abruptly by telling Kevin that he’s busy and Kevin’s not to call back.
Debbie returns to Big Al, saying he’s given her the wrong set of keys. Bitch Gordon bounces up and down in a strop and whines about needing to go get her car and find her mobile. She accuses the Brookside Bike of packing and hiding her mobile on purpose. (Er, sorry ... She’s supposed to be 18. Why didn’t she pack her own gear, herself - especially her mobile phone? Why doesn’t she just carry it with her? Geesh!)
Marty Muddie turns from gazing out the window and asks Dire what time he’s scheduled to see the solicitor today. Think of it! He exclaims. Forced to see a flaming solicitor!
Dire bellows that MARTY SHOULD RELAX. THIS APPOINTMENT WERE ONLY A FORMALITY.
Marty states bleakly that he’s in the frame for committing a serious crime.
THIS WHOLE THING IS JOOST A BAD JOKE, declares Dire.
Marty mutters that he wishes it were a joke; everyone else was taking it so trivially. He gives a short, grim laugh. Funny, he remarks. The police wanted to see him for a bit of a ‘chat’; he went to the Citizens’ Advice Bureau for ‘guidance’ and now he’s off to the solicitor’s for ‘advice’.
Dire helpfully suggests that he try to consider his visit to the solicitor’s office as for a ‘chat’. (Yeah, sure.)
The Gordons have finally found the right set of keys, and Big Al carries Debbie across the threshold. Putting her down, they have a brief snog, as the Brookside Bike feigns a barf. Big Al explains to the kids that this was traditional - carrying across the threshold of a new home. (NO, I thought it only applied to the first MARITAL home).
Meanwhile, the Dixons and the Farnhams are still trying to swop houses. Max is reduced to shouting through the closed door to Jessie, still locked in her room. Brookside employ a clever split screen effect. Max shouts that he doesn’t want this situation to get dirty, but if he has to use force to eject her from what is now his property, he will.
Jessie shouts back that she resents being treated like chattel.
Max retorts that if he has to break the door down, he will.
Jessie responds by saying that she’s more than just a piece of meat. She has rights. Even squatters have rights, she adds.
Max ends by warning Jessie that this is her absolute last day that she’ll spend behind the closed door of that room. He promises her that.
‘We’ll see,’ remarks Jessie, with grim determination.
The Gordons are mostly shouters and screamers, just as I fear. The kids are bickering amongst themselves, especially Bitch Gordon and the Brookside Bike. Debbie wanders from room to room, remarking on the spotless cleanliness of the new house. Oooh, whoever lived here before certainly was house-proud, she marvels, ignorant of the fact that her husband and son are responsible for cleaning it. (And as Annabelle says, this house has stood empty since last August. Why doesn’t it smell?)
This house is a big change for the family, she announces. It’s all change for them from here on out. She points out to the kids that Big Al has quit smoking, and Big Al proudly announces how many days, hours, minutes and seconds it’s been since he’s last had a cigarette. Big Al continues the speech by saying that at last they’ve moved up in the world - into somewhere that was in a nice neighbourhood (yeah, with three murderers around him). He wants to live up to the image of the neighbourhood.
The kids, however, don’t want to know. Ginger Tennishead Gordon is worried that they now live so far away from anything that the ‘lads’ won’t be able to find the place. Bitch whines about wanting to go get her car.
As Adele comes downstairs, Dire’s remarking to Marty about the new neighbours. THEY ONLY HAD A PROFESSIONAL REMOVAL VAN MOVE THEIR GEAR, she exclaims, impressed. THE MOOST HAVE LOADSA MOONEY.
That’s good, quips Adele. Maybe she could ge well in with the new lads, especially if they’re hunky.
Marty admonishes her, reminding her in no uncertain terms that she’s well grounded for trying to sell her Nin’s bracelet.
Adele points out to Marty that they managed to get the bracelet back.
But they’re £80 out of pocket by doing so, Marty replies, severely.
Gaby the Grin gets another text message from Rob Dexter, threatening to kill himself.
