That's When Good Neighbours Become Good Friends

No one will watch Neighbours with me any more. People don't like the way I pause the show at the end of every scene to update my notes, nor the way I rewind it to watch snippets of dialogue over and over again, trying to tease out every subtlety, every nuance of meaning and performance. They also hate the way I reel off witty insults, and scream abuse at the characters as if they were real people.

Neighbours 31/01/2007

The Previouslys show Ned and Katya Kinski the Kleptomaniac and the BMW and Mishka and Lou. Doesn't look like the abduction storyline will advance any. And I'd forgotten all about Mishka.

The title of the episode is "Can You Sleep a Secret?" Hmm ... There's a novel by Sophie Kinsella called Can You Keep a Secret and a movie version is in production. However, it's probable that the title is merely alluding to the commonplace question, which always presages a juicy tidbit of Class A gossip. I can't for the life of me imagine what the title is referring to. I guess I'll have to wait and see.

Scarlet Bar. Steph and Lyn. Enter Toadie. "Here's Iron Man himself," snickers Lyn. I suppose she's referring to the fact that Toadie's no body-builder. That's very unfair - Toadie's been trying really hard to get in shape. So shut up, Big Nose (Loris implied that Lyn was possessed of prodigious olfactory equipment yesterday, and it seemed to get to her, so I'm going to continue to chip away at her confidence). It transpires that Lyn is actually guffawing at a dream that Steph had, which involved her kissing Toadie. What, is she twelve? Dreams seldom mean very much. I had a dream the other night where I was stabbing Lyn Scully repeatedly in the back with a kitchen knife, but the blade was too flimsy, so try as I might, I couldn't penetrate her scapula. And that didn't mean anything. Actually, seeing it written down, it does look like the sort of dream that Freud would get excited about, but let's not waste time with pyschoanalysis. "Imagine us two [her and Toadie] together!" laughs Steph. Toadie doesn't find the thought amusing.

General Store. Ned and Katya. Nothing of any interest whatsoever is said. Ned leaves. Enter Mishka, crosses to Lou. She hates to be leaving her Lou Bear, with the baby gone and so much worry all around. Lou insists that he will be fine. Mishka is having none of it: "You put on brave face, but you not fool Mishka. I stay and be pushing you up!" Ah! Mishka's manner of speaking is so quaint and hilarious! Lou Bear ("Lou Bear - Stare!") replies: "Well, you know me, I never worry unless there's something to worry about and there's no bad news and I'm taking that as good news." Um. There's a fine line between optimism and out-and-out delusion, Lou. What he is worried about is Mishka losing her job. "OK Lou Bear," says Mishka, "I just ring airline and find out what time we take off. Maybe I have few more minutes." Consistent with an earlier episode, she's still not rostered apparently. She speaks in Russian. Actually, for all I know, it might be gobbledygook, but it sounds Russian to my untrained ear. "For us," says Mishka, "is much good news!" Mechanical problems have grounded the plane. Convenient. Too convenient? I waggle my eyebrows suggestively at Mishka. "Well, praise be for Russian maintenance!" says Lou, casually applying a racial stereotype to the Russian people. "Because, if truth be known, I need all the pushing up I can get!" "Wica, wica, wica, Waah!" says the backing music of old people about to have sex.

General Store. Ned and Toadie. Toadie is wittering on about responsibility, and Ned's just eating a burger and not listening. Toadie upbraids him for it. I'm on Ned's side. I wasn't listening to Toadie either. He wants Ned's help to get back into his own house. Ned is surprised - he thought that Toadie was happy with Steph and that she was "stoked to have him there". He's mistaken. Charlie screams all night, so Toadie can't get his full twelve hours. Twelve hours??? The lazy arse. Eight hours is more than sufficient. And I thought he was a highflying lawyer. Where on earth does he find the time? "I'll take your Charlie and raise you a Pepper," says Ned. "She talks in her sleep, when she's not screaming." And she sleepwalks. The other night she patted Ned on the head and said something about a dolphin. I'd imagine she said "Lyn Scully has such a big nose. She reminds me of a dolphin."

