Five Things We Learned From Corrie's Christmas

Yes, we're back, for one night only!  My mum came round for Christmas Day and, as a result, I ended up watching Corrie for the first time in months (although, full disclosure, my mum prefaced the showing with "I don't know why I bother, it's rubbish now").  Obviously as a fervent follower of the Coronation Street Blog and a listener to The Talk Of The Street I was still aware of roughly what was happening, but this was the first time I'd actually laid eyes on an episode for ages.  So here's a Five Things Christmas Special, except it's one of the rubbish Christmas Specials, like the Only Fools and Horses ones they did after they ended the series: overlong, half as funny, and making you wish they'd left things alone with a nice neat ending instead of dragging it back up again.

It's CHRIIIISSSSTTTMAAAS!!!  Corrie Christmas Day specials go one of two ways: either it's a heartwarming cavalcade of niceness or it's a relentless murderfest.  Fortunately this year it was the first type so we didn't have to watch Rita get her brains blown out across her Christmas pudding or something.  The show opened with a montage of everyone's Christmas mornings, which allowed us to effectively rank the households and decide whose we'd like to end up at.  The Winters-Brown household looks cosy enough, with everyone in their identical jim-jams, until you realise that there are only three quads present.  Meanwhile the adults all look suspiciously relaxed for Christmas morning.  My only conclusion is that poor Aled is being used as slave labour and is currently chained to the oven slashing crosses into the bottom of Brussels Sprouts while all his siblings lark about with their new presents.  I cannot support child exploitation so that's number 5 ruled out.  

Stu was actually dressed as Santa at the Nazir house so that's an absolute no-no.  He's nauseatingly cheery the other 364 days of the year; at Christmas he must be more treacly than The Sound of Music.  Spending the morning there would be like drowning in melted Chocolate Orange.

There were four hundred people in Eileen's house, which sounds great because it means you won't have to put the heating on - all those bodies will warm the place for you.  Plus there's plenty of hands to help with the meal prep and Jodie Glenda could entertain us all with her take on the Christmas classics.  The danger is after lunch when all that rich food starts to have its effect on the various digestive systems.  Those people are packed together far too tightly in that back parlour.  The resulting mass release of wind would result in an acrid atmosphere that would cause light headedness and possibly choking.

The Websters looks fine, a bit boring.  They'll all be making a fuss of little Alfie's first Christmas and ignoring Jack, which could be awkward, but since he's about 37 that's not much of a bother.  He'll be sat in front of his X-Box with a pint of bitter and a few Hamlets so he'll be fine.

The best option for me would be the Platts.  David and Gail looked like they were having a right old time of it, Max was less sulky than usual, and Shona was buried under a lovely warm blanket that covered her stomach for some reason.  It looked warm and cosy and since Nicky was once again dragging everyone round to the Bistro for lunch, there wasn't even any cooking to bother with.  That'll do.  I'll be expecting my invite for next year, David, thanks, unless it's one of the murdery episodes in which case I won't bother.

Today's all about you, sweetheart.  Weddings are, of course, pretty dull for the guests at the best of times.  You're basically there to be extras in the photos - crowds to highlight how popular the bride and groom are.  Holding a wedding on Christmas Day is even more self-centred because you're not only making a public holiday all about you, you're also ruining the festive season for everyone else.  They're sat there in a tie and collar being shuffled around when they could be in a pair of joggers inhaling Quality Street in front of Strictly.  On top of all this selfishness, Tyrone decided to have a surprise wedding and not tell the bride.  You know who else tried to organise a surprise wedding, Ty?  Alan Bradley.  Exactly.  

Unsurprisingly it all went wrong and Fiz left the family home to get a turkey.  For some reason, she decided to go to Derbyshire to get it.  At least that's what it looked like, unless this is a previously unseen corner of the Red Rec.  The car broke down, which is totally feasible when it is owned by an actual mechanic with his own garage, and so Fiz was forced to accept the kindness of a strange old man with a white beard and a red suit.

The two of them wandered off to find a phone box, because of course Fiz had forgotten her mobile, because it's 2022 and the writers still haven't worked out a way to get round that very simple plot spoiler.  It's left at home, run out of battery, or no signal; scriptwriters must really hate Barry Vodafone for inventing the mobile.  She could've asked one of the many joggers or walkers who passed them if she could use their phone but she was too busy bonding with the gentle twinkly stranger.  Was he Santa?  Was it a Christmas miracle?  Who could say?  (No, it wasn't).

