A HATRICK
And it’s Bessman on the ball, through the centre, past Robson and Jones, skirts round Lynch and slides past Boulter, passes to Morgan who feigns to Young, before passing back to Bessman. It’s Bessman all the way, being met in the goal by Sullivan, but it’s Bessman ... He shoots ... HE SCORRRRRRES!
This is the THIRD good episode of Brookside in a row. If you didn’t see the episode or missed the Omnibus, read this now and digest it fully. It reverts to crap after this.
Another day dawns. The programme opens with a shot of Ron Dixon lying motionless on his back in his bed in the coronary care unit. He’s got an oxygen filter in his nose and he appears to be unconscious. Jacqui and Mike hover closely by the bedside. In fact, if they hovered any closer, they’d all be sharing a bed together.
Mike’s arm rests protectively on Jacqui’s shoulder, as she clasps her hands together anxiously, her emotive eyes wide and wet.
Back on the Close, Marty Muddie stands on the doorstep overlooking his back garden, gazing reflectively at the pond he’s only recently built.
Across the Close at Bicker-Bicker House, Bitch Gordon bends over her tits, which dangle about a large suitcase. She’s packing. She’s leaveing on her gap year, and I sincerely hope she dies whilst on her travels and saves us all the misery of having to watch her lecture the intellectually-challenged.
Now back on The Parade, Gaby Parr sits moodily in the dark of her flat, wearing her own Jackie Corkhill original bathrobe, whilst down the hall ...
Katie Rogers, hammer in hand, stands in the foyer outside her flat and presses a tape measure against the wall, smiling confidently.
Back at the hospital, Mike and Jacqui continue to stare bleakly at the sleeping figure of their father. Mike assures Jacqui that Ron looks miles better than he did when Mike discovered him. Honestly, he tells his sister, she should have seen the state of their father in the bar.
Jacqui’s worried about the fact that Ron hasn’t regained consciousness and talked. She asks Mike if he’s been like this since the attack.
Mike replies that he spoke a bit right after the attack, but- apart from a few grunts - there has been nothing since that time. (I’d say that was about normal for Ron). Anyway, Mike continues, they’d have a better idea of his condition after Ron’s had the angiogram.
Jacqui, her eyes brimming with tears from the tearstick, pleads with her father to wake oop and start the treatment.
Mike rises and suggests that he go get Jacqui and himself some coffee.
Big Dire pounces on Marty as he stands, lost in his pond-like, pond-life reverie.
‘PENNY FER’EM!’ She bellows, appearing behind him, and causing him to jump. OOOH, she continues, when Marty’s feet have touched the ground, SHE HEARS RON DIXON’S BEEN TAKEN TER’OZZY WITH A HEART ATTACK. APPARENTLY, HE’S QUITE ILL.
Marty grunts.
Dire is taken aback by his reaction. She would have expected more sympathy from Marty. Marty, however, is more concerned with his old mate Alby, the other caretaker at St Wilfrid’s, where Marty used to work. He’s worried what the man might have told the police in their interview about Marty.
Before Big Dire can say anything, Jerome and Dr Nikki stick their gobs across the fence dividing Sitcom House from Hotel Corkhill.
Dire banters with them awhile, remarking that she didn’t realise students were up so early these mornings. Jerome explains that they were on the scrounge for some barbecue poles, as the weather was nice, and thought perhaps the Muddies might have some.
When they get short shrift from Marty, they disappear, and Dire returns her attention to Marty. What was it about Alby that was worrying him? She wants to know.
Well, Marty begins, the fact that the police saw fit to have a little ‘chat’ with Alby, for starters -
Suddenly, the phone rings in the house, and Adele calls out to her parents, referring to her stepmother as ‘Di’, instead of ‘Mum’. The phone’s for Dire, she explains. It’s work. (Probably wondering where the hell she was).
As Jacqui and Mike sit with the still-sleeping Ron, the door to the unit opens and Gary Parr looks in. He explains that he’s dropped into check on Ron on his way to work. (That was going out of his way a bit, wasn’t it?)
