Review - 30 August 2016

Overexposure everywhere tonight. I sometimes wonder why I continue to watch EastEnders, although - to be fair - I watched Brookside until the bitter end, when it was totally unwatchable at that time. At the risk of causing either a riot or a bingo game (or both), I have to say this show is in almost as bad a state as it was during the summer of Snakegate and Tunagate. Two fanbois, one of whom still remains, took the show, took the BBC's flagship show and turned it into their own personal toy, their private Disneyland and indulged every fantasy fan fiction, OTT action, retcon or plot-driven idiocy to suit their own whims and the rest of us be damned.

Do I trust the new man in charge? In a word, no. I don't trust anyone with this show anymore, because it's so adulterated, dumbed-down, calcified and re-branded as a niche soap, I don't feel it belongs to the general public anymore. It's sort of grown-up children's television where we're regularly asked to suspend reality to the nth point of absurdity and to right all previous glaringly erroneous wrongs by simply forgetting the previous plot. 

Why not? If the writers can forget the plot, why not the viewers?

It's cheap, it's shoddy, it's unendingly circular, it's badly acted, badly written and promotes all kinds of things it shouldn't - like, oh I don't know ... passive aggressive bullying. It's one thing to see and recognise this fault in Mick Carter. It's quite another to enact it sub-consciously and, more to the point, rather patronisingly. Or misogyny. Or pejorative characterisation of certain male characters. They are prejudices easily portrayed, along with stereotyping various races, nationalities and ethnicities. If you don't think the show has token characters, then think again.

The show got in an offensive stereotype of a nationality, and a demographic within that nationality, tonight, but pointing it out will only serve to get me schooled in my ignorance by someone who purports to know better. Be that as it may, I'll point out the offensive situation when I come to it.

To be brutally concise, the show is a train wreck at the moment, and I have a hard time believing that Sean O'Connor can grasp its mettle. I've heard various things about him - like that he only likes a handful of characters extant on the show or that there are a gaggle of more axings to follow the big shocks he's already effected. Who knows?

I sit and watch this show now with a jaundiced eye, wondering which actor is next for the shop. Right now, we're headed off to Mitchell Week or Mitchell Fortnight or whatever the hell it is, but viewers should take note. The last family to have had a week devoted to them was the Branning family, and they grew apace, unfettered, like a cancer. The Mitchells are doing that right now, especially with the BratPack Mitchells, wannabe Mitchells and secret Mitchells pushing to the fore. It's fast becoming a gangland Hollyoaks-in-London.

There's something for everyone in EastEnders, unless you watched from the beginning and are capable of seeing the green behind the gold paint.

Anyway, I'm sure the foregoing rant has provided various people with enough fodder for a bingo game later on.

The Good Bits

Dot's Mystery Letter. I couldn't help noticing how prominently Charlie's picture is now displayed in Dot's front room, amidst all the paraphernalia of Branning grandchildren pictures and pictures of Nick as a young man, there, tonight, was Charlie's picture. I actually miss Charlie. He was a pretty good male character until Ronnie Mitchell de-balled him, but then that's the way male characters are on the show - either de-balled men who could have been potentially positive characters, passive aggressive self-centred navel-gazers or hot young pretty boys.

Dot seemed to know the man who was delivering the letter. She saw him try to enter the closed launderette the day before, and now he pushes the letter at her before she has time to close the door in his face. He was clearly someone she wanted to avoid, and the letter was in a fine enveloped, addressed in in calligraphic script.

We know she sees Colin Russell again on Thursday after thirty-odd years, and if the letter were from Colin, I can't see why Dot wouldn't want to see him, as they were pretty close friends. How I wish Lord Cashman would leave off the kind hearts and coronets and return to EastEnders. Colin was a brilliant character - strong, sensitive, understanding, just nice; but "nice" has no place in EastEnders these days. "Nice" either dies (like Paul Coker) or gets exiled (like Ricky Butcher or Charlie Cotton).

This is a mystery that intrigues me.