Fiz did make it to the altar eventually, with the registrar still there too; he must've been on triple time.  It's a shame that after Fiz married Phill in a nice country marquee we're back to the rubbish Chariot Square Hotel set - not even a couple of Christmas trees could cover up its essential drabness.  Still, it's lovely that Tyrone and Fiz have finally got married after twenty years of being on again and off again and on again.  I'm sure they'll live happily ever after and won't have any affairs or secret babies or anything.

They're dreaming of a White Christmas.  One of the reasons I stopped watching Corrie was I saw the previews of Max joining a bunch of far-right nutters and I thought "nope".  I'm on Twitter; I can see the deranged rantings of lunatic racists any time I want.  I don't need to tune in to ITV three times a week to see some more.  I have, however, followed the storyline at arm's length.  Did they really have a car bomb?  And a terrorist training camp?  Is this an actual storyline that happened?  Anyway, the point is, I figured the racists must be incredibly charismatic to lure Max into their web of evil.  So I was somewhat surprised to tune in and discover that Christmas With Adolf and Eva wasn't a festive romp in the Eagle's Nest, more a dark afternoon on the set of I, Daniel Blake.  That coffee table is straight out of a charity shop and the armchair hasn't been cleaned since the Blair administration.  The wreath on the door is made out of empty beer cans!  (Although the red white and blue ribbon is very on brand).  You wouldn't want to Ding Dong Merrily in there; you'd want to hang yourself from a light fitting by a length of tinsel.  Come on Max, what on earth is so appealing about spending your time with a bunch of middle aged losers ranting about how you can't even say "Merry Christmas" because the Woke Stasi will make you wear a sari, or something.  Even an afternoon with Stephen sounds more interesting than that.

Incidentally I'm pleased to see that despite being a murderer, a swindler, and having both the fragrant Jenny Bradley AND Paula Wilcox on the go, Stephen is still less interesting than the King's Speech.  Has he murdered his ex-wife with the accent yet?  

If you like it then you should've put a ring on it.  Tyrone and Fiz weren't the only one to have marital shenanigans on Christmas Day, as Daniel proposed to Daisy as well.  (I bet Fiz was thrilled to have her thunder stolen).  This came shortly after Daisy experienced a cancer scare, just as Sinead before her did.  To have one fiancé with a life threatening illness is happenstance; to have two seems a bit fetishy.  Mind, Daisy got the all clear and Daniel didn't withdraw the proposal so he must love her for her.  Or he's sick of looking after Bertie on his own and needs someone else to take the damn kid to nursery for once.

Daniel's original ring was stolen in a robbery at number one - I presume they stole Tracy and Peter as well, because none of the rest of the extended Barlow clan made an appearance; Adam and Sarah-Lou weren't at the Platt dinner or the Barlows so they obviously couldn't be bothered with any of them - so Ken provided a ring of his own for the proposal.  He didn't say where it was from but I hope it's the one he tried to propose to Denise with all those years ago when she told him to get lost.  There'd be a nice full circle to that.  Now we're going to get Daisy planning a wedding which will no doubt be an absolute nightmare.  I hope you've got deep pockets, Dan.

Bury your loved ones.  After George bought Eileen a funeral for her present last year, this year he dressed up a coffin as a sofa and presented her with that.  In 2023 he'll probably just smash her over the head with a spade and shove her into an open grave.  I'm not sure why they thought an open coffin could pass as a sofa, given that the very second Eileen tried to sit on it their subterfuge collapsed.  I guess it was "comedy"?  I wasn't amused, though I will say that's some lovely woodwork on that coffin.  Top drawer craftsmanship.

What did make me laugh was Mary's rhapsodies about a man called Ramon and his magnificent peonies.  Apparently, "even the hardiest peonies can wilt in the heat, but Ramon's put a smile on my face every morning for a week."  Because "peonies" sounds a bit like "penis", do you see?!?!  I love a bit of gratuitous smut.

At the end of the episode Eileen was shocked to receive a month's holiday in Thailand courtesy of Jason, leaving the very next day.  Oh aye.  Just a quick stop off in the jungle first for you, Eileen.

I haven't been swung back to watching the show, I'm afraid; too much nonsense, not enough fun.  Tell me what I'm missing over on Twitter @merseytart.

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