Episode updates - September 1998

Wednesday 2 September

Dear Update Readers,

The Wednesday update this week comes to you courtesy of none other than Paul Baker, former updater extraordinaire, who is currently in rehab for acute amyl nitrate abuse, but wishes to say hello to all his former fans via a stand-in update. Enjoy!

Yes! The bitch is back, and as they say, it's almost as if she's never been away! The glamour tiara has been dusted off, I've sharpened my claws - so hold tight for an hour long Coronation Street special which is a tribute to those low-budget British 60s horror flicks entitled "Scream Pretty Toyah!" (Let's be kind and ignore the fact that she's not *that* pretty). At least Joan Crawford gets to appear briefly as Roy Cropper

Curly/Robo-Ann

Ann is cutting out and sticking letters into her sneaky blackmail/kidnap letter, in a story-line that was probably last employed in a particularly bad episode of Charlie's Angels (were there *ever* any good ones?) As she was doing this on Monday night as well we must assume that she's not very good at it. Just as well she's not still at school or else she'd be in the remedial class by now.

Still (still!) wearing those rubber gloves, Ann freakishly walks down the high-street, as if she's auditioning for a part in one of John Waters' films. She pops the envelope (also marked with cut-out letters from Curly's stolen book) into a letter-box. The envelope is addressed to Curly. Ann smiles twistedly - an expression that she will repeat several times during this episode.

Back at Firmans or Betterbuys or whatever it's called (that places changes its name more times than Windscale), Curly tells Ann that he has changed his mind and would love to come round for dinner with her and her invented boyfriend Simon. As another ratucs reader has noted - invented personalities seem to be the order of the day at the moment. Let's hope that Simon doesn't claim to be an ex-make-up assistant of Granada too! Alma was in this storyline somewhere I think - but she was obviously sulking. "The last time they had an hour-long special it was me in a taxi in the ship canal with nutty Don Brennan," she's thinking. "Now I'm little more than wallpaper while Toyah Battersby gets to be me in the sequel. It should have been me! Me! ME!"

Kevin/Sally/Greg

It's Kevin's birthday- and in true Hammer film style, this is going to be one that he won't forget in a hurry. Lock away the sharp knives Sally if you know what's good for you! The day starts sweetly enough (which should be a warning in itself). Sally has arranged for Surphie and Rur-erh-sie to go over Gails' while Kevin and her have a night in some glitzty restaurant (probably Little Chef). Kevin is "made-up" (an old Liverpool saying which means "happy"). But little does he know that Sally is still intending to go behind his back with the Foul One: Greg.

Lots of dull predictable scenes follow - Kevin is waiting at home with those Children of the Damned, while Sally eats Greg's face at the factory. "Where's mommy?" asks the eldest one (Rur-erh-sie?) who is suddenly given proper lines. Kevin is too numb to reply, so he goes looking for mummy and catches Greg with his knickers round his ankles so to speak (I hope children aren't reading this). In shock, Kevin marches home and lets the children eat sweets for their tea, while his little fists scrunch up the sleeves of his birthday jacket (what an old drama queen - but wait! There's worse to come.)

When Sally returns back to her "nest", she is horrified to find that Kev' has dourrrble-locked the front door. Peeking through the letter-box (she's so small she could probably fit through it!) she squeaks "Kevin! Let me in!" Kevin opens the door and throws a bag that he has packed for her - along with the jacket. The door slams! Sally is dumb-founded, and Greg rushes across to lead her away. "My children, my children!" Sally moans. Greg looks pained. So do we. There now Kevin - how do *you* like being a "woman scorned"?

Duckworths/Alec/Rita

Rita's talking on the phone to Mavis (yeah, right!), who is trying to talk her out of marrying Alec. "I know he's a rotten worm Mavis, but I love him," Rita says. Alec enters the Kabin and overhears. His anger is nothing when he finds out that Mavis is to be head bridesmaid. Now we know they can't be getting married - they can't exhume Mavis.can they?

The Duckworths, after much deliberation decide to accept Alec's offer of letting him buy them out, while they can remain at the Rover's Return. Alec is intending to con them horribly in some way, and gloats about it to Rita, who is not impressed. She is further annoyed at his constant cost-cutting of their wedding, so suggests that they just cancel the whole thing. Alec looks stunned. But who cares when Toyah Battersby's at the mercy of a mad-man with dangerous-looking side-burns? Who wants to see R Toyah all tied up with clothes-line? Hands up now! The hour-long special is just beginning!

The Battersbys

When we last left Toyah she was getting to know her "real" father. They exchange memories, in a scene so touching that I was left gasping for an insulin injection. "All I remember about you was being on a swing at the park when I wor two, and you were pushing me and kept saying 'Who's my little Princess?' and I kept saying 'Me, Daddy! Me!" There is a lot of fore-shadowing going on here, and here's a bit more as Toyah explains why she ran away: "I was having tuition from an older man, but my parents thought something was going on between us." Toyah's new Daddy nods sympathetically, as he stares at the back of her neck. "Don't worry, you can stay here as long as you like. We can get to know each other VERY WELL."

Meanwhile, Janice and Les are playing Sherlock Holmes. Neither of them are known for their high IQ, so how they're going to solve this mystery is beyond me. Still, I predicted that they wouldn't even be able to find their way to London and they managed that. Les asks a ticket inspector at the tube station how to find Ronnie's street - the ticket inspector says "get a map". Les isn't going to (the expense!) but Janice makes him. I am liking Janice more and more - there is a lot of proto-feminism in this storyline - the men are either deviants or useless, while the woman are facilitators and heroines.

The hapless pair turn up at Ronnie's house - and then here's the twist - it's a different house from the one Toyah went to! With a different Ronnie! Oh.

It turns out that Toyah must have read on old letter of Ronnie's from before he moved house two years ago, and so she turned up at the old address - so who is the strange man pretending to be her father?

We don't know yet. But he's stroking the back of Toyah's neck and leering. Shirley Tremanye was right. There *is* something funny about him.

Meanwhile, Janice and Les, are at the real Ronnie's house - Ronnie has a hard-faced but surprisingly nice wife called Pauline who invites them in and says they haven't seen Toyah, but they will help them to look for her. There isn't room for them to stay (well, would you want the Battersbys breaking wind and God knows what else in your spare room?) so Les and Janice go to a nearby bed and breakfast. The next morning, while talking with Ronnie, Janice realises that Toyah might have gone to his old house. Les and Janice race over.

"Daddy" has just finished getting Toyah to have a bath (!), and when the doorbell rings he is all too happy to go along with Toyah's request that he lie and say that he hasn't seen her. By co-incidence, some men are drilling nearby so Toyah can't hear the full conversation (so she doesn't realise that Janice doesn't know this man.) However, at the end of the conversation she does hear Les and Janice introducing themselves. How odd. Oh well, never mind.

With Les and Janice gone, Daddy starts to get a bit touchy-feely again. Toyah suddenly puts two and two together - "you're not my Dad." Daddy dearest looks shifty and advances. "No, but we can have some fun together. I know you like older men."

Janice and Les, having a pint by a backdrop of London are going over the "clues" (it's just like Scooby Doo - it really is!) Janice wants to go back to the house to leave a note for Toyah in case she shows up with the strange man. She thinks he is a bit odd, but Les likes him (no surprise there - they're practically twins).

Meanwhile, Toyah has started screaming for help out of an open window. Daddy doesn't like this so the next time we see the pair of them, Toyah is all trussed up and gagged like the B-Movie Queen she is. See kids - this is what happens when you run away to London. Just give school another 5 years and get a job in a factory at the end of it. When Les and Janice call back, Daddy takes the note, but says he is going out. He also gives them a false name. Meanwhile, Toyah is only yards away - squirming in fear. Oh! It's just like a real horror film. I shall have nightmares tonight Mam.

Back at Ronnie's and Pauline's, Ronnie tells our detectives that he was in prison with the owner of his old house. Janice is shocked, especially as it transpires that "Daddy" was "in" for GBH and is a "right nutter" AND gave them a false name. Janice wants to pay a third visit to the house, in case Toyah turns up there (or ALREADY is there - think Janice, think!). But when they arrive, there is nobody home. Peering through the windows (one of the funniest Battersby scenes in this episode) Janice spots a hairbrush that "looks like our Toyah's". Someone, sign that woman up for MENSA!

Les stops a stranger on the street and shows them a photo of Toyah. The stranger isn't interested and walks away. Why are southerners always portrayed as grasping and uncaring in northern drama? Janice and Les have no more clues left. This never happened on Captain Caveman! By now the teen-angels would have solved the whole thing!

