Five Things We Learned In Corrie This Week

The Grimshaw punishment for betrayal is harsh.  That big Family picture frame has been a constant at number eleven, so it's weird that it's suddenly acquired a blank square under the F.  It's not even empty - she's stuck some brown paper over the photo.  Someone has been literally blanked out of Eileen's life.  Who was it?  Missing son Todd, who is in his sixth month of living in the woods without so much as a phone call?  Ungrateful son Jason, who was far too busy larking about in Erinsborough to bother visiting his mother after she was almost murdered (twice)?  Or perhaps that's the space for Eileen's current partner, and with Pat in the morgue, there's a vacancy.  She'll come back from Bristol with that gap filled by another sparky comic actor wanting to do a couple of week's work on the show.

Men and women can't be friends without sex getting in the way.  I liked Liz and Johnny being pals, rather than lovers; it was a refreshingly mature way to address a man and a woman's relationship.  Just because it's a soap opera, it doesn't mean they have to jump into bed together!  Until this week, when they jumped into bed together.  Liz didn't even seem that keen, rightly realising that a man wanting to commit adultery the day he buried his son probably wasn't in the right frame of mind.  Also it's really tacky.  She did it anyway, fulfilling Moira's Mills & Boon fantasies (golly, they've got racy) before rejecting Johnny's charming offer of a bunk up while his wife was away dealing with an injured Mavis (Mavis!).  No-one comes out of this very well, except Jenny Bradley, who I'm pretty sure will pull some absolutely astonishing Amazing Jenny Bradley Faces when she finds out.

Steve McDonald was a highly valued member of the class.  Poor Steve.  For thirty years he's carried that one positive report card comment around as a badge of honour, then Mick from Brookside swept in and told him it was the scholarly equivalent of an attendance badge.  Better than Kirk, though, whose teacher thought he had "an unusual quality of mind."  Presumably this is "unusual" in the same way Liz has an "unusual" taste in clothes.

Everybody wants a breath of fresh air.  Remember back in April, when we were thrilled by our first glimpse of the community garden?  Less than two months later I'm sick to the back teeth of seeing it.  No-one can have even the slightest contretemps without running off in a huff to mope around the pocket park, staring at the herb garden and letting the light cast a moody shadow across their face.  People have hidden there, escaped nagging there, contemplated their existence there; it's lucky Phelan died, otherwise there would be a corpse under the daffodils as well.  I know they want us to feel like it's a part of the Street, but it's had more screentime in the last few weeks than Ken Barlow.  Meanwhile poor Maxine's Bench rots outside the salon, unwanted and abandoned.

Vogueing has finally reached Weatherfield.

Gemma Winter, Norris Cole,

Ken and Deirdre, Trace Barlow.

Carla Connor, and Eileen;

Rita's flogging Hiya magazine.

Faye, Sally, and Yasmeen,

Rosie is a beauty queen.

Roy Cropper, Eva Price

Sophie Webster danced on ice.

They had style, they had grace

Jenny Bradley gave good face.

Leanne, Toyah, and Liz too

Betty Turpin, we love you.

Ladies with an attitude.

Fellas that were in a mood.

Don't just stand there, let's get to it

Stitch some pants, there's nothing to it,

VOGUE.

@merseytart would like to profusely apologise to HRH Madonna.

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