Millennial EastEnders - Review 18.02.2014

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...

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.

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.

The Cow and the Sow Return - Review:- 17.02.3014

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?

Funny Valentines - Review:- 14.02.2014

A lot of the fanbois and cheerleaders - really, Millennials - hate the fact that I nitpick the Messiah's professional shortcomings as an Executive Producer. I'm entitled to do so. Unlike most of the snipe-filled, foul-mouthed Millennials, I pay a licence fee. That stealth tax which I am obliged to pay, funds DTC's over-inflated salary, pays for his First Class air travel to storylining conferences and is about to pay part of the £15 million make-over of Albert Square.

I will call tripe when I see it, irregardless of who the Executive Producer might be at the time. I just find it hilarious, that the bill of goods we've been offered this week, had Newman been at the helm, would have been pilloried, yet it receives the highest praise imaginable because EgoBoy's name is on the masthead.

One of the biggest problems I have with this overgrown manchild is his tendancy to over-egg a situation. It's never enough for someone to cut his finger - he's got to bleed to death. This was blatantly in evidence in Friday's episode, but was really on offer the whole week.

The entire week has been a paean of mediocrity, planned so in order to make the long-awaited return of Stacey Slater the featured phenomenon. Instead of one entry episode, she got a fanfare lasting four episodes ...

The entire week has been a recipe in over-egging. And the first thing over-egged in Friday's episode was the fact that it was Valentine's Day. The first four scenes of the episode were dedicated to reminding people that this was Valentine's Day, and on Valentine's Day, you give cards and presents to the one you love and they reciprocate.

This is dumbed-down EastEnders. But then we know DTC aims at people who are easy enough to please, as long as things go their way. Once they don't ...

Millennial EastEnders. Made for the mindless and those incapable of critical thinking.

Creepy Kat.

EastEnders has an inadvertant penchant for establishing creepy situations that they don't mean to be creepy, but which, when aired, have a habit of turning viewers' collective stomachs. 

This dates back to 1995, when a nubile, teenaged Bianca, on holiday in Spain, asked he very young, early thirtyish father, David Wicks, to rub sunscreen on her back, and then proceed to pout prettily because she couldn't be seen out and about with him. Then Sharon suffered the same, in 2003-04. Not only did she end up sleeping with and marrying her brother ...

... she also had an incredibly sexually-charged scene with Den, where he removed glass from her foot and later told Dennis that Sharon was only with he adopted brother because she couldn't be with her old man. (And, sorry, Shannisites, but that clip alone proves that Dennis was never "the love of Sharon's life". Tom was. And before that, it was Grant. In truth, whomever Sharon was with for any length of time became the love of her life, so maybe there's truth in Phil being that man).

Then, of course, we had Phil sleeping with his aunt by marriage and those kissing cousins, Joey and Lauren.

In this episode, it was Kat's turn to creep us out.

Of course, the entire ethos of Kat has now become a plot device for the return of the star of the show.

In a week's time, Kat has become obsessed with Stacey, to the point that she's distracted about her work and livelihood, and indifferent to her husband, who's supposed to be - yes, wait for it - the love of her life. It's Valentine's Day, and not only has she not been bothered to get Alfie anything for Valentine's Day, she's not interested at all in what he's got her, nor does she want to meet up with him later to celebrate. Instead, she's off in a welter of lies about meeting a supplier, and the mysterious keys, which Alfie finds are explained away in another tissue of lies about them being spare keys to the Butcher house in the event that Kat has to help out with the kids because of Carol's illness. So yet another person is using Carol's illness to further their own agenda.

But Alfie has been there and done that before, and he knows Kat has form. It's only natural, as well, that he should suspect Max, the way she's been sneaking about, whispering with him of late.

But Kat's off to her new life as cleaner to Jenny SMIF, whom we all know to be the star of the show. And here's where the creep factor comes in.

Kat's alone in the flat, and instead of cleaning, she walks about, gazing at the numerous pictures of Stacey on the walls and shelves, and all the time, her face bears this post-coital orgasmic smile, the sort of which she used to wake up next to Alfie with. It was the sort of smile a person would give to the picture of a lover, It was as if Kat were in love with Stacey and the entire week before had been dedicated to finding and renewing that love.

