Morning all. I’m feeling excessively cheerful today on account of the bank holiday. We should have one every month. Imagine – three whole days once a month to kick about, go to the pub to drink rosé catch up with friends, go back to the pub to drink more rosé and so on. The only downside, of course, is that you’d have to round off this happy weekend with Made in Chelsea on the Monday night, but by that point you’ve hopefully drunk so much wine that the episode passes in a warm fog.
Things *were* a bit of a fog last night, actually, chiefly because I spent quite a lot of time saying ‘I’M GOING TO PUT MY FINGERS IN MY EARS AND TALK OVER THIS BIT BECAUSE IT’S SO CRINGE. LA LA LA LA.’
First, let’s talk about these three new boys. Well, new-ish. We met JP in Barbados, but now he’s got two mates, James and Elliot. Quite hard to tell these three apart. Same height, same build, same brown hair, same dangerously low IQ levels. JP is the gappy-toothed one who took Binky on a date in a field, because he’s supposedly a country boy (although he parks his shiny Land Rover smack bang in the middle of a field, which is a bit odd), and then cooks her sausages over a trangia. It’s hard to cook on a trangia. On my bronze Duke of Edinburgh, I burned the pasta while in a Buckinghamshire camp site, so top marks to JP for at least avoiding that.
His two mates, meanwhile, were propping up some unspeakable London bar and trying to talk to Lucy. Welcome back from Salem, Lucy, or wherever you’ve been on holiday, Instagramming bikini pictures of yourself. Elliot makes a right tit out of himself by asking Lucy various questions about her jewellery business. I couldn’t properly hear this bit though, because my fingers were firmly wedged back into my ears. And I’m not sure who wrote the script for last night’s show – was it the work experience? – because Lucy later embarrassed herself at a party by telling James she likes action films and hanging out with her pets. What?????
The path of true love wasn’t running very smoothly for Andy either, with the entirely fabricated love triangle between him, Jess and Fleur still rumbling on. The best bit of the whole episode was Andy sitting in a recording studio with his guitar, like a poor man’s Michael Buble. ‘Mwamblemwablemwamble, how did I lose my mind?’ he crooned. And suddenly Fleur was there. ‘Don’t stop because I’ve arrived,’ she says. Absolutely DO stop, Andy, stop right this second because someone with the faculty of hearing has arrived. Doesn’t seem to put Fleur off either, because they kiss.
DRAMA, however, because Jamie then invites Jess for a night out and in one of those brilliant plot twists we’ve so come to admire in this show, THEY then ‘hook up.’ We weren’t told what ‘hooking up’ meant. A chaste-ish snog? Heavy petting? A quick porking? Who knows. Naturally, Jess then tells Andy she DOES like him after all. Poor old Jamie. Astonishing that Andy can be such a playa when he wears things like that tangerine polo neck, but there you have it. Each to their own.
Elsewhere, Alik has moved from easting chocolate Digestives on the sofa to having brunch with Stevie and Andy, and then he made Louise cry again. Zzzzz… ‘I can’t imagine life without him,’ Louise tells the girls. It’s weird because I absolutely CAN imagine this.
But the biggest round of applause should go to Toff, who bumped into Mark-Francis and discussed political apathy with him. QUICK, get that woman on the sofa with David Dimbleby this Thursday. We need to know what she thinks about the general election.
TUESDAY AFTERNOON UPDATE: A kindly soul on Twitter has sent me the following link to prove Toff’s political credentials. I think Plato’s legacy is probably safe but if you’re interested read it HERE.