Jacqui remarks that the sooner Ron can have this angiogram, the better. Dr Parr explains that at the same time, Ron would also have an angioplasty, which would widen one of the clogged arteries to his heart and ease his pain.
Jacqui and Mike, knowing how obstinate their father is, are worried that Ron might resist any treatment or operation. Mike suggests that in a couple of days, maybe Ron would be better.
Dr Parr tells him that even a couple of days’ delay would be too late.
Back at Bicker-Bicker House, Bitch Gordon and her amazing tits sit side by side on the mangy Bicker-Bicker sofa. Bitch has a calendar in her hands and is marking the date when her A-Level results are due.
Rabbity Ruth, sucks back some serious snot and hops into the room, marvelling at her little sister going off on a world adventure. How she would have loved to do that. Why Bitch might have such a good time that she might not want to come back.
Bitch replies that she was looking forward to studying POLITICS AT LIVERPOOL.
(RANT: OH, GIVE ME A BREAK!!!! ANOTHER, YET ANOTHER, USELESS SUBJECT. POLITICAL SCIENCE IS A EUPHEMISM FOR GIVING BITCH GORDON AN EXCUSE TO RANT AND RAVE DOGMA AND PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENTS. OH, AND THE NEXT COMMENT IS A PRICELESS ONE AS WELL).
Phaffing about in the background, having taken over her useless daughter’s packing, Ma Gordon remarks that, Bitch was SO intelligent that she could well have gone to Oxbridge.
(Excuse me). HAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
NOW THAT IS GENUINELY FUNNY, WITHOUT INTENDING TO BE. DOES PHIL REDMOND HONESTLY THINK WE ARE ALL AS DUMB AS AL SHIT TO BELIEVE THAT A TWO-WATT BULB THE CALIBRE OF KIRSTY COULD EVEN GET INTO UNIVERSITY ALONE, MUCH LESS OXFORD OR CAMBRIDGE!
Ma Gordon now gives Bitch some advice on how to dress and conduct herself in the presence of South American men - all of whom are like the late Ayrton Senna or Juan Pablo Montoya in Ma’s pea-sized brain. Kirsty must realise, she says, that South American men have an honest appreciation of the female body. (Er, not the men Bitch will encounter. As a cheap-travelling gap year student, the only men she’ll meet are the drink-sodden aboriginals, who’s idea of an honest appreciation of a white Anglo girl’s body is to rape her as many times in quick succession as possible. But of course, she’ll return laden with comic book stereotypical descriptions)
Bitch quips that she was going out to South America armed with a shipload of condoms. (And that’s another thing ... This isn’t sophisticated, cosmopolitan Mediterranean Europe this girl’s visiting. This is backwoods, backward South America, where Catholicism is taken VERY seriously.)
As Ma Gordon wafts out of hearing range, Rabbity Ruth jealously admits that her mother was never that way with her when she was Bitch’s age. (That’s because Ma Gordon is dead trendy and moves with the times, which is why all her children are so badly brought up. Ma Gordon is the female equivalent of Jimmy Corkhill, and is pig-shit ignorant in reality).
Katie Rogers aims a drill at the foyer wall and starts to drill a hole. This brings Sammy out to see what all the noise concerns. Katie explains that she’s doing some home improvements on her day off. Sammy wonders if there isn’t something in the lease about drilling holes in the foyer walls, but Katie confidently assures her that they haven’t seen a landlord around that place in months. Besides, did Sammy see the message Katie left her from Louise, who had phoned earlier?
Sammy nods, worrying that Katie’s drilling the holes too big. She asks her sister if her sudden interest in home improvements might have something to do with a hunky builder?
Katie replies that she doesn’t need a man for everything.
Sammy jokes that a girl needs a bloke for screwing. (Crude).
As Jacqui, Mike and Dr Parr discuss Ron’s condition at the foot of his sickbed, Ron suddenly speaks, telling them that he can lie there and hear everything they’re saying. Opening his eyes wearily, he looks directly at Dr Parr.
‘No big op,’ he mumbles.