"Well, then," says Toadie triumphantly, "if [Pepper's] such a pain then kick her out." "But she's such a grass chick," protests Ned. "I'm a grass bloke who wants a room in his own house," replies Toadie. He's got you there, Ned. "Just do it! I don't care what you have to do, but I want a room by tomorrow."

House of Trouser. Frazer, Poo Poo Stinker, Zeke. Frazer is slicing a loaf of bread and Pepper is being surprisingly attentive to his pontificating about Derby Day. Oh, that's right, Frazer (and that's not his real name) is a professional gambler of all things. Zeke is cleaning the floor near the refrigerator. Frazer says something about there being "Too much interest in the wrong sort of fillies." I don't know whether he's talking about the horses, or whether he's being derogatory about women. It emerges that it is the latter. He doesn't like their posh hats or something. Pepper suggests they go for a picnic instead. "Whoa!" says our misogynistic man-boy. "That sounds like a leftover from last night!" What an utterly repulsive turn of phrase. This exchange angers Zeke, who looks wrathful.

"Well, that would be your paranoia," says Pepper breezily. "You know, things are going to start getting really tedious [you mean things aren't really tedious already?] if you read into everything I say and don't say ... [she does a remarkably accurate impression of Frazer's prehistoric male posturing] ... Er ... Pepper's so ... Er ... Leftovers from last night. God! Don't flatter yourself." I think they must both have forgotten that Zeke's in the room. "I'm not!" says Frazer limply. "You are!" rejoins Pepper. "I could care less about this picnic." That's patently untrue - it was her suggestion. And I hate it when people say "could care less" when they mean "couldn't care less." "Who packs this picnic?" says Frazer slyly, as if the sheer effort of putting together a picnic had been his objection all along. "I will," says Pepper. I don't know why she's trying so hard. I've only just met Frazer and already I despise him. Pepper's known him longer, and is in closer proximity to him, so you'd think she'd be able to recognise his manifold weaselly, hateful qualities. Frazer leaves.

Pepper opens the fridge door and hits Zeke on the head. Ha ha! Do it again! "I forgot you were down there," she says apologetically. There's nothing for a picnic in the fridge. "Why do you have to do everything?" asks the indignant Zeke, then immediately agrees to go for supplies. She doesn't. She can make you do it, you mooning young pup. It must be really handy to keep a smitten student around the place to do your chores. Zeke persists in pointing out the inequities in Pepper and Frazer's relationship: "Why are you going to all this trouble when Frazer obviously couldn't care about the picnic?" "He's just playing it cool," says Pepper. "Zeke, when you grow up, you'll understand these things." "I do understand," says Zeke plaintively. "And he should be nicer to you." "Aw! You're such a cutie!" coos Pepper. "He just has trouble with commitment, that's all." "But you're already engaged," points out Zeke. Pepper had forgotten that. They're not really engaged you see. It's all a ruse, whose purpose is beyond me. "Exactly," says Pepper hurriedly. "He wouldn't have proposed to me, if he didn't love me. He just has trouble showing it, that's all." *COUGH* Fantasist *COUGH*. Hm. I was trying to write down that thing people do when they're jokily trying to insinuate something and they smuggle out a word or phrase hidden inside a cough. I don't know if I succeeded or not. They get down to business. Pepper gives Zeke some cash and then makes a shopping list. Here it is, in full, as she spoke it aloud. Bear in mind, there was nothing inside the fridge for a picnic.

* Olives
* Those fishy things.
* Those green things with red bits in the middle that are spicy.
* Hair products - both straight and wavy.

That's it. It's going to be a great picnic! I wish I could be there to share in the splendour of the feast.

Exterior. Katya and her fence. The fence is pleased with the BMW. She should be able to shift it quickly.

