Apologies for the delay in posting the latest blog. I've been in hospital for a biopsy, which took place yesterday. It wasn't comfortable, and afterward I had to lie flat on my back for six hours in order to ensure my kidney, from which the sample was taken, didn't bleed out and cause bigger problems.
I can't think of a better way to spend an afternoon recuperating in hospital than using my android device to delete and report various foul-mouthed rants and illogical accusations shot my way by Josh Taylor, a humble receptionist at a car dealership in the Home Counties who bullies on various EastEnders' fora as Shamelessness along with his sad widdle fwiend daveywavey and his various permutations.
These are sick individuals who cannot cope with the mediocrity of their own existence, spoiled and mollycoddled by mummy and daddy, who keep their internet activities cleverly hidden. I'm sure Mrs Taylor and Mrs Hughes didn't raise their boys with gutter mouths, and I'm sure they didn't raise them to make overt threats to people on the Internet, an act that is just as illegal as making threats directly and face-to-face. But they're too much of cowards to do that.
Well, as an icon of the 1960s would acknowledge, there's more than one way to skin a cat, or smack the mangy arse of a Millennial.
EastEnders is now being conceived and written for people who have no concept of or respect for history. History can be changed at the drop of a hat to accommodate a storyline, so retconning is the rule. Millennials' opinions are their facts, so you daren't argue with them, especially when you have to cite any sort of historical fact or even to reckon that any past characters are better than the watered-down, loud-mouthed versions of EastEnders characters fashioned by Executive Producers who are little more than overgrown children playing with cut-out paper dolls.
I am not silenced. Not now. Not by you and not by anyone.
One. Trick. Pony.
Well, after a week of tantalizing snippets which kept the hands of daveywavey and Enders89, firmly planted down the fronts of their y-fronts, the Eternal Victim returns.
What a familiar sight to know that nothing had changed at all for the Queen of All Entitled Characters, the woman whose presence opened the portals for all female characters who use traumas from the past as an excuse to misbehave and abscond from any and all responsibility for their actions.
Rude and brazen as ever, she shows up in Walford, in broad daylight, shouting the odds and demanding to know why Kat got in touch with her.
It was rich irony to hear Kat castigate the star of the show for living a lie when the entire basis of Kat's and Alfie's relationship is now based on secrets and lies. I'm still stumped as how Stacey made it to Mexico and found work on a British passport. When I last checked, Britain isn't part of the NAFTA agreement. I'm at a loss as to how she's kept her passport from Luke's sight or how she's managed to find a job as a colourist in what appears to be a pukka salon without any identification, National Insurance number or bank account.
But, hey, this is EastEnders, and if Dom-Dom doesn't reckon the dumb-dumbs will question this, well, hey ... he's managed to dumb-down the show who was founded in gritty reality.
Yes, skanky Stacey has a nice boyfriend, with a nice job and nice body art, who knows nothing about her. He doesn't know about Bradley and he certainly doesn't know that she's a murderer, something Kat conveniently omitted from her diatribe.
The whole Stacey-Come-Home storyline is the biggest crock of shit yet on this programme. We know why she was asked to return and we know why Turner came. Dom-Dom wanted someone who could bring home the gongs, and Turner recognised that all the roles of Stacey Slater by another name had dried up. Besides, and I'm sure a plethora of fanbois and cheerleaders will indignantly protest, but Turner's aged badly. There are bags under her eyes and something doesn't look right about the little piggy nose and porcine eyes.
Of course, there had to be the ubiquitous scene of Stacey dashing out of the Moon household and into afternoon Walford, doing her suicide bomber act of pulling her checked scarf over her face, to avoid Abi Branning, Peter Beale, Ian, Jane, Denise and the kids, and most of all, Max stepping from the cafe.
So she runs down the pub alleyway and is taken in by the latest reincarnation of Alfie Moon, Mick Carter.
Two things: for asshats like Shamelessness who reckon that Alfie's off-hand remark about not technically being Kat's husband foreshadow that Alfie got married in Australia, this just shows how very little imagination they have, although, I'm not sure Dom-Dom wouldn't go that route, especially since Max's mystery marriage wasn't his storyline (stomps his widdle feet), but if he does, he should be taken out and smacked.
