You know, lately, it's been open season on Alfie in some quarters. (The Alfie-hatred is especially strong at Walford Web kindergarten, but there is also a contingent of Alfie-haters on Digital Spy).
The hatred is different, however, although the basis of is is found in the idea that for some reason, the fanboi bullybois, the Katshippers and one old trout
... that these people seem to relish the misbegotten idea that any woman who shouts the odds, gobs off and puts her fanny out to all and sundry males is a strong woman or a strong person, in general.
Believe me, self-perpetuating victims are never strong, and I would venture to say that Alfie Moon might be one of the stronger characters in the continuting drama - ne'mind, he never raises his voice and has a reputation for being kind. He also has principles, something which precious few of the Walford contingent have these days.
Besides, let's be honest, Walford's finest male specimens were on display tonight - Mr Peter Pan Co-Dependency, his brother the bully, the little Cock, the resident 'Ard Man, the geeky teenager, the fortysomething adolescent and the middle-aged douchebag. Oh, yes ... there was also a brief appearance by the Mouth-Breather
as well as the cadaverous Prince of Darkness.
All admirable and estimable men. Not.
The Puketard Family: The Bimbo, Her Changeling and the Joker.
I really find Tiffany Butcher hard watching. I can't abide five minutes of her totally un-cute cheek before I want to reach through the screen and smack her little freckled face silly. I'm beginning to feel the same way about cheeky, chirpy, professional urchin DamienDen, child of incest, whose maternal and paternal grandfather are the same person.
The bovine bimbo TPTB ask us to believe is Sharon must be damned expensive for Jack the Peg (with the extra leg - nudge nudge wink wink) to keep, judging by the expensive haul in grub DamienDen pulled from the refrigerator - Canadian bacon, imported French cheese.
Jack's looking a bit worried and can't believe the snorking Miss Piggy replica asleep on his sofabed would even want that much for breakfast. (Are you kidding? Have you looked at Sharon? She could pack enough of that grub away to satiate a linebacker ...
... and still be cooing for dessert.
Watching Jack play happy families with someone else's son when he won't even look at his two-year old boy in Portugal, when we haven't seen him speak to Amy since God was a boy, and since he's totally forgotten his oldest child, Penny, the one whom Jack disabled, is pretty pukeworthy, as is the way Sharon acts when she's in Branning mode - moued lips, faux sexy voice and fluttering eyelashes.
Sharon and Jack ... Shack ... the couple with no chemistry, easily the most uncharismatic couple in the history of EastEnders. To think that Sharon was brought back in order to validate the Brannings, a family who have done more to rip up the ethos of EastEnders than any other character.
Worse than her behaviour with Jack, is the way she mollycoddles and talks to DamienDen as though he were a deficient three year-old instead of a budding effeminate six year-old. I'm waiting for Uncle Phil to offer him Ben's old tap-dancing shoes.
Jack is jealous of Phil monopolising Sharon's time, but when Jack's sweet niece, My Aa-aasss, calls, that's a different kettle of fish ... as in herring.
Here's an appropriately titled song for this reincarnation of Sharon:-
The Man of Constant Sorrow: Max the Prick.
For six long years, I've been in trouble
No pleasure here on earth I've found.
For in the world I'm bound to ramble
I have no friends to help me now.
Sounds like Max, alright. Max is loving the one he's with, but wanting to be with the one he knows best - you know, the one who'll tolerate his cheating because she's just as amoral as he is, except she's adept at playing the victim.
Max is homesick, and misses his family. I guess that makes Kirstie chopped liver, and any real woman (that is, any female who doesn't live in the alternative universe of Albert Square) would have stuffed that wedding band down his ginger throat, for implying that Kirsty is anything but family. He's married the woman, and he's pining for Tannie-poos. Why? Because Kirsty is an unknown quantity when it comes to putting up with Max's extra-marital shenanigans. Even though Max fell in love with and has feelings for Kirsty, he's yearning for the safe and the familiar, the comfortable aura that Tanya offers.
So Kirsty goes in search of members of Max family with whom she can bond.