Meanwhile, Toyah is being driven into the country, where Daddy is going to take her to the park *one* *more* *time*. "You'll like it.. It's where someone took me when I was small." Someone at Granada's been doing a GCSE in social studies I'd guess from this "chain of abuse" plot twist. At a wooded part of London (does such a thing *exist*?) Daddy marches Toyah into the thick of things. Suddenly, a dog barks, scaring him momentarily and Toyah sees this as a chance to run away. The dog's owners - two very obvious-looking actors appear. The man says "I heard a woman screaming," but as this is London and people don't care unless their mobile phones are involved they lose interest and walk away.

Toyah's running through the woods and wishing that she tried harder in P.E. Where are all the gay men having anonymous sex I'd like to know? My media-injected views of London are being challenged! After literally minutes of Toyah running and Daddy chasing her, they both pause to pant a bit (Toyah is hiding behind a tree.) Then the shows ends - on her face - all red and puffy in close-up. Call this an hour-special? Where are the cars diving into canals? Where are the canals filling up with black-eye shadow make-up (a cheap stab at Alma here, but as the audience were expecting a bit of gore I thought I'd provide it.)

Glamour Award

Psycho-glam: Yes it's Ann. With that hair scraped back off her face ala early Lousie Woodward (before she settled for a nice hair-band) and pair of manic bug-eyes, our Ann really knows how to wear Psycho Chic. Those rubber gloves complete the ensemble and are oddly sexual.

Paul Baker

Friday 4 September

Hiya folks!!!! Another Sunday is here and here I am again, just putting the finishing touches to this little (!) update..

During the week, on the RATUCS newsgroup someone mentioned the differences in humour between Americans and Brits. This happened as I was arranging for some Goon Show humour to be shipped over to one of my friends in Canada, to introduce her to the joys of the wonderful Spike Milligan. It got me thinking about the humour I have enjoyed over the years.

I guess, in the UK, there was always a pretty strong music-hall tradition, which influenced comedy over here. Then came the Goons, a pretty anarchic lot, who paved the way for a new genre of humour, influencing amongst others, the Monty Python team. All of this lot, though, were pretty British in their outlook and as a kid growing up in the 50s and 60s, the only North American humour I came across was from the likes of Bob Newhart and Woody Allen. They went down well over here, but what else there was around, was and is a mystery to me. Certainly, I found it difficult to get my head around the American comedy TV programmes and, with a few notable exceptions, I guess this remains the case to this day.

It got me thinking about Coronation Street and its popularity in various parts of the world and I wondered whether Canadian humour was actually closer to British or American humour, or whether it is some amalgam. No doubt, someone will inform me of the facts.

Over the years, though, as Americanisation has swept the globe, the influence of America has certainly increased and there is a fair amount of American material which is universally appreciated nowadays, in a way which wouldn't have happened just a few years ago.

Music has always been a pretty universal currency and I can remember in the 60s, staying up in the night to try to catch American and Canadian radio stations on medium wave, after the European ones had shut down, at around 2 a.m. Over 30 years on, I can still vividly remember listening to WKBW Buffalo, New York on 1520 kHz. I also used to listen to Wolfman Jack, who was syndicated on the American Forces Network, who had a powerful transmitter in Germany. Tamla Motown was just hitting big as a record label in 1964 and it was so thrilling to hear the sounds of the new music, which at that stage had yet to reach British shores. The excitement of fast moving Top 40 radio remains to this day.

What has this got to do with Coronation Street? Not a lot directly, I guess. but.. for a number of weeks, when I have been on the #coro_street channel on IRC, I have talked to Jacqueline in Newmarket, Ontario about an oldies program she listens to on Saturday night and I'd try to guess the titles and artists from the first line of the song. Well this week, things took a step forward when one of her friends Lori, discovered that this station, CHFI, broadcasts on the World-wide Web (the location is http://www.cybertv.to/chfi/index.html). Before long, half a dozen of us were tuned into this station through the web, enjoying the hits of yesteryear and it made me realise what a small world it was - there was Jac listening to the radio on 98 MHz FM and the rest of us, out of normal signal range, hearing the same station, albeit subject to a signal delay of around 15 seconds. Actually, it was just as if we were at the same party, even though we were separated by a few thousand miles. A small world and getting smaller, day by day. Incidentally do join us on the channel, if you can, Saturdays, from 6 p.m. Eastern time, tuning your browser into the URL quoted above - if 60s/70s music is your thing, then a good time will be had!!!

I suppose the overall link with Coronation Street is that, although this is set in a fictitious part of Northern England and the background is very Northern, nevertheless there are aspects of the programme which cover pretty universal situations, to which people can relate, irrespective of where they live. And on that note, without further ado, it's time for the update..

Sunday 6 September

Gosh, September's here already. This means we've had the last Bank Holiday of the year and it's now the long stretch to Christmas with the nights drawing in and no prospect of any days off to unwind. I think it's high time they relocated one of the May holidays to October or November, after all there's two in May, which seems a bit greedy, and some years the first one is only about 2 weeks after Easter. Or we could rub up a bit closer to our friends over the Channel - in France, most of April is public holidays of one sort or another. And they do really clever things such as scheduling one on a Tuesday or a Thursday, so everyone just tacks on another day off and has a 4-day weekend. Oh yes, our continental cousins have a lot to teach us.

But not on the entertainment front. No matter how bad things get over here, what with the pressures on the BBC, and the expected 200 channels of Rupert Murdoch-vision, I doubt if we will *ever* sink as low as the mind-numbing dross that most of Europe have to watch. As if further proof was required, do they get Coronation Street ? The defence rests... On the other hand (and you can never have enough hands in a debate), it is possible to tune into, say, just for the sake of it, French cable TV, late at night, perhaps in your hotel room, after a bit of a heavy session at the bar, just for something to watch while your eyelids grow heavier and you drift off into the land of Nod, and find yourself watching, well, "educational" programming. That's educational as in "I've always wondered what sort of films they show in those seedy Soho basements full of shifty-looking men who don't seem to be able to sit entirely still", educational. And that would be doing the film-makers a disservice. The, erm, most educational film I watched one evening won shedloads of awards. It was *eye-opening*. So, vive la EC. Send us your decent wine, your public holidays, your cheap cars, and your erotica.

Titillated, Tunbridge Wells.

Act 1
Sally is looking wistfully out of Greg's window. He asks if she was trying to spot the girls, but they'd been taken out [to some child-minder's ?] by Kevin some while earlier. No, Sally's thoughts are about Maxine. She's realised that El Muppetto is still labouring under the delusion that *she* is Greg's girl-friend. Greg is completely nonplussed. He says that Maxine means nothing to him, and as far as he is concerned he doesn't care if Kevin breaks the bad news to her. Sally is a bit shocked, and persuades him that he at least owes it to Maxine to tell her in person. It'll clear the air.

Outside, a taxi draws up outside the Battersby's - Toyah is home. Janice offers to make her a slap-up breakfast, but Toyah isn't hungry. She looks tired, but glad to be back. Her arrival is seen by Vera, Rita, and Alec, who are standing outside the Kabin. Leanne emerges, and asks Rita if it is alright if she has a bit of time off to see Toyah. Rita tells her to take as long as she likes. Alec tells Rita she is getting soft in her old age, but she points out that Toyah is only 16, and has spent several days on her own in London. "Aye, and I bet London came off worst !", is Alec's response. Rita tells Vera that Alec isn't getting any mellower, but Vera claims to have seen a new side to him of late. "I hear you drove a hard bargain", says Rita, referring to the price Alec is paying to take full ownership of the Rovers. "I hope you've got something in writing !" Alec tries to laugh this off, saying they have a gentlemen's agreement, but Vera has caught on and decides they should get it properly sorted. Alec looks worried.

Sally drops into the garage, and offers to collect the girls that afternoon. Kevin tells her that she can see Rowsie and Surphie when *he* says so, and only for an hour at a time. Sally is angry, but Kevin stands his ground, pointing out that she abandoned them, not him. She tells him to enjoy their company, as she's going to see a solicitor, who will "sort out" her custody.

Over to Hair by Fiona, where, in front of a gobsmacked Audreh and Fi, Greg dumps Maxine. Horribly. She presumes he must be seeing someone else, and is shocked to be told it's Sally Webster. "How can you do this to me ?", sobs Maxine. "Sorry, it's just one of those things", says Greg, with no feeling whatsoever. [I know it wasn't very nice, but throughout this scene I kept getting a mental picture from "Ally McBeal", of Maxine going in the dumpster ! Actually, Maxine was very good in this scene. Perhaps it's something that Tracy Shaw can relate to, in real life. Ooh, I can be a bitch at times...]

Hardly any more cheer over at the Battersby's, where Toyah, as she said, wasn't hungry. Janice offers to cook up some really special vegetarian dish for lunch. [It sounds less than appealing to me !] Toyah asks her Mum not to fuss so much, she's not going to run away again. Janice decides to go to work, to give Toyah a bit of time to herself. She boots Les out too, and tells him to walk around the park or something. [Amazing - it's his day off, *again* !] "Alright kid ?", says Les on his way out. "Yeah", says Toyah in reply. After the door closes, she starts to cry. [And the entire male viewing population fails to notice, their eyes glued to Leanne's ever- shortening skirts. Oh, that's another Ally McBeal thing, isn't it ? And apologies to those who haven't got a clue what I'm on about.]

