Sometimes you have to abandon your dreams. Cathy and Brian had their hopes of opening a hardware shop dashed as Daniel and Sinead unfairly paid the asking price for the shop. Isn't it annoying when the Council gets the best value for money for its ratepayers rather than handing out backhanders? Cathy and Brian were forced to concede defeat and abandon the dream they'd had for about, ooh, fourteen minutes. All the greatest businesses have been founded by passionate entrepreneurs saying "I fancy working in a shop - what shall I sell?" Still it does mean that Sinead can now achieve her ambition of running a vintage clothes shop, an ambition she has had for less than three weeks, ever since Flora came up with the idea, lectured her on how she should do it, and then gave her £13,000 seed money. How could Cathy compete with such passion?
Roy doesn't own a mobile phone. Much as it pains me to criticise the sainted Cropper, not possessing a mobile in 2018 is just plain rude. Mobiles are not tools of the devil; they're extremely convenient devices that are invaluable for emergencies. Delayed meeting friends? Fall and hurt yourself? Lost and need to find your way? These are all perfectly commonplace circumstances that can be made less painful through use of a mobile telephone. You don't have to immediately download Tinder and start posting shirtless selfies on Instagram ("just making Sophie Webster a bacon barm #amworking #blessed"). Smugly pointing at the "zombies" in the cafe staring at their phones is judgmental and a little bit ignorant, Roy, and I expected better of you. They could be reading the newspaper online, WhatsApping friends, watching a well-known soap opera on the ITV Hub app; it doesn't make them bad people. I hope Carla buys him an iPhone for Christmas, and he ends up hooked on Candy Crush by Whitsun.
It's good to see a variation on a theme. "Bereaved parent goes crazy with grief and steals a baby" is a storyline Corrie has done many, many, many times before; in fact, I wrote a blog about it the last time it happened. In a bid to be a little more original, this time it's a man going nuts and stealing a baby, which is a welcome blow for equality. Though I think I speak for everyone watching when I say that the whole incident would've been a thousand times more entertaining if Johnny had worn Jenny Bradley's wig throughout.
Gemma could be the next Bet Lynch. I mean, she won't be, because Henry visibly flinches every time she says something common (which is a lot), but it's nice to see her happy and with a bit of hope. I'd much rather she had a week of dreamy fun with a rich handsome man than fall for Chesney, who hasn't been interesting since Schmeichel went to the big kennel in the sky. Does he even fancy Gemma, or is he just being forced into a relationship by Cathy? He's moping around doing puppy dog eyes while she guzzles chips, but it doesn't seem to be based on anything other than she's the nearest woman to hand. I feel like he could have been on a particularly long evening shift and ended up madly in love with the kebab meat on the rotating stick just because it was warm and fleshy.
You can't leave the show for five minutes. Six episodes a week means Corrie gets through a LOT of storylines these days, as Eileen found out when she returned from her sojourn in Bristol. She was quickly informed that Jack had lost a foot to sepsis, Sally had resigned as mayor due to financial shenanigans, and Steve was engaged to Tracy Barlow. And she hasn't even heard about Liz and the baby thief or Sean sleeping rough yet. No wonder she looked blindsided. It was the Barlow/McDonald nuptials that were particularly grievous to her, and she tried to stage an intervention to stop Steve from following in her footsteps and marrying a murderer. He rightly took the opportunity to scoff chipolatas and mini pies she'd paid for and ignore any kind of love life advice from a woman whose most wholesome relationship was with a racist fireman whose wife electrocuted herself. That's the trouble with living on this Street; it's very hard to throw stones without realising you're stood inside a glasshouse.
Like Ryan, the author is a much in-demand international DJ who gets flown out to Ibiza at a moment's notice for an all-expenses paid gig. Also like Ryan, he's currently sleeping on his mum's sofa and working in a minimum wage job. These facts are in no way contradictory. Book me via Twitter @merseytart.
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6 comments:
Brilliant commentary. I look forward to your piece every week. Thanks!
I could have sworn I'd seen Roy with a mobile phone during some emergency or other.
Brilliant post!
Crying, as ever.
Always the highlight of my week!
Love this post; the humour is priceless. I agree, highlight of the week.
We also learnt that Eileen is really posh. She says 'caarstle' instead of castle.
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