Step forward, My Aa-asss. My Aa-aasss is depressed and despondent. Why? It's Derek's birthday and no one remembers. For fuck's sake, it's almost March and we're still wittering on about a character who popped in, stayed a year and popped his clogs at Christmas. Not just a character, but arguably the most unpopular character ever foisted upon the unsuspecting audience. Pat didn't get this much post-mortem mourning.
My Aa-asss spends most of the episode wandering forlornly around the Square clutching a jar of pickled herring, which she bought with dodgy money given her by Michael Moon, and mourning the father whose birthday she never celebrated. It's small comfort to her, however, when brother Jah-WAAAHH professes to love pickked herring, which look to be quite foul.
I never thought I'd ever see the day that most of the main action in EastEnders would centre around a jar of pickled herring. Ne'mind, Kirsty's solution to the problem for Aa-aasss is - wait a moment! - to organise another fairmly get-together in order to celebrate Derek's birthday. That's only about the sixteenth family get-together at the Brannings or with the Brannings we've had since Christmas. Just remember, I remind you wearily, that Tanya's back, and she's sure to put in an appearance at this do. (Yawn).
Mr Potato-Head and Jack the Peg (with the Extra Leg) Lock Horns.
This version of Sharon is an insult to the character, but tonight at least she acknowledged the fact that both Jack and Phil were more than treating her like chattel - however, that didn't stop her either taking Jack's advice in asking Phil for a rise and then angling up an interview at Canary Wharf or ripping Phil's arm off for a free share in the club. So that now means that the R and R's management consists of Sharon, Phil and our returning heroine, the Queen of the Night.
Picture that ... the Queen of the Night working with Miss Piggy.
The phrase "roasted on a spit" comes to mind.
One of the lines of the night - Sharon to Jack:-
Phil's a part of my life. Deal with it.
Ooh-er, not the thing to say to someone like Mr Control, Jack the Peg, remember? So what does Jack do? Well, he confronts Phil, who winds him up with the truth. And gets knocked in the pit for his efforts. Phil lying motionless in the Arches' pit stirred memories for me, memories of a time when EastEnders was a classic show and not one to be missed. For those of you too young or too lazy to remember, cop this classic scene when Phil ends up in the pit.
Masood the Douche.
Ajay and Lauren should open a counseling service. His advice to Masood was basically the same sort of empowerment advice Lauren gave Kat and which Kat blatantly misunderstood. Masood didn't, however; all he needed was Ajay's approbation to succumb to Ayesha's stalking. She's brazen in her pursuit, and it's no wonder Tamwar's giving him the silent treatment.
There was a classic mini-scene between Carol and Denise (two of the show's strongest actresses) where Carol's gossiping with Denise about Ayesha, doing a cracking imitation of her accent. Thank goodness for small miracles - it's just unfortunate that this is all TPTB can think to do for these actresses, including a gloating ageist-implied chance encounter between Ayesha-Bitch and Carol.
Ayesha: Do youse remember me? I'm Ayesha.
Carol: I'm not demented yet.
I guess Masood is marginally no better than Max or any of the other men who move onto newer, fresher and younger pastures as soon as the older model knocks off. I decided tonight that I actually detest Ayesha, and I detested Masood's OTT kiss just to spite Denise and her opinon.
Michael Moon the Loser.
The best thing about tonight's episode was Kat, feeling entitled enough to ask Michael to take Tommy to nursery. Michael's one-word answer: No.
Actually, I'm glad he said that, and people shouldn't wonder at his detachment from his son. He doesn't give a shit about anyone but himself, and if Kat had left with the Walking Dead back in 2010, the novelty would soon have worn off. He's only with Scarlett because he was literally left holding her, and he'll use her as a means of trying to get what he wants from Janine.
He's skint again, so skint that he can't even pay Aa-aasss for the babysitting she does. So skint, that he's forced to use My Aa-aasss's daddy's counterfeit money with which to pay her, which gets her in all kinds of trouble. It also alerts Jack and Max to Michael's shenanigans, and Michael is left up shit creek when Phil wants nothing to do with him.
He and Kat deserve each other. I don't like him. I don't find him at all intriguing or mysterious, just creepy and bizarre, and his death-grin makes me want to puke.