Audreh and Fiona are comforting Maxine. Correction, Fiona is comforting Maxine, and Audreh is wondering about Sally's poor kids. [Audrey, you will recall, is a model parent...] Fiona thinks that Maxine should just forget him. "I can't ! I love him !". But Greg has just used her - he's not worth it. Maxine thinks he is, but then resolves to go and have it out with Sally. Off she goes. The blue touch-paper is lit...

Far, far away [although I know not how far, but it must be worth driving to] Curly is sat in his office, looking at another anonymous blackmail letter. Same style as the first one, demanding fifty thousand pounds, or some produce in the shop will be poisoned. Anne points out that he really must follow the company guidelines this time. He still wonders if it is just a hoax, but agrees to call the police.

Toyah is telling Leanne how she wanted to come straight home after she was found in the woods, but the police wouldn't let her go until they'd asked her over and over about what had happened to her, had she been attacked, or hurt. She concludes they must have thought she was stupid. Then she realises that she went all the way to London to meet her real father, who hadn't seen her since she was two, and expected him to put his arms around her and tell her he still loved her. "I'm not safe to be let out - I couldn't even ask that couple in the woods to help me". [And she forgot all that kick-boxing training she used to do, Dewey reminded us all.] Leanne asks if she actually got to meet her real, real father. Apparently, Les and Janice had dragged him to the police station after she was found, but he had simply said "hello". Leanne looks on the bright side, and points out that even though she [Toyah] had had a blazing row with Les, he had still gone all the way to London and had walked the streets searching for her. "You wanted a real Dad - well, you've got one already !", she concludes.

It's showdown at the Underworld Corral, as Maxine marches in and says her piece to Sally. Sally tries to suggest that this isn't the best place, but Maxine is hurt that Greg dumped her in front of her workmates, and she'll quite happily tell all Sally's coworkers at the factory what's been going. Sally tries to leave, but Maxine holds her back. "Where are you going - the pokey lovenest above the corner shop ? Didn't your last bit on the side live there too ?". [Yeow !!] Greg appears, and tries to eject Maxine, but she pushes him away roughly. She'll walk herself out, thank you very much. Greg looks round at everyone else in the factory, and announces that "the show's over". They all look stunned. [So was I - more good stuff from Maxine. She must have had lots of practice. And I didn't spot Hayley - I thought she *did* go back to work at the factory after all ?]

Intermission
Yes, I know I'd resolved to give these up, but perhaps someone call tell me exactly why we had to see Richard Branson standing naked, holding a copy of the Sun in front of his dangly bits, promising to tell us all this week how he lost his virginity ? [Terrible pun, but I think it was literally that.]

Act 2
Greg has a quiet word with Sally, and tells her it could have been worse. Sally voices what we probably all thought, which was "How ?". "Well, Mike could have been here !". She says she has work to get on with, and can she just be left alone ? He returns to his office, and Janice leans over to ask if everything that Maxine said was true. "I don't know what you see in him - it'll never work. He'll not want your kiddies. I nearly lost my daughter, you should look after yours !".

Les has returned from his walk, and finds Toyah on her own. She looks a lot better. She takes a deep breath and apologises to him for everything, losing the computer, running away, looking for her real Dad. Les, bless him, isn't really sure what to do, but Toyah puts her arms around him, and he hugs her back. They agree they both behaved in a daft fashion about the Ken Barlow business, and Les says he "will make it right, you'll see." [A nicely played scene.]

Our first visit to the Rovers, where Jack is asking a reluctant Alec where their contract might be. Alec replies that he'll jot a few ideas down soon. He makes his excuses and leaves. Greg arrives, and orders a large whisky, but then spots Kevin already at the bar, and changes his mind. "Don't leave on my account", says Kevin, "it's thirsty work, playing around with my wife !" Jack tells the pair of them to calm down. Kevin accuses Greg of only being interested in Sally's money. Greg replies that Sally is wasted on Kevin. Kevin responds by throwing the remains of his pint of beer over Greg. As fisticuffs loom, Jack separates the pair of them. Kevin leaves. Jack asks Greg if he doesn't want that whisky, after all.

In Curly's office, two policemen are tearing a strip off poor Norman, while Anne, sounding as if she was supporting him by trusting to his judgement, leaves them in little doubt that in her view his judgement was crap. Curly says "sorry". Several times. The police are taking the threat to public health very seriously.

In the Kabin, Toyah is telling Rita that everyone's been very kind. Rita tells her they'll soon be back to normal - "fighting, bawling, calling each other names !". They laugh. Les turns round as the door opens, and Ken walks in. "Here's the man I've been looking for !", he exclaims. Before Ken can duck, Les has apologised for his total misreading of the situation over Toyah's lessons, and has offered his hand ! Ken shakes it. He says that it should have been all out in the open, and that was his fault. No, it was Les' fault for making Toyah scared to tell him. No, it was Toyah's fault for not telling him anyway. "As long as it wasn't my fault !", adds Rita. Everyone agrees that Toyah and Ken should resume their private tuition, and the Battersbys leave. "Who was that strange alien that looked like Les ?", wonders Ken. [Or something like that...] Alec comes through from the back, and Martin [who has been in the shop all the while] tells him he will have to get used to this sort of thing in future. Rita replies that they're not getting married after all, they're just moving in together. Martin raises an eyebrow. [I think he was stood at the magazines while this scene was playing, staring at that copy of "Loaded" with the look-alike brunettes with the wind-blown hair and the skimpy bikinis and the pouts and the faint sheen of body oil. Phew, it took a few rewinds to make a note of all *that*, I can tell you.]

Another long-lost soul, Jim Macdonald, so it is, is in the Rovers enjoying a pint with Michael, his occupational therapist. Suddenly, Jim feels a twinge in one leg. [And Liz is nowhere in sight !] Michael tries to stop Jim getting too excited, it can happen, but it doesn't necessarily mean anything major. "Take it easy, and see if it happens again", he advises. [I bring this to you as it was brought to us - a big hint that something *will* happen. Stay tuned.]

Over at the salon, we find Steve and Fiona and Morgan. Steve is asking if Morgan has been doing what babies are always doing, crying all the time. He thinks Fiona should take a break, let her Mum look after him for a while. They could go out and enjoy themselves. Fiona sees it in a different light - "dump him, you mean ?". No way. Steve says they could have a night out. No, says Fiona. Why not ? "I'd rather be with my baby...". "Fine, suit yourself !", says Steve. [Obviously, the scriptwriters trying to make up for the pretty terrible way that Zoe palmed Shannon off on anyone she could find, determined that she should still enjoy her life any way she chose. Mrs L and I reminisced about our first evening away from our first-born, he was about six weeks old and we left him with the out-laws and went to see something very cultural like "Top Gun". Mrs L tells me that each time she thought of the baby that night, her boobs leaked ! There's something you don't pick up in the ante-natal classes...]

Chez Webster, Martin has come over to see Kevin. Kevin doesn't particularly want any advice - he's packed her bags and thrown her out and changed the locks. Sally can see the girls when he chooses. Martin points out that Sally is their mother - she has rights. "I've rights too", says Kevin, "and so have the girls. They need someone who cares for them."

Rita is telling Alec that she's not comfortable with people thinking they're living together. "After all, you're hardly Leonardo DiCaprio, and I'm not Kate Winslet !", she points out. [Just for those of us who might have been confused.] "Good !", says Alec, "he went down with the ship as I recall." "What are we going to do, then ?", wonders Rita. Alec has had a brainwave. "We'll knock a hole in that wall, and put a door in !", he decides. [Alec and Rita have adjacent flats above the shop.]

We finish as we started this week, at Greg's flat. Sally is angry at the way Kevin put one over on Greg, and tells him he should've thrown something back at the little twerp. Greg says this would've been sinking to Kevin's level. "If I'd have got hold of him, I'd have flattened him !", he brags. [Oh yes, come on if you think you're hard enough !! Ho ho ho.] Anyway, Sally says it's *her* that Kevin's angry with. Greg tells her that Kevin said a few things that he'd rather not have heard, how he was only interested in her Mum's money. Sally tells him to ignore this. But Greg points out that they are starting a business, and he *does* need her money at the moment. Sally takes umbrage, and decides that Kevin's not going to tell her what she should do. She's going to make this decision herself, and give Greg the startup funds there and then. How much ? "Err, twelve and a half grand ?", says Greg. Sally writes a cheque on the spot, and hands it over. Greg purses his lips as he looks at the moolah. [The swine !]

This episode was written by Catherine Hayes.