Back to Poo Poo and Zeke. I really hope that this isn't going to be a repeat of the Libby/Taj relationship. Looks like it might turn out that way, because Pepper's trying on outfits and asking for Zeke's approval. "Imagine you were Frazer," she instructs him. "Ooh! Ooh! Ah! Ah!" says Zeke, and he dances around like the ape-man from 2001. Weirdo. Pepper seems amused by his antics, but brings him back to the task in hand. Oh! Frazer won't mind, sighs Zeke. "Will he notice that that dress brings out the blue in your eyes, and that one makes you look more beautiful than ever?" That twee little outburst ought to have triggered Pepper's gag reflex, but instead it prompts another bout of saccharine cooing: "Aw!!! Zeke!!! ... [Beat] ... So. This one." Oh, okay - heh. I must admit that made me laugh a little. But, seriously, Pepper, you should be running like hell from this freaky little kid with his crush and trying to establish some semblance of a boundary between teacher and student. "You really love him, don't you?" says Zeke. "Since the day we met." Zeke offers to help her get all the picnic stuff to the park and he gets a kiss on the forehead for his trouble. He is "officially [Pepper's] favourite student." Zeke just stands there looking dumb.

General Store. Lou and Mishka are working. Lou says: "Poor young Sky didn't even get to hold the baby. If she had, she would have been distraught [you think???] but at least she would have had that." What a stupid, vapid thing to say. Mishka chimes in with an even more stupid and vapid comment: "Yes. A binding moment to fill her heart." They're a pair of halfwits. Guy is at the counter. He notices Lou is a little distracted by giving utterance to vacuous nonsense and tries to pull a fast one. Is there no limit to his criminality? He tells Lou he gave him a fifty dollar bill, but in reality it was only a twenty. Mishka is onto him. Lou credulously gives him more change, but - fear not! - the till will still balance at the end of the day, because Mishka picked his pocket on the way out and put the money back in the till.

Office. Steph and Toadie. The Office is tidy now. "There was a floor under all that paperwork!" jokes Toadie. Aw shucks. I was looking forward to seeing more of the 'Steph does the accounts' storyline. Toadie tells Steph he is moving back to Number Thirty. "A room came up, and it is my house." Steph is upset, but agrees with Toadie's assessment that they ought to start getting things back to normal. "You're young, you're single," she says. "You don't need a Mum and her baby and the ghost of a missing husband to be a bit of a drag." Toadie demurs. "I don't want to get to comfortable."

Park. Pepper and Zeke. They are laying rose petals on a picnic rug. "Do you think it's a bit much?" "Not if you're comparing it to the mushiest chick flick ever!" jokes Zeke. Which film does he mean? An Affair to Remember is pretty mushy ("I was looking up!"), but I don't recall there being a picnic scene in it. I'll have to bow to Zeke's superior knowledge of mushy chick flicks I think. Now, should Pepper pour the champagne glasses now, or later? Later! For heaven's sake. If you pour them now the champagne will go flat. Zeke agrees with me, though he's more worried about the champagne being spilt. That's a valid point too. Pepper just wants everything to be perfect. "You are!" says Zeke. WHOOPS! "I mean ... 'It is'." Now, I've been an adolescent in love, and stood tongue-tied before the object of my affection and not once have I made such an 'hilarious' gaffe. Maybe it's because I have vice-like self control, but I don't think so. That's not an attribute that's borne out by the rest of my day-to-day life. I think Zeke's freudian slip is a mere contrivance of plot, and has no verisimilitude about it whatsoever. Furthermore, why can't Pepper see what's so manifestly obvious? The boy stole her knickers. What more evidence does she need? I think she must be flattered by his clumsy attentions.

"Frazer's a really, really lucky guy," says Zeke. "He is, isn't he?" Pepper replies. Modest of her. "How come the big ive (?) never says such nice things like you?" I think Zeke's emotional precocity is being established as a counterpoint to Frazer's remedial worries about commitment and cooties. Zeke looks chuffed. Pepper then shoos him away because Frazer has arrived. Great. He's brought Ned along - a character guaranteed to make any scene around thirty percent more boring. Ned has brought some beers, at least, so he's made a contribution to the picnic. Ned says "Are you sure I'm not going to be in the way?" Do you really need to ask the question Ned? The picnic rug is strewn with rose petals. Zeke is hiding in the bushes. Pepper wants a word with Frazer. In private. You'd think that Ned would take the hint, but he just sits there admiring the scenary. "This was meant to be just the two of us!" says Pepper. "Here we go!" says Frazer exasperatedly, "I knew things would change after last night." Pepper balks at this. She insists that they need to keep up the pretence that they are really engaged. "I'm starting to think that this whole engagement thing is a bad idea." You're a genius, Frazer. Pepper is getting desperate and Ned just wants to open the beers. Zeke looks downcast. "You know - we wouldn't be where we are without [the engagement caper]." She's backpeddling so quickly that she's in danger of falling off her figurative bicycle. "We're still friends aren't we?" she asks tremulously. Wow. That was really undignified. Zeke glowers and snaps a twig. He falls laughably short of 'menacing'.