Ron is still standing at the front window of Number 8, eyeing up the new family. Mike moves about the lounge, shifting things for the move. Raymundo is at the sink in the kitchen. Ron turns and shouts to Ray that he’s certain the new family includes that lad from the rave. Mike pauses to tell Ron that he’s spoken to Bev this morning and she needs to bring Josh over for awhile.
Ron asks Ray if Jessie shows any signs of stirring from the bedroom, and Ray shakes his head. Turning his attention back to the front window, Ron remarks that he’s going to have a quiet word later that day, with the new family about raves in the neighbourhood. Again, Mike tells Ron that Bev’s bringing Josh over.
The doorbell rings and Max enters, quick to remind everyone that he’s not on a social call. He asks Ray about Jessie, and Ray tells Max that Jessie’s not budging. In fact, Ray tells Max that he’s only just making a sandwich for Jessie now.
Max is flabbergasted at the way Ray’s coddling to Jessie, making her sarnies and hot drinks. This is now his house, did no one understand? And he needs her out of it, now!
Mike reckons to Max that maybe if Jessie were treated right, she just might go.
Max, however, is desperate. He wants to know if it’s possible to isolate the electricity room by room in the Dixon house. Ray nods absently that it is. Max proposes to cut off the electricity supply to Jessie.
Ron continues to discuss the new family with Mike, wanting to apprise them of the trouble their son caused. Mike says that some flowers arrived at the Dixons’ for the new folks. He was going to take them round later.
‘I’ll choose me moment,’ promises Ron.
Max is still trying to negotiate with Ray about getting Jessie out of the room. As Ray potters about the kitchen, Max tells him that he’s not bothered whether it’s Ray, Nikki or the UN who talks to the woman, Jessie’s got until 4:30 today to come out of that room, or else things will get dirty. He’s planning on consulting his solicitor.
Ray continues preparing Jessie’s snack, effecting not to listen to Max’s rant.
Max warns again. If he has to play dirty to get Jess out, he will, he promises.
‘Oh, I shouldn’t worry about Jess,’ comments Ray, placidly. ‘She’s atough old bird.’
Mike corners Ron and wants to know where Ray and Jessie go from here. After all, he says, Ray’s effectively moved into Number 7 and Ray and Jessie should be together.
‘Don’t you wuddy about that, my soon,’ Ron says, with sly glee. ‘I’ve got me plans fer that, and it won’t be long now.’ And he turns to the camera like a vaudeville villain and rubs his hands together evilly.
Jimmy’s preparing to go out and tells Nikki that there appears to be five people in the Johnson house now. Dr Nikki sees her patient about to skedaddle and calls him back. She’s only just made a pot of tea. Jimmy tells her uneasily that he feels the need to go for a walk. Er, actually, he wants to get away from Nikki for a bit.
Seeing her disappointed look, Jimmy hastens to explain that he simply doesn’t feel right about being alone with Nikki in the house since she told him about the encounter in the extension. He doesn’t want Nikki to be scared of him.
Nikki replies that she trusts Jimmy.
‘As long as I’m on me meds,’ Jimmy adds. He asks if Nikki’s ever told anyone what happened that day in the extension.
Nikki confirms that she’s never told anyone anything about what happened in the extension that day - not even Jerome. (Uh-oh, big mistake, that).
All the same, Jimmy says, he’d like to go for a walk, clear his head, like. Before he goes, however, he tells Nikki that Max Farnham called around earlier, looking for her - something about Jessie barricading herself in a bedroom and preventing the house swap. Sounded narky, he did.
Marty stands over Adele, who’s sitting at the sitcom table. Marty reminds the girl that she owes the family £80.
Well, that’s just too bad, sasses Adele, because she doesn’t have 80 quid.
Eighty quid, repeats Marty ominously, forty for the bracelet and another forty for the bother of retrieving it.
Adele sasses back that she needs that eighty quid for her holiday. Another girl had dropped out and now she and Laura were going to have to pay more.
Marty exclaims that Adele isn’t going on any holiday. She’s too young to go on her own, for a start, and secondly, she’s being punished for selling that bracelet.
It was hers to sell, Adele retorts.