Alfie technically isn't Kat's husband, dumbass, because they are divorced.
And secondly, the coincidence of running into Mick Carter, who's Alfie Moon by another name bears comment. Alfie was slated by a lot of the Millennials, who didn't see Alfie the first time around or only remember the lazy writing which turned him into Shane Richie. Mick is just as cheesy a Mr Nice Guy, and I wonder what he or Linda would have to say about him giving harbour to a murderer upstairs at the pub.
Are we seeing the beginnings of STICK? Because of course, Dom-Dom would be the first to re-unite his star with his latest creations, and what better way to do so than to involve Stacey in a romance with the returning Dean Wicks? They have history, they know each other, and she can be dumped by Dean and take revenge on using Mick's stick against him. Thus, STICK is born.
And we couldn't have predicted it better ourselves - that Lauren would be the "familiar face" who would spy Stacey, bold as brass, sitting in the upstairs lounge of the Vic. Of course, even though Johnny Carter hasn't known Lauren five minutes and seems to have no classes nor any uni friends, asked artistic Lauren to help with the market protest. That was a contrived sequence to allow Lauren to go upstairs and discover Whitney - for Lauren always discovers something she shouldn't. Which makes poor widdle Stacey run off in fear.
Back to the Bradley-esque Luke and to that improbable three year-old Lily. If Lily's five, I'm Kate Moss. Her features are too mature to be that of a child who's rising four. She should still have more of the rounded toddler features of Tommy or Kamil. Amy looks more like a three year-old, whilst Lily looks five.
And Stacey is going to run off again. Who's surprised? She's using this bloke as a meal ticket, and Kat's "she's mah faaaaaaam-ly" rant distinctively got up my tits. Kat had precious little to do with Stacey until she returned in 2010 and they smacked their way around the Square.
But never mind all that. We got two-thirds of an idea of what EastEnders will be like on Tuesday with the re-introduction of The Stacey Show.
Watch as Stacey is captured...
The Terrehawk Show.
How many times are we going to be shown Shirley's name in brass on the sign above the Vic's door? This is being as subtle as a brick shithouse. Its Dom-Dom the Wonder Boy's moment of brag, as if to say,
Look at me, MA! Look what I did! I took a totally inconsequential character and made her the centrepiece of the Vic. Look at me, Ma ... over here! Look what I did ...I made it, Ma, top of the world!
I wonder what sort of blaze of glory awaits out EgoBoy as he trips merrily along, totally excising the past three years of the show? Not that the past three years were good. Anything but. They were bloody awful, but he's just as capable of churning out tripe as Bryan Kirkwood or Lorraine Newman, as last week showed, but since he's flavour of the month and The Messiah, he's being cut slack.
It's obvious now that the Carters - Mick, Linda and the kids are distinctly playing second fiddle to Queen Shirley, who sees fit to lecture Linda about wasting Mick's money, traipsing off to a West End show for the evening. There's too much worry about wicked, evil Sharon and the"new bar." There were two bars on the Square once before and therell be two bars again, but it's clear the set-up is in place for Shirley the matriarch, which is what Dom-Dom wants. A bitterly divisive character, an alcoholic who abandoned her children, with a totally retconned family, to make her the centrepiece of all creation.
So Shitley's passing out disapproving remarks about the Carters' financial situation. Why are they skint? They sank everything they had into the Vic. They got 10 grand from their dad for the rising damp, which seems to have been miraculously cured, and they're making money. Why are they skint? And surely Queen Shitley, now that she has a stake in the Vic, gets a share of the profits. Or does she want it all?
The pig-shit thick ignorance of the Carters was at the fore tonight in abundance - first the remark from the ludicrously named Aunt Babe about Linda's penchant for musicals ...
I hope you didn't take your Johnny to see some of those things. That would explain why he is the way he is.
Subtly homophobic, n'est-ce pas?