Stacey and Martin Hand Sonia Her Arse. When Sonia goes, and go she must, I hope Rebecca goes to live with Martin and Stacey. In fact, I hope the feckless Tina and Sylvie get turfed back to CarterVille and the Fowlers - the real Fowlers, not the no-name one, move into the old Jackson-Butcher house. Stepmum Stacey scores points with Rebecca by a make-over, all to impress that klutzy non-entity Shakil, that abjectly objectional waste of space who doesn't deserve to have his contract extended. We're supposed to think he's cute and funny. He isn't, but more than his dubious attraction to Rebecca - he sees her as a warm body recepticle for the foul virgin seed of his loin (yuck); but then neither is the odiously boring Mark "Fowler", the adopted son of a man with no surname.

Here's a thought about Mark. Uni terms in the US started on Monday. He needs to be Stateside, going to classes. Even more important, if he's a college quarterback, otherwise known as BMOC (Big Man on Campus), he should have been on the training field three weeks ago. No time for a quick flit to Blighty to exercise his Surrey accent and pose around the Square, consorting with fifteen year-olds because I suppose his ilk wouldn't impress the likes of Johnny Carter or Abi Branning, who are closer in age to him.

He's briefly attracted to his fifteen year-old cousin, albeit he passes it off as a joke; but even when the ineffectual Shakil raises the point and even his assumed illegality of cousins being attracted to each other, Mark "Fowler", adopted son of a man with no surname, simply replies:-

Not where I come from.

That is a fucking offensive remark. Anyone born and raised in the South, I don't give a damn where your parents are from, would never make a remark like that. This is the assumed, pejorative, patronising and condescending assumption made by Northerners of all ilks - that the South is an inbred hotbed of incest and inbreeding.

Maybe the writer who penned that remark and the character who uttered the line should look around Walford. A more incestuous niche in London, you'll never find. In fact, Albert Square is actually the DeliveranceLand of Walford ...



Little Ricky Branning is both cousin and brother to Amy. Fancy that. Oh, and cousins fuck around in Walford too - Mark "Fowler", adopted son of a man with no name, should talk to Lauren, who's not only slept with her cousin, she's also indulged in a fine old Walford tradition as well - sleeping with a pair of brothers.

Meanwhile, Sonia is so far up Tina's arse, she can't even thank Martin for installing a smoke alarm, nor can she notice the make-over Rebecca has had done. She actually admits to Stacey that she's left with the bulk of Sylvie's care, after a long day at work; but neither Tina nor any of her family have come forward to help in any way regarding Sylvie. Quite simply, it's not Sonia's problem. Sonia needs to pay more attention to her daughter and not to her girlfriend.

Mephistopheles and the Silly Girl. Have you noticed how Ian never mentions Peter? How he remarked tonight how pleased he was that Lauren,Steven and Louis had come from New Zealand to live with him? No word about Peter, no curiosity about what happened to him, what he's doing, whatever - however, maybe that's not so surprising, because Peter was pretty disgusted, not only with Ian, but particularly with Jane when he scarpered from Walford. He seemed as if he were a man of principle and character, which speaks volumes for the singular lack of character Lauren possesses, that she can live so easily within the bosom of a family who collaborated in the cover-up of the the murder of her best friend. But then, Lauren hasn't yet figured out why her father disowned her.

So now we know that Steven left New Zealand - nay, fled New Zealand arse-deep in debt. Lauren knew that, and yet whilst she's been in Walford, she's frequented the café enough times, had a night out partying, and ordered a new laptop. That's not to mention providing for her child, but then we know the Beales are soft touches. And naive. Ian genuinely thinks Steven's about to turn the restaurant into a profit-making venture, but I think Steven hasn't changed all that much from when he was there the last time.

He's certainly dishonest, but he was honest enough to come clean about why Kyle was sent away, when Lauren's limited intelligence raised itself to suss that something wasn't right when Steven was willing to put out thousands of pounds to send Kyle on a chef's course, simply to buy his silence about Steven arranging for the theft and sale of Ian's kitchen stock. He was hoping to reap double the winnings by selling the kitchen stock, and having an insurance claim. Lauren even upbraided him for coming down hard on Kathy for moving the CCTV camera. 