I want Janine back in top form to take Scarlett, bitchslap Kat and kick the cadaver to the kerb and out of Walford. The longer Moon stays, the more he risks becoming a cartoon, like The Mask.
Michael's Theme (or it should be):-
Yet another episode of nothingness, until the end.
The hatred is different, however, although the basis of is is found in the idea that for some reason, the fanboi bullybois, the Katshippers and one old trout
Believe me, self-perpetuating victims are never strong, and I would venture to say that Alfie Moon might be one of the stronger characters in the continuting drama - ne'mind, he never raises his voice and has a reputation for being kind. He also has principles, something which precious few of the Walford contingent have these days.
Besides, let's be honest, Walford's finest male specimens were on display tonight - Mr Peter Pan Co-Dependency, his brother the bully, the little Cock, the resident 'Ard Man, the geeky teenager, the fortysomething adolescent and the middle-aged douchebag. Oh, yes ... there was also a brief appearance by the Mouth-Breather
All admirable and estimable men. Not.
The Puketard Family: The Bimbo, Her Changeling and the Joker.
I really find Tiffany Butcher hard watching. I can't abide five minutes of her totally un-cute cheek before I want to reach through the screen and smack her little freckled face silly. I'm beginning to feel the same way about cheeky, chirpy, professional urchin DamienDen, child of incest, whose maternal and paternal grandfather are the same person.
The bovine bimbo TPTB ask us to believe is Sharon must be damned expensive for Jack the Peg (with the extra leg - nudge nudge wink wink) to keep, judging by the expensive haul in grub DamienDen pulled from the refrigerator - Canadian bacon, imported French cheese.
Jack's looking a bit worried and can't believe the snorking Miss Piggy replica asleep on his sofabed would even want that much for breakfast. (Are you kidding? Have you looked at Sharon? She could pack enough of that grub away to satiate a linebacker ...
Watching Jack play happy families with someone else's son when he won't even look at his two-year old boy in Portugal, when we haven't seen him speak to Amy since God was a boy, and since he's totally forgotten his oldest child, Penny, the one whom Jack disabled, is pretty pukeworthy, as is the way Sharon acts when she's in Branning mode - moued lips, faux sexy voice and fluttering eyelashes.
Sharon and Jack ... Shack ... the couple with no chemistry, easily the most uncharismatic couple in the history of EastEnders. To think that Sharon was brought back in order to validate the Brannings, a family who have done more to rip up the ethos of EastEnders than any other character.
Worse than her behaviour with Jack, is the way she mollycoddles and talks to DamienDen as though he were a deficient three year-old instead of a budding effeminate six year-old. I'm waiting for Uncle Phil to offer him Ben's old tap-dancing shoes.
Jack is jealous of Phil monopolising Sharon's time, but when Jack's sweet niece, My Aa-aasss, calls, that's a different kettle of fish ... as in herring.
Here's an appropriately titled song for this reincarnation of Sharon:-
The Man of Constant Sorrow: Max the Prick.
For six long years, I've been in trouble
No pleasure here on earth I've found.
For in the world I'm bound to ramble
I have no friends to help me now.
Sounds like Max, alright. Max is loving the one he's with, but wanting to be with the one he knows best - you know, the one who'll tolerate his cheating because she's just as amoral as he is, except she's adept at playing the victim.
Max is homesick, and misses his family. I guess that makes Kirstie chopped liver, and any real woman (that is, any female who doesn't live in the alternative universe of Albert Square) would have stuffed that wedding band down his ginger throat, for implying that Kirsty is anything but family. He's married the woman, and he's pining for Tannie-poos. Why? Because Kirsty is an unknown quantity when it comes to putting up with Max's extra-marital shenanigans. Even though Max fell in love with and has feelings for Kirsty, he's yearning for the safe and the familiar, the comfortable aura that Tanya offers.
So Kirsty goes in search of members of Max family with whom she can bond.
Step forward, My Aa-asss. My Aa-aasss is depressed and despondent. Why? It's Derek's birthday and no one remembers. For fuck's sake, it's almost March and we're still wittering on about a character who popped in, stayed a year and popped his clogs at Christmas. Not just a character, but arguably the most unpopular character ever foisted upon the unsuspecting audience. Pat didn't get this much post-mortem mourning.