Or maybe this was DTC projecting. Or maybe this was his subtle passive-aggressive hint that we were only always ever to feel this way about the return of "our girl."

An unexpected appearance by the real cleaner - yet again, an Eastern European (does DTC in his leafy Islington existence realise that Eastern Europeans do do things other than work as builders, cleaners and bum-wipers? I think not. Yet another offensive racial and cultural stereotype.) - is brushed away, and then the boyfriend returns - yep, to fix a special Valentine's Day lunch for Jenny Smif.

Now we get some background to Stacey's new life, and this is, again, entering into the realms of total unreality, pandering to the dumbest end of viewers who aren't capable of thinking that this whole backstory of Stacey's life outside Walford.

• Apparently, they met in Mexico, where he was on holiday and she was working. Well, we know that Stacey left Walford on her own passport, a British one, which begs the first question of how, exactly, she could get work in Mexico. She doesn't speak the language, and if she worked at the upper end of the holiday resorts, the sort some investment banker would frequent, then those sorts of establishments could only hire foreigners whose countries are part of the NAFTA agreement - and that ain't Britain.
• She travelled back to Britain with the boyfriend, again, presumably on her original passport. If you live with someone and you have no secrets, there does come a time when your partner sorta kinda hafta look at your partner's passport, whereupon the boyfriend would see that he wasn't living with Jenny Smif, but Stacey Slater or Branning or whatever.
• Stacey had got a job at a posh salon as a colourist. Qualifications, please? Also, National Insurance Number, identification via that or birth certificate and bank account details. Shit, you'd need to prove who you are even if you're on a joint bank account, which means all of this doesn't add up.

Either the boyfriend is stupid, the salon is stupid, or DTC thinks the public is stupid, because this isn't fantasy fiction, this is stuff that's supposed to be based on fact. At least when Sam Mitchell returned the last time, she did so on a falsified passport.

This is shot so full of sensationalist holes, it's borderline bullshit, as much as the boyfriend's Beckamesque body art tattooes the length of both of his arms. Investment banks might allow oikers amongst their ranks, but they wouldn't be allowed to show body art like that.

And, of course, we got the ubiquitous scene of Kat fleeing the scene after being rumbled, only to pass the star, herself, returning home. Cue camera to hone in on the porcine features of Lacey Turner.

Turner, it has to be said, has not aged well in the four months she's been gone. She's twenty-six, but looks gone thirty now, especially with the bags under her eyes and her sagging features. The flared-nosed porcine nostrils are the same.

(Don't ever call Sharon "Miss Piggy" whilst Stacey's on screen. She's the original Petunia Pig.)

Oh yes, all this happened after Kat lied to Max about the voice on the phone not being Stacey. Seems she's full of lies, is Kat.

London Derriére.

Well, this was the end of Danny Pennant, such as it was. Not only was this one of the worst vignettes in recent times, more than highlighting the departure of a character played by a well-known television actor, who was wasted because TPTB had no time to develop his character, it also highlighted the weakness of Hetti Bywater as an actress.

Bywater was a catalogue model with no drama training or experience, when she was hired (for her looks) to play NuLucy. As a background figure with little dialogue, she was fine, but Lucy is not destined to stand around in the background as an important legacy character. When she had to step up and front a major storyline, she couldn't handle it. She mumbled her lines, always with a penchant for looking at the floor when delivering her lines and the awful habit of employing the opened-mouth pout. She looked like a mouth-breather.

It's a sad reality that, after two years, her acting hasn't improved one whit. She's been atrocious in the last two episodes to the point that it was embarrassing to watch her. At any other time in the show, a performer this bad would simply not be allowed to remain in such a major  part, yet it's Gary Lucy, an experienced actor, who leaves, and Bywater, who remains.

And here's another unrealistic departure, with Danny Pennant leaving with only the clothes on his back and a fistful of money to go where? Who knows? And without Lucy calling the police to report a crime of embezzlement.

The Secret Valentine.

Shabnam continues to stink up the place with an even worse imitation of Zainab as a bigot. Once again, ever continuing the unrealistic thread, we have Fatboy, fresh from his furtive kiss with Denise and hot on the dumping by Poopy, offering up secret valentines to a woman who treats him like a piece of shit. Why? To show that he cares.