Steven purports to want to keep the secret because he's afraid of Ian hating him again, but he doesn't fear that at all. How much do you want to bet that Steven's going to run that restaurant into the ground because his hand is going to be in the till all the time? Oh, and I suppose we can expect to see these debt collectors, some sort of big EastEnd gangstas working for the Kiwis to whom Steven owes a lot of money.

Lauren, stupid girl, stupid beard agrees to keep Steven's secret and her laptop, because she reckons she's going to make loadsamoney without any qualifications conning people into believing she's a web designer. Lying alert: Lauren makes Steven promise no more secrets or lies - we all know what that means, don't we?

When will we find out again that Steven is gay? Or did they conveniently forget that?

The Dire Bits

This Is All The Have to Offer Denise? The mother of a Mitchell satellite? And it will be Phil's baby. We've been through all of this before with menopausal women thinking the change has started, only to find that they are pregnant, although Kim had the line of the night.

We all have issues.

Yes, Kim, indeed we do, but one thing we don't need is people patronising us by reminding us that everyone's personal issue is more important than any issues any other person might have. The menopause and ageing remarks were a bit full-on tonight, along with all the pregnancy horror stories. Honestly, all this putrid story needed was someone smacking Denise around the face with a wet fish and having her break the fourth wall to announce that she was pregnant, all of which was played out against a backdrop of a silly salsa storyline. There was even the ubiquitous shirtless scene for Kush - let's see if he can fit in a pink shirt made for Vincent.

This seems like the storyline of the dregsters, with even Masood getting a requisite walk-on scene doing a salsa as Patrick's partner. Masood is obviously a loose end, and honestly, if this is the only thing they can offer Denise, then the actress should go or the producer should axe her. There have been ample opportunity to give this strong actress a good storyline, but nothing's worked. How long is a piece of string? Seriously?

Use your ingenuity. Let's have a positive story about abortion - it's karma hitting Denise in the face because of the awful way she bullied Libby into not getting an abortion (a plea to which Libby turned deaf ears). She now finds herself facing the same predicament her daughter faced and for which her daughter had the courage to end - pregnant by a man she loathes. (Won't happen. Men hate abortions and abortion stories, but then, men don't have abortions).

Or ... she could pass the baby off as Kush's child, which would be trite, but the sort of thing which would make Alex Lamb giggle.

Or ... she could take the baby and run, like all other Mitchell mothers. Hmmm ... maybe this is the end of Denise? And the beginning of yet another secret son saga.

Spare me.

The Mitchell BratPack. Once again, Louise, a fifteen year-old, is given the dialogue of a woman ten years her senior. And isn't it funny how something that starts out so good, sours so quickly? I'm talking about Courtney.

You called the police?! How could you! That's something we never do! We never involve the police!

#FuckOffCourtney.

It didn't take them long to bring out the core Mitchell philosophy in her, did it? Last time we saw her, she was the responsible university student and daughter of her common sense mother. Now, she's spouting Mitchell rhetoric all over the place - keeping it in the family, not involving the police, even after knowing Ben had run off following Jay, to find the blokes who killed Paul.

Just a word about Jay, about whom I've never been a fan. (So shoot me, it's my opinion). He's broken the law, by his own carelessness and his own admission; and now, he's gone from feeling helpless at not being able to find a job, to feeling resentful and self-pitying. He resorts to selling cocaine and abuses he hospitality of Billy and his family by keeping drugs in a house around children, by dealing from the house and by taking drugs as well. And now, he's geeing Ben on into committing an act of violence that would only result in him being killed or getting caught and sent to jail.

Arguably, the best scene in all of this was Ben's visit to Pam. The Cokers were alerted by the police that they were about to make an arrest in the suspects surrounding Paul's death. As a result of Louise's phonecall and the police vigilance, the perps saw Ben and Jay - more important for future events, they saw Ben.

