Wow. It's been ages since I posted here. By way of paltry explanation for my lacklustre effort: First off, I found myself working in the fricking warehouse again. When I said "I got fired from the warehouse" I was lying. I didn't really get fired, my assignment came to an end. And then they wanted me back to do a stock check, which is a very arduous and irritating process. Then I got a job in a a bank processing payments. "Is banking where you wanted to end up?" asked one of my colleagues during routine chitchat. I told her that it wasn't. The question took me by surprise and brought me to the realisation that some people must think "Gosh, I wish I could get into banking! That'd be really cool!" Turns out I've achieved someone else's ambition. Great.
I can't really imagine ever being enthusiastic about any line of work - I'll always look on it as a terrific inconvenience, consuming more of my time and energy than do my friends and family, and offering only a living wage in return. I'm supposed to process one hundred and eighty nine payments a day and, although I start out with good intentions, after about thirty, I find myself staring into space, thinking of nothing at all and utterly unable to remember where I am or what I'm doing. Anyhow, I'd better get on to Neighbours before this turns into one of those blogs where I reveal my thoughts and feelings; a prospect which revolts and terrifies me. I use triviality as a way to preserve my traditional aspect of tightlipped reserve and my intensely private personality. Anyhow, it's only a matter of time before my bosses realise that I have no real aptitude for administrative work, and politely let me go. Until then it's a steady income, I guess, but one which severely restricts the time I am able to devote to Neighbours and to this blog. I get back from work and my wrists ache from typing and my eyes itch from staring at the screen all day. Seriously, I haven't even been able to watch the show for weeks. I've got it set to series record on SkyPlus and now the hard drive is awash with tacky Australian flotsam and jetsum. Yesterday, I had to delete Crimes and Misdemeanours and The Long Good Friday to make room for more episodes. I hope that neither of them were good films.
With no more ado, to Neighbours, to Neighbours ho:
The depraved internet searches continue. Some of my latest hits were generated by people trawling, variously, for "Neighbours Rosetta lingerie pics", "Pepper Steiger, naked" (props for the decorous little comma, anonymous visitor) and, horrifyingly, "Zeke Kinski shirtless". It occurs to me that the more sexual terminology I use, the greater my hit rate will be. To this end, I'll be throwing in words and phrases like "nude", "orgy" and "covered in spunk" to attract the more libidinous, crepuscular Neighbours enthusiasts. They are, of course, precisely the sort of people with whom I want to be associating. Get your hat and coat, we're a-going fishing for Neighbours fans who've got the horn.
With the next couple of entries I intend to try and bring myself more or less up-to-date. In order to expedite the process I ceased taking notes a while ago, so this is going to be freer and looser than previous instalments. I'll try and treat with each separate story strand individually and see how it goes.
The answer to the last cryptic clue was 'Bob'.
Neighbours to 16/03/07
The Steigers, or "PEPPER STEIGER TAKING IT FROM BEHIND"
As you'll remember, when last I wrote of Senior Sergeant Allan Steiger he had embarked upon a camping/hunting trip with the 'metrosexual' (effete city-dwellers as opposed to motherf***ing) Will and Frazer. The trip brought the two young girlie-men to the realisation that they were not, in fact, Aussie males in the truest sense of the words. Will wussed out of hunting the boar according to some esoteric point of morality. It went against his personal credo to "kill for pleasure." He was perfectly prepared to eat the boar later, though, which rather undermines his ethical position. I was inclined to agree with Steiger when he said that nothing annoyed him more than "you boys from the city who think that meat comes on a polystyrene tray". Steiger forced Frazer to hunt the singularis porcus (thank you, Asterix the Gladiator) and, when he failed to kill it with a crossbow, to skin and disembowel it in readiness for cooking it. Frazer was horrified by the "killing. The gutting. It's done something to [Steiger]. Something horrible." Cue Steiger, offscreen, screaming like Tarzan. "We have crossed into a dark, horrible world," Frazer told Will, "and Steiger is the deranged king." I think they were going for some sort of spoof Apocalypse Now / Heart of Darkness vibe with this scenario. It didn't really work.