More good stuff tonight. Great to see a more pleasant side to Les as everything is sorted out between him and Ken and Toyah. I'm still a bit confused with Alec, though, as we continue to wonder what's happening both at the Rovers, and with Rita. The future doesn't look too rosy for Curly or Steve, either, as they wrestle with unpredictable females. (Who's that at the back who said something about "predictable females" ? Wash your mouth out.)

If they could just keep Sally and Kevin and Greg out of one of these much- improved episodes, I'd have no hesitation in awarding a sound 4 stars these days. But it's half a mark off, I'm afraid:

Overall rating (out of 5 stars): ***1/2

See you next week, John Laird

Monday 7 September

"Hi, I'm The Rattler... You may remember me from such updates as 10/08/98 or 19/08/98..." But enough of the Simpsons jokes, this is a Coronation St forum. ;)

So it would appear I'm the new Monday Updater, stepping into the almighty (not to mention highly popular) shoes of long-time Monday Correspondant Dewey. I'm still a bit nervous around the edges about the whole thing and anxious to get this, my first regular update, out on time, so bearing all that in mind, I'll skip the prologue, settle down with a cool can of Stella and start swiftly on Monday's episode. Hope you enjoy it! [Insert standard issue apologetic disclaimer here.]

The scene is set in the flat above the cornershop where Gruesome Greg is showing a side to us we've never seen before. Yes, on top of sporting a rather distasteful brown-and-red-striped dressing gown, he is actually doing the ironing, while Sally sits on his couch, holding her head and remarking on how it aches. He offers a paracetamol but Sally declines and tells him she doesn't want to go into work today because she's sick of all the "nudging and whispering" going on behind her back. Continuing along these lines, she laments on how if they don't know her business, they know Kev's business and if not that they know someone else who knows and to cut a long story short, she's sick of the tight web of gossip that surrounds Coronation St (She's only just noticed???) and she wants out. Blandford begins smarming putridly in the way only Blandford can and assures her that to make sure Mike doesn't find out about their little business plan they have to (imagine this in a patronising sing-song voice for maximum effect) "act normal... and normal means going into work". To add insult to injury he finishes off with "Besides, they're only jealous!" Someone get this boy to a doctor, he's clearly delusional.

Just as he oozes "Sal, don't worry, we're yesterday's news" there's a wonderfully timed cut to the Battersby household where, just to prove the Gruesome one wrong, Les and Janice are gossiping about the Cringeful Couple with great awe. Janice is disapproving of Greg and ponders whether or not "He's told Sally Webster to dump them kiddies". Les, clearly back to his old tricks after showing a rare & touching sensitive side on Sunday, remarks "If he's got any sense he has!". Toyah, who throughout this brief conversation has been on the 'phone in the background, bounces towards them and tells them she's been on the blower to "RKirstie" (who is of course, the elusive Battersby cousin who I believe was mentioned a few weeks back?). Apparently, RKirstie was planning to take a bunch of girls on holiday to Spain but one of them errr... went into labour all of sudden, apparently without even having known she was pregnant. *scratches head* Janice is as confused as me with this statement and wonders aloud how anyone could *not* know they were pregnant until the last minute. Toyah dismisses the comment and excitedly puts forth the idea that she takes the pregnant girls' place (err, on the holiday, not in the delivery room). Les, of course, asks how much it'll cost. It *was* £300+ but apparently this girl is so desperate to be rid of her ticket she'll take £150. The cost seems a bit out of the Battersby Price Range (TM) but Janice is more concerned with the school-time that Toyah would miss should she take the holiday. Toyah says she doesn't really want to go back just yet since "all her mates" will be talking about her running away to London and she's not sure she can face that. Janice says "You're making a mountain out of a molehill, sweetheart. London were days ago. They'll have found something else to talk about... People do" and in a marvellous 'full circle' to the start of the scene, Toyah retorts... "Wot? Like you have with Greg and Sally Webster?"... Heh, heh and indeed heh.

Over at ye olde Kabin, Leanne is yawning over the cash register and is shopped by The Big Red One. "Am I keeping you up?" asks Big Red, sarcastically. Leanne apologises and explains that she isn't used to such early mornings before asking Rita how she's always so smiley at this hour. Rita explains that she sprinkles speed on her cornflakes instead of sugar every morning. No she doesn't actually, just checking you were awake at the back there. Just as they're philosophising over the Early Morning Blues along comes RToyah...

Rita: (To Toyah, tiredly) "We've got Early-Morning-Itis. Come on, tell us a joke."

Toyah: (To Leanne, swiftly, ignoring Rita's question) "Can you lend us hundred quid?"

(Long Pause)

Rita: (To Toyah, confusedly) "Is there a punchline?"

I don't know if it was just the mercilessly deadpan delivery or what but that one had me rolling. As I'm recovering from my ridiculous state, Toyah is recounting the whole Cousin Kirstie story to Leanne, with much gusto. Rita asks her about her schooling and Toyah tuts "You sound like me mam" before adding "I don't know what's worse. Her going on about me chucking my education away or Les going on about Greg chucking his life away" which is greeted by a confused silence. Rita and Leanne are clearly out of the gossip loop on this one. "He's taken up with Sally Webster!" explains Toyah as if it's obvious, "She's dumped the kids and Kevin and moved in with your Greg!". Rita is aghast and in heels the size of Paris, she [clickity-clackity-clickity-clackity] hurries out of the room.

Coincidentally, who should be passing by the front door but Sally Webster? [clickity-clackity-clickity-clackity] Big Red In Heels wobbles across to her and gasps "Is it true?" only to be greeted by a sullen nod. Rita tries to talk sense to the (k)Nutty Knicker-Maker (hey this alliteration lark isn't as easy as looks, ok???) but is fobbed off by lines from "The Bumper Book Of Cliche'd Excuses" such as "I know how it must look from the outside" and the old favourite "There was nothing I could do!"... The crap continues about how she's "found someone she loves" and "wants to start again" but when Rita attempts to make the poor lass see logic by informing her she can't have even known Greg for more than a couple of months, Sal reverts back to the aforementioned book and cries "I've known him long enough!!!" in a typically melodramatic fashion.

Over t'road, we are 'treated' to the return of Steve "Googly Eyes" MacDonald, who looks deader than ever having seemingly enlisted the help of George A. Romero to do his make-up. He is informing Mopey Maxine (who is visibly still gutted about Gruesome Greg) that he's taking Muppet 1 out for a meal and wants Max to hold the fort at t'Salon. Steve tries to cheer her up and hintingly suggests, with a Devilish smile that he's sure she won't be single for too much longer. Max lifts her eyebrows half- suspiciously with that "I'm on the rebound so I don't care if you look like a week-old cadaver" look in her eye.

In the backroom of the Rovers, Vera presents Jack with a list of "conditions" to give to Alec regarding the sale of the pub. Jack informs her that it's "more of a novel" than a list before V launches into one of her typically paranoid waffles about Alec. "Whatever you're on... halve the dose!" states Jack, bluntly, and I can't help but nod in agreement. As Jack reads through the list, he becomes increasingly certain that Alec will tell them to "get stuffed", especially on the matter of the "Cloning Allowance" (LOL!!!) which V corrects him is actually the "Clothing Allowance". Either way, the concept is ludicrous and eventually Jack makes her realise this before she, thankfully, tears the list up.

Back in The Kabin, Rita takes Martin into the back room. No, not for a snog (although with the present rate of bed-swapping in The Street, it wouldn't surprise me!) but for a chat about Sally and Greg. In the meantime, Janice has walked in, humbly and ashamedly asking Leanne for a favour. "Can you lend us a few quid... just until pay day?" she begins but Leanne twigs and tells her what she apparently already told Toyah. It would appear that all four members of the Battersby Clan are flat broke which means it looks like RToyota won't be off to Sunny Spain after all... Poor lass. "If you haven't got the cash, she can't go, simple as that" reasons Leanne but Janice who looks genuinely very upset, says she'd love for Toyah to go on holiday since it might "bring her out of her shell". Lee thinks this is just an excuse and that Janice is only "caving in" because she's worried Toyah'll run away again, but Janice whimpers... "I only want her to be happy" with such genuine care/concern and heartbreaking pathos that I was almost ready to give her the hundred quid meself!

In the back room we catch Martin and The Big Red One, tongues-a-wagging (No! I already told you it's not like that!). They're gossiping away merrily about Sally and Greg, Rita commenting on how, when she spoke to Sal this morning was almost talking to a different person, "she was so hard-nosed". Martin agrees that Blandford has really "turned her head" before frustratedly adding... "Trouble is... what can we do about it?" Theoretically speaking, they could hang, draw and quarter Blandford *and* Sally, leaving their heads on spikes at either end of Coronation St, but I suppose, this being a family show and all, such acts of gratuitous ultraviolence would be out of the question. [Disclaimer: I wouldn't recommend you try *any* of the above practices at home.]