Scarlet Bar. Ned and Lyn. I guess the picnic's over. "Hang on," says Lyn a big, stupid grin beneath her big, stupid nose. "Didn't Frazer know it was a romantic picnic?" "He brought me and a six-pack of beers," says Ned by way of response. Lyn chortles heartily. "There's (sic) lots of pluses with the Aussie male, sense of romance is not one of them." Ned's forehead crumples, the implications of what Lyn's just said slow-dawn on him. "Hey!" he protests. "I'm an Aussie male!" Lyn backtracks. "Oh ... yeah, but you're not typical, you know, you're ... nice." By 'nice' she means 'gay'. As far as Lyn is concerned, Aussie maleness is defined by enthusiasm for all kinds of sports (read "bad sportsmanship"), Crocodile Dundee-style outdoorsiness, casual sexism and ruthless tribalism.

Remember the rivalry between Joe Scully and 'Professor' Karl? That was about who had the more 'authentic' Australian male Y chromosome. Joe was blokesy and relentlessly unintellectual, therefore redblooded and male, and Karl was more sensitive and prized his education highly, thereby marking himself out as unAustralian and effete. Just before Joe Scully did whatever it was he did to disgrace himself (ironically enough, all his lines were then given to Gino, an unthreatening homosexual, and thus the spiritual antithesis of the Aussie Male) he and Karl were both attending a cookery class, the joke being that this situation of womanly domesticity is entirely unbefitting of traditional masculine, heterosexual Australian tropes. Ned does not fit in with Lyn's narrow view of gender-defined roles, liking, as he does, Gilbert and Sullivan and being able to sing and, thus, in her eyes he is emasculated; removed from her cherished, fond vision of what it means to be a man in Australia.

He himself had a great deal of trouble reconciling his ambition to sing and be on the stage both with his own idea of masculinity and with the straitening preconceptions of his friends and neighbours. His unmale aspiration was anathema to the House of Trouser, whose unrelentingly male prerogatives centred around the eschewal of homoerotic feeling by recourse to violence and proxies - to Aussie rules football and to drinking beer. They even went so far as to start wrestling with one another, their unAussie, unmale desires were subverted and transformed, made legitimate. They were able to sweat and grunt and hug wearing tight leotards without tainting their images in the eyes of people like Lyn, who uphold the grand tradition of Aussie Maleness. Ned doesn't know how to deal with Lyn's gelding of him. "Gee, thanks," he says, recognising a double-edged compliment when he hears one.

He changes the subject and wonders who he can evict from the House of Trouser. Frazer and Pepper may well split up, he muses, but he doesn't envisage their both leaving, so the room would still be in use. Rosie's "got a lot on her plate, what with Carmella and everything". Will, therefore, is the obvious choice. "How long will a backpacker stick around anyway?" Good point Ned, but my vote is for Frazer. Largely because I loathe him. Pepper could go and live in the Kinski household. This would provoke all kinds of dramatic and amusing scenarios. She would keep calling Susan "Mrs Kennedy" and this would make Karl uncomfortable and Zeke could keep walking in on her in the shower accidentally/on-purpose. Everyone would be happy. Lyn is horrified to learn that someone must leave the House of Trouser. I don't know why. Surely, she doesn't like these newbie oxygen-thieves any more than I do. "Why is Toadie so keen to move out on Steph anyway?" she asks. None of your business, Cyrano. "Charlie keeps him awake," says Ned. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Charlie's just going through a rough patch," she says. Shut up you disgusting, gossipy old harridan. Finally, she twigs that Toadie is uncomfortable about his proximity to Steph. "Me and my big mouth," she says. And her big nose