At night, Will and Frazer lay alone in the tent as Steiger stalked around outside reciting something or other. A bit like Marlon Brando as Colonel Kurtz, unscripted, intoning TS Eliot's The Hollow Men in Apocalypse Now. Steiger's madness was not induced by the horrors of the Vietnam war, however, but by his divorce. He was in mourning for his relationship with Chris. He had a teddy bear, which was rather a lazy way of trying to make him look like a rounded character. The hunting expedition done, Steiger and Pepper were a party to the rescue of Janae (of which more later) and the stripy Poo Poo (who, in a fascinating and consistently hilarious storyline spent too long in a tanning booth) continued to Parent Trap Allan and Chris.
I remember back in the early days of this blog I wrote:
"I have a horrible suspicion that Janae's boss is going to turn out to be Pepper's mother - Mrs Steiger. Janae disagrees with me, and leaps to the conclusion that they're a pair of lesbian lovers. It transpires that I am right - Janae is left with egg on her face and looks surprised to find out that feminism is not necessarily tantamount to lesbianism."
How naive I was! Of course feminism is tantamount to lesbianism! Chris Steiger is, it transpires, of Sappho's persuasion just as Janae intuited from her feminist bent. And that's in despite of the fact that she emphatically wasn't gay a few weeks back. Whatever. I suppose you have to generate storylines somehow. Maybe the writers have a wheel o' plot which they spin when they're deciding what's going to happen on Ramsay Street:
" 'And Chris Steiger is ...' go on Keith, give the wheel a good spin. That's it.' " Then the wheel spins through 'Suffering from cancer', 'Pregnant', 'Addicted to clubbing', 'Evil' and so on before landing on 'Gay'. Anyhow, she'd been carrying on with her housemate and Janae saw them kissing in the garage, but was sworn to secrecy. A secret she managed to keep, despite several crises of conscience. Janae counselled Chris to tell her family. She was about to tell Poo Poo, but desisted from so doing when her daughter showed herself to be homophobic. Steiger decided to propose to Chris over Christmas lunch but was persuaded to await Pepper's signal. Apparently, she knows her mother's body language or something. Anyway, the signal was to be Pepper sneezing twice, which was a singularly chuckleheaded plan since Pepper is allergic to just about everything. This 'amusing' plot device lurched unevenly towards me with a big, stupid grin on its face until - lo and behold! - Pepper sneezed twice "accidentally" and Steiger launced headlong into his proposal. Chris, backed into a corner, came out to her family and Pepper was horrified. Steiger, by contrast, took the news very well. He's quite something that Steiger.
House of Hotties, or "WILL GIVES FRAZER SOME HOT GAY LOVING"
The House of Hotties was home to my favourite plot development of the last few weeks. I really enjoyed the schadenfreude of the eviction story strand. The build up was tedious - Frazer and Pepper announced that their engagement was a sham. One of them had to go. Will sided with Frazer and Rosetta with Pepper. Ned Boringbelly had the deciding vote. Yadayadayada. Lots of hilarious attempts to butter him up and deride one another. He copped out, making everyone in the house eligible for eviction. Just like in Big Brother. I think this may have been a sly in-joke, because Blair McDonough, who played Ned's brother Stuart (he of Life Mechanics, and stalwart policing) was a runner-up on the Australian version of Big Brother. Of course, Stuart left Erinsborough to care for his mad wife Sindi. He probably keeps her locked in his attic now, just like Mr Rochester in Jane Eyre. Ned's eviction gambit was met with Rosetta's (quite correct) withering assertion that it wouldn't change anything. Pepper and she would still vote for Frazer and the Boyz would still vote for Pepper. Ned would be in precisely the same situation. Idiot.
