Yes, why are we waiting, and what, indeed, are we waiting for?
It seemed, in the dying days of Newman's tenure, we were waiting for the Messiah. But ...
Hmmmmm .... yes, indeed, he is a very naughty boy. Shame on Dominic Treadwell-Collins for trying to pull the wool over the viewers' eyes yet again. The more discerning viewers will remember DTC as being the egotistical, rather self-congratulatory manchild head storyliner who whet his whistle under the Santer regime, which consisted of three years of sensationalist storylines and the return of old characters as well as the total dissipation of any concept of this programme as an ensemble piece. Under that duo, we had The Stacey and Ronnie Show.
What's very naughty and more than a bit disrespectful of DTC is that he's trying to do all of this again, but you see, he's a clever little dickie bird. He knows his market, and he's pitching his wares to the bullyboi and cheerleader end of the viewing audience - the Millennial Little Kings and Princesses who've never had a thing denied them, who still live at home with mummy and daddy, you know, those personal banks who provide them with the latest electronic gadget to give them steet cred. These are the one-brain-celled fanbois who worship at the altar of their female avatar - usually Stacey or Ronnie or, in the case of the Queen of the Fanbois, Jack Carr AKA the notorious Jark the Jerk, Emma Atkins; these are the air-headed cheerleaders who worship at the altar of Danielle.
All DTC has to do, is plop the star of his show (Stacey) into the same old same old situations she had before, but with new names off whom she can bounce, and these people will think they're seeing storylines they've never seen before.
It's called "papering over the cracks," and it was the trademark of the Santer era.
But after only three months in proper charge, people are beginning to see the Emperor's New Clothes for what they are - nought. When a seasoned, sensible and intelligent Forum Member such as DS's Maurice Selwyn (Maurice45) sees the recent output of the past two weeks, the atrocious use of the entire programme night after night as one extended trailer for Treadwell-Collins's big star as the sham it is, then the BBC better sit up and take notice.
Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me ... which is why we, the licence fee payer, won't get fooled again. A word to the wise, Dominic ...
Rattle Rattle Rattle, Here Comes the Cattle -Well, the Cow.
She's b-a-a-a-a-a-ck!
Wait, that's a sheep, like the bullybois who despair of any divergence of opinion. No, its ...
That's right, Jane the Ignorant Slut, or rather Jane, the Self-Righteous, Judgemental Slut.
Let's hear it for Jane ...
You remember Jane, Ian's bovine wife?
Well, she couldn't show up to spend Christmas with her son or for his birthday in July, but she could come all the way from Cardiff to see him perform in a spelling bee.
I am certain the smirky little kid who plays Bobby and who recites his lines as if he's in a prissy Nativity play, is a midget, some fey descendent of one of the Munchkins being perpetually pursued by the Wicked Witch of the West. He's been a useful plot device recently for DTC's propensity to crack a nut with a sledgehammer. I'm sure EgoBoy's been giggling behind the scenes at his own humour and innovation for using a spelling bee to "spell" out the bad omens portent to the future of Ian Beale's relationship with Denise.
Last week, he was learning how to spell "disaster," and last night's word, recited over the breakfast table was "deceitful." Yes, Dominic, we get the message. The Ian-Denise dynamic is on the road to disaster because Denise is being deceitful with Ian, whilst Ian is being deceitful to his children and to his heritage.
There's a lesson to be learned in their somewhere, and Jane, who's become the Wise Woman of Wales, is just the person to impart it.
She turns up unannounced, and we learn that only Ian and Bobby knew of her arrival. It was "their little secret." (Where have we heard that line before?)
What a great boost to Denise's confidence to see the smirky, smiley, flip-haired Jane dancing about on her doorstep. Before the morning is over, Denise has already confessed to Jane about having kissed someone behind Ian's back. Jane cautions Denise to come clean and confess to Ian, if she still loves him, because if she doesn't, and he finds out (and he will - shit, Ian's no fool, he knows already), not only will he be hurt, but she will be hurt also. That's Jane's way of saying that Ian will make certain that Denise hurts. After all, the last time Ian found out about Jane's infidelity with Masood, he made a beeline for Glenda, where he dissed Jane as a woman as he slept with her.