It was a family heirloom, Marty argues. ‘You don’t sell family heirlooms. They’re a part o’history.’
Well, this holiday was a part of HER history, Adele remarks tartly. And she flounces out of the room. (Glad to see she hasn’t lost that ability).
Marty shouts after her that she’s too young.
Ray brings Dr Nikki upstairs to the locked door of Jessie’s room. Ray is distraught. He’s tried to talk to her, he tells Nikki, but Jessie just won’t budge. Dr Nikki says that she can’t stay long, but she’ll give it her best shot.
Ray knocks on the door and identifies himself. Jessie promptly asks when her birthday is.
‘May 21st,’ Ray replies.
‘No, it’s not,’ whispers Nikki.
‘Oh, that’s the code we use,’ Ray explains. ‘May 21st means Max Farnham’s not here.’
Nikki identifies herself and says she’s on her own. Then she asks her grandmother what’s going on.
Jessie shouts back through the door that she’s tired of being ignored because of her age. Just because they were pensioners, people were treating them as though they had no rights, as though they didn’t exist or think for themselves.
‘Yer do have rights,’ says Nikki, firmly.
‘And I’ve got me dignity,’ says Jess.
Ali Ginger Gordon is talking to a mate on HIS mobile phone, which wasn’t packed, it seems. He’s telling the mate about the two ‘babes’ who live next door. Besides that, he fantasises aloud, the one with the big pair of tits looked at him as though she really fancied him. And not only that, the family had got a DVD now.
The unseen, unheard friend asks where Ali lives now, and surprisingly for a lad who’s supposed to be intelligent, Ali doesn’t know his new address. (Is this normal? I ask).
It’s miles from nowhere, Ali moans and shouts, asking his parents the new address.
As Big Al stands in the middle of the room, the Brookside Bike and Bitch continue to bicker, until he tells them to pack it up. Ali Ginger badgers him about installing the televiion and soundsystem. Debbie Gordon pokes her head out of the kitchen and whinges about how old and shabby the kitchen and bath are. (WHAT DO THESE PEOPL E WANT?!!!!!)
Big Al tells Ali Ginger that his surfboard and the bikes are on the car outside and need to be unpacked. Ali Ginger tells the lot that his mate is dropping by later.
In a show of remarkably bad taste, Bitch flops onto a chair and moans about the fact that Ali Ginger’s mate is particularly flatulant and farts on purpose. Ali Ginger says it’s because the mate likes beans.
Bitch continues to moan about her mobile and to ask when the land phone is going to be installed.
Big Al’s mobile rings and it’s Kevin again with another work problem. He shouts at Kevin about rotas. Someone notices that the phone’s finally been switched on, and suddenly there’s a rush of water sound from the kitchen.
Big Al lumbers into the room to find the Brookside Bike in a flood of water on the floor. He was trying to connect the washing machine, he explains lamely. (Not a difficult task to do, but then, he’s a Scouser).
The doorbell rings.
Bev and Josh, hobbling on crutches, leave the Parade complex on foot at the same time Gaby the Grin is leaving. They exchange pleasant words as Bev explains that she and Josh are on their way to Ron’s. Gaby the Grin gets into her car and her mobile alerts her to a message. Again, it’s from Rob Dexter, threatening to kill himself if she doesn’t see him.
Gaby the Grin furiously keys in a text message: ‘Good. Go ahead and do it.’ She then gets into the car and tosses the phone onto the passenger seat, smiling slyly.
Bev and Ron step out of Number 8 onto the Close, whilst Bev turns and leans back into the house to scold Josh for waving his crutch about like a weapon. Across the Close, Mike stands on the doorstep of Number 5, holding the flowers that were delivered to the Dixon house that morning.
Debbie and Big Al exclaim over Mike’s kindness, but he says that the flowers were for them and were left at the Dixons. Debbie Gordon opens the card and tells Big Al that the flowers are from Ruth, apparently another daughter.
Mike introduces himself, saying he lives across the close with his wife and daughter, and he points out Ron’s house. Debbie whispers to Big Al that Mike must be doing all right for a lad his age to have such a fine house. Mike hears the remark and preens at it, as Ron and Bev approach.
