Platt fatigue

Quite a week in Weatherfield then and there has already been plenty of comment re the passing of Deirdre. I have to be totally honest now and say that the episodes didn't get to me in the way I had expected. There were lovely moments such as Audrey shepherding the grieving Barlows, Steve comforting Ken and Emily's distraught reaction. However the handing over of Deirdre's glasses and Bev's initial never-ending 'setting the scene' monologue were grating. As for the ghost of Deirdre blowing through the Rovers - please!

What really dragged down our visits to the cobbles this week though were the appearances of the Platt family. The Callum storyline has evolved into some hideous gift that keeps on giving. Just when you think the whole tedious, tortuous nonsense has spent itself, back it comes, rising like the undead. It's the zombie storyline of the Street.

With heavy eyes I watched as yet again, we watched the pale-as-lard, unconvincing Callum lurch across the pub floor, lurch across the cobbles, mumble something in a camp manner and shuffle off again. The dippy Sarah trails along in his shadow, bringing nowt to the party save for an inane smile and her non-Italiano influenced daughter.

The monotony has been slightly relieved by the return of the wonderful Paula Lane as Kylie, although the ginger rinse needs to go. If you're going to go that shade, then opt for Rita Red or don't bother. Kylie is a slice of joy but even she has found her brain addled by the desperate Platts and their nutty-as-a-fruitcake plans to get even with Manchester's ropiest drug dealer. It's time to put an end to this story once and for all. Little Max should pack his bags and hand himself in to Weatherfield Social Services. He should be begging them to remove him from that house.

Three cheers for the Michael though, who soon saw the light and extracted himself from the House of Idiot and is enjoying chuckles galore with an enlivened (well, she's made it from her house to the Bistro) Eileen. Not for Michael an evening of constant interruptions at number 8 from the Callum/Sarah/Bethany ensemble bursting through the door apropos nothing at all. No Audrey jammed by the foot of the stairs in her mac making the Audrey Noise. No elderly Uncle Nick and her from Emmerdale creaking into view. No Gail.

We are due a break from the Platts, if not a permanent one from Callum, in order that they can come back later in the year refreshed and with something new to say. As it stands, they are fast becoming the fast forward moment of every episode.

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