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Glenda was away, this week's update written by Gary Ushaw
THE SPY WHO LOVED ME
The international espionage community was in uproar this week
as Special Agent Elliot's proposal to exiled Russian heiress Rita
Romanov was reported to every government secret service agency
in the world (except Canada's who are always a few weeks behind
with these things). The ramifications of such an alliance could
be both far-reaching and distinctly unstable, creating a possible
shift in power within the twilight world of international cloak-and-daggery.
Matters came to a head at a dinner party thrown by Weatherfield's
answer to Tom and Barbara Goode, the Wiltons. Everyone's favourite
self-sufficiency obsessives served up a tantalising smorgasbord
of home-grown produce and home-spun wisdom. Unfortunately, as
well as the pork a la rosehip (which included slices of the pig
that Mavis had herself slaughtered that very morning), the menu
involved far too many lentil-based dishes. Fred, never one to
say no, wolfed down the lot followed by a wafer-thin mint, and
it was only a matter of time before all those boiled pulses took
effect. Clutching her handkerchief to her nose, Rita fled from
the house having had her eyes (and nostrils) opened to a distinct
problem with setting up home with such a bon viveur as Fred. Mavis
and Derek could only look on aghast, and somewhat perplexed, since
their own digestive tracts have become used to the effects of
a diet based on so many years of subsistence farming on their
little corner of Weatherfield.
Fred, for his part, spent the rest of the week ruminating (no
mean feat for such a hearty meat-eater), and eventually decided
to call the near-engagement off. His reasoning? Simple: as anyone
who is a regular viewer of this or any other spy series will know,
as soon as the main character falls in love with a member of the
opposite sex, or even goes so far as to tie the knot, the loved
one will, inevitably, be killed off before the end of the episode.
Ask James Bond, ask Danger Man, hell, even ask Captain Kirk: it's
simply the way of things. Elliot, compassionate to the end, couldn't
wish such an unwarranted end on his Russian beauty and brought
the whole affair to an end. The tear in his eye told us that he
will always carry a piece of her with him, and that he'll never
feel the same way about another woman. Not until the next episode,
anyway.
CRY FREEMAN
A troublesome week for tin-pot dictator His Excellency Michael
Baldwin (Viva El Presidente!!). International aid worker and general
sticky-beak Angie Freeman arrived in his Banana Republic with
the cover story of having been sent to inspect his pantaloons
(the ones manufactured in his sweat-shops, that is). Bolshie Angie
quickly started causing trouble and banging on about the International
Bill of Rights, and the necessity of a creche in the modern workplace.
Senor Baldwin (Viva El Presidente!!) is even employing pregnant
women and fat pensioners, and, if Angie has her way, it can't
be very long before all of his workers are revolting.
Big-hearted Angie also had a more personal mission to take
care of: the Herculean task of cheering up Curly Gump. Unfortunately,
since the only thing that would bring a smile to the idiot savant's
face was if she were to lie back and think of England (or some
other oppressed nation) whilst he had his wicked way with her,
she was singularly unsuccessful in her attempts.
Angie's arrival also caused Joyce "Deadly" Smedley
to shit her pants (metaphorically speaking, of course): could
this Angie Freeman be a spy for Freeman's catalogue? Is she here
to trace the money Joyce has been spiriting away to spend on household
cleaning products to feed her habit? Probably not, but it didn't
stop Joyce from running round to her daughter's house in a panic.
"I've come to clean out your bathroom", she said. I
bet she has.
GLAD TO BE GAY
Butch Kev and Sally the Tranny faced problems this week after
the walk-out of their plasticene baby-sitter Kelly Moffat. Everyone's
favourite gay couple bitched incessantly over who should look
after the children, and whether Butch Kev should grow back his
clone-style 'tache. "If you must keep shaving your upper
lip, then for God's sake use a different razor to the one I use
to shave my legs" said Sally the Tranny. The root of the
problem, however, is that Butch Kev wants his transvestite boyfriend
to stay at home like a good little housewife, whereas Sally the
Tranny wants a career of his own and the chance to experience
the fetishistic world of power-dressing. Whatever next?
FRIENDS
Another cosy week of insubstantial but amusing storylines for
our twenty-something cast members. It was Phee's 21st birthday
and her brother gave her a hairdressing salon (could happen),
while her boyfriend talked "Smart" Alec Gilroy out of
suing her for every penny she's got. All's well that ends well,
then. On a less encouraging note, there was clearly another member
of the Borg Collective at her birthday party, judging from the
weird nodules on the back of somebody's bonce. They're taking
over, I tell you, and nobody's doing a thing about it.
Meanwhile wild-child Maxine and nice-but-dim Tony are having
relationship problems, but you don't watch Friends for the serious
bits, do you? Do you?
THE HAIR BEAR BUNCH
Scary Hair Bear is obviously thriving on all that succulent
man-blood she's draining from the local prison, and looking younger
every day for it. She even got away with being "best friend"
at Phee's 21st birthday party (which involved a nasty moment when
the vampire hair-do tangled with the Borg technology sprouting
from Phee's scalp, but neither side felt strong enough to risk
an all-out confrontation just yet). Drear, on the other hand,
was less lucky in the passing-herself-off-as-her-daughter's-age
stakes. If you wondered what all those bruises on her were, they
were caused by people touching her with barge-poles.
In a frankly bizarre twist, Scary Hair Bear's zombified servant
(the one banged up in chokey) has become sexually obsessed with
his vampiric mistress. Unable to appease his appetite first-hand
he is having to resort to seeking relief from her jailed son.
No wonder Naughty Hair Bear's eyes were almost leaping out of
their sockets.
This sexual fixation even extended to rampant jealousy of another
of Scary Hair Bear's victims, lovely fifties throwback Sean Skinner.
The nifty fifties bookie was stopped mid-piss by one of Mr Big's
henchies and told to keep away from the scariest hair bear of
them all, or else! Sean just skipped away shouting "You'll
have to catch me first", safe in the knowledge that the rivulets
of grease flowing from his hair make him almost impossible to
grab hold of.
And this, as Mike Yarwood used to say, is me. This week I'd
just like to thank the cave-painters of Neanderthal times for
the joke about the workers being revolting. Cheers, lads. On another
note, yes I did notice Angie comparing Canada to a parallel universe,
but it didn't really wash, not even the laws of quantum physics
could explain away something as weird as a country that would
welcome Nick the Plank with open arms.
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