Ron introduces himself to Big Al and immediately complains about the commotion caused by the Brookside Bike with his rave.
Big Al apologises profusely and promises that such an incident won’t happen again.
(There follows an almost surreal scene of the most stupid and witless proportions concerning Bev).
‘Too right it won’t’, vows Bev. ‘Why Ron could have been forced outer his home that night!’
The Gordons exchange puzzled looks.
‘Yer see,’ Bev continues, pleasantly, ‘Ron here’s got a heart condition. Angina. Already had three heart attacks and been at death’s door with one. Even had an out of body experience.’
Ron tries vainly to stop her wittering, telling her that the people wouldn’t be interested in hearing this stuff.
Alan Gordon laughs behind his hand.
‘Oh boot they gotter know,’ Bev protests, turning back to the Gordons. ‘He was oonconscious boot he saw oos all gathered round him an’ he was floatin’ aboove.’
Again, Ron intervenes, telling Bev that he doesn’t want the whole world to know ... Again.
Anyway, Bev introduces Ron and herself.
The Gordons asks if they live on the Close.
Bev laughs. Well, SHE doesn’t live on the Close as such, but she and Mike have a son, Josh, only they’re not married. Mike’s married to Rachel and lives with Ron, who’s Mike’s dad. (Er, she neglected to add that she’d slept with Ron in her time as well.)
As Bev continues to witter, Ron pulls her reluctantly away from the Gordon doorstep.
As the Dixons retreat en masse, Big Al turns to Debbie and mutters, ‘Inbred or what?’
Mike and Ron encounter Max on the front lawn of Number 8. Any progress on Jessie? Asks Ron. Max glumly replies that she’s in for the duration, it appears. Ron looks shiftily at Mike and announces that it’s about time to put the second part of his plan in operation.
Meanwhile back at White Trash Villa, formerly known as Number 5, the Brookside Bike brings a cardboard box into the small bedroom, which has suddenly acquired two enormous Manchester United posters on its wall. The Brookside Bike grimaces in disgust, until his attention is drawn to a small box attached to the wall in the corner. A phone point! Eurika! The Brookside Bike’s pasty, little, common, weak-chinned, white trash face lights up with glee.
Marty and Big Dire Muddie are preparing to leave for the solicitor’’s appointment, when Adele appears to be on the verge of going out as well.
Not so fast, says Marty, stopping her. In case she hadn’t realise it before, she’s grounded.
Adele demands to know why, and Marty reminds her of her efforts to sell the bracelet.
Again, Adele strops that the bracelet was hers to do with as she pleased. Anyway, she continues, brassily, Marty couldn’t ground her. She was too old for that.
‘You’re grounded!’ Screams Marty. ‘Now get upstairs!’ And he storms out the front door.
Adele flounces toward the Muddie foyer, muttering how much she hates living there. (Don’t let Phil Redmond hear you say that, he’ll axe your character).
Big Dire places a comforting arm on Adele’s shoulder, promising in a surprisingly low tone that she’ll talk to Marty. He’s merely stressed out at the moment because of the solicitor.
Max is back, banging on Jessie’s bedroom door. He’s virtually begging her to come out now. Honestly, he says. He needs this room for his children. Nikki stands at his side, imploring her grandmother to come out of the room.
As he’s shouting through the closed door, Ray appears bearing a tray of tea, pushes gently past Max and knocks on the door. He knocks, Jess opens the door slightly and takes the cup of tea.
Max goes ballistic at this and begins hammering on the door, demanding she come out. What the hell is going on? He demands. Everyone’s mollycoddling her and she’ll NEVER come out.
Nikki warns him not to get narky with Jessie, otherwise she’ll dig in deeper. Besides, Nikki promises him, she thinks she can persuade her Nan to come out of the room.
Max takes a deep breath of frustration and blows out hot air. He tells Nikki that she has until 4:30 to get Jessie to come out of the room - or he’ll be forced to call a solicitor. Oh, he says, turning back as though he’s forgotten something - and by the way, this means until that time, no more tea, no more sandwiches, nothing until this thing is sorted!