The good bit came later - Ned came up with a cunning plan to continue to sit on the fence. Rather than voting with either faction, he would vote for himself. The first name out of the hat was, predictably, Frazer. Rosetta's doing. Then everyone exchanged looks of puzzlement when Boringbelly's name was drawn from the ballot box only for the beaming Ned to reveal that it was he himself who had put it there!
Having neatly sidestepped the responsibilities incumbent upon enfranchisement, and so screwing his housemates over, he sat back to watch the whole process once again reach a stalemate. Except Frazer voted for Will. Something about alpha maledom or whatever. Will had the same idea as Ned - of using Ned's name as a way of opting out of the electoral process. When I was involved in student politics, we used to have a joke name which served the same purpose. If no joke name was supplied, then the option simply appeared as RON (re-open nominations). To be RONned in a one-horse race must have counted amongst the biggest humiliations in student politicking: It meant that more people disliked you than liked you. Ouch. Anyhow, Ned now had two votes with Pepper's ballot still to be revealed. She voted for ... Ned. So, by trying to preserve his neutrality, Ned in fact secured his eviction from the house. Served him right. I hope you're listening, Switzerland, there are important lessons to be learned here. Ned moved into Toadie's office with him for a spell, before taking Steph up on an offer to move in with her in return for his services as a babysitter.
Bishop household, or "SKY MANGEL'S BREASTS, LACTATION FETISH"
Nothing much to report here. Dylan suddenly shut up about suing for paternity for no readily apparent reason. Possibly he had a rare moment of clarity, and realised that he was being an arse. So Sky can keep baby Kerry. She was still pretty miffed about Karl's moralising and incompetence and threatened to report him to the medical board, and then she didn't report him to the medical board. It made for some great television, I can tell you. Loris left Harold (and her family) so that she could go and find the Baxters and make amends for her baby-swapping sin. Mishka was deported and Lou got a job as an air steward so that he could continue to see her. No, really. Lou Carpenter now works for Bonzair as an air steward. I'm not kidding. He really is an air steward. He and Toadie threatened them with a discrimination lawsuit and they took him on. It must be a contender for Neighbours' stupidest ever storyline. I think that's it really. It's been pretty quiet on this front.
Kinski/Kennedy residence, or "OODLES AND CANOODLES! KARL GIVES NED A PEARL NECKLACE"
This, together with Lyn and Paul's wedding, is where most of the Neighbours writers' creative energy has been expended. Katya lured Guy into the woods in order to threaten him with her gun but ended up getting shot herself. It had been a while since the coma ward at Erinsborough hospital had been inhabited by a major character, so I guess we were overdue. While she was unconscious, details of her car stealing emerged and Steiger looked pretty grave and serious about it all. Guy of Gisbourne, meanwhile, discovered that Katya had shortchanged him, and surmised that she had hidden her ill gotten gains somewhere. He went looking for it. At one point, Harold caught him digging up the allotment. You know, the allotment that's always being mentioned and we've seen so many times before.
Zeke discerned the fact that Guy was evil, but no one believed him. Guy then threatened Zeke over Katya's recumbent form but, luckily, Katya woke up and defibrilated him. She and Zeke fled, and then she was arrested. Karl and Susan raised her bail, but then disagreed as to whether she should be allowed to move back in with them. Meanwhile, in despite of all the ruckus, Rachel went on a work experience placement on Libby's newspaper. Over Christmas. When her sister was in a coma. This was among the least credible attempts to write an actor's holiday into the script. Despite getting a reprieve from an investigation by the medical board, Karl resigned as a doctor and is now a shiftless waster. It's become a running joke that he can't go into music, because, as we all know, he's launched a 'successful' singing career.