Dr Parr tells Ron that it might not come to that.
He hopes not, Ron says, testily. Because he’s seen documentaries about heart surgery on television. It’s like a butcher’s shop, the theatre.
Jacqui tries to jolly him along, saying that Dr Parr sees cases like Ron’s all the time. (And pisses all over himself).
Dr Parr reiterates that Ron may not have to have surgery, but they’ve no way of knowing unless he submits to the angiogram. The test is vital, he says. Ron’s angina attacks have become more frequent over the years, and his heart is now very weak.
Mike urges Ron to listen to Dr Parr.
The doctor tells Ron that he has a lot of life left in him yet - both for his children and for his grandchildren.
As if on cue (and they were), Jacqui tells Ron that Harry’s already asking where Granddad is, and Mike chips in about Josh wanting to come to visit him. The kids all want Ron at home, he adds.
And how were they about to tell Harry, Josh and Beth (no mention of poor, little Emma) that Granddad was refusing treatment that would make him better.
‘Joost think of it,’ pleads Jacqui. ‘It’ll be harder if they havter see yer in a wheelchair or soomthink.’
Ron tells the doctor to get the necessary forms for him to sign. Jacqui volunteers to go with Dr Parr to get the forms.
As Dr Parr nears the door, Ron calls out to him, asking him to come back later that day ... ‘Joost ter keep an eye on these kids, mind,’ he adds, self-consciously.
Dr Parr smiles benevolently and turns to go once more, but this time, he’s stopped by Mike, who calls him ‘Gary’ now. Mike’s cheeky enough to want to know if Dr Parr still has the name of that dentist mate who could fix Mike’s bridge. Dr Parr obliges.
White trash have no shame.
Over at the garage, Leanne is busy, noisily chasing some schoolchildren out of the shop. As she pursues them to the door, issuing blood-curdling threats, she sees Ma Gordon approaching and immediately changes her tone to one of sweetness and light.
As Ma enters, Leanne explains that she’s always glad to see local schoolchildren offer custom in the shop, and she encourages it.
The gullible Ma compliments Leanne on having such patience.
It’s all a matter of ying and yang, explains Leanne, the ability to give good and get it back in return.
Ma remarks, sceptically, that Leanne wasn’t giving out much good on the day she first saw the girl at the garage.
Leanne reddens and explains that her ying and yang were out of balance on that particular day. Anyway, she hastily changes the subject. Did Ma hear all about Ron Dikko and his heart attack?
Yes, replies Ma, quietly busying herself. Her daughter, Ruth, was there when it happened.
Leanne asks her if she realised that Dr Parr actually performed open heart surgery on Ron on the floor of the bar, with a plastic knife?
Ma objects. Nothing like that happened at all, she tells Leanne. Her daughter was there, she saw everything.
It’s instinct, isn’t it? Leanne continues talking rings around the ignorant woman. ‘I mean, if a perr-son drops, yer save his life.’ Leanne was like that - to a T. Er, did Ma Gordon ever give any thought ter havin’, like, a perr-sonnel perr-son in the business. Yer know, she continues, soomone the ordinary staff could talk ter-
Ma Gordon says that’s why she, herself, is there.
No, no, no, explains Leanne. A go-between for employer and employees, to help harmonised the nature, or KARMA, of the place.
Ma Gordon’s lips twist sarcastically. ‘And I suppose yer sooch a perr-son?’ She asks Leanne.
Leanne twitters, self-deprecatingly. Why, she can’t imaging why Ma Gordon ever thought of Leanne!
Dire returns from the salon in high dudgeon. THE BOILER WENT, she announces to the Close as well as The Parade. SIXTY QUID, IT COST HER! SHE ALMOST CALLED MARTY, she tells him, but suddenly she stops, as she notices the ashen look on his face.
Marty admits that he’s talked to Alby about the police interview. The police started asking Alby some questions, he says, and Alby got a bit carried away.
Dire doesn’t understand. WHAT’S WRONG? She bellows.