'Speak of the Devil and someone far more slimier and disgusting will appear'. Yes, you thought Blandford was vile?? Meet Richard Taylor, Blandford's ghoulish solicitor. Yeeeeuch! Slimy just isn't the word... Greg, who is currently modelling a lime green number not too disimilar from that of, say, Kermit The Frog, explains to Sally the plans he has for the business... Now, I'm sorry to say it, but Sally is so RELENTLESSLY stupid she deserves all she'll inevitably get. As Rancid Richard runs through the rigmorole he notes that she put forth all the initial cost for the business... Yet before he can say anything else she butts in with, "Yes! but Greg provided the expertise and the contacts! Surely that must account for something!" as if she actually *wants* to ensure maximum advantage is taken of her! The scene gets sillier from there with Sally acting like the Airhead From Hell as The Rancid One and The Gruesome One exchange sleazy glances behind her back, obviously up to something. The deal itself sounds fair, with the expected 50/50 set-up but the looks on their faces suggests it's anything but... My suspicions are raised even further when at the end of the scene, Richard winks "You're a lucky boy, Greg.. I'll give you that."

Cut now to, hands down, the most ludicrous scene in the episode. Fiona and Steve are sat at a riverside restaurant. Initially they seem happy as Larry but then, as the scene progresses, Steve starts to irritate Fiona (not to mention the viewer) more and more... First he suggests that she doesn't need to work so much in the salon and should spend more time acting "like a daft kid", then brings up the small matter of Alan McKenna and how it's lucky he's not still around. Fiona insists that McKenna will come looking for Morgan, his first son, in the future which touches a bit of a nerve with Googly Eyes. "I'm Morgan's Father!" he shouts ludicrously before requesting that she agrees with him...

END OF PART ONE

Soft focus camera-work. Posh people in expensive frocks. Horse riding being viewed from an elegant balcony. Champagne smiles. Boundless joy as the Ambassador's Daughter wins the horse race! Err... not exactly *quite* what you associate with C&Aclothing is it?

Far more to my tastes is the next advert for Onken Biopot Yoghurt which simply takes a clip from a classy-looking 50's B-Movie and adds a shamelessly tacky voiceover. Yeah!!! (Hmm.. maybe it's true what they say.. TV *does* rot your mind...)

Anyway, back to the show now before I lose *all* my braincells...

PART TWO

God, and I thought the adverts were absurd... Back we are now, to Fiona and Steve sitting by the river bitching at each other like it was going out of fashion. Muppet 1 accuses him of not really caring for Morgan at all and treating him like a "fashion accessory... you know, the car, the mobile phone, the baby"... He throws himself into a truly vicious and unwarranted tirade, basically informing her that she's "not so special" herself (how sweet!) and that she's selfish and always wants her own wa... *SMACK* she throws a serviette at him and storms off, leaving everyone in the restaurant to gawp wide-eyed at Steve... BEHOLD!!! The Talking Cadaver!!

Back at Blandford's place, Richard is telling Sally that courts usually look more favourably on Mothers than Fathers in such cases as her's. She claims that her and Greg could offer the kids a "proper home" (Yes! With a sink!!! And baked beans!!! And spaghetti hoops!!! And a goooood looong flight of stairs!!! *EVIL WITCH CACKLE*). In the background, Greg stifles giggles and swaps looks with Richard who says, in true solicitor fashion, "Leave it all with me". Is it just me that can see the obvious stitch-up here? Sally can't, she's falling for it hook, line and (kitchen)sinker, suggesting they rush out to the estate agents and look for a bigger place. URRRRRGH! Am I the only one that finds the "New Sally" (ie: Brainless, vapid, cow who is singularly without a clue) to be fist- clenchingly annoying??

Back in the Salon, Max is seeing off a woman with two hyperactive kids who has obviously just finished getting her fringe fiddled with. Googly Eyes enters and demands to know "WHERE IS SHE?" Max, oblivious to a) the fact he's talking about Fiona and b) there are children in the room rants "I dunno, she's bogged off to some council meeting, the stupid cow!!" before waving pleasantly to the kids and saying "See you next week, then?" Not with language like that you won't, young lady!!! ;))) Steve explains he meant Fiona not Audreh before telling Max the whole story, indignant that he ended up "looking like a right berk" ("So what's new?" cries a Nation of Viewers, predictably). He concludes that Muppet 1 must be at her mother's and shows no concern when a frantic Max shows him the full list of customers for the afternoon, screaming and shouting that she can't do them all her own. "I'm off to the pub" he grunts and buggers off just like that.

Over at the Rovers, Janice locates her husband, who is as ever, playing with himself in the corner... Errr, playing *darts* with himself in the corner, I should say. They converse on how much they've managed to scrape together for RToyah's Spanish Excursion. Les has "practically licked the boots" of his boss and Janice has pawned some of her jewellry, including a pair of earrings that, apparently, Les bought her for her 21st birthday... err... Just how old *IS* Janice anyway?

Right next to them, Jim MacDonald wages a "wee bet" with his occupational therapist... "You and me, London marathon, first past the post, next year!"... arf, arf... Glad to see that in the few weeks you've been away, you've not changed the record yet, Jim! They have the default "Don't build your hopes up" talk about Jim's 'twinges' (see Sunday's Update). Michael insists, however, that if Jim can walk again they'll be no one happier than him ("Oh really???" gasps Jim, appropriately) since he can get back to his "old grannies" who allegedly give him butterscotch and "do as they're told"... Jim toasts a drink to that.

Over at the bar, Les is in full-swing, talking with Martin and Kevin. A pillar of understanding is RLes: "What fella wants to see his son get saddled with a bird who's already got two kids???" he barks to an obviously disapproving Kev. He digs his own grave quickly, with a JCB no less, explaining rabidly that "they always put their kids first!!! ALWAYS!!! ALWAYS!!!". But The Manic Mechanic snarls "Them're *my* kids you're talking about" and adamantly states "There's no way your son's gonna get 'saddled' with *my* kids!" before storming out of the pub. Martin congratulates Les on his remarkable subtlety.

Maxine enters at this point (with that *awful* silver rucksack of her's... what *is* that?) and sits down chirpily next to Googly Eyes who is nursing a pint. She has apparently shifted round all her afternoon appoinments and now is free to do what she wants, what she really really wants. Which it appears is to sit in a smoky Northern pub next to a guy who looks like an extra from Alan Ormsby's "Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things". Obviously a woman of taste, is RMax.

Outside on the corner, Sally bids adieu to her two revolting friends (Greg and Richard) who want to have a "little talk" without her, apparently. As Sally makes for the Rovers, the camera pans over to Janice who has bumped into Toyah on the street. She's the bearer of bad news, it would seem but Toyah takes it gracefully:

Toyah: (A bit sadly) "Ah, it were a daft idea, anyroad. I mean, who could find that sort of money at such short notice?"

(Pause)

Janice: (Brimming with excitement) "Me and Les! When we put our minds to it!!"

Toyah's eyes light up like Blackpool Illuminations (I'm sorry, but can this girl act or *WOT*???) and Janice makes her promise she'll knuckle down to her schoolwork the second she gets back. Toyah throws her arms around Janice and says "You're the best mum in the world" (*lump in throat*), unable to believe that within 24 hours she'll be in Spain. She puts Janice's worries to rest, assuring her she "won't do owt daft" and is joyfully sent off to get started on her packing, smiles all round.

A dodgy (and rather portly) chap in a flat cap and dungarees shows up at the bar asking for Alec. It goes without saying that Vera wants to know who he is et al, but all the jolly fellow says is "It's Pat! Tell him it's Pat!". Cut over to a nearby table where a somewhat squiffy Maxine is offering to buy the next round for her and the equally squiffy Googly Eyes... err, or should that be Googlier Eyes, since he's drunk now? Sadly, she's left her purse in the Salon but rather than having her go fetch it, Steve offers to get these ones in... Hmm.. what's his game eh? (as if you didn't know!!)

Back at the bar, Alec comes out and tries to shuffle the mysterious "Pat" out, as soon as possible. Vera tries her best to offer the poor bloke drinks but Alec is adamant that they go elsewhere. As they pass the door, the camera shoots back to Maxine who is now being accosted by Les. He's putting his foot in it like you wouldn't believe, "apologising" for Greg dumping her and despite her protests of "He's just a bloke" and "There's plenty more fish in the sea", Les insists on remarking what a "great catch" Blandford was and that "it must be a real sickener... losing out the way you did, like that... to an older woman!". Googlier Eyes returns and tells Les to "bog off" in an "I'm about to get this girl really drunk and have sex with her, please don't ruin it for me" tone of voice.

As Les leaves, Googlier placates Max, telling her she had a "lucky escape" since "any son of *his* is bound to be a prat". She mentions that she can't get her head round the whole situation and that Greg is far too selfish to want Sally's kids, which prompts Steve to start moping about *his* situation with Muppet 1 and Son. He goes straight for the sympathy jugular whinging that "according to Fiona I care as much for Morgan as this mobile phone", feigning great hurt. Max is, sadly, sold.