General Store. Lou is working. Mishka's phone rings. It plays the 1812 Overture. Because, you know, she's Russian. It says 'AIRLINE' on the screen. Lou answers it. "Are you calling to say the plane's ready to go?" Apparently not. "Infectious?" says Lou. "Endangering the lives of passengers?" I think Mishka's been telling porkies. Lou hangs up. Enter Mishka. "This meat pie is so strange," she says. "I give the plates. I give the cutlery and still they eat with hands." That does sound strange. "I thought we'd agreed not to keep secrets from each other," says Lou sternly. "Da." "Why didn't you tell me how sick you are?" Ah. Mishka comes clean. She told little lie to airline so she could be with her Lou Bear. She not want to leave until Sky and baby are reunited. Where is Sky? I wonder. How's she doing? Is she still in the hospital? Lou's concerns are more prosaic. "Mishka, you could have lost your job." "But I not," Mishka replies, "and I know we say we not lie to each other, but I love you too much to keep a promise." What a peculiar twist of logic. It's magic. "I love you too much to do the dishes!" "I love you too much to have an open and honest dialogue within our relationship." Lou's a real pushover. "That is the sweetest thing that anyone's ever said to me ... I think," he says. "You know," ponders Mishka, "I not know why you Australians want to be healthy, there are so many reasons to be sick!" Lou cackles. Yes, ha, ha, ha. So many people are sick and dying, but Mishka's just lying about seriously ill! My sides are splitting.

Hospital. Lyn, Oscar and Toadie. Oscar's drawing a picture. I don't suppose that will keep him occupied for very long, he'll be running amok all over the set in a few minutes, mark my words. "It was just a dream, Toadie," says Lyn. "You should be flattered if anything." Toadie demurs. Oscar is thinking about eating his pencil. "What? You think you're MARRIED best friend has fallen for you?" Lyn asks, as if it's the most ridiculous idea she's ever heard. You obviously don't pay attention to the lives of those around you, Lyn or, indeed to your own life. Remember that time that Karl left Susan for Izzy. They were married. Or that time that you got divorced. Marriage is not some undefeatable, monolithic concept. Marriages fail, people fall in love. "Of course not," sniffs Toadie peremptorily. Quite right too. This really has nothing whatever to do with Lyn nor her elephantine snout. Oscar's decided not to eat his pencil.

Toadie "just thought it was time we got things back to normal. That's all." Reasonable enough. At this point someone whispers "Pig!" I think it might have been Oscar. Maybe that's what he's drawn. Lyn doesn't relent. Read between the lines, Lyn, you moron! Toadie's in love with Steph. Take up your ugly baby and walk far away. Lyn plays the 'emotionally vulnerable' card. She really is despicable. She reminds me of Louise Fletcher's Nurse Ratched from Milos Forman's film of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. She has an unnerving, quiet, pious self-assurance. She's such a truly horrifying monster because she really believes that she is acting for the good, when in fact she is a terrific force for evil. "I just love knowing you're there, you know, for Charlie and Steph. It gives me such peace of mind," Lyn says and my skin crawls just like when Nurse Ratched said of McMurphy "I believe we can help him, I really do."

I'm trying to devise a Neighbours drinking game. So far I've got one rule: Every time Lyn punctuates one of her sentences with that intensely irritating, insecure, screeching 'you know' of hers, like some sort of demented banshee you take a drink. It's a good one. I introduced it this episode and, already, I'm feeling a little lightheaded. "Well, I can't stay there just because that's what you want," says Toadie. "Yeah, well, what about what Steph wants? Come on! She's had a really hard trot!" She's indefatigable! Machiavelli had nothing on Lyn Scully. "And now she's moving on," says Toadie, but his resolve is weakening in the face of this emotion-enervating harpy. "She's taking on Max's responsibility. She's laughing again." "Which is largely to do with you," cuts in Lyn, with a note of triumph. She can scent Toadie's heartblood. "What if Steph can only move on because she feels safe, you know, because you're there to catch her if she falls." "Sky can see us now," says Toadie apropos of nothing. At least, I think that was unprompted, but, then again, I am pretty drunk. "Why don't we just drop it, OK?" says Toadie huffily. "Come on sweetie," says Lyn to her hellspawn, "we can see Sky. Let's go."