Marty is incredulous that she can be so thick. ‘Diane,’ he explains, desperately, ‘kids have gone missing in two schools where I werr-ked, and the bizzies think there’s a link.’
Dire accuses Marty of being paranoid.
‘I’m being realistic,’ Marty informs her, in a deliberate tone of voice. ‘It’s the way the police think.’ And Alby had to go and open his big mouth.
At that moment, Adele noisily enters the sitcom kitchen, clutching the phone, which has just rung. It’s the travel agent, she informs her parents. They’ve told her that she and the remaining girls who are going on the holiday have to make the difference for the dropouts or cancel the holiday altogether.
Marty turns, interrupted from his train of thought, and informs her succinctly that because they can’t pay, she wouldn’t be able to go.
Dire steps in to referee, anticipating a blow-iup. She ushers Adele from the room, promising to deal with the travel agent, whilst speaking over her shoulder to Marty. When she comes back, she vows, she wants to know about all this unpleasantness concerning Alby.
Sammy Rogers pops her head out of the flat again, to survey the progress of Katie’s home improvements. How’s Bob the builder, she jokes. Katie turns her head in her sister’s direction. Did Sammy speak with Louise? She asks.
Sammy nods. It’s as she suspected. Louise was keen to go to Spain again with Tania and her family. Sammy is worried, however, because Tania’s dad is a known gangster. (Oh, no, PLEASE! Not more gangsters!)
Katie, however, who knows all about these things, urges Sammy to let Louise go. All the child will see, she promises, is a posh house.
That’s what’s worrying, whinges Sammy. Louise will get accustomed to this sort of lifestyle and she couldn’t even compete with it. Sometimes, she mutters, she was of a mind to take Louise out of her boarding school and put her in a state school in Liverpool.
Yer might find yerself with a right tearaway then, snarls Katie, and an intelligent one at that.
Jacqui Farnham enters her father’s hospital room, announcing that she’s managed to sort out Ron’s laundry commitments for the next couple of days. Mike takes offence at his sister’s assumption of authority, even of her thinking of business with their father so ill.
Jacqui remarks, gesticulating at the empty bed where Ron prefiously lay, having gone down for his angiogram-angioplasty, that Ron could hardly be expected to run a business hooked up to tubes, and besides, she had to ensure that the bar, the Health Club and The Shelf had a supply of clean linen.
Mike maintains that he can take care of Ron’s laundry business.
Oh, yeah? Replies Jacqui, sarcastically. And what happens if and when Mike gets another job, which is what will happen and what Mike hopes will happen?
Mike asserts that he can look after Ron’s business.
Dr Parr walks down the foyer to his flat, passing Katie and Sammy discussing Katie’s attempt at home improvement. He quips a joke about that, himself, and as he reaches his door, remarks that - oh, by the way, Ron Dixon was now stable.
‘Yer mean he’s not dead yet?’ Sneers Katie, the ugly look of jealousy returning to her face.
Dr Parr stops cold in the act of putting his key into the door and turns on his heels to face Katie. In no uncertain terms, he reminds her that Ron Dixon is a patient of the practice and therefore, should be accorded respect and concern. He throws her a withering look and enters his home.
Sammy turns on Katie in disgust, telling her off for being so callous.
Inside his flat, Dr Parr finds the curtains drawn against the light of day, and his wife sitting in the darkness wearing her Jackie Corkhill original bathrobe.
It’s gone noon, he remarks, opening the curtains. Why hasn’t Gaby gone to work?
Gaby replies that, at the moment, she simply can’t face work. She keeps seeing Rob Dexter’s face every time she closes her eyes, she moans. She needs help, and Dr Parr’s just not there to give it to her. (In other words, she needs a screw and there’s nary a man nor dildo to be found. Hmmm ... Maybe she ought to have a word with Rabbity Ruth about hiring out Dan the Man as a gigolo).
Dr Parr rejoinders that he’s not trained to offer such help. (Now THAT’S a turn-up for the double-entendre book!)
Gaby wails that she told Dexter to kill himself!