The classic of the night was young Abi the Dough-Faced Girl discovering that Linda was keen on breeding Lady Di for money. Abi found that disgusting and told her that people like Linda didn't deserve to have animals. Very true, especially since bulldogs can't mate naturally, have to give birth via Caesarian section and only have a lifespan of seven years. I wonder how old Lady Di is.
But line of the night does go to Linda as the last word for Shirley to ponder:-
At length some of us speak to our mothers.
Nudge-nudge-wink-wank ... another hint for the coming of the Prodigal.
Ava the teacher who never taught departs, and we're left with Johnny, the uni student, who never goes to class, has all the time in the world to work at the pub and is friends with the local mattress. Bullshit to DTC's remark about not re-hashing. Whitney and Johnny are this generation's Roxy and Christian.
All of this is played out against the backdrop of worry about big, bad Sharon's bar and the closure of the market, when Linda gets the brilliant idea, again, of manning the barricades and forming a protest (which will certainly be some sort of embarrassingly laughable scene), which is as contrived as the entire market closure debacle.
How long before Mick and Alfie lead a rousing chorus of Do You Hear the People Sing?
Cattle Guard.
Yep, Jane the bovine bitch is still hanging around like a bad smell.
Who in the hell does she think she is, questioning Ian's parenting? After all, Jane can kiss and cuddle the amazingly shallow Lucy all she wants, the fact remains that she walked away from all of those children, including her son, for herself, without ever looking back. She's never spent any significant holiday with Bobby - indeed, this is the first time she's actually visited him in Walford; spare me the off-screen visits he made to Wales - neither Ian nor the twins would have thought to accompany him. She's never spent a birthday with him. She spent Christmas with Tanya instead of her son, and the last visit she made, when summoned by Peter because he was afraid of his father's mental health, she succinctly told all three kids that she was no longer a part of their family dynamic.
I don't understand this. Jane wouldn't come to Walford for her son's birthday or for Christmas, but she'll come for a poxy spelling bee? As for Ian making all of this all about wanting to promote his business interests and Jane being affronted, she wasn't above being greedy enough to cheat Sharon out of the Vic. (But wait ... that happened before 2006, so that doesn't count).
Denise was right - being in Cardiff, Jane was well away from all of this, and now, she thinks Bobby needs to be with her in Cardiff? Bullshit. Bobby needed to be with her when she left him two years ago. Not now. He'll be consigned to nannies and child minders whilst Jane forges her new-found cooking career.
What a hypocritical cow.
And after all those years, telling all and sundry about how fond he was of Jane, whilst he didn't love her. Denise lied. Yes. But Jane's told a fair few lies to Ian, herself, in her time.
There have been so many returns lately, the last one we need is Bovine Beale.
Masood Machine.
Since when did Shabnam get a pharmacy degree?
Here's the original Shabnam, with not a degree to her name, a cute Cockney accent and a party girl to the fore:-
Now, it seems Shabnam's a qualified pharmacist, which could mean that she will someday be a dangerous lunatic running wild in the streets.
This was the episode when DTC's motives regarding what's what came to the fore. He doesn't give a rat's arse about the long-term viewers, who pick his flimsy storylines to pieces. He's dumbed down the show to Millennial levels. Dom-Dom and the Dum-Dums.
Time for the show to be ... avenged.
I can't think of a better way to spend an afternoon recuperating in hospital than using my android device to delete and report various foul-mouthed rants and illogical accusations shot my way by Josh Taylor, a humble receptionist at a car dealership in the Home Counties who bullies on various EastEnders' fora as Shamelessness along with his sad widdle fwiend daveywavey and his various permutations.
These are sick individuals who cannot cope with the mediocrity of their own existence, spoiled and mollycoddled by mummy and daddy, who keep their internet activities cleverly hidden. I'm sure Mrs Taylor and Mrs Hughes didn't raise their boys with gutter mouths, and I'm sure they didn't raise them to make overt threats to people on the Internet, an act that is just as illegal as making threats directly and face-to-face. But they're too much of cowards to do that.
Well, as an icon of the 1960s would acknowledge, there's more than one way to skin a cat, or smack the mangy arse of a Millennial.