Instead of being flattered or touched by his concern, Shabnam takes the bigot road and tells hi she could never consider liking him because he isn't a Muslim. Fair dos to DTC for showing that racism and bigotry isn't exclusive to the domain of white privilege, but not at the expense of the recasting of a character who isn't remotely like the original character we met in 2007.

Another epic fail.

Lying Valentine.

Did I just hear that right? Did Denise just tell a bold-faced lie to Ian about her furtive kiss with Fatboy? And did she also just brand the daughter of her best friend as a liar?

And haven't we been there, done that, read the book, seen the movie and bought the teeshirt with Ian numerous times before, most lately with Jane ca 2007?

And don't you think that Ian, after so many lies being told by so many wives, is clued into the fact that Denise is telling a porker. More than anything, her constant touching of his arm, and her subsequent vocal assertions of love would indicate to Ian that Shabnam wasn't mistaken in what she heard and which bore no resemblance to anything Denise said as an explanation.

She doesn't love Ian. He doesn't love her. Yet he now knows that she doesn't love him and, to an extent, that she's been unfaithful. They deserve each other, because Denise is now with Ian for the same reason Jane was with him - out of guilt, concern for his youngest child and for financial security.

The Valentine Extra.

I applaud the show when it does that added extra scene to show contemporay events - such as the World Cup edition 1998 or the Wimbledon and Royal Wedding scenes as they occurred, or even when Brookside added the scene about Princess Diana's death in 1997.

It was ambitious and au courant to add a scene acknowledging the atrocious weather and the two months of flooding we've endured, especially in the Thames Valley ... but it was a stupid move.

Why?

Because of this ...

Minutes before that scene, we saw Lucy Beale throw Danny Pennant's money out into a street that was bone dry. There was no rain to be had. When Mick Carter made his remark about building an ark and looked out a rain-pelted window, remarking further that the weather didn't look like letting up, not five minutes later, he sent his wife out to put a sign up advertising Valentines' specials at lunch. That sign would never have survived the sort of rain and gales he described, and besides, Linda trotted off without a brolly.

Bad continuity. Bad episode. Bad week.

Chain of Fools - Review:- 13.02.2014

Like the lady said, "Every chain has got a weak link ..." and last night's episode was just that.

But really, I'm not certain if the chain of fools pertains to the assorted idiots we saw running around like headless chickens in last night's dire mishmash of mess or the people at whom the Messiah has aimed this tripe for entertainment.

Yes, he is, indeed, a very naughty boy, is our Dom, to think he can foist a week's worth of shit on the viewer the way he has only for the purpose of dishing out soupcons of a one trick pony actress whom he's promoting as the star of what is supposed to be an ensemble piece. He truly thinks - and he's not wrong - that there are some people who would willingly sit, with their tongues lolling and watch paint dry on EastEnders if there were a glimpse or a mention of Saint Fucking Stacey Slater at the end of it; and judging by the rave reviews some of the fanbois and cheerleaders on various fora have given this episode, people are willing to say shit smells like Chanel Number 5 if Dominic Treadwell-Collins's name is on the mast instead of Lorraine Newman's.

Because last night's episode, replete with shoddy writing, high schoolish performances, inordinate character changes and awkward scenes in total was a Newman masterpiece, which would have been slated to the rafters had it happened in her watch.

But because EgoBoy produced it, it was a work of art.

Hope floats. Like shit.

Contrived Community Spirit.

We've got Bar Wars ahead of us, but for the moment, we have to contend with the Battle of Bridge Street Market, with Ian Beale playing the role of Judas Iscariot.

I mean, in an operatic setting, couldn't you hear Ian Beale rubbing his hands together and singing this ...

Thanks to Shabnam's game of Chinese Whispers, even though canny Aleks is denying the market closure right and left, the traders have organised a lunchtime meeting in the Vic. As a tip to the past and the long-term viewer, DTC laboured the point excessively about the Beales and the Fowlers being part and parcel of Bridge Street Market since the year Dot (Branning).

I wish I had a pound coin for everytime last night the point was driven home about the Beales and their history. 

Peter Beale: My family have worked this market for generations.

Denise: I fink Ian should say somefink. After all, the name Beale IS the market.