But, argues her husband, she wasn’t to know that the man, himself, wasn’t the full shilling and meant to do it!
But neither does she know what he would have done if she’d only agreed to meet with him.
Finally, Dr Parr sighs in resignation. Well, at least the man was out of his pain now.
Gaby’s disgusted by that remark. Pure medical jargon! She spits.
Sorry, quips the doctor, unsympathetically, but that’s the only jargon he knows. The man’s dead and he’s not about to be dictated to by a corpse.
Dire returns to the sitcom kitchen and demands to know why Marty’s shit-scared of what Alby might have told the police. Alby knows ... things, admits Marty.
What sort of things? Asks Dire.
Marty rubs the back of his neck and turns away abruptly from his wife. Things - things about his domestic situation with his first wife. Problems, he stutters.
What sort of problems? Demands Dire.
Marty blinks back tears of terror, turning this way and that, physically, in an effort to escape a trap he knows is tightening around him.
It wasn’t his fault, he assures a confused Dire. It wasn’t his fault, but then Social Services got involved.
‘SOCIAL SERR-VICES!’ Exclaims Dire. ‘MARTY, WHAT HAPPENED?’
Marty flaps his arms by his side in abject resignation. Plank got hurt when he was small. It was Jan’s fault, he says.
Dire continues to look at him in stony silence, mutely ordering him to continue with the tale.
Plank broke his arm, Marty explains, with difficulty. That led to Social Serr-vices getting involved. The kid broke his arm and Marty and Jan didn’t know what happened. Then when the doctors at the emergency room examined Plank, they found other bruises.
He hangs his head in shame. The authorities kept his name on file. They suspected child abuse and Plank was put on an ‘at risk’ list.
‘BOOT ... YER DIDN’T DO IT,’ Dire says, with uncertainty.
Marty vigorously shakes his head. It was JAN, he replies with emphasis. Jan touched him. But it was HIS name that got put on the file - and all because Social Serr-vices got the wrong end of the stick. (I’d say poor Plank did).
Back at the Garage, Ma Gordon chattily asks Adele when her AS results were due.
Adele shrugs nonchalantly. She doesn’t care, she mutters, two weeks, she supposes. What’s irking her, she continues, is that her two parents are so ungrateful as to not provide her with the extra funds she needs to pay for her holiday in Ayia Napa.
Oooh, witters trendy Ma Gordon (and it appears that the Brookside writers read The Daily Mail), why go ter Ayia Napa? What’s the matter with Cornwall? It’s dead trendy, she continues, and it’s where her bitch went fer herr ferrst holiday alone.
Jerome and Dr Nikki enter the shop and are shown to a dingy corner of the establishment by a helpful Leanne, where there’s a plastic table placed in front of a hot drinks’ machine. As they take their seats, Jerome wonders if they’ll be lucky enough to have just themselves present for their barbecue.
Dr Nikki hopes the Sage can make it. He would enjoy a barbecue, she says.
Jerome’s face turns as sour as the cream that’s in his cheap coffee at the mention of the Sage’s name. Just look at the two of them, he remarks, with disdain. Stuck drinking machine coffee in a garage, when they were meant to be travelling Europe. Yet everytime he brings up the subject of the trip, he continues, Nikki continuously brings up Jimmy’s name.
Nikki confesses that she was worried about them going off on holiday and being skint. Jerome remarks that he has the perfect solution to that. He’s going to sell his car. Problem solved. Now, he adds wickedly, he wonders how much Nikki would get for Jimmy.
Back at the Parrs’ flat, the couple are still discussing Gaby’s reaction to Rob Dexter’s suicide. Dr Parr tells his wife that he sincerely wants to help her, but each time he reaches out, it’s as though she puts up a wall.
Gaby cries that she’s hurt by the man’s suicide and afraid of having to appear before a coroner at the inquest. She also knows what the gossips will make of this around here too. Besides, she rounds on her husband, he never knows what to say to her in situations such as these.
Dr Parr, noble man that he is, is mightily offended. He apologises for being so inadequate, he tells Gaby the Grin in a miffed tone. He then suggests that the couple take a few days off and have a break together.