Over at Rita's abode, the identity of "Pat" is finally revealed. He's come to measure up the wall in here so he can knock a hole in it to adjoin the flats of Alec and The Big Red One. Big Red is a little reluctant, but Alec, in the way only Alec can, tells her not to worry, etc, because Pat's only measuring up and blah blah blah the usual excuses, before sending her off to make a cup of tea. Oh, and of course, Pat's "rates are very reasonable!" Yup, it's the same ol' Alec, alright... God knows where that love and marriage bit came from since it obviously didn't take long to slip him back into Miser Mode. To make matters worse... as Rita goes to fetch the tea, Pat tells a rather surprised Alec that he will need planning permission to knock down a main dividing wall. Alec lies through his teeth and assures Pat it's all sorted out... Heh... Just you wait...

Meanwhile, at the the Rovers... Maxine is playing an almost convincing LovesickMopeyDrunk, explaining how even though the whole street is against Sally, at least she "has *HIM!*" and even though we all know Greg's a right bastard and the storyline is crap, for a second here we can believe that Max is truly hurt... As I said, this lasts all of one second (well, more like thirty)... As Vera and Jack exchange a pointless and boring bit of dialogue which basically reaches the conclusion that Pat is a builder and [insert random witterings from Vera about havoc being wreaked on the Rovers], Steve and Maxine decide to go for a Pizza which we can predict means trouble... They speak embarrassing Pigeon Italian to each other in an *especially* flirty way before heading off to the Salon so that Max can pick up her elusive purse.

The Salon is dark... only the streetlights which filter through the blinds provide any source of light. Suddenly a stumbling young woman wearing electric pink enters, looking flustered. She's followed by a slow-moving, suit-wearing, cadaverous individual who is making slurring sounds. OH MY GOD! I'm watching an Italian zombie movie!!! Err... actually no I'm not. It's just Steve following Max into Fiona's. They find her purse and do that predictable "Let's stare at each other and not say anything 'cause we're about to 'ave a snog" look. Then, predictably, they snog. Ick... It's not a pretty sight and we really *could* be spared the slurpy sound effects...

And that's the end of the show! All in all, 50/50 I'd say. Some really great scenes (Battersbys) mixed with some reaaaaaalllly dire ones (Sally!!!). Certainly not as bad as it gets, but maybe it just seems a bit of a comedown following the high-emotion of the last few episodes. Anyroad, that's my take on the proceedings (hope you're not asleep) and hopefully, unless I'm inundated with screaming complaints, I'll see you next week. Take care! :)

This Monday Update was sponsored by Nekromantik (What I was listening to) and Stella Artois (What I was drinking).

Wednesday 9 September

You know how it is when you break up with someone: you hurt for a while, sometimes a long long while, but you get over it eventually. Or so they say. Of course, everyone deals with it differently. My mother's approach to the whole business is quite refreshing. "You think you've got a broken heart?" she said to me the other night, when I told her about the latest twist in the horror story that is my private life. "Well just wait till you're *really* bursting for a pee," she went on, "and then you'll see that all thoughts of love fly out of the window. All you want to do is get to that loo, and even if the handsomest man in the world is battering your door down, you'd tell him to bog off. Or at least to wait until you'd peed. That's love for you: bursting for a pee knocks it from the number one slot every time."

I don't know whether she really believes her own cod-psychology, but then again I don't think she's ever had her heart broken. Not by a lover, anyway. Mainly because she's never had a lover, I think. Not even my father. (You know how most people can never imagine their parents having sex? Well I can never imagine mine acting like lovers. Strange, isn't it? Oh, and as for sex, well don't even mention it. Imagining my mother having sex is as difficult as it would be to imagine Bill Clinton telling the truth, or the Spice Girls issuing a listenable single. Which is why I always joke that I must have been the result of immaculate conception. I told that to my mother once. "More like immaculate misconception," she said, before telling me that I was the result not so much of planned conception as "one too many rum-and-cokes and a bit of larking about that got out of hand." My mother is the kind of woman who probably had pethidine at the conception as well as the birth. I can imagine her on her wedding night, screaming "And if you think you're coming near me with *that* thing, you've got another thing coming!" That's if she knew what it was, of course. And I know for a fact that they must have done it with the lights off, because when she was checked out for cervical cancer some years back and the doctor asked her whether her husband was circumcised or not, she didn't know! (I know all this because my dear aunt Betty told me; my mother tells me nothing about what she calls her 'lights off' life, but tells all to aunt Betty, which is why I know everything there is to know. As a young woman, my aunt Betty had something of a reputation - if being known as the 'Galway mattress' can be called a reputation - and so she's a woman of the world who knows what's what).

Anyway, it's been a heavy week for advice on 'how to mend a broken heart'. Glenda Young, God bless her, sent me a book through the internal post entitled "Letting Go", which is a "12-Week Personal Action Program To Overcome A Broken Heart". Hmm. Very American, which means it's chock-full of cliches and platitudes, and although there are lots of interesting little tips, not one of them involves a blunt knife and the removal of testicles.

Personally I'd like to deal with my break-up the way that Mary, an old friend of mine, dealt with the end of her marriage. Wisely, she'd kept a spare set of house keys for herself, and when her ex was away for a week, she let herself into the old marital home and put into practice several things she'd read in a magazine. First she sprinkled copious amounts of water all over the carpets and then emptied several packets of mustard and cress seeds onto them: having made sure the carpets were extra damp, she knew that the seeds would sprout into a lovely wall-to-wall forest within a week. Then she took off the seals to the central heating ducts and stuffed several kippers up them as far as they would go: undetectable to the naked eye, they would eventually rot and make themselves know slowly but surely as soon as the heating was turned on. Finally, her piece de resistance: she wrote an elaborate 'coming out' letter on his home computer and mailed copies to his workmates and his parents! Well, as the main character in the film "Dolores Claiborne" said. "Sometimes being a bitch is all a woman has to hang onto."

Of course, I shan't do any of those things. Besides, mustard and cress would be a refreshing change after some of the things I've seen growing in my ex's flat: I've seen stuff sprouting on food in his fridge that would send Alexander Fleming into raptures. And the smell of rotten kippers would be sheer perfume compared to the rank odour of regurgitated vindaloo and lager after a heavy night on the tiles. (Who said that all gay men were house proud? My ex's flat could have doubled as a Rentokil training ground). I could 'out' him, I suppose, to his taxi firm, but they'd never believe me. They'd never believe for a second that someone who goes through life with an attitude that would shame a neanderthal thug could possibly be a whoopsie. And so I'll just have to go on feeling like this until I feel like this no longer, I guess. What else can one do? People tell me to throw myself into work or go out and enjoy myself, but if I'm truthful, I just can't hack it. Trawling the clubs and the pubs takes time, energy and money, and the eventual outcome is rarely worth the vast emotional input. Another friend suggests I put an ad in a newspaper or magazine, which is something I've never done before. But it's all so demeaning. The only ad I'd ever consider placing would have to run something like this: "Handsome man required, between 30 and 40. Must be rich, reckless and stupid. Oh, and preferably on life support and in need of someone to help him write a living will." Something tells me that there aren't many of those about, funnily enough. The one consolation, however, is that none of my friends has yet said, "I told you so." I suppose one must be grateful for small mercies. Nevertheless it will be a cold winter, alone under a double duvet. But don't worry, I *will* survive. And I shall take Paul Baker's advice. "Don't throw yourself down any flights of stairs," he said. "At least not without an audience." Isn't he a gem?

Anyway, boyfriends may come and boyfriends may go, but updates are here to stay. And so here it is:

Well let's get the dire business of Fiona and Steve out of the way first. The episode opens with Cadaver Boy sat in front of a mirror in the salon, fingering some kind of hairdresser's gun - you know, the type that you squirt water or hair lotion out of. (The variety of hair preparations - shampoos, conditioners, gels - on the market is simply mind-blowing, don't you think? However, my favourite shampoo has to be the wonderfully named "Pump And Spray", which I can never walk past in Boots without being reminded of every bad one-night-stand I ever had. The shampoos I vow never to buy are those advertised by celebrities; if I see that God-awful commercial with Jennifer Aniston in it just one more time, I swear I shall throw something through the TV set. Everyone is jumping on the bandwagon these days. I mean, even Bernard Manning has his own shampoo out. It's designed for people who only want to take one bottle into the shower, and it's called: "Wash and Fuck Off"). Anyway, Steve is looking decidedly smug - the only look he does well - and has even more reason to look smug when Fiona arrives, apologising for her behaviour at the restaurant. (What is it with these wimpy women who end up apologising for things they've never done, when in reality they should be making a beeline for their boyfriends' goolies with a pair of pinking shears?). Well not only does Fiona apologise, she also proposes that Steve adopt Morgan as his own. (The Steve-Fiona thread runs through the whole episode like a tapeworm through a leg of pork, so best get it all out of our system right at the beginning, what?).