Patrick: Where is Ian? He should be here. The market meant something to his folks.

Yes, we get the idea. DTC is offering a crumb from his EastEnders 2.0 table to the older viewers who've found just criticism of his retcons, his sensationalist plots and his papering over of the cracks of a failing show. Pssst, mention the Beales and the older viewers will SHUT THE FUCK UP (to quote the biggest bullyboi millennial of them all), and at the same time, we'll give the viewers who are really really really important, a brief lesson in history.

Consider this: the previous two Executive Producers had driven the market into the ground. This is DTC's quasi-political statement about maintaining his version of the grittiness of EastEnders.

The scene inside the Vic was contrived and awkward to the point of embarrassment. There was a feeling that this was a forced scene, reminding me of that awful "We love you, Kat Moon" scene in the Vic from that awful summer of 2012 and the commencement of the Shaggerman Mystery.

Assorted faceless extras we'll not see again, characters who were there with other things on their minds (Patrick, Lucy and Danny, Johnny and Nancy - and, of course, Kat and Max, who skulked around in the background). We were treated to butt-clinchingly annoying peformances by Shane Richie and Danny Dyer, each trying to outdo the other in channeling Alfie Moon ca 2002.

Richie: This isn't the Council's market, this is OUR market.

Dyer: Me and my family's only been'ere for five minutes, but we're all in. If the market goes, we all go.

Of course, the market situation was the backdrop for a lot of other vignettes going on in the foreground, including Ian's deception and abandonment of the market. He's all in, himself, with the Council and with Aleks, and he's perfectly willing to allow the market to go to hell in a handcart in exchange for a huge amount of money that would enable him to buy Janine's majority share of the restaurant.

Like I said, Judas Iscariot ... who eventually meets Denise's reluctant Mary Magdalene.

I Don't Know How to Love Him (Because I Don't).

No, Denise doesn't know how to love Ian, because she doesn't, and she's going about it, inadvertantly ensuring that he will, sooner rather than later, find out.

She's told Patrick about kissing Fatboy, which was overheard by Shabnam, who, in one of the weirdest scenes ever made for a character who's suffered the worst type of  character transplant in the show's history. (See below).

So now Ian knows that Denise has "cheated" by kissing someone he knows but doesn't know, and now Denise knows that Ian has "cheated" his heritage by making a pact with the Devil that is the Council,

I'd say they deserved each other.

Mirror Mirror on the Wall, I Am My Mother After All.

There are many people who remember the first Shabnam, who was a very Westernised, educated girl who was nothing like her mother and who was socially adept.

I know many argued when she returned all hijab'd up and spouting racist statements, that Shabnam had "grown and matured" in her newfound faith, that this is often what faith does for people. I won't deny that, but I also won't deny that fundamentalist faith can turn the most tolerant of souls into an ignorant bigot.

I can only assume that Nina Wadia, who played Zainab as a self-righteous bigot, but who was also capable of great warmth and humour - that's called nuance - was asked to return and, for some reason, could not. I know that Nitin Ganatra asked for a Shabnam Redux. but it seems TPTB thought to give us two (or three, if you count Bushra's return) for the price of one, with Shabnam returning as Zainab Lite.

The internet dating storyline was a contrived piece to link her to Fatboy, who seems to fall in love at the drop of a hat, or a hijab, as the case may be. One day he'd finished off sleeping with Denise, the next he was cosying up to Poopy-La-Dim. Then he kisses Denise again, bins off Poopy and now he's showing a concerned interest in Shabnam, someone who's only ever treated him with disdain and contempt. (Oh, and I seem to recall that when Shabnam left in 2008, she was roughly the same age as Dawn then, who was 25 - that would make Shabnam a rising thirtysomething this year.)

If you thought the restaurant scene was bad - the one where she scared the piss out of that young Muneer by channelling her mother's hyper self-promotion, then just imagine how weird the subsequent cafe scene was, when Ian happened upon her. There she sat, staring off into nothingness, mumbling incoherently about being humiliated by a guy who couldn't beat a retreat quick enough, and in the midst of this rambling (sounding for all like the senseless rants of a dementia patient), she begins to blame Denise for what happened in the restaurant, blurting out to no one in particular about Denise's furtive kiss.