Casa de Hoyland, or "TOADIE, STEPH AND BOYD RAMPANT THREESOME"
Boyd continued to harrass Elle. And then he stopped when Paul told him not to. Toadie had a cancer scare that turned out to be nothing, but had the effect of nudging him ever closer to Steph. Rex, Janae's new boss, turned out to be a lech. She put up a sign outside his premises telling potential customers that this was the case. Rex dismissed her for this stunt. However, not before he'd locked her in his office and threatened to molest her. Janae threw a wrench at his head. She's making a habit of it - she also threw a wrench at Frazer that time. Luckily for her, Steiger and Pepper happened to be passing the garage and heard her shout out. Rex pressed charges against Janae, but dropped them when Steiger proved that he was, indeed, a lech. In the Christmas special, Toadie, Steph, Katya, Zeke and Charlie found themselves held hostage by Guy of Gisbourne. Zeke saved the day by dealing Guy a mighty blow with a paperback book. Possibly it was Ascending the Elevator of Love by Henrietta Crawford. Toadie then spent ages getting out of the house. I'm not kidding. He was in there for, like, a week while the others huddled together outside. He didn't pick Guy's gun up off the floor either, because he ended up getting shot in the back. Poor Toadie. He was only in the house because he was covered in green and needed to shower. Steph accompanied him to hospital, and Boyd looked pensive. Yet another major character had lapsed into a coma. There's one for the drinking game: "drink a finger everytime you hear a heart monitor." There followed a peculiarly unengaging scene where Toadie fought for his life. And then died. The doctor pronounced him dead and everything. Then, though without generating any tension or interest, he rose like Lazarus. There was zero impetus throughout the whole scene. He'll be fine in a couple of episodes no doubt.
The Robinsons, or "PAUL, ELLE AND LYN INCESTUOUS SEX GAMES."
I won't bore you with the details of Lyn and Paul's wedding preparations and, have no doubt, they were wedgie-inducingly dull. At one point Lyn lost her engagement ring in a lake which might have been an allusion to the time when the exact same thing happened to Izzy, but, more likely, signalled that the writers had forgotten all about that storyline and thought they'd had an original idea. Suffice to say, that Paul fell for Rosetta in the wine cellar, imagined her walking up the aisle, hesitated and then married Lyn and then left her in a Novotel on the first day of their honeymoon. I didn't much care, and was more puzzled by the fact that they were staying in a Novotel rather than in Lassiter's. They were en route to the Maldives via Melbourne airport, so it would have been just as easy, cheaper and more pleasant to stay in the penthouse suite in Paul's own hotel.
A word on hotels in Neighbours: The Lassiter's complex is the foundation of Paul's business empire. He owns forty nine percent and does pretty well out of it. In point of fact, he's a millionaire. I often idly wondered how much Lassiter's could possibly turn over being located, as it is, in an obscure Melbourne suburb and consisting only of a hotel, a bar, a law office/doctor's surgery and a coffee shop which also sells envelopes.
Come to think of it, I've never actually seen anyone buy an envelope from the General Store. If I ever fulfil one of my ambitions and get to be an extra on Neighbours, I'll ask the director if I can be drinking my coffee and then remember that I have something that I desperately need to get in the post and rush to the counter to buy an A4 jiffy bag.
When the Timminses also got rich through Lassiter's, I began to get suspicious. Why did this modest complex make anyone who touched it incredibly rich? I started to think that maybe it was a front for some elaborate money laundering operation. Or that it was magic. The mystery was solved for me when, in a throwaway line, Paul revealed that Lassiter's is, in fact, a multinational chain of hotels. Will (aka Sebastian) is, it turns out, another millionaire whose money derives from his family's interests in ... a chain of hotels. When the writers think of wealth and success their minds automatically turn to the hospitality industry as the wellspring of prosperity. I think that they must have played too much Monopoly. Paul started out with just a house on Erinsborough (the equivalent of the Old Kent Road on the Monopoly board), then two, then three, then four. Then he razed all of his houses and erected a hotel.