Fiona also tells him that Audreh is one some adoption committee at the council, and will thus be able to facilitate - and possibly expedite - the whole adoption procedure. However there is one small snag: they need to be married. (Which is bollocks of course, because they let any old riff-raff - married or otherwise - adopt kids these days. In fact, the weirder you are, the more likely it is that the council will take you seriously, whatever the issue. My mother once had a problem with her refuse collectors, who refused to take several bags of garden waste that she'd stacked up for them dispose of. I told her to complain to the council. "What do you think I am?" she said, "a blind, one-legged lesbian from Bangladesh? Because that's what you have to be before the council will lift a finger to do anything!") Anyway, this sets the scene nicely for Fiona to propose to Steve, at which point they both spill their coffee. (No, it's not a euphemism, although it could very well be).

Actually, it's probably not so much the excitement of being proposed to as the relief of not being caught out that makes Steve spill his drink. For interspersed between all the luvvy-dovey scenes at the salon are a few scenes involving Maxime, and her attempt to come clean to Fiona over the fact that she has bedded Cadaver Boy. It starts off with Fiona telling Steve to take Maxime to the Rover's for lunch, just "to take her out of herself". Mindful of the fact that it was drinking together at the Rover's that started all the trouble, neither Steve nor Maxine is very keen on the idea. However, they eventually find themselves in the pub, where they conduct a post-mortem on their 'hide-the-salami' session. Maxime says it was a mistake; Steve agrees and says that they should both forget it ever happened. But Maxime is tired of being forgotten. She's tired of being thought of as a dumb bimbo who is good only for a quick shag whenever anything in trousers feels like it. "But not any more," she sniffs, "because this time it's going to be different. But first I must tell Fiona what I've done, or else I'll never be able to look her in the face again." And off she marches, leaving a gobsmacked Steve struggling not to bronze his Calvin Kleins. Later, in the salon, a very drunken and maudlin Maxime begins to apologise to Fiona. Fiona has absolutely no idea, of course, what Maxime is saying sorry for, but since Max is drunk she makes allowances. (Drunks, when they're not telling everyone how much they love them, will apologise for anything. My mother rarely gets bladdered, but when she does she could convince the most die-hard sceptic that she was actually the sole cause of the Second World War). Steve looks on, willing Maxime to shut up and Fiona not to understand, but in the end Maxime leaves in a drunken tizzy, thus saving Cadaver Boy's bacon.

Heard enough about the salon for one update? Well catch yourself on, as they say, because there is one other scene worth reporting, and that involves the goddess Audreh, who is trying to empathise with Maxime over the latter's break-up with Greg. She tries the old "been there, done that, bought the T-shirt, slept with the T-shirt seller" line, but suddenly realises mid-sentence that since she (i.e. Audreh) has never been dumped by a man (!), she can't really empathise - but she can sympathise. (There *is* a subtle difference, you know; wake up at the back, you lot!). "But I've had friends who've been dumped," says Audreh," and everyone used to tell them what I'm going to tell you now, Maxime, and that is: there's plenty more fish in the sea!" Fiona says that people only say that because they can't think of anything sensible to say. Besides, continues Fiona, what good is a cliche like that? After all, Maxime is not looking for a fish, is she? "Oh I know that," says Audreh, "it's just a metamorphosis." (I think she means 'metaphor', but with Audreh you can never be sure. As a malapropism it's a bit far-fetched; after all, where would a woman like Audreh have picked up a word like 'metamorphosis'?)

At the Rovers, Jack and Vera are 'trying it on' with Alec in their new role as employees to his boss. Jack is taking a long lunch break - time 'in lieu' - while Vera is planning a long lie-in for tomorrow morning. They have probably stipulated all these things in their contract, along with Vera's right to wear gold earrings as big as coal scuttles and twice as unsightly. They've also been spending some of the £30,000 that they will probably never see, for Jack returns from lunch with several new purchases - among them a canary yellow polo shirt that looks as though it was last modelled in Kays 1987 summer catalogue. Oh dear, I can see all this ending in tears.

Another thing which will undoubtedly end in tears is the Sally/Blandford affair. They're in his flat - or was it the cafe? I can't remember, really, because Blandford is the kind of character that leaves an indelible blank on the mind. (Fireworks could be going off, acrobats from the Chinese State Circus could be somersaulting across the floor, and the Vienna Boys Choir could be in full flow, but if Blandford were in the scene, I'd go blank immediately and forget everything. The guy has all the charm and charisma of an asthmatic trainspotter, and everything he does leaves me cold. And although he's got a passable physique, absolutely *nothing* suits him clothes-wise. He always looks as though he's been kitted out by the wardrobe advisor for "Stingray"). Anyway, Blandford has brought the contract for Sally to sign, but all she can think about is 'the gurls'. Is Kevin trying to prevent her from seeing them? Will he gain custody of them? Will he allow them to be on screen for more than ten seconds without sending them upstairs to wash their hands or stuffing them full of white bread and spaghetti hoops? Sally, of course, is A Concerned Mother, and so such questions are natural. Blandford promises to have a word with his solicitor friend, then shoves the contract under Sally's nose for her to sign.

Elsewhere in the Street, Jim 'Legs' McDonald is at home with Michael, his gorgeous occupational therapist. Legs is lifting weights and getting knackered in the process. Michael reminds him that the Commonwealth Games is due to start quite soon - the only major athletics meet to feature a special disabled section. "Why should I want to watch disabled athletes?" asks Jim. Michael says, "Because it will show you what you could be capable of if you got off your arse and got your act together." (Yes, Michael actually used the word 'arse', which surely must be a CS first. Michael's 'arse' continues the recent trend for the use of expletives in the Street, possibly in a conscious attempt at greater social verisimilitude. This can only be A Good Thing, provided that it is not overdone or forced. In real life, people like Les, for example, pepper most of their conversations with the F-word, whereas on screen it is all toned down and bowdlerised. I'm not advocating the use of naughty words simply for the sake of it; I mean, could you imagine Emily Bishop telling Audreh to "eff off, you old slapper" every time she's annoyed with her? However, a judiciously placed expletive every now and again would add edge and make it all more realistic). Anyway, Jim is still convinced that he is getting feeling back in his toes, and says that his GP has assured him that walking is a distinct possibility, once the swelling around the nerves has gone down that is. Michael tells him not to get his hopes up too much, but Jim will hear none of it. Besides, it's not just his hopes he wants to get up. "Imagine Liz's surprise when I actually walk through the door!" he enthuses. (Incidentally, where *is* La Mouton these days? Probably holed up with Deirdre, listening to "Sisters Are Doing It For Themselves" and contemplating several large root vegetables. Who knows?) Anyway, Jim is obviously growing very fond of Michael because later, in the Rovers, he tells Michael that even once he has got better and is able to walk, he'd like to go on seeing him socially. (Does this mean that Michael is to become a permanent fixture in the Street? Well I'm not complaining. Obviously Michael will be there to console Jim once Liz goes, which can't be very far off now. Jim will probably have a relapse and need round-the-clock care, in which case Michael might even move in with him. And then, during a drinking bout, Jim might make a fool of himself and Michael will offer him a shoulder to cry on, and before you know it - hey presto, they're an item! Why not? Stranger things have happened on the Street, after all. Ivy's ghost, for starters; Audreh becoming a councillor; Anne Malone's ridiculous extortion story line; and Ida Clough's little PG Tips monkey wig, surely the strangest thing of all. So Michael and Jim setting up home together isn't that bizarre by Street standards, however much I'd prefer Michael to shack up with DS Wyatt instead).

Talking of improbable situations, at Firmans (or Freshcos, or whatever they're calling it), a pair of detectives disguised as salesemen come to brief Curly on his mission: he is to pretend to deposit the £50,000 in a waste bin so that the extortioner - whom the police have nicknamed 'Chummy' - can be caught. Anne Maloon is, of course, in attendance, beaming adoringly at the more vocal of the two cops (Fox, I think he was called) as he tells the hapless Mr Watts what to do. Psychobitch actually has two of the Frescho girls haul in a flip-chart so that the detective can draw a diagram of the 'drop'. "I do love to watch professionals at work," she coos. "It's all so fascinating, isn't it, Norman?" Curly simply looks nonplussed, but then Curly always looks non-plussed. (The whole scene was played for laughs, but was about as humourous as an HIV test. Not even the name of the operation - 'Operation Crustacean' - raised so much as a titter, and Eve Steele's acting was execrable. I've seen better four year-olds in Christmas Nativity plays, and the coppers weren't much better). Anyway, Curly makes the drop but ruins things somewhat by constantly looking over his shoulder and whistling shrilly, thus dissuading 'Chummy' from turning up. The episode ends with psychobitch Maloon making another 'extortion collage' to send to Freschos, but this time with a jar of doctored beetroot - i.e. beetroot with shards of glass in it. (Again she dons her rubber gloves to carry out her foul deed, and again we're treated to her devilish, self-satisfied smirk - the one she's obviously picked up from watching endless repeats of 'Batman'. I half expected her to rub her rubber gloved hands together and utter a fiendish 'Ha ha!', but it was not to be).