My Aa-asss spends most of the episode wandering forlornly around the Square clutching a jar of pickled herring, which she bought with dodgy money given her by Michael Moon, and mourning the father whose birthday she never celebrated. It's small comfort to her, however, when brother Jah-WAAAHH professes to love pickked herring, which look to be quite foul.
I never thought I'd ever see the day that most of the main action in EastEnders would centre around a jar of pickled herring. Ne'mind, Kirsty's solution to the problem for Aa-aasss is - wait a moment! - to organise another fairmly get-together in order to celebrate Derek's birthday. That's only about the sixteenth family get-together at the Brannings or with the Brannings we've had since Christmas. Just remember, I remind you wearily, that Tanya's back, and she's sure to put in an appearance at this do. (Yawn).
Mr Potato-Head and Jack the Peg (with the Extra Leg) Lock Horns.
This version of Sharon is an insult to the character, but tonight at least she acknowledged the fact that both Jack and Phil were more than treating her like chattel - however, that didn't stop her either taking Jack's advice in asking Phil for a rise and then angling up an interview at Canary Wharf or ripping Phil's arm off for a free share in the club. So that now means that the R and R's management consists of Sharon, Phil and our returning heroine, the Queen of the Night.
Picture that ... the Queen of the Night working with Miss Piggy.
The phrase "roasted on a spit" comes to mind.
One of the lines of the night - Sharon to Jack:-
Phil's a part of my life. Deal with it.
Ooh-er, not the thing to say to someone like Mr Control, Jack the Peg, remember? So what does Jack do? Well, he confronts Phil, who winds him up with the truth. And gets knocked in the pit for his efforts. Phil lying motionless in the Arches' pit stirred memories for me, memories of a time when EastEnders was a classic show and not one to be missed. For those of you too young or too lazy to remember, cop this classic scene when Phil ends up in the pit.
Masood the Douche.
Ajay and Lauren should open a counseling service. His advice to Masood was basically the same sort of empowerment advice Lauren gave Kat and which Kat blatantly misunderstood. Masood didn't, however; all he needed was Ajay's approbation to succumb to Ayesha's stalking. She's brazen in her pursuit, and it's no wonder Tamwar's giving him the silent treatment.
There was a classic mini-scene between Carol and Denise (two of the show's strongest actresses) where Carol's gossiping with Denise about Ayesha, doing a cracking imitation of her accent. Thank goodness for small miracles - it's just unfortunate that this is all TPTB can think to do for these actresses, including a gloating ageist-implied chance encounter between Ayesha-Bitch and Carol.
Ayesha: Do youse remember me? I'm Ayesha.
Carol: I'm not demented yet.
I guess Masood is marginally no better than Max or any of the other men who move onto newer, fresher and younger pastures as soon as the older model knocks off. I decided tonight that I actually detest Ayesha, and I detested Masood's OTT kiss just to spite Denise and her opinon.
Michael Moon the Loser.
The best thing about tonight's episode was Kat, feeling entitled enough to ask Michael to take Tommy to nursery. Michael's one-word answer: No.
Actually, I'm glad he said that, and people shouldn't wonder at his detachment from his son. He doesn't give a shit about anyone but himself, and if Kat had left with the Walking Dead back in 2010, the novelty would soon have worn off. He's only with Scarlett because he was literally left holding her, and he'll use her as a means of trying to get what he wants from Janine.
He's skint again, so skint that he can't even pay Aa-aasss for the babysitting she does. So skint, that he's forced to use My Aa-aasss's daddy's counterfeit money with which to pay her, which gets her in all kinds of trouble. It also alerts Jack and Max to Michael's shenanigans, and Michael is left up shit creek when Phil wants nothing to do with him.
He and Kat deserve each other. I don't like him. I don't find him at all intriguing or mysterious, just creepy and bizarre, and his death-grin makes me want to puke.
I want Janine back in top form to take Scarlett, bitchslap Kat and kick the cadaver to the kerb and out of Walford. The longer Moon stays, the more he risks becoming a cartoon, like The Mask.
Michael's Theme (or it should be):-
Yet another episode of nothingness, until the end.
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