Jane even offers to put in a shift as a chef at Scarlett's so Denise has a chance to speak to Ian alone about the situation. Even then, Denise only tells a half-truth, which is really more lie than truth. Yes, she kissed someone, but the someone was a nameless, faceless guest at the B and B (the same half-truth she told Jane); so Denise is still lying, and I'm not so sure Ian believes her as well. After all, he now knows she did lie.
Just what is the reason Ian surreptitiously called on Jane to return to visit Walford, especially after his whisper to Bobby to make sure he made Jane realise how much she's missed. Is he planning to cheat with Jane on Denise? Because nothing is more obvious than the fact that Ian doesn't love Denise, and Denise doesn't love Ian.
In fact, Ian made it abundantly clear last night that his first priority was saving the restaurant.
I hope Janine stuffs him.
Les Misérables.
Well, it sounds better than "The Miserable People," which is what that means.
As I watched the contrived community spirit of the Market Traders (consisting Peter Beale, a snake-eyed Kat, Whitney the Walford Mattress, Mick, Alfie and Max, who have nothing to do with the market, plus assorted faceless extras, including the ubiquitous disabled market trader in the interests of political correctness), I wasn't reminded at all of the obvious analogy made in the very first Carter scene where Mick presented Linda with a belated Valentine's Day present of two tickets to see Les Miz in the West End.
Of course the storyline was all about the proletariat manning the barricades against the ruling classes. For the ruling classes, read Aleks, the Council and a reluctant Tamwar, with the canny Aleks announcing a meeting for the market traders to discuss the proposed shutdown of the market; for the proles, read a clever Peter Beale, along with Whitney, who - albeit half-term - seems to have forgotten that she's a teaching assistant, as last week, she was seen in her jimjams of a school morning when the kids were dressed and ready to go.
The meeting proved a bolshie inspiration, with Mick and Alfie speaking eloquently about the Council's deception, but it's obvious that Alfie's double-edged sword of words was made to shame a lying Kat, waxing lyrical about how someone lies so much until they come to believe their lies as truths.
This storyline has two purposes - first, it's supposed to emphasise the fact that community spirit is back, and the Vic, complete with Queen Shirley's name emblazoned above the door, is the centre of this spirit. (Cue the other obvious push of one of DTC's personal icons onto the public conscience). Secondly, it's to also to prepare the exitable viewing public for the upgrade of the Square to come.
It was still pretty dire. The highlight was the the vignette was the announcement that Lady Di, the bulldog, was pregnant.
And it served as a backdrop to the most important storyline of the night.
Sooo-eee Sooo-eee, Pig, Pig, Pig!
Alfie was right in his suspicions of Kat. She'd been behaving exactly the way she had during her cheating days. He was right to suspect Max, because on two occasions, he saw her sneaking around with him.
Of course, it's all about the star of the show, who gets yet another duff-duff and a line:-
Where's Kat!
An irritated demand made in that annoying, screechy voice, emanating from that pouty, porcine face. What is it with EastEnders and nostrils? Ronnie's nostrils appear, Michael Jackson-like, from a noseless nose; and now we have Stacey's flared, demonic nostrils, not just in scenes where she's annoyed, but in normal scenes as well.
Spare us.
And thus, the populace perceives that the Emperor wears no clothes.
That didn't take long, did it?
Some of your "friends" on Digital Spy seem to have wised up to the fact that DTC is massively overrated. The whole Lauren going upstairs in the Vic (for the first time ever!) and running into Stacey (who just happened to be have been invited there by a stranger) scene went down like a lead balloon - contrived nonsense that Lorraine Newman would have been hounded out of town for. Then the whole illogical nature of Stacey's comeback has been spotted. I think the DTC regime is starting to flounder.
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