The scene between Pam and Ben was heart-rending and raw. As she pointed out, she's lost her grandson, a person who could never be replaced, where Ben has a chance to go forward with his life. She was right to remind Ben how badly he treated Paul at times, especially when he was with Abi - and by extension, he treated Abi badly as well. At least it got Ben to admit to Pam that he should have died instead of Paul, that Paul was the better person, that had they remained together that evening, they may have either lived or died together.

At least talking to Pam made Ben see sense, and he backed out of any silly business with Jay, prompting Jay to storm off up North in a huff. For once, I agree with the woman Louise - maybe it's time for Ben to let go of something else as well. Good. None of this second generation Mitchell Brothers shit.

The family is treading water at the moment, with Phil shuffling around and grunting and Sharon prancing about making snide comments about people, letting the worst youth dynamic in the history of the show, bar Ben, take the forefront. Mitchell Week. Anytime a family some EP is promoting big time, gets its own "week," we're on a hiding to nothing. In fact, anytime, anyone - Mitchells, Brannings, teens, birdbrains - get a week devoted to them, it usually results in overkill.

We're certainly getting that with the Mitchells at the moment.

Once again, a meh episode. I'm looking forward to seeing Colin, although I shudder to think what these hacks have done to his character.

EastEnders Review 29.08.2016 - The Blog Is Back in Action.

Sorry, it was pants. All about Mitchells, Mitchell satellites, two gurning girls and one now compromised into keeping yet another secret, Mitchells, Mitchells everywhere, and nowt about to drink, green-haird goths, simpering plot devices ...

Anyone for a game of bingo?

The Morally Bereft Mitchells. The more I think about it, the more I think this is a family the show could finally do without. People rant and rave about the Beales' continuing presence on the Square, after the cover-up of Bobby killing Lucy and Max getting sent to prison on a set-up; but the Beales are a walking horror show, and they know it. They're forever linked and bound together in that sad little house with the thoughts of what they've done on their minds. 

Remember when Ian first re-decorated the house? How he brought down the wall separating the old dining room/living room and made Lou's old bedroom into what it originally was, a front room through lounge-diner. All of a sudden, the house took on a lighter look; but we need to remember what happened there on Good Friday two years ago. Now the wall is up, like a barrier against the world, Jane sleeps on the place where Lucy died, and they are all entombed there in the cramped, little space. Together. Jane, condemned to be the repository of all the Beale confessions, whether she wants to hear them or not; Ian, focusing entirely on Jane - neither his surviving children nor his mother matter now; Kathy, romping the beds with a man in a committed relationship instead of trying to re-connect with a younger son she left when he was a child; Steven, manipulating and manoeuvering, like Mephistopheles, with one dark ambition in mind, and Lauren, just traipsing along as if nothing in the world had happened or mattered. More about her later, it's the Mitchells who are amongst the morally rank at the moment.

At least, we hear Ian and Jane exclaim every now and then how they want to be "better people", although you wonder how they sleep at night, having sent Max to prison for something he didn't do and having thrown Bobby under the bus to save their own sorry fat arses.

With the Mitchells you get ... nothing.

Phil is ill, perhaps dying; and you wonder where this is going. Somewhere along the line, he'll get a new liver, which means someone will have to die to give it to him; a live liver transplant is rare, and is usually done when the recipient is a child who may have end-stage liver disease, usually caused by cancer.

We've seen little to note of Phil in recent months. He had that single scene when he read Peggy's letter and grieved alone at her passing and when he had that moment with Ben about the gun, but apart from that, we've only seen him shuffle about the house and grunt. There he was again tonight, in that bum-clinchingly awful initial scene from MitchellVille, with Courtney, Roxy and the woman Louise singing along to the radio as rank Sharon, all tanned and glowing from her showdown with Michelle (which looked as though it ended up with margheritas on a Gulf beach) smiling benignly, when suddenly Phil, playing a part from Grumpy Old Men, shuffled into the kitchen and turned the over-loud radio off.

I want to say something about Louise. She's supposed to be Ben's little sister. Ben's fifteen year-old little sister, to be precise; but not only have TPTB cast an actress on the cusp of turning twenty to play someone who should be on the cusp of going from childhood into adolescence, they've given her dialogue which no one under the age of eighteen would utter. This is worse than Tiffany Butcher or Simon Barlow or the awful April Dingle being precocious. This is an adult playing an adolescent and speaking like an adult, per se.