I know characters have been re-cast on EastEnders. Todd Carty replaced the late David Scarborough as Mark Fowler and made the role his own. As much as it pains me to say it, so did Jacqueline Jossa in replacing Madeleine Duggan as Lauren. Kim Medcalf put an entirely different slant on Sam Mitchell, but that is nothing to the total about-face arrogance and ignorance that is this version of Shabnam. I didn't even know the character had a degree, much less a science degree.

Not only were her scenes weird and artificial (and badly written), the actress stank more than a little bit too.

As did ...

The Last Remaining Mouth-Breather in Walford.

Lucy Beale.

Hetti Bywater is arguably one of the weakest actresses in the show. I know Jossa's cornered the market in over-acting, gurning, waving arms about and using funny voices to drive home a point, but Bywater is a masterclass in expressionless emotion, garbled, flatlined delivery and mouth-breathing.

Ironically, this was the most interesting storyline of the night, in that it featured the Carter siblings, Nancy and Johnny, a sibling friendship with a twist. The tomboy sister is a running buddy of her gauche, immature younger brother, who's just come out as gay.

Johnny may be naive, but he's canny enough to know a creep and a sexual predator when he sees one, and he sees one in Danny. He informs his sister that Danny is The Walford Wonder, right when Danny's in the midst of snogging Lucy Beale. So the pair duly inform her of Danny's proclivities, via Johnny's Smartphone, which prompts one of the most unintentional comic moments in the show - Lucy Beale, sat between the Carter siblings on a bench, like one of DelBoy's under-inflated plastic dolls, eyes askance, mouth gaping open.

Obviously, this scene was supposed to be poignant and shocking as we watched the horrific knowledge swathe over Lucy. But she just looked like a stick insect waiting to catch a fly.

Still, the Carter kids are always good to watch.

The Searchers.

Max and Kat continue their secrets and lies fest regarding the hunt for Stacey Slater. Both are obsessed. I can understand Max's obsession; he made it patently obvious at Christmas 2010 when he was prepared to walk away from his family to be with Stacey.

He's certainly exhibiting all the signs that are familiar, certainly, to Abi that he's about to poke his pecker someplace it doesn't belong. Abi sees all the cloak and dagger brouhaha with Kat, the furtive whispers in the market, the new suit etc, and she makes a logical assumption ... that Max is sneaking around sleeping with Kat.

To Abi the Normally Dough-Faced Girl goes the line of the night when she levels her accusation at Kat:-

Well, he wouldn't be the first Branning you've cheated on Alfie with.

Of course, Kat is offended, but when you lie down with dogs, you often get up with fleas; and later when Kat catches Max reeking of aftershave, she accuses him of wanting to find Stacey for all the wrong reasons, which is a just accusation. And this begs the question, why the hell did Kat approach Max in the first place? She knew that they had a romantic history, and she surely couldn't have been stupid enough to imagine for once that Max thought of Stacey as "family" even if he did say so.

Still, her disgusted reaction is enough to give Max an Epiphany moment, when he realises that his living children are far more important to him than a cold-blooded murderer with entitlement issues and the morals of an alleycat.

Abi's not the only one with suspicions. Alfie clocked Kat leaving the pub at the same time as Max did as well. At least, we have an idea of what happened with Alfie down under. Something has cleared customs that's going to provide him with a nice little earner (he says), but it will also turn out to be very dangerous.

Speaking of which, Kat has tracked Madam to a posh North London flat, complete with new boyfriend and a daughter who looks like a five year-old playing a three year-old. I'll bet Lily won't be carried about on Stacey's hip. In fact, I'll bet Stacey will all but ignore her in the pursuit of someone else's husband.

Boyfriend opens the door to a stranger, and without asking for any identifying documentation, assumes she's the agency cleaner sent to help poor pitiful Stacey cope with cleaning a pokey flat. Seems that Stacey, or "Jenny" as she's known, is off "visiting a friend" for a few days - who? Ruby? Maybe Jean - now there's one who wouldn't be able to keep a secret and who's living with the Old Bill.

Anyway, she's got a foot in the door, and that sound you hear, isn't the gale force winds. It's the collective orgasmic moan of a million bully fanbois as they stroke themselves to climax at the thought of an impending Stacey appearance.

Shite episode.