EastEnders is now being conceived and written for people who have no concept of or respect for history. History can be changed at the drop of a hat to accommodate a storyline, so retconning is the rule. Millennials' opinions are their facts, so you daren't argue with them, especially when you have to cite any sort of historical fact or even to reckon that any past characters are better than the watered-down, loud-mouthed versions of EastEnders characters fashioned by Executive Producers who are little more than overgrown children playing with cut-out paper dolls.
I am not silenced. Not now. Not by you and not by anyone.
One. Trick. Pony.
Well, after a week of tantalizing snippets which kept the hands of daveywavey and Enders89, firmly planted down the fronts of their y-fronts, the Eternal Victim returns.
What a familiar sight to know that nothing had changed at all for the Queen of All Entitled Characters, the woman whose presence opened the portals for all female characters who use traumas from the past as an excuse to misbehave and abscond from any and all responsibility for their actions.
Rude and brazen as ever, she shows up in Walford, in broad daylight, shouting the odds and demanding to know why Kat got in touch with her.
It was rich irony to hear Kat castigate the star of the show for living a lie when the entire basis of Kat's and Alfie's relationship is now based on secrets and lies. I'm still stumped as how Stacey made it to Mexico and found work on a British passport. When I last checked, Britain isn't part of the NAFTA agreement. I'm at a loss as to how she's kept her passport from Luke's sight or how she's managed to find a job as a colourist in what appears to be a pukka salon without any identification, National Insurance number or bank account.
But, hey, this is EastEnders, and if Dom-Dom doesn't reckon the dumb-dumbs will question this, well, hey ... he's managed to dumb-down the show who was founded in gritty reality.
Yes, skanky Stacey has a nice boyfriend, with a nice job and nice body art, who knows nothing about her. He doesn't know about Bradley and he certainly doesn't know that she's a murderer, something Kat conveniently omitted from her diatribe.
The whole Stacey-Come-Home storyline is the biggest crock of shit yet on this programme. We know why she was asked to return and we know why Turner came. Dom-Dom wanted someone who could bring home the gongs, and Turner recognised that all the roles of Stacey Slater by another name had dried up. Besides, and I'm sure a plethora of fanbois and cheerleaders will indignantly protest, but Turner's aged badly. There are bags under her eyes and something doesn't look right about the little piggy nose and porcine eyes.
Of course, there had to be the ubiquitous scene of Stacey dashing out of the Moon household and into afternoon Walford, doing her suicide bomber act of pulling her checked scarf over her face, to avoid Abi Branning, Peter Beale, Ian, Jane, Denise and the kids, and most of all, Max stepping from the cafe.
So she runs down the pub alleyway and is taken in by the latest reincarnation of Alfie Moon, Mick Carter.
Two things: for asshats like Shamelessness who reckon that Alfie's off-hand remark about not technically being Kat's husband foreshadow that Alfie got married in Australia, this just shows how very little imagination they have, although, I'm not sure Dom-Dom wouldn't go that route, especially since Max's mystery marriage wasn't his storyline (stomps his widdle feet), but if he does, he should be taken out and smacked.
Alfie technically isn't Kat's husband, dumbass, because they are divorced.
And secondly, the coincidence of running into Mick Carter, who's Alfie Moon by another name bears comment. Alfie was slated by a lot of the Millennials, who didn't see Alfie the first time around or only remember the lazy writing which turned him into Shane Richie. Mick is just as cheesy a Mr Nice Guy, and I wonder what he or Linda would have to say about him giving harbour to a murderer upstairs at the pub.
Are we seeing the beginnings of STICK? Because of course, Dom-Dom would be the first to re-unite his star with his latest creations, and what better way to do so than to involve Stacey in a romance with the returning Dean Wicks? They have history, they know each other, and she can be dumped by Dean and take revenge on using Mick's stick against him. Thus, STICK is born.