Gaby the Grin scoffs at this suggestion. Dr Parr would never get cover at such short notice. She’d build her hopes up, only to have him dash them at the last minute with a cancellation.
Well, the doctor continues, why doesn’t she have a few days’ break on her own, perhaps visit her parents in Guildford? She could fly down from Manchester and be there in no time.
As they sit in the garage, Jerome and Dr Nikki discuss the itinerary of their trip - Brussels, Amsterdam, Paris, they list ... Nikki interrupts Jerome’s verbal planning. He was wrong about Jimmy, she wants him to know.
Speaking of planning trips, Bitch, her tits, Rabbity Ruth and Luke the bunny ferret through Bitch’s clothing that she’s leaving behind. Luke the bunny is furiously colouring something in the foreground. Bitch ticks off items on a list, assuring herself that she has her medical certificates and passport.
Oh, she tells Rabbity Ruth. Luke the bunny helped her find her passport. She gets down on her knees and hugs the reluctant child to her pointy, conelike bosoms. She would really miss Luke. Rabbity Ruth jokes and suggests that Bitch take the two of them with her, and then she sneaks a look at Bitch’s passport.
What a jolly sitcom scene! Why, Luke the bunny, that little rapscallion, has coloured over Bitch’s passport. She’ll have to get a new one now!
Bitch tells Luke that she reckons that his mother is jealous of her going away.
Dr Parr returns to the hospital, entering the CCU room where Mike and Jacqui still await Ron’s return. He hands Mike a card with the name of his dentist friend and tells him that Parr’s already spoken to the man about repairing Mike’s bridgework for free.
Jacqui immediately comments about Ron’s procedure having been successful.
Dr Parr looks at her suspiciously. Has a doctor been on hand to speak to either of them? He asks.
Jacqui and Mike exchange worried looks and shake their heads. A nurse simply came in and told them that Ron had had the procedure and would be returning to his room shortly. Jacqui, showing her true white trash ignorance, assumed that all went well.
Dr Parr admits that he’s seen the reports from the procedure. The angiogram showed that the flow of red blood cells was blocked in three of the four main arteries into Ron’s heart.
Again, the siblings exchange looks. What does that mean? Asks Mike.
It means, says Dr Parr, that Ron requires a triple bypass and as soon as possible.
After divulging what apparently is PART of a deep dark secret about his past, Dire treats Marty to one of her bulging-eyed looks of total disbelief. She could not BELIEVE Marty had never mentioned this incident to her in the past.
Soom things yer don’t like ter dwell on, says Marty, philosophically bleak. People, strangers, he continues, look at yer kids and not believe yer when yer tell them what happened. Social Serr-vices do this sort of thing week in and week out, and soomtimes kids get killed.
Marty turns a dignified, yet tear-stained face to Dire. He never once touched his kids, and yet HE’S on a list as a potential child abuser. He’s a caretaker in two schools where two kids have gone missing. He works around kids all the time, and now Alby discloses this to the police.
He shakes his head in disbelief and begins to walk away from Dire.
Suddenly, she calls out to him as he leaves. ‘BOOT YOU DIDN’T DO ANYTHINK, DID YER?’
In the most chilling moment of the programme (and that’s due more to the actor than the writer), Marty turns to her and gives her a momentary steel-eyed stare that’s as cold as the proverbial witch’s twat. It’s a stare of defiance and daring, and - almost - hate.
‘You KNOW I didn’t,’ he says, softly.
Dire laughs nervously, her big voice shrunken to a whisper. ‘Then yer’ve noothink ter wuddy about,’ she reasons.
Marty, who’s turned away from her once more, turns back briefly, and in a voice like a glacier sneers, ‘Noothink.’
He turns and leaves the room, as the camera pans to the pale and frightened face of Dire Muddie.
Maurice Bessman wrote this again.
Full marks to Messrs Hull and Caple. Pray tell, why they win no awards?
Summary © 2002 Marion Watts
Brookside and all related materials are © Mersey Television 1982-2002