HELLO everyone, from the sunny Bahamas where I am working hard on Tatler business. So hard, in fact, that I interrupted my 24-hour rum-drinking schedule yesterday to come in from the white-sand beach and watch Made in Chelsea. Or at least, I tried REALLY HARD to watch it.
But would you believe it, on an island largely populated by American tech billionaires and British hedge-fund kingpins, comms are a bit dodgy and the episode wouldn’t buffer. So what follows are my thoughts on the first 16 or so minutes that I could watch, before I decided to give up and slope back to my sunbed. These thoughts will be partly influenced by a drink called a Goombay Smash, which contains five different kinds of rum. Bear with me.
Thought 1 – Does anyone care about the Steph and Josh storyline? Zzzzzz. This week, Steph decided to throw a RAUCOUS party involving margaritas and guacamole. But then Josh, the sort of man who has sex with his socks on, lumbered in and – just when you thought he couldn’t get any more boring – he announced he had a few rules.
Maximum of eight girls.
Sounds like the kind of party that those infamous orgy participants Alex and Spencer would be into. But in the end, even this was too much for boring old Josh, so the whole thing was canned and everyone had to forgo the margarita and guacamole fun and go out instead. Josh, can I recommend a Goombay Smash? It makes life much rosier.
Thought 2 – Hair. Next came a scene at some unspeakable West End club where the various new girls – Nicola, Millie, Fleur and Lauren – were all sitting at a table. I mean, I think it was them but I can’t honestly be sure because to me it looked like a whole load of Dougals from the Magic Roundabout. No one must ever light a match in their presence because all those hair extensions would go up in seconds and wouldn’t that be awful.
Thought 3 – Lauren the human limpet, behind all that hair, looks a bit like Mischa Barton from her OC days. What was she called? Marissa. That’s the one.
Thought 4 – Binky and Nicola met. SCREAM. But this is when my computer cut out. Or it might have been my vision. I’m not sure.
So, in a nutshell, I’m terribly sorry for my appalling work ethic this week but I really did try for six or seven minutes at LEAST to make the show play, and I promise if you were here you’d rather be mainlining rum on the beach too. Don’t panic, I should have dried out by this time next week.
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