Last episode I saw, Lyn was still in the Maldives with Oscar. Elle was disgusted with her father, meanwhile, and left Ramsay Street to return to Tasmania. On her way there, she saw Max in a supermarket carpark. He seems to have acquired another family, which might be a neat way of making emotional (and sexual) congress between Steph and Toadie morally sanctionable. I wouldn't have judged them anyway, but, you know, the Neighbours writers can be terribly priggish. Elle communicated her discovery to Janae, who posited that maybe Max had had two families all along and never in fact worked on the oilrig. Which would be a good theory if Gus hadn't been a friend of his from the oilrig. And we hadn't actually seen Max making a phone call from the oilrig. If it turns out that Max has been a bigamist all the while I've been watching Neighbours I'll be very cross. Because it doesn't stack up. It's credible that Janae and Elle could think that though, because they never met Gus and they don't watch Neighbours. I'll have to wait and see.
Right - that's all I'm going to write for now. I'll endeavour to bring you completely up to speed in the near future. It might have to wait until next weekend, when I've got a clear run at it. Until then, it's back to watching Neighbours inexorably deflating into a limpid pile of nonsense, seeing the restless turnover of actors and characters and counting the hours until the show is axed. Laterz.
Thursday, 15 March 2007
Wednesday, 7 March 2007
Dog float (3)
I've had a crisis of confidence in this blog. Looking around the interweb, I've come to realise that blogging can be about much more than a bad Australian soap opera, which I don't even like anyway. I could do so much more with it: Show off my wit and erudition to an even greater degree; publish a novel; use it as a soapbox from which to bellow my political views; change the world one person's opinion at a time. So, there you have it, I'm not going to expend any more energy on the subject of Neighbours. My blog can now realise its full potential and will burgeon and flourish. Surely a man of my resource can do so much more? So. Here goes.
Um.
Kierkegaard was right when he said ...
Er. I don't actually know what Kierkegaard said. Or who he was. Or why people are continually going on about him. I'm not even sure if I've spelled his name correctly. I'll try something else.
"Th'offence of greatness is when it disjoins remorse from power," Cassius tells Brutus in Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. How true! When George Bush ...
No.
I know: I'll try my hand at a novel:
"It is a fact universally acknowledged that from the earliest consciousness of her girlhood a woman is in want of a husband. Or, rather, she conjures before her eyes the image of a hero-saviour - romantic, implacable, perfect. Jessica did not flout this rule, and in fact could be numbered among its most ardent adherents. She had had too much Jane Austen, too young. She'd missed the irony and the anger of that particular authoress, and so instead her young imagination was suffused with a charactery of decorous, witty damsels and of rugged, taciturn, goodhearted men who needed only to have their emotional lives, and their sensitivity, unlocked by the right woman; to have their characters moulded by fondly indulgent female patience and tender female kindness. She was never wholly able to eschew this fictive world, and, so, whenever she thought of marriage and of weddings - and she thought of them often - she relied upon an early nineteenth century aesthetic. She was possessed of a reverence and a mistyeyed nostalgia for a world that she had never experienced and which, to all intents and purposes, had never existed.
Her husband's brusqueness would mask his proper sensibilities; he would be understanding, yet never effete, and chivalrous, though never misogynist. Her wedding, according to these fixed ideals of bourgeois, nineteenth century England, would take place in a quaint little village church, or in a grand Georgian house, with an exquisitely mannered ground, and sweeping, tamed vistas across the countryside, with sheep tastefully arranged upon the horizon. Never, never, not in her wildest dreams, did she imagine that she would meet the love of her life, conduct a love affair with him and, eventually, marry him all within the confined space of an elevator. An elevator she would come to know as the 'Elevator of Love'. And yet, this is precisely what happened."
Ah, screw it. I'm not cut out for anything grander than Neighbours.
Here's a picture of my little collectable figurine of Steiger hunting wild boar:
I also have Harold playing the tuba with seaweed in his hair and Pepper and Rosetta trying on lingerie in the kitchen of Number Thirty.