And we couldn't have predicted it better ourselves - that Lauren would be the "familiar face" who would spy Stacey, bold as brass, sitting in the upstairs lounge of the Vic. Of course, even though Johnny Carter hasn't known Lauren five minutes and seems to have no classes nor any uni friends, asked artistic Lauren to help with the market protest. That was a contrived sequence to allow Lauren to go upstairs and discover Whitney - for Lauren always discovers something she shouldn't. Which makes poor widdle Stacey run off in fear.
Back to the Bradley-esque Luke and to that improbable three year-old Lily. If Lily's five, I'm Kate Moss. Her features are too mature to be that of a child who's rising four. She should still have more of the rounded toddler features of Tommy or Kamil. Amy looks more like a three year-old, whilst Lily looks five.
And Stacey is going to run off again. Who's surprised? She's using this bloke as a meal ticket, and Kat's "she's mah faaaaaaam-ly" rant distinctively got up my tits. Kat had precious little to do with Stacey until she returned in 2010 and they smacked their way around the Square.
But never mind all that. We got two-thirds of an idea of what EastEnders will be like on Tuesday with the re-introduction of The Stacey Show.
Watch as Stacey is captured...
If any one line summed up Stacey's eternal victim mode it was the one word she uttered, in that faux poor-pitiful-little-girl voice when Mick asked her her name ...
Jenny.
The Terrehawk Show.
How many times are we going to be shown Shirley's name in brass on the sign above the Vic's door? This is being as subtle as a brick shithouse. Its Dom-Dom the Wonder Boy's moment of brag, as if to say,
Look at me, MA! Look what I did! I took a totally inconsequential character and made her the centrepiece of the Vic. Look at me, Ma ... over here! Look what I did ...I made it, Ma, top of the world!
I wonder what sort of blaze of glory awaits out EgoBoy as he trips merrily along, totally excising the past three years of the show? Not that the past three years were good. Anything but. They were bloody awful, but he's just as capable of churning out tripe as Bryan Kirkwood or Lorraine Newman, as last week showed, but since he's flavour of the month and The Messiah, he's being cut slack.
It's obvious now that the Carters - Mick, Linda and the kids are distinctly playing second fiddle to Queen Shirley, who sees fit to lecture Linda about wasting Mick's money, traipsing off to a West End show for the evening. There's too much worry about wicked, evil Sharon and the"new bar." There were two bars on the Square once before and therell be two bars again, but it's clear the set-up is in place for Shirley the matriarch, which is what Dom-Dom wants. A bitterly divisive character, an alcoholic who abandoned her children, with a totally retconned family, to make her the centrepiece of all creation.
So Shitley's passing out disapproving remarks about the Carters' financial situation. Why are they skint? They sank everything they had into the Vic. They got 10 grand from their dad for the rising damp, which seems to have been miraculously cured, and they're making money. Why are they skint? And surely Queen Shitley, now that she has a stake in the Vic, gets a share of the profits. Or does she want it all?
The pig-shit thick ignorance of the Carters was at the fore tonight in abundance - first the remark from the ludicrously named Aunt Babe about Linda's penchant for musicals ...
I hope you didn't take your Johnny to see some of those things. That would explain why he is the way he is.
Subtly homophobic, n'est-ce pas?
The classic of the night was young Abi the Dough-Faced Girl discovering that Linda was keen on breeding Lady Di for money. Abi found that disgusting and told her that people like Linda didn't deserve to have animals. Very true, especially since bulldogs can't mate naturally, have to give birth via Caesarian section and only have a lifespan of seven years. I wonder how old Lady Di is.
But line of the night does go to Linda as the last word for Shirley to ponder:-
At length some of us speak to our mothers.
Nudge-nudge-wink-wank ... another hint for the coming of the Prodigal.
Ava the teacher who never taught departs, and we're left with Johnny, the uni student, who never goes to class, has all the time in the world to work at the pub and is friends with the local mattress. Bullshit to DTC's remark about not re-hashing. Whitney and Johnny are this generation's Roxy and Christian.
All of this is played out against the backdrop of worry about big, bad Sharon's bar and the closure of the market, when Linda gets the brilliant idea, again, of manning the barricades and forming a protest (which will certainly be some sort of embarrassingly laughable scene), which is as contrived as the entire market closure debacle.
