Five Things We Learned In Corrie This Week

Summer's gone.  Fun fact: if you look very closely at the carpet in the florist flat, you can see the outline of Harriet Bibby, because she's spent so much time keeling over to the floor there she's left an imprint.  It's been a year since Summer was diagnosed with diabetes and I'm afraid I've reached the point where I say - let her die.  Frankly after a year of her constantly falling unconscious because she hasn't taken her medicine I think the NHS should wash its hands of her and give her insulin supplies to someone who might actually use them.  Aaron reckoned she was operating some sort of long con with two blood monitors I didn't quite understand and if you're going to that level of effort to avoid being caught then you're kind of asking to suffer and I have no sympathy.

This is of course a distraction from the real scandale in that flat, which is that Todd and Billy and Paul are clearly having no strings threesomes and couplings and the show isn't brave enough to deal with it.  It's eight o'clock on a weekday on ITV, it's difficult to cover the complexities of human sexuality, but these three are almost certainly having some kind of casual sexual relationship and the programme can't quite deal with it.  There's no other real explanation for how free and easy and intimate everyone is together.  I'm guessing that Billy is the crossbeam in their Eiffel Tower, for some reason; he seems the type.  No wonder he was so horrified when he realised Summer hadn't gone on her holiday - he'd spent all day eating pineapple and avoiding spicy foods and now she'd turned up to cramp his style.  I bet he had to dash off to make a series of urgent phone calls the minute she'd finished unburdening.  

A Change will do you good.  Hurray, Faye and Craig split up!  I genuinely thought the writers had finally spotted that they had actual negative chemistry together and decided to put an end to it.  They're like magnets, literally repelling one another.  The fact that Faye was finding Craig irritating when he was just being Craig seemed to be the confirmation - she'd finally spotted he was quite annoying and wanted to end things.  But then they got together again by the end of the week and were all happy with their takeaway and their petrol station flowers and that was the end of that.  With any luck Tyrone will finally spot he's now paying two mortgages and flog the salon flat and these two tedious moaners will have to move to Glasgow and we'll never see them again.

Sean has maggoty skin.  Look, I'm just reporting facts here, don't blame me.  He was in the middle of telling a story to a no doubt unwilling Faye and Amy in which he revealed his skin had gone "maggoty" and so a beautician recommended "leech therapy".  Where is Sean getting his facials, a Harvey Nicks located in 13th Century England?  What's next, a course of mercury to cleanse his humours?  Between this, Sinead refusing cancer treatment, and Faye's disdain for HRT, there's a strange anti-science undercurrent running through the show, which is weird considering every other episode has people in hospital.  Get vaccines, folks, and take medicines, and don't pay weird women in white coats to stick leeches on your face.  

You get what you pay for.  Michael - yes, Michael's back this week, and we even got an appearance from James, incredible times - demanded Underworld's website got an update because apparently they lost business from it.  I do sympathise, because I am So Very Online that if a business doesn't have a decent website I give them a significant side-eye.  Don't get me started on restaurants that don't have their menus available, because that shouldn't be allowed, and by the way having a Facebook page doesn't count.  Anyway.  Carla allocated the grand sum of £750 to come up with a new one, then was surprised when the only people who'd work for that kind of money were a washed up Canadian and a teenager.  I'm guessing Mark Zuckerberg was busy?

Max and Stephen spent one (1) day larking about the factory with a camera and managed to produce a working prototype by home time; you can't say they didn't work for the cash.  I do query their content, however.  I don't want to sound like an old perv - and I'll remind you that I am a homosexual, so I have no personal interest in this - but I would've thought that if you are an underwear company, that's an ideal opportunity to put some girls in their pants on your website.  Sex sells, and pretty ladies in skimpy lingerie can sell almost anything.  Imagine wondering what Underworld's range is like, clicking on the website, and getting Sally Metcalfe wafting a hand over a camisole like she's on Sale of the Century.

Get some prosecco in, invite some of the local women round, then get them to do some modelling.  Nothing tawdry, just ladies hanging out in their knickers.  Although Max seemed to have difficulty saying the word "pants" so I'm not sure he could've handled taking pictures of, say, Asha and Kelly and Maria laughing together in lacy two pieces.  He'd have probably exploded.  

The old ones are the best.  For all its forays into murder, rape, explosions, tram crashes and roof collapses, Corrie is a show about people.  About characters.  And it's at its very best when it remembers that any old show can blow things up and run people over, but only Corrie can mix heart and heartbreak in a single scene.  Some other stuff happened in Monday's episodes but the core of it - the absolute high point - was Audrey's afternoon tea.  One character, meeting her friends.  Those friends chatting and joking.  Claudia, a rival-slash-pal, turning up to stir the pot.  A little bit of scandal.  Rita offering to do the Single Ladies dance, something I would very much like to see, please.  Then Audrey quietly, devastatingly, confessing she tried to take her own life.

Nothing else that happened this week could beat the second half of Monday's episode, brilliantly written by Corrie legend Carmel Morgan.  There were tears and emotions and sadness, but understated, quiet; dignified.  It wasn't hysterical but was tinged with genuine tragedy.  That this wonderful, vibrant woman had felt so alone and abandoned she'd turned in on herself.  Her friends, full of regret at never really noticing.  It was beautifully performed by a cast of legends with a total age of 329.  Take that, Hollyoaks.

I get that in today's media saturated, multi-channel, publicity thirsty world, ITV demands big stories to catch the attention.  You're not going to get an Inside Soap cover splash with Audrey has afternoon tea.  This though - this is what I tune in for.  Wonderful characters talking to one another.  Last week I said I'd almost reached the end of my tether with the show after a load of dreadful criminal nonsense.  But now they've pulled me back in.  As Audrey herself said... "there's life in the old girl yet."

Apologies for the lateness of this week's post, but after seeing what Audrey pays for window cleaning, I've spent the whole weekend slathering up the salon.  Send my the fifty pounds via Twitter @merseytart, ta, Aud.

---

---

All original work on Coronation Street Blog is covered by a Creative Commons License