He pounds off downstairs.
The Brookside Bike scurries, ratlike, in search of his older younger-looking brother, Ali Ginger. He can’t contain his excitement. There’s a phone point in the small bedroom, he dances with glee.
So? Responds his brother, clearly unimpressed.
So, continues the Brookside Bike, the internet in the bedroom, and he was appropriating that room.
Ma Gordon appears at that moment to cut him no slack, telling him that the room belongs to his sister and that there would be no internet in any bedroom.
Ron Dixon, helped by Mike, is busy changing the locks on Number 7, formerly Chateau Farnham. Max and Ray issue from Number 8, with Ray warning Max about the best way to deal with Jessie. Max isn’t helping the situation by bullying and hectoring her, he says. Jessie is a strong woman, as strong as anyone.
No, sirree, he continues, as Max looks angrier and angrier, you won’t overcome Jessie by calculation. Max needs to try the gentle approach with her.
As he’s saying this, Ron approaches from his right. He interrupts to ask Ray if Ray happens to be good with locks.
Ray rocks back on his heels with pride and announces that yes, indeed, he’s very good with locks.
Suddenly, with the litheness of a man twenty years younger, Ron darts to the threshold of Number 7 and shouts that Ray will have to be very good with THESE locks if he wants to sneak Jessie in Number 7 - because he’s changed them! And he shuts the door.
Ray is bitterly indignant. He shouts back to Ron that he thought that he and Ron were mates!
Ron opens the door briefly, to answer back. ‘What Jessie did changed all that!’ He shouts, and slams the door again.
As Ma Gordon and Big Al unpack, Ma Gordon jumps up and down excitedly in he r kitchen, whic h she really thinks is beneath her. She can’t wait, she says to get the house exactly like she wanted it.
Big Al points out that the kids are all complaining about the neighbourhood (not common enough, is it?)
Oh, once they’ve settled in, they’ll love it, Ma Gordon says. She was like that when she was a girl and her family moved from Station Street to West Derby. There was so much greenery there and the people spoke so poshly.
He hopes that the kids do adjust, muses Big Al, because he’s suffered long enough the trauma of bringing up these kids. The couple kiss AGAIN, and are interrupted by the Brookside Bike entering the kitchen.
(***HINT: THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE CUTE, FUNNY AND SITCOMISH. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHA!***)
Ron, Ray, and Max stand in the lounge of Number 8, discussing the dilemma about the situation concerning Jessie. Nikki comes downstairs and, passing through the Dixon lounge, announces that she’s getting a glass of water for Jessie.
‘No!’ Exclaims Max. ‘No water! We don’t want her getting too comfortable!’
‘Have some compassion!’ Urges Ray, forcefully. ‘You wouldn’t deny an animal water!’
Max reluctantly relents, glancing at his watch and calculating how much time remains before calling a solicitor.
‘Well, where’s she going to go if she does come out?’ Asks Ray, tetchily, ‘especially now that Ron’s changed the locks at Number 7.’
All eyes turn on Ron accusingly, as Ron starts to squirm visibly.
Max warns everyone not to mention this to Jessie.
The Brookside Bike and Ali Ginger have an argument about who has possession of the computer. Ali Ginger tells the Brookside Bike that he’s configured the computer to contain an access password, so no one can use the machine now, except himself.
As Gaby the Grin sits in her car, her mobile rings. Seeing the phone call is from Rob Dexter, she decides maliciously to take it.
‘Still alive?’ She sneers, upon answering. She then tells him to get off the line and leave her alone; there was no chance at all that she would consent to see him. She tells him adamantly to stop phoning her. When he threatens to kill himself, she asks when he’s going to order the rope and rings off.
As she attempts to start the car, the phone beeps, indicating a text message. It’s from Dexter, saying that he can’t live without her and he’s going to kill himself. Gaby the Grin stares, wide-eyed, at the message.
Maurice Bessman wrote this. Better than average.
Summary © 2002 Marion Watts
Brookside and all related materials are © Mersey Television 1982-2002