Speaking of Ascending the Elevator of Love, I was delighted to see the novel make a reappearance in the show in the episode that aired on 15 March. You can see it here. Sixteen minutes and thirty five seconds in and Frazer is sat reading Rosetta's copy. His verdict? "What a load of rubbish!" Apparently, it's written by someone called Henrietta Crawford. I was so excited by the fact that Ascending the Elevator of Love might be a real book that I tripped over the stairs in my rush to get to my computer and order it on Amazon. Alas, it doesn't exist. A Google search reveals only this blog. A search for "Pepper Steiger lesbian" will also lead you here, as one disappointed Poo Poo fan found to his or her dismay after wading through two and a half pages of results. The webcounter at the bottom of the page here tells you the sites that referred visitors. It was the first time I'd looked at it and you can imagine my glee when I found that such a search had been made. Ironically enough, I do actually write lesbian Neighbours slash fiction. But I do it under a pseudonym.
The internet really is a place of infinite wonder. Neighbours seems to produce its own brand of likeably cackhanded fandom. Most sites are behind the times. A Google search for Neighbours-related dinkum yields a veritable reliquary of halfhearted fansites and blogs. Here's one from some foulmouthed blogger claiming to be Toadie from Neighbours. He's like some sweary adolescent in the first flush of his youth, who's still exhilarated by obscenity. Also, he's got way more comments than me. I'm pretty sure he's not the real Toadie, because he's consistently misspelled Dr Karl's name. If he were the real McCoy, then he'd have read Karl's name in the script on a daily basis and so wouldn't spell it wrongly. Another curio is this network of Neighbours characters' MySpace entries. It's a catalogue of class prejudice, casual sexism and occasional, bizarre sensitivity. Check out Bree's entry. My favourite site by far from the Google-Neighbours charnel house is the never less than entertaining 'What Rhymes with Susan Kinski?' Neighbours poetry site, whose name is an odd, unintentional echo of Nosey Rosie's blog, which is entitled 'What Rhymes with Rosie?' The world is full of weird little coincidences. Anyhow, here's a poem from the site by MALM:
"Cassie
Cassie, the sheep
A grass chewing pet
Your appearances are sporadic
Have you been to the vet?
I wonder if you're still there
Chewing that lawn
Munching and crunching
Since the day you were born"
My favourite line is the second: "A grass chewing pet".
In the hope of instigating spirited, witty repartee and providing myself with inspiration and lessening my own workload with this blog, I've decided that readers can contact me here with suggestions, artwork, observations, poetry, Neighbours-themed rants or whatever.
Before I get stuck into recapping a month-old episode (after this I'll bring the blog up-to-date and start afresh), here's more from my friend, and Steiger's greatest champion: "What Steiger doesn't know about police work ... no ... about life ... just isn't worth knowing." Quite.
The answer to the last cryptic clue was "Janelle".
Neighbours 12/02/07
The previouslys show Lyn telling Susan that she's going to dump Paul; Stingray and Dylan talking about fatherhood and Dr Karl fumbling with the envelope containing the results of the DNA Test.
The episode's title is 'Eye of the Steiger', a pun on the song from Rocky IV and that Frosties ad. Here's a picture of Steiger's eye:
I lifted this image from an Australian counterpart (don't click the link if you're worried about SPOILERS) - another jaded Neighbours recapper, called ataRi, who rightly points out that it is terrifying. "Steiger should have just played a background character with no personality," she/he says and I quite agree, "because at least then we weren't really expecting to find one. He attempts to deliver, but really he just scares the children. My children." By the way, don't defect to that site. It might well be updated on a weekly rather than an 'if I can be bothered' basis, but it lacks the charm and intellect that I can supply. Seriously. Please don't go. My happiness and my ego are wholly dependent on my weekly hit rate.
Karl's office. A direct continuation of the end of yesterday's cliffhanger. "Stuff this," says Dylan, "I know I'm Kerry's father. We all do." "Could you be any more full of yourself?" Stingray asks him. "Like being a booze-hound makes you so upwardly mobile," says Dylan nastily. Um. What does that mean? "Be quiet!" snaps Harold. "You know what," sneers