By Stephen Leach, who is in Twitter @SirTerenceBoot - read all of Stephen Leach's guest blogs here.
Tragedy strikes the Street again. From beyond the grave, international man of mystery Pat Phelan has claimed another life. Awfully tense stuff with the near-miss electrification of all the factory lot (darn it, so close). And I actually didn’t see this coming.
I knew Rana was on her way out, but I was expecting Lolly (ugh) to be involved somehow. Breaking with my usual staunch composure, I surprisingly felt quite touched by the final moments between Kate and Rana. “Thank you, Kate, for never giving up on me. Except for all those times when you totally did.” Brought a tear to my eye.
RIP Rana. I will genuinely miss her. But I think I’ll miss the idea of her more. I’ve said it often, but she was so much more interesting back when she had a bit of a bit of pep and pizazz about her. I blame Zeedan; once she married him it was all downhill from there, and Kate basically did nothing but mop up his leftovers.
The ramifications from this catastrophe are going to be felt far and wide. Once again, the factory lot are going to be out of work for months. Though they seemed to cope well enough last time. But now that the roof of the factory has fallen in, what will Gary look at as he delivers his lines? Perhaps this is the opportunity for a new direction; maybe the refurbished factory could become something more suited to the present day: a call-centre, a mini supermarket, a warehouse. Or, realistically, just more unaffordable luxury flats. And what of Imran? Now that his beloved sister is gone, I worry there won’t be much to keep him around in Weatherfield; he and Toyah are hardly the romance of the decade. He works so well as a comedy character that I’m faintly dreading the inevitable six months of him angrily throwing back tumblers of scotch and seeking a bloody revenge upon Carla. Can we for once just not?
Dark times indeed. Everything seems to be coming to a boil. Although I’m starting to think Nick might end up getting away with stealing all that money from Audrey. The new barbershop’s been a bit of a damp squib so far. What, exactly, is Nick’s job there – standing about and occasionally playing a game of table tennis? It’s hard enough to accept that giving Kevin Webster’s beard the occasional invisible trim is enough to make even minimum wage for the two of them, but the idea that they need a third member of staff is downright ridiculous. Roll with the punches, I guess. At this point the comical and the gloomy are balancing each other out quite nicely. And nothing embodies this point quite so well as the promo picture ITV used for the final part of Wednesday’s double-bill.
What a grim bunch: Carla looking mournful and melancholic, Peter looking strong and sagely, Nick looking officious and deeply troubled, Robert looking cautious and guarded, Seb looking brooding and resentful, and Gary looking he’s just realised he badly needs a poo. It’s as if the person taking the photo looked at it afterwards and thought “eh, five out of six isn’t bad, let’s go with this one.” Gary Windass, everyone: hardened veteran, hopeless builder, mostly absent father, 100% comedy icon. As long as he’s around, Weatherfield’s assured of at least some laughs.
By Stephen Leach, who is in Twitter @SirTerenceBoot - read all of Stephen Leach's guest blogs here.
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