How long before Mick and Alfie lead a rousing chorus of Do You Hear the People Sing?
Cattle Guard.
Who in the hell does she think she is, questioning Ian's parenting? After all, Jane can kiss and cuddle the amazingly shallow Lucy all she wants, the fact remains that she walked away from all of those children, including her son, for herself, without ever looking back. She's never spent any significant holiday with Bobby - indeed, this is the first time she's actually visited him in Walford; spare me the off-screen visits he made to Wales - neither Ian nor the twins would have thought to accompany him. She's never spent a birthday with him. She spent Christmas with Tanya instead of her son, and the last visit she made, when summoned by Peter because he was afraid of his father's mental health, she succinctly told all three kids that she was no longer a part of their family dynamic.
I don't understand this. Jane wouldn't come to Walford for her son's birthday or for Christmas, but she'll come for a poxy spelling bee? As for Ian making all of this all about wanting to promote his business interests and Jane being affronted, she wasn't above being greedy enough to cheat Sharon out of the Vic. (But wait ... that happened before 2006, so that doesn't count).
Denise was right - being in Cardiff, Jane was well away from all of this, and now, she thinks Bobby needs to be with her in Cardiff? Bullshit. Bobby needed to be with her when she left him two years ago. Not now. He'll be consigned to nannies and child minders whilst Jane forges her new-found cooking career.
What a hypocritical cow.
And after all those years, telling all and sundry about how fond he was of Jane, whilst he didn't love her. Denise lied. Yes. But Jane's told a fair few lies to Ian, herself, in her time.
There have been so many returns lately, the last one we need is Bovine Beale.
Masood Machine.
Since when did Shabnam get a pharmacy degree?
Here's the original Shabnam, with not a degree to her name, a cute Cockney accent and a party girl to the fore:-
Now, it seems Shabnam's a qualified pharmacist, which could mean that she will someday be a dangerous lunatic running wild in the streets.
This was the episode when DTC's motives regarding what's what came to the fore. He doesn't give a rat's arse about the long-term viewers, who pick his flimsy storylines to pieces. He's dumbed down the show to Millennial levels. Dom-Dom and the Dum-Dums.
Time for the show to be ... avenged.
Great to see you back. Sorry to hear you were in hospital.
ReplyDeleteOnce again you analyse the show in such an incredible way.
Best wishes for a speedy recovery.
ReplyDeleteJust ignore the dirt bags - they'll get theirs.
Stacey -
ReplyDeleteStill attention seeking then. Whining about Kat bringing it on top for her (which was true) but then pays a visit to Albert Sq in broad daylight & walks the most DIRECT route through the sq, market, Vic .......
FatKat is as dim & stupid as ever berating Stacey for living just a stones throw away from the sq but then goes out of her way to virtually inform Stacey's lover that she ain't Jenny who's been around the block after all.
I'm still in shock at the bazaar
"You di-ant fink I was fat did ya ?"
conversation - how that must have been embarrassing for Jessie Wallace to say.
Judging by the look Stacey gave to Max - it smells of another stink up of the Max/Stacey crap. I'm just not buying that she would have been interested in the first place, let alone having moved on/away & grown up be still having feelings for the slim George Daws lookalike.
Hi Emilia. I'm enjoying your blog as always.
ReplyDeleteI have to ask though - is it fair to "out" Shamelessness by revealing his full name? Surely a disagreement on a message board should be kept there where it belongs?
I can't abide the fella, he's an obnoxious gobshite and is far too full of himself, but giving out his real name is a bit OTT in my opinion. Unless, of course, he did the same to you, in which casemit serves the dopey bugger right.
I hope you don't feel like I'm being holier than thou and I apologise if I sound sanctimonious.It god without saying that it's up to you what you put in your blog. I just think you're a bigger and better person than that twit.
He has, indeed, done the same to me, and recently.
DeleteIn that case, the bellwhiff deserves all he gets.
DeleteOh, forgot to say that I wish you all the best with your biopsy results. I hope you are given a clean bill of health and that you are dealing with the stress.
ReplyDelete