By Stephen Leach, who is in Twitter @SirTerenceBoot, our guest blogger, who shares his thoughts on current Coronation Street.
It’s hard work deciding who the blandest, most tedious couple on the Street at the minute, but on balance it’s surely got to be Jude and Angie. Angie’s actress Victoria Ekanoye says Jude “isn’t the man for Angie.” It’s hard to think who might be dull enough to consider Jude “the man for her” – Theresa May, perhaps?
Maybe Jude and Angie don’t actually exist at all, and we’ve just imagined them. Maybe they’re like giant dolls for Mary to play with, acting out her fantasies of a blissful family life and providing her with opportunities to tell her lurid tales. “I had a bacon sarnie for breakfast this morning,” mumbles Jude. “Oh! Bacon,” Mary trills excitedly. “Or, as they call in Catalan, pansalada. I myself once spent a very enjoyable three months on a hog farm in Spain, which led to an amusing incident with a copper kettle and a roll of duct tape…” Enough. Please get well soon, Malcolm Hebden – you are sorely missed on the Street.
And then on the other hand there’s Gina, the manic to my depressive. Bouncing into rooms and overexcitedly SHRIEKING certain WORDS, if anything she has far, far too much charisma. The sort of person who’d unironically say the words “I’m mad, me!” (Cringe.) Aadi’s exasperated face every time they’re in a scene together pretty much sums up my feelings. Astonishingly, the writers have done it: this might be the first time in history anyone’s been able to truthfully say “Dev can do better”.
I can hardly remember what else is even happening. The storylines now are so short, that’s the trouble; they’re over before they’ve properly started. How long was Sean homeless for, exactly? Billy and Eileen rescued him just as the story was starting to pick up its feet. Do the writers just think people don’t have the attention span for a six-month narrative anymore? It used to be that you could have a full-blown affair with one of your neighbours: nowadays two characters will snog once and barely have the time to unzip their trousers before someone else bursts in on them. Case in point, Steve and Abi. Given that they only locked lips for about half a second, Tracy’s eventual discovery, fit of rage, and rampage of revenge is going to feel extremely unearned.
At least Carla’s back where she belongs – flogging knickers, barking orders, and knocking back mugs of scotch. And Peter’s doing his best to worm his way back into her bed. All is right with the world. Well, until she inevitably bankrupts the place for the fiftieth time, but until then I can sleep soundly. Time to sign off – I’ve never tried Dubonnet, but I’m curious: anyone want to suggest a recipe for an Uber-Duber?
By Stephen Leach, who is in Twitter @SirTerenceBoot - read all of Stephen Leach's guest blogs here.
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