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.
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