Okay, that's your lot for this week. But before I go, let me leave you with a frightening thought. According to a newspaper article I read last week, when we ingest animal DNA - for example, when we eat beef or lamb or pork - the DNA is not flushed out of our bodies entirely, as scientists previously thought it was; rather, some of it stays there and is actually utilised to build tissue, muscle and bone. It would seem, therefore, that we indeed *are* what we eat, after all. The more mutton we eat, for example, the more sheep DNA we store up and, consequently, the more sheep attributes we acquire and, presumably, the more sheep-like we become. The same with pigs and cows. I've always suspected this, of course, and I guess that is why vegetarians are such peace-loving, harmless people: they're all walking around full of plant DNA, and have *you* ever seen an aggressive cabbage or a warlike sprout?

Similarly, this may explain why married couples become so alike after years of marriage, depending of course on how often DNA from the male has been transferred to the female when they 'exchange bodily fluids'. Maybe it's a two-way process, depending of course on who does what to whom.

The frightening part, however, is the thought that you might have picked up some of the characteristics of everyone you've ever slept with. That would mean, if I'm not mistaken, that some people must have literally hundreds of personalities. Bizarre, eh?

I suddenly feel quite ill. I'll get me coat...

Until next time, love and hugs, CP

Friday 11 September

Hiya folks!!!!

Update time again, where does the week go? Here we are again, another Sunday, as I write up the Friday Update.

So, what's been happening? Not an awful lot really, hmm... did my first quiz on Friday night and hope that was as much fun for others as for me (yes, I do have a strange twisted mind when it comes to cryptic clues!! Hahahaha!).. made a mistake or two, but don't we all?? Next time round, I'll try and spread the questions a bit more (I was very conscious of the questions ending in 1994 where the Darren whatsit book leaves off), so we'll give the newer viewers a better chance.

The Blackpool Contress is rapidly approaching.... By this time in three weeks, I guess it'll all be over and we'll all be full of lovely memories of good times we've had and great people we've met!!!!

My Ping lager is brewing well, I'll be racking that off later and bottling it in a few days time :-) It'll have just matured nicely by the time the ping is done. Watch out!!!

Tuned in again to CHFI Toronto on the web last night for the Oldies programme ... one of those superb all-nighter sessions... I joined in at 1 a.m. and went to bed just after 6!! With great sounds and great company, what else can you do?? Been listening to it during the week and becoming an expert on the Toronto traffic scene. Jac is lining me up to "Stump the Chump" and as I'm a keen 60s music fan, specialising in the trivia of that era, that sounds like fun. Apparently, CHFI doesn't get many listeners from Glossop!! LOL!! We've had a new local radio station open up here on Tuesday, covering the North West of England, called Century 105 and as that plays a lot of 60s/70s soul, that's another winner for this 60s teenager!!

Manchester saw its new Shopping mall, the Trafford Centre, reputedly the largest mall in Europe, open up on Thursday, so we popped along there yesterday. Truly magnificent and one of those places that makes shopping a very pleasant experience. I'm not really a shopper, but I do like malls - you don't get wet, for one thing and you don't alternate from hot to cold as you go in and out of the shops. This one will be a real winner.... the main eating area, incidentally, is decorated as the deck of a liner and the roof shows a mock sky which moves around the clock from dawn, through the day, to dusk, through the night and back, all over a one hour cycle... really splendid stuff. A few teething problems which will need to be sorted, but one of those places, which will be a real crowd puller.

Apart from the usual round of work :-( ....... that's it, now I really need to get cracking on setting up the York Ping web site, so I'll scoot....

... and on that note, without further ado, it's time for the update....

Sunday 13 September

Oops. This was supposed to get typed up yesterday, but I left my notes at home in a bit of a dash to get into work. Sorry about the 48-hr turnaround and all that. Still, I haven't yet come across the Rattler's Monday update on the ratucs newsgroup, so there's some chance this might hit the streets before his. Small saving grace.

Ha, I just re-read that and noticed the word "dash". This suggestion of speed is a complete untruth. Since Monday morning, I have been hobbling about - indeed, it was only Wednesday that I could descend stairs without hanging on to the rail for support. Sunday was spent, for the most part, walking around several peaks in the Lake District with a couple of friends. We've tried to make this a fairly regular thing, but as we all have growing families and other commitments, it's more of a snatched opportunity. Still, it was a fabulous day weather-wise, if a little windy and occasionally chilly, and if I hadn't found my trusty old camera had finally extinguished the original supplied batteries, there would now be some spiffing photos for proof. Instead, what I have are some memories, and a lot of aches and pains. As we sat in the pub afterwards [hey, this is the whole point, building up a proper thirst], we had thought it had been a few months since the previous expedition. It turned out to have been nigh on a whole year, which no doubt explains why nearly all of the major muscles in both legs went sick on Monday morning and are only now reporting for duty. Only by feigning a loose shoelace this morning did I manage to avoid being helped across the road by an old lady bearing a striking resemblance to Shirely Tremanye. But that's another story...

The old digits are still in fine form, however, so with absolutely no more ado, let's put them to work and get cracking on Sunday's events down our favourite Street.

Act 1
Argh. It's like one of those disastrous Formula 1 starts. You're hoping for a clean getaway, and instead some buffoon stalls and there is a nasty pile-up. The Corrie equivalent is an opening scene featuring some of our lesser-loved characters. Today, it's Fiona and Steve. [Oh, and the baby.] Fiona is mixing up baby food, while Steve is awaking from his slumber, on the sofa it seems. Fi is still not talking to him, as he continues to protest his innocence, saying that Maxine has had a jealous fit and is lying about sleeping with him, in order to "get back" at Fiona for mocking Greg after he dumped the frizzy one. "We're happy, and she's not, and she doesn't like it", sums up his arguments. Fiona doesn't look convinced.

Emily and Spider are knocking on Curly's front door, but he's not in. They're worried that he might have spent the night at the police station, as this could mean he's in real trouble. Emily resolves to find out what's going on.

In a neat echo of the Laird household [when Mrs L has had to leave early, I hasten to add], Daddy Webster is losing his rag at the kids as they wander about, making no progress in the vital task of getting ready for school. Rosie tells Kevin that Mummy would know where her jumper was, which prompts Kevin to snap that maybe Mummy shouldn't have run off with her fancy man. Rosie is upset, and Kevin has to comfort her, saying sorry, and realising that he shouldn't be taking out his anger and frustration on the gurrls.

Over to the other Macdonald household, where Jim is exercising with hand weights, while Liz is trowelling on the make-up. [I can't help thinking that Jim would be getting much better exercise if he was out and about in a wheelchair that looked as if it had been built in this century, but still.] Jim remarks on how Liz will be able to enter the glamorous granny competitions now that Steve is going to adopt Morgan and be officially his father [making Liz the baby's grandmother]. Predictably, an ageing slapper like Liz, still clinging to what's left of her looks, is not best reminded of facts like these, and she's a bit put out that that's what Jim thinks she is now, a granny. He focuses more on the glamorous side, and wonders if Steve and Fiona will be having more kids of their own. [Did that thought make you grimace too ?] Anyway, Liz hasn't got time to hang about and be insulted any longer, she's off to Baldwin's factory to put in some overtime. On the way out, she encounters Jim's therapist, Michael, who is just arriving. There is definitely some chemistry going on here, as they exchange pleasantries, before Liz leaves and Michael goes through to the back room to greet Jim. Jim tells him that he has had some more twinges below the waist [and so has Michael, but he keeps schtum], but they both realise that he shouldn't get his hopes up too much. Being able to walk again is a long way down the road, if at all. So it is.

At Freshco's, our detective of indeterminate rank [he's been both a superintendent and an inspector already, but if he keeps up with the ham I think sergeant would be overdoing it] tells Anne no-this-isn't-make-up-I- really-am-this-pale-and-unearthly Malone that they have found a book in Curly's house which appears to have been the source of the extortion letters. She feigns shock and surprise, but the detective goes on to say that Curly maintains he has been set up. By Anne. She explains how she and Curly had a chequered past, due to his "obsession" with her. She thought he had got over it, but perhaps as he been recently told he would be being made redundant [not true] this was his way of getting his revenge. All the while, Alma, unnoticed, is standing outside the office door, listening in.

Rita is in the Rovers, looking for Alec. She tells him that his builder has failed to show up, and she is getting tired of looking at the mess he has left. "Get it sorted, Alec." Turning to leave, she sees Sally sitting alone with a drink, looking thoughtful, and goes to talk to her. Sally says she wasn't sure if Rita would still want to speak to