Scarlet Bar. Katya and Guy. Blah, blah, blah, "I'll go to the police!" "No you won't!", blah, blah, blah. This storyline is unutterably stupid. Blah, blah, blah. Something about a DVD. Blah, blah, blah. Why are they transacting their illegal business in the Scarlet Bar for goodness sake? Wouldn't Katya move it away from her home turf? The Scarlet Bar is frequented by - quite literally - all of her friends. Enter Ned. There you go. That's exactly why they shouldn't bring their nefarious doings to the Scarlet Bar. Guy says he knows Katya through nursing college. He offers to tell Ned some stories about her. Surprisingly, Ned doesn't run screaming from the bar, but instead looks keen to hear the stories and sits down. Katya is dismayed.

Park. Zeke is swinging a cricket bat. Alone. At night. Looks like he's working on his forward defensive. Don't do that, Zeke! If everyone in Australia stopped practising their cricket, then maybe, just maybe, we'd have a chance of winning back the Ashes next time. Enter Pepper. She tells Zeke she's fallen in love with him. Oh, right. This is a dream. Since its only conceivable purpose is to tell us that Zeke has a crush on Pepper (which I already know), I won't bother to recap the dream any further.

Hang on. There was nothing to signal that that was a dream sequence. Zeke didn't wake up looking hot and bothered or anything. I think that really happened. O...kay. Maybe she was sleepwalking. Her tendency to somnambulate was mentioned earlier in the episode, and the title is "Can You Sleep a Secret?" so that's probably what just happened. Zeke looks incredulous.

Scarlet Bar. Guy is regaling Ned with stories about Katya. She "was very popular at college and never said no to a challenge." Riveting stuff. Ned looks fascinated at any rate. Katya is uncomfortable. "Old friends don't give away secrets," Guy says. I wish he'd just die. "Now, I am intrigued," says Ned. Don't encourage him, Ned. He offers to get another drink. Gus accepts. "I become a lot more talkative when I've had a few to drink," he promises. Oh God, no. Ned doesn't mind. He wants to hear more about Katya - she's his favourite topic. She's not mine. Guy thinks it's sweet. Ned goes to get the drinks. "Leave," says Katya. I really, really hope he listens to her. "The man just offered me a beer. I can't." Damn! He wants another $10,000. Katya has one week to get it. "If I do another one so close to my last job, I'll get caught." If she talks about this stuff in the frickin' SCARLET BAR she'll get caught as well. But that doesn't seem to bother her. As if to emphasise my point, Toadie enters. "Hey," he says and walks out of shot. "Let's make it $20,000 because you argued." He's getting greedy. Could prove to be his undoing. At last, Guy leaves giving her some silver foil to remind her of the good old days. She tucks it into her bra. Remember when Jack Scully got addicted to 'clubbing'? Looks like Katya may once have been addicted to 'silver foil'.

Office. Toadie, Steph and Charlie. The business is safe. Well done Toadie. Steph suggests they go out for a farewell/celebratory dinner. Toadie's not moving out, though. Because no one's leaving the House of Trouser. He has nowhere to live. Steph ribs him good-naturedly for a bit. She says she's offered his room to a "pregnant, homeless orphan." That's a little insensitive, because they did have a pregnant, homeless orphan living with them for a while. Her name was Kayla as I recall. Steph seems to have forgotten this episode of her life, however. I hope Toadie and Steph end up getting together. I never did like Max, anyway. I don't like Toadie either, but it would be a nice change.

Kinski house. Katya and Ned. They're talking about Guy. Why did he leave like that yada, yada, yada. Katya says she's tired - she's not going clubbing. Good. That stuff's dangerously addictive. Instead she's going to have bath sex with Ned. Ned goes to get some scented candles. Katya retrieves the foil. And does something or other with it. Possibly, she washes it down the sink.

Credits. I hope we're back with the infinitely more engaging Kerry storyline in Thursday's episode.