And because of this, Louise doesn't come across as Ben's little sister; it's almost as if she's Ben's girlfriend, given the body language between the two. It was a dark and stormy night, and Louise gets up and comes downstairs at 4AM, looking decidedly as fresh as a daisy, with no hair out of place to greet a drenched Ben returning from a night out lurking around. It was also the way she spoke to Les Coker. No fifteen year-old girl would speak to someone like Les that way. It was aggressively adult - I believe at one point she even called him "Les." This little shit barely knows this man, other than knowing he was the grandfather of Ben's boyfriend; she certainly had nothing to do with him, heretofore; but there she stands, calling him "Les" and asking to talk with "Pam," as if she's so entitled her shit wouldn't smell.

I'm afraid my brother's going to do something bad ... (gurn, gurn) ... because that scene, especially after Ben rocked up, consisted from then on of Ben and Les exchanging dialogue whilst Louise gurned in the background. You could see the concentration in the actress's face ...

(OMIGOD! I've got to cry ... should I try this expression (gurns) or that one (gurns again) ... Oh, geez, I can't make tears. I know! I'll just sniffle and people will think I'm crying!) The funny thing about that was when Harry Reid had to tenderly wipe her tears with his thumbs, whilst cupping her face ... it was bone dry.

There's something incongruous about a woman dressed as a child, meaning to be a child and coming across as totally adult in every way. Because the episode was so bad, the best scene was, arguably, Les trying to talk sense into Ben. The entire backdrop of Paul's death has devolved into yet another Guy Ritchie parody of Ben and Jay wanting to wreak revenge on the person who killed Paul. Yes, we know it was a homophobic hate crime; Ben doesn't need to keep reiterating that; but at the end of the day, for all of the couple of months Ben was with Paul, I don't think he knew him very well.

No one was closer to Paul than Les, and Les nailed it when he said that Paul wouldn't want this sort of revenge to happen, that he was a person who hated violence; and at the end of the day, this wouldn't bring him back. Killing his killer achieves nothing. One of two things will happen - either Ben will be killed or he'll end up in jail. As hard as it is to believe, the Mitchells aren't above the law, although this piss-ant programme would have us believe otherwise - especially when you have a serving police officer shrug her shoulders at Ian's confession that they knew about Bobby being Lucy's killer for longer than she knew, and reckon he'd suffered enough and didn't need prison.

Yeah, sure.

For all of Les's persuasion and common sense, all it took was Jay being hyper and egging Ben on, having found the address where the culprits were hunkering down, to gee him up into killing mode again.

Hero to zero? Courtney, when she backed this agenda and came out with some rubbish, trite and shit-infested statement like ...

We'll do it our way, it's about the family ... or some such tosh. What the fuck does she know about family? She had a cloistered existence away from the Mitchell toxin with Grant in Portugal, before someone re-wrote that backstory to promote Grant as someone irrevocably broken in morality, in spirituality and someone to whom his daughter plays adult. Courtney doesn't know these people. She's seen Ben a total of a couple of times in her life and Jay once, when Phil took them and Shirley to visit Grant (a visit TPTB wrote out of existence, because when Grant came back to see Peggy, Shirley didn't have a snowball's idea of hell who he was). The impression given the last time around was that Courtney had her act together. The relatives in Walford - whom she hadn't contacted at all during the time she was, ostensibly, at university someplace in London - it's clear she only drops in on now and then - the last time to see to where her father had taken himself away. Now she's doing it large - the next generation of Mitchells, posing, giving it some elbow, talking about offing this one and that one - Ben, Courtney, the woman Louise, and Jay - please, can we stop with this "bruv" thing, it doesn't sound natural, FFS. Lock, stock and a drooping barrel. The Brat Pack.

And off they trot to get some killing done.

