Even if you're not brothers, you can have sibling rivalry. Ali and Ryan continued with their competition to see who could be Mummy's Most Special Boy, bickering throughout Monday's episodes and trying to outdo each other with football trivia. Ten more minutes of bitter one-upmanship and they would have been sticking rulers down their underpants. It wasn't helped by Robert calling them "Jack and Bobby"; one thought "Charlton", the other thought "Kennedy", raising the intriguing prospect that there might be a sniper lurking on top of the community garden's grassy knoll ready to take them out. (Go for Ryan, he's quite annoying). Boys, you're both Michelle's favourite, so long as you stay in her sight at all times. If you leave town she'll forget you exist.
Kirk Sutherland IS James Bond. The 007 references were all over the place this week. First Beth thought Kirky looked like Daniel Craig in his suit (cataracts are a terrible affliction). Then he compared accompanying Sharon on a blind date to a Bondian "mission". Unfortunately for the lovelorn dog walker, he called her "Moneypenny" rather than, say, "Doctor Goodhead"; as everyone knows, Moneypenny's entire role is to sigh and pine hopelessly for our hero without ever getting anywhere. Still, with Daniel Craig about to hand in his licence to kill, perhaps Kirk should throw his hat in the ring. An action sequence climaxing with 007 de-worming a Doberman Pinscher would certainly be a new direction for the series.
Daddy Day-Care is a guaranteed earner. With childcare costs skyrocketing, there's a gap in the market for a lower cost alternative where the kids are not quite so cared for. Enter Steve McDonald's Combination Creche and Bookmaker, where your child is kept in a darkened room with the telly on and is returned to you at the end of the day in more or less the same state you left it in. Okay, your little one might have the odd bump on his head, and he'll stink of fag ash and lager, but it's a tenner cheaper an hour than those snobs at Daisy & Jake with their "accredited professionals" and "CRB checks". So long as the apple of your eye comes home with three out of his four limbs still intact, what does it matter?
Roy is the best. It doesn't matter what you need, Mr Cropper will be there for you. It was lovely to see Roy and his former workmate Gail chatting over a cup of tea this week, as he made the case that the only things worse than a voodoo curse placed on you by the undead spirit of your murderous former husband are the interest rates on a payday loan. He then switched into undercover mode, blending seamlessly into Rosemary's psychic reading with the help of a Motorhead cap and harumphing his way through her blatant trickstering. And finally he apprehended Lewis in a thrillingly low-speed fight sequence (combined age of Nigel Havers and David Nielson: 135). Of course, it was all for nothing, as Lewis turned on the charm and seduced his car keys out from Audrey's moist palm, but still: what a guy. And he knows how to make a perfect fried slice too!
Weatherfield's not going to win Britain in Bloom this year. Apparently the flower beds on one of the roundabouts looked obscene when seen from above; it was only discovered when a child flew his drone overhead. I don't know about you, but I was distracted for the rest of the episode wondering what it was. Is there a giant tulip phallus on the bypass? Has someone gone the full See You Next Tuesday in marigolds? Frankly we need to be told. (We also learned that Sally answers the phone with "Metcalfe residence, Sally the Mayor speaking," which is of course incredible.)
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