Five Things We Learned In Corrie This Week

There's been a stock update in the Kabin.  Oceans rise.  Empires fall.  Galaxies die.  But one thing has remained constant: Rita and Norris trying to flog the 1999 Claire Danes starrer The Mod Squad to anyone who nipped in for half a pound of liquorice torpedos.  It appeared back in the days when people still bought DVDs, and it's continued on through robberies, assaults, and Mary going mad with a black bag and a duster.  Yet there was no sign of it in the rack in Monday's episode.  Don't tell me it's been sold; it was well on its way to being a holy relic.  Another year on that shelf and it would've developed sentience and a sarcastic yet heartwarming double act with Rita.

Judge Rinder isn't for everyone.  The factory girls have only been unemployed for a week but they're already bored of daytime television.  Personally I think when you tire of Homes Under The Hammer, you've tired of life itself.  You need to learn to balance your viewing, ladies; a bit of HUTH first, a smidgeon of Phil and Holly, then find out if they get a Golden Gavel on Bargain Hunt and have a nap until Pointless (you can watch The Chase on ITV+1).

Not everyone found Nathan's trial gripping.  Wake up there at the back!  He might make a run for it!

Don't count on Seb and Faye's relationship lasting until December.  Nothing is more of a turn-off for a teenage girl than her boyfriend strapping on a pinny and being pally with her mum.  She's with you for your snarling bad-boy charms, mate, not your impeccable potato peeling skills.  Time to smoke a filterless ciggie in the ginnel while wearing a leather jacket, otherwise you'll be spending the festive season drunkenly crooning Mud's It'll Be Lonely This Christmas into half a shandy while Faye visits the Christmas markets with a boy called Grub who has a tattoo AND a motorcycle.

Actually it's about ethics in local journalism.  Remember when Daniel was a shy virgin student who barely knew how to unbutton a lady's blouse without turning scarlet?  Now he's a cross between Paul Foot and a yet to be neutered dachshund, fearlessly delving into the Calcutta Street flats scandal (a year after it happened) and taking time out to dally with his editor on the side.  Where next for this roguish journalistic firebrand?  The broadsheets?  The Pulitzers?  The STD clinic?  Let's just say he's not the first reporter to get a career boost from Deep Throat.

By @merseytart

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