The last thing this show needs is more killers, and the last thing it needs is two fly guys dispensing justice. Harry Reid, whom I genuinely like, does quiet rage or grief to perfection; but Les was right, Ben needs to re-connect with either, or both, of his parents, and it was more than a bit entitled of him to think his grief was better or more relevant that that of Les and Pam, who'd raised Paul from a baby. I'm glad Les pointed that out. Ben needed putting in his place.

So let them go off and stalk these homophobic and violent estate agents. Maybe Phil will get his liver. Rumour has it that Jamie Borthwick has been putting it about that Ben and Jay are the new Mitchell brothers. I hope he's doing that with Sean O'Connor's blessing. In actual fact, O'Connor could wipe Jay out of existence tomorrow, and I wouldn't miss him. So shoot me.

One final thing - Jay referenced his father's death eight years ago today, and spoke as though the people who killed him got away from the police. They didn't. The police arrested them, and I wouldn't think they'd be out of prison now.

And cop this about the Mitchells: As morally bereft as the Beales are, at least they know what they've done. Phil and Sharon have had no epiphany, nothing at all - especially where Max is concerned. Phil orchestrated his "guilty" verdict for a petty vendetta against Max, Sharon rationalised that maybe it was "for the best" that Max went to prison -sorry, best for whom? Then when Ian receives his note of warning from Max, she poo-poohs any relevance to this. Who are these people?

The Impending Mitchell Baby. Blink and you'd miss it, but the guy trying to get into what looked like the launderette is the bloke who delivers the mystery letter to Dot.

The whole backdrop of Denise's "revelation" was played out against the salsa lesson and against Dot's endeavours to play matchmaker between Patrick and Claudette. Really, Claudette questioned Patrick's initial suspicion about her locking Babe in the freezer.

How could you think I would do such a thing? (Easy, considering the fact that Patrick was on hand to hear what actually happened to Claudette's husband, I find it difficult to believe that Patrick would even want to be within a five-mile radius of Claudette).

Considering that Denise went all through the episode looking bilious - well, looking more bilious than she normally looks - we all knew the reason behind the fainting spell. Was it Kim or the odious Carmel who first suspected the menopause? Sorry, haven't we been here before? Kathy suspected the menopause when she was pregnant with Ben. Zainab suspected the menopause when she was pregnant with Kamil.

What we got, eventually, was Carmel wittering on and on about herself, whilst Denise gazes at the internet search page in mounting, sleepy-eyed horror as it dawns on her that she's pregnant.

Yet another Mitchell storyline, and one that's entirely superfluous, that accomplishes nothing and that does nothing for the character of Denise. If she chooses to have this child, we'll have the Jeremy Kylian situation of the patriarch Phil, surrounded by his wife, whose late husband's death had something to do with Phil; his ex-wife, and the mother of his son; his ex-girlfriend, who's still in love with him; and now this. Maybe Phil could become Mormon or follow Islam - doesn't Islam allow one four wives?

If the writers and producers had any integrity, they'd use this as a positive story about abortion. When Libby showed up pregnant and announcing she intended to get an abortion, her reasons were that she had accidentally fallen pregnant by a man whom she didn't love and who didn't love her, a man who wasn't the least invested in or interested in this child. She felt this wasn't fair for the child. As much as Denise bullied her, Libby stood firm. Now Denise is in a similar situation - pregnant by a man she dislikes, who doesn't even remember his brief association with her. She's also in a budding relationship with the son of her so-called best friend. A pregnancy like this could seriously put the mockers on that relationship ... unless ... unless she allows Kush to believe she's pregnant with his child.

Those are two scenarios. The third is she takes the baby and runs, like everyone else who's ever had a Mitchell child, and if this is the only storyline they have to offer someone like Denise, then maybe it's time to call time on this character.

The Brat Pack. Okay, so pussy Mark Fowler, adopted son of a man with no surname, meets his secret sister Courtney Mitchell. Did the earth move? Is everyone wetting their knickers in anticipation of what is usually the oldest contrived soap situation in the world? It was pretty much a damp squib tonight. It had all the sexual charisma of smelly socks.

You have to wonder what the hell Courtney and Boy Wonder are doing hanging out with what they would essentially class as "little kids" - meaning Rebecca, the woman Louise and the mumbling moron known as Shakil. Sure, they're supposedly off to the Notting Hill Carnival, but a nineteen year-old and twenty year-old wouldn't want to be encumbered with underaged kids. Fowler seems to be bonding with and seriously hanging out with Shakil, who's only concern is popping his cherry and Rebecca's at the same time. All this talk of condoms and losing his virginity, as well as the ubiquitous booze at his birthday party, which Fowler is happy to supply. 

Hmmm ... at the risk of having all sorts of shit rain down on me, I have to say it. There's something creepy about an older boy/man - an adult, hanging out with a bunch of underaged kids, planning on providing an idiot with booze for his party, amongst other things. This man should be seeking the company of Abi Branning or Johnny Carter, but he isn't. Maybe they wouldn't be as impressed at someone who's supposed to be an American who sounds like he's from the leafy, stockbroker belt of Surrey, someone who attended a fantasy British school on the Florida panhandle which included gridiron football as part of its curriculum.

Oh, wait ... he's a university quarterback. The university autumn term has already started, and Fowler, if he is, indeed, everything he says he is, would have started his uni year a good two weeks ago, simply because of the fact that gridiron practice for university football (which is a training ground for the NFL) would have begun then, and his holiday would, effectively, be over. But then, those spindly arms could never chuck a football 100 yards down a field.

As for the insidious Louise-Shakil-Rebecca situation, it's not just sad, it's pathetic. Shakil is just using Rebecca as fodder for his sexual initiation, and yes, in his own way, he's pressuring her into something for which she's not ready. He's a pukewad.

And the only other genuinely good situation tonight was Rebecca turning to Stacey, first as someone who could resolve her problem of fixing a hair dying who went wrong, and ultimately, as a stepmother to help her in a dilemma. Rebecca's been trying for days to approach Sonia about this problem, and always her efforts have been interrupted by Tina and her own brand of selfishness. It was incredibly honest of Rebecca to admit to Stacey tonight that she only went the goth route because Star became a goth - and that experiment for Star had ended by the time she got involve with Jay - that she only decided to try a new look because Louise had bullied her into thinking that Shakil didn't like her current look.

It's Stacey who points out to her that perhaps Louise is jealous, something - I think - that's been pointed out to her before. It was nice of Stacey to take her shopping and then to the salon to deal with her hair, and in amongst all of that, Rebecca asked Stacey about her sexual history. Stacey admitted that she started having sex at fifteen, basically because everyone else seemed to be doing it or saying that they were doing it, but she often wishes she'd waited until she could have had her first time with someone who meant something to her. Rebecca is too good for Man Bun.

Clueless. Ian's got no money. Steven's a thief, who's now worried at the scope of how little money the restaurant is making, and Lauren has money to buy a new all-singing all-dancing laptop. Where does she get the money? More importantly, how the hell is this person who BARELY got GCSEs and got no A-Levels, a web designer? This has to be the biggest joke since Mark Fowler's accent.

There's this company called Elysium ...

Do you get the impression that she actually doesn't know what she's doing? She has no experience and no clientele, so Belinda's easy enough to con money from. Did I hear right or did she get Belinda to pay a deposit up front because Steven asked her? This girl is a walking advertisement for self-entitled shallowness. She still hasn't got a clue why her father has disowned her, and now she's been let in on another secret - that Steven was behind the theft of the kitchen goods in Beales, and it was Steven who sent Kyle on a cooking course worth thousands of pounds as a bribe to keep him from telling Ian about Steven.

There's been a lot of angst prevalent in the Beale household lately - we've seen it from Jane and Ian (deservedly so), we've seen it from Kathy; we've seen what we now know as dark manipulation by Steven ... but Lauren just breezes along, oblivious to anything that isn't centred around her, using Ian as a free babysitter to pursue this pipe dream of becoming a web designer, if she even knows what that is.

The big question is ... will she keep this monumental secret? She will. As long as she's got a roof over her head, free childcare and someone to cook and wait on her, she'll be fine. I reckon she deserves a hefty smack from Max.

Awful episode. Simply awful.