Five Things We Learned In Corrie This Week

Fashion is the key to good mental health.  Peter seemed to be blissfully unaware that Carla was suffering a major breakdown for most of this week's episodes.  If he paid more attention he should've realised that the moment Ms Connor appeared in the Street wearing a grey Primark hoodie she'd completely lost all rational thought.  Carla not wearing head to toe black is cause enough for concern, but add in off -the-rack leisurewear and she was clearly under extreme duress.  It was bad enough seeing her in Ken's hallway wearing polka dot pyjamas without adding in something that was two for a fiver from George at Asda..  Toyah's counselling will no doubt be a great help to her, but I can't help wondering if it might be better for her mental health if they sent her on a Pretty Woman-style shopping spree down the posh shops of King Street.  Less Prozac, more Prada.

How do you solve a problem like Alya?  It turned out Alya was the one sending Carla messages from "Rana", a revelation that was completely weird and out of character.  Not least because her many emotional outbursts about Rana being "the best" don't really gibe with all those months Alya called her a trollop for copping off with a lesbian behind her husband's back.  Then again, what is in character for poor Alya these days?  She seems to float around at the back of scenes, sometimes crying, sometimes getting angry for no good reason, and then being forgotten about for another three months.  She's a trained fashion graduate with a flair for design and she's waiting tables in her brother's restaurant and living with her nan.  They don't seem to know what to do with her any more, which is a shame, because Sair Khan is a good actress who deserves better.  Give her a proper job - hook her up with Sinead at the second hand clothes shop, if they ever bring that storyline back - and give her a bit of ooomph again.

Loan sharks are the absolute worst.  Deep within my chest, somewhere, hidden beneath a thick wall of cynicism and disgust, is a heart.  It's tiny, and can rarely be reached, but if you're lucky, you can get to it and make me feel something.  Margaret Jackman did that this week with her performance as Gary's potential borrower.  Admittedly, she was written as the most desperate, down-on-her-luck, gullible old lady you've ever encountered, but her performance got to me in the same way lame puppies and crying babies do: I wanted to give her a Bafta so long as she promised never to appear on television again.  Gary seemed to be similarly affected by her and didn't squeeze her for all her small change, instead letting Rick take advantage of poor Alex instead.  It was all a bit nasty, and not even Gary looking extremely handsome in a suit could distract me from the bad taste it left in my mouth.

Mr and Mrs, be nice to each other.  Mr and Mrs, you gotta love one another.  Emma was very excited this week to be doing her best Derek Batey impression and hosting a Mr & Mrs night at the Rovers - though she was probably imagining she was Philip Schofield, because she is not as ancient as me and can't remember the glorious naffness of the afternoon telly staple wedged between The Sullivans and The Young Doctors.  It was, somewhat improbably, won by Billy and Paul, who only had a snog last week and yet suddenly know each other's most intimate details.  They must've spent the entire weekend in bed together.  We did learn a few facts about our characters, such as Maria eats a tuna mayo sandwich every single day (woah, calm down there you big party animal), and Steve doesn't know Tracy's middle name.  This last one seemed somewhat unlikely; even I knew Tracy's middle name was Lynette, and I've not married her (twice).  Perhaps he got her confused with one of his other wives.  We also discovered that Sinead's middle name is Kimberley, after Victoria Wood's friend; this is extremely appropriate as they basically have the same voice.  It's a shame her hair never fell out during her cancer treatment as we could've been treated to the sight of her in a little yellow beret.

You write your own histories for the dead.  Nicky consoled Imran by talking about his dear departed dad, the magnificently coiffured Brian.  He told him the tragic tale of how Brian had intervened to save a woman he didn't know after she was being harassed by some thugs and ended up stabbed.  He didn't mention that Brian had copped off with the lady, and the reason the thugs got so close to her was he was busy arranging for a taxi to take them away from the club for a little extra-marital shenanigans behind Gail's back, but I suppose nobody likes to remember their dead dad badly.  You already have to forgive him that hairdo, there's no need to make things worse.

With the appearance of Tall Matt this week and mention of Fat Brenda's chocolate stash, the author is curious how many other potential Mr Men characters are lurking in the background of the Street.  Loud Susan?  Drunk Debbie?  Bendy Barry?  Send your suggestions to the author via Twitter @merseytart.

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