Five Things We Learned In Corrie This Week

A viewer writes.  

Dear ITV,

Thank you for reading my recent letter suggesting storylines for Coronation Street and for taking some of the ideas on board.  However, I fear that there has been something of a misunderstanding.  While I enjoyed Wednesday's episode, I must say my original concept of "Phill and Tyrone strip off, grapple with one another, then spray all over the place" was rather different to the one you ended up filming.  

In future, perhaps double check with me before you put any of my suggestions on screen to make sure you're doing it right.  Particularly the one about Imran and Adam and the Turkish Oil Wrestling.

Many thanks.

Scott

Sassy Birds Of The World Unite.  There's a cliché in action films where the villain has the goodie at his mercy and says, "we're not so different, you and I."  I thought of this when Daisy and Nicky chatted on Monday.  For a moment there was a little banter, a back and forth about their respective romantic prospects, and I thought "yes!  Make them friends!"  I'd much rather watch these two forceful women bicker and laugh together than battle over the terminally dull Daniel.  Can you believe that Nicky is the fourth woman this year to find him attractive, when we add Psycho Lydia and Mrs Crawshaw into the mix?  I really don't understand it.  It's like fancying a slightly worn office chair.

Nicky has packed her things and left now, having presumably spotted that five people in a two bedroom flat is a really stupid idea.  She said she's going to housesit for a friend who's got a job in Spain - I wonder if this was one of her sex worker friends, and she's actually being trafficked, and we should be alerting the authorities.  Daniel, meanwhile, has decided to stop being a teacher because the last year has been such a hassle.  I can't help thinking he might be better off teaching at a school that isn't stuffed with his relatives and neighbours.  Of course it's difficult to maintain authority in a school where half the class know the intimate details of your life.  Finding out your teacher's first name when I was at school was enough to cause a fracture in the teacher-pupil power dynamic; Daniel used to have sex with Max's auntie and he pushed Amy's granddad down the stairs and Asha and Aadi's dad slept with both his sister and his stepmum.  Go and apply for a job in Oldham, Daniel, you'll get a bit more respect that way.

Summer has three dads.  Can we please get some clarification on what is going on with the living arrangements at the florist flat?  Todd and Paul are now letting themselves in with their own keys, apparently.  I get that they all seem to care deeply about Summer but come on folks, boundaries - she even reminded Paul that it was meant to be for emergencies only.  You're not with Billy any more; in fact, Todd was kicked to the kerb for being a manipulative scumbag, and Paul suffered quite considerably at his hands.  Only Billy and Paul visited Summer when she ended up in hospital again, so maybe Todd just sticks around for the fun stuff like delivering insulin and can't be bothered caring.  Unless they're all secretly sleeping together in a polyamorous open relationship in which case, fair play to them.

Summer had a packet of crisps on Wednesday which caused the flat to start sliding down a hill.  Between her failure to take her insulin and the fact that she says OXFORD in every other sentence Summer is really quite annoying these days.  The sooner she crashes and burns on her exams and gets to re-examine her future the better.  We all know it's going to happen - they're not going to send Harriet Bibby away for three years while Summer goes to OXFORD - so we're simply marking time until those results come out in August.  I will emphasise that I don't want Summer to fail so badly that Higher Education is entirely ruled out.  We've got way too many smart women working in menial jobs at Underworld already, thank you very much.  No, have Summer (and Amy and Asha and Aadi for that matter) pass with enough distinction to make her fail the OXFORD admission standards but still get to study at Manchester or Salford or Bolton.  That way she can stick around on the Street and maybe start having fun again.  Put the show's students together in a house and they can be all wild and crazy and steal traffic cones and have parties with awful punch and attend lectures with massive hangovers. Also, make Summer interested in robots again.  Robots are cool. 

Faye's body is a temple.  Maybe I'm over sensitive but something about Faye refusing the doctor's recommendations because she didn't want to fill her body with chemicals made me feel very prickly.  We've had two years of lunatics, conspiracy theorists, and Richard Fairbrass Out Of Right Said Fred shouting that taking a bit of medicine is one step down from the Government slapping a swastika on you and forcing you to goosestep around Slough.  I get that it's Faye's body, Faye's choice, but I don't think we're far enough out of the Covid woods for them to start dancing round this topic without causing a certain amount of discomfort.  It doesn't help that the voice of reason is Beth, given that Beth's usual position on everything is to be absolutely bloody awkward; she did at least point out that Sinead also tried holistic techniques instead of actual proper medicine and she's six feet under.  By the end there was a reconciliation as Beth brought round a herbal tea that helped her mother during the menopause - she then said that it worked for a while but then she got the HRT and that really sorted her out, so at least she's being consistent.

In the meantime let's all enjoy the face Craig pulled when he tried drinking liquorice tea because it is very funny.

Scousers here, Scousers there, Scousers every ****ing where.  DAMON!  Yes, yes, I know he's called Frank, but: it's DAMON!  For those of you who are millennials or younger, Simon O'Brien here was cheeky chirpy Scouse tearaway Damon Grant on legendary Eighties soap opera Brookside and even though it's thirty five years since he was knifed on a canalside during maudlin spin-off Damon and Debbie he will always be the Liverpool-supporting YTS icon.  Let's hope he fares better than some of the other Brookie transplants.  Sinbad was so rubbish I can't even remember what his name was in Coronation Street, even though he was in it for a couple of years; Mick Johnson was barely in the show as a love interest for Liz McDonald; and the less said about Sue "Shelia Grant" Johnston being utterly wasted both as an actress and a character as Gloria the better.  I'm still angry about that.  It helps that Simes effortlessly radiates charm and personality and genuine niceness; from his very first appearance Damon Frank seemed like a proper charmer we could all love.  

Really, the only negative about Simon O'Brien appearing in the show is that he's getting close to Sean, and nobody deserves a Sean storyline, least of all the viewers at home.  Sean was his usual selfish vileness this week, berating Fiz for getting engaged while he's still single ("I want to say I'm happy for you but I can't"), dismissing a potential date because he had the temerity to own hamsters, and initially recoiling in horror at the prospect of going out with Frank because he was the other side of fifty.  The grossest moment actually came from Daisy when she suggested Sean has an OnlyFans and I really don't want to think about that thank you very much.  Frank seems very interested in Sean for the time being, but if it's anything like every other relationship Mr Tully has ever had, he'll quickly realise he's awful and run off with one of the Street's other gays.  Paul's at a loose end, Damon, maybe mark him down for the future; alternatively Billy is always available.  Then when he's finished with that Simon can come back to Merseyside to carry on being our Walking and Cycling Commissioner over here in the Liverpool City Region (no really).   

Hero of the week is the posh lady who owns Phill's house in real life, who clearly didn't mind them filming in the garden but wouldn't let those common ITV types through the French windows into her house.  Yes, it was unrealistic that a sickly Hope was sat outside on the porch on a chilly day, but on the other hand, that lady's carpets were very expensive.  I salute you, random homeowner, and if you contact me on Twitter @merseytart I will happily buy you a bottle of Waitrose prosecco.

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