Five Things We Learned In Corrie This Week

Just say no.  I am not, nor have I ever been, a parent.  I had a cactus once and it died horribly and I didn't notice for about six months so it's probably for the best.  I was, however, a child once, and sometimes I would ask for stuff, and my mum would say "no".  Quite a lot of the time actually.  A simple word: "no".  Perhaps I should send my mum over to Weatherfield to teach this skill to the parents there, because they all seem to be in thrall to their little brats no matter what they do.  There are Hope and Max, of course, varying degrees of unpunished evil, while this week Kelly and Aadi's ridiculous plan to get married was met with a lot of "hmmms" and "I don't knows" rather than "don't be so bloody stupid."  Dev was the only one who seemed to find the whole scheme patently unacceptable, and he was soon grovelling to Aadi for forgiveness after an accident with a banister.  Kelly, meanwhile, turned up at the Rose Gold Empire with her boyfriend of less than a week, demanded that he move in with them, and Gary and Maria simply said "yeah, sure, need any help pushing the beds together?"

Add into the mix Dylan, who finished his holiday by saying actually he didn't want to go back to where he's lived for fourteen years and wanted to stay Up North, the home of his accent, and everyone immediately bent over backwards to accommodate his request.  How about saying "no"?  How about saying "it's three days before you start school, you're not registered at Wethy High, you're starting your GCSEs this year for pity's sake"?  How about "there is nowhere for you to live in this two up two down that is rammed full of humans"?  No, instead Sean immediately agreed to his request and started blowing up an air mattress for him to sleep on.

This means that the delightful Violet, one of the loveliest, kindest characters ever to grace the cobbles, now seems like an uncaring hag.  One phone call was all it took for her to hand over her only child to his mostly-absent flibbertigibbet father.  She didn't even want a chat with Dylan, just a "yeah, keep him, I'll turn his room into a pottery studio".  This is deeply unfair and a slander and I will not stand for it.  I demand a return visit from Vi where she grabs Dylan by his earlobe, tells him to stop being a silly little boy, and drags him back to That London.  Admittedly it might not be for months because the trains between Manchester and London have all gone to pot [topical satire].

I may forget but I'll never forgive.  Wendy Crozier.  Wendy flamin' Crozier.  Obviously the only person who breaks up a marriage is the person in the marriage, and trust me, I've never really forgiven Ken Barlow for being an adulterous scumbag either.  (Is this all tied up in rather complicated emotions arising from the fact that my father ran off with another woman in 1989, just like Ken?  I couldn't possibly comment, Doctor Freud).  However... Wendy Crozier.  I refuse to sanction this redemption arc for one of History's Greatest Monsters, and no amount of am dram larking about with Mary at her campest will ever change that.  If this ends with Ken making Wendy the newest Mrs Barlow I want the producers to know I will be chaining myself to the doors of the registry office to try and stop it from happening.  

Bins are a dangerous foe.  Round and round and round he goes, where he'll stop, nobody cares knows.  The bellowing lunatic version of Stephen was back this week as he took out his frustrations at not getting Audrey's cash on a load of innocent wheelie bins round the back of the factory.  I think we should applaud ITV for its bravery; for a full minute on Wednesday night it broadcast a man losing a fight with a series of inanimate objects without any commentary or dialogue.  If you stuck that on a loop at the Tate it would've won the Turner Prize.  I was disappointed that the bins all contained boring old recycling - the scene would've been a thousand times better if Stephen had swung it round and been accidentally coated with a three day old chicken jalfrezi and a filled nappy.

Eventually he collapsed to the ground and stared off into the middle distance, overcome with horror that he would never get his hands on Audrey's cash now (which, as I've said before, probably isn't very much unless you're willing to also sell Grasmere Drive and the barber's).  Part of me actually doesn't blame him for being a bit narky - Audrey revealed that she wouldn't be leaving him any money in her will because he "didn't need it".  Well, no, but that's not the point, is it?  You've got two children, Aud, be fair - split it between them.

Stephen's Wheelie Bin Whirlygig rather overshadowed Audrey telling her family about her recent suicide attempt.  Most of the family, anyway; apparently Nicky had a cold and couldn't attend, though he was just fine in Friday's episode and didn't have so much as a runny nose, so I assume he was putting it on because he was scared Rita might christen the reopened Audrey's with a song.  The Platts were understandably shocked, none more so that Gail, but it was lovely to see Audrey talk to them sincerely and treat them as adults.  I hope that's not the end of Audrey's depression, that it's "she's happy again, hurray!"; it's a condition that doesn't simply go away because you got your hair salon back.

If you like it then you should've put a ring on it.  So, to recap: Leo wanted to go to Canada, but Jenny didn't, so he didn't go.  Then they talked and she told him to go to Canada without her.  So he made plans to go, but Rita and Gemma told him not to.  So Leo proposed, and Jenny said yes, and now she is going to Canada, even though she didn't want to go to Canada.  Oh, and in the middle of all this, Leo got back both his job as a Hole Expert in Toronto and his job labouring for Ed, even though, as I mentioned, he's moving to Canada.  It was all a bit exhausting really and didn't make much sense, and let's be honest, none of us believe it's going to happen.

Obviously the best part of it was Drunk Jenny, who is always delightful to see; now that Audrey has sworn off the sauce we're left with Ms Bradley (you heard) as the Street's premier lush.  She appeared to be charmed by Stephen, which shows just how mind altering alcohol can be; perhaps she should've checked her wine glass to be sure Max hadn't nipped round with his date rape drugs.  I have a suggestion for Jenny when Leo eventually packs off and heads to Canada without her - look up his dad.  He was well up for it when they met in casualty that time, and he was very good looking.  Leo will be on the other side of the planet, so it won't be too weird when you announce you're his new mum.

Read it and weep.  Oh look, Summer's having a moment of extreme emotional trauma, how unusual.  She turned 18, finally, and to mark the occasion Billy gave her a letter from her real dad.  (I liked, incidentally, that the character was referred to as "your dad" throughout, implying Billy had forgotten his name).  She was hesitant to open it, and was secretive about its contents, but fortunately I managed to steam the envelope open ahead of her and can exclusively reveal what was inside.

Dear Summer,

It's me, your first Gay Dad, writing here, to let you know I am proud of you.  I've seen what a girl you've grown up as and I'm sure Billy will continue to guide you to your inevitable brilliance in my absence.  Just because you've moved to Weatherfield I'm sure nothing will change.  You're not the kind of girl to, I don't know, overdose on Spice or drink underage.  You're a clever girl who absolutely loves science and robots and so no doubt you're gearing up for a STEM degree at university - let's hope it's my alma mater, Cambridge, eh?  I trust you to be a confident woman who wouldn't throw it all away for a lousy job in a backstreet factory.  You're far too clever for that.  No, you'll be a brave, powerful young woman who definitely won't have transformed into a completely different person in the middle of a pandemic.  I love you, and I'll miss you.  Now celebrate your birthday with a big old cake, full of sugar and chocolate.  It can't do you any harm!

Love,

Your Gay Dad Whose Name We Can Definitely Remember

Beautiful.

I've recently been informed that Broadway star Lea Michele would love to read these blogs but can't for some unknown reason.  Contact me on Twitter @merseytart Lea and I'll see if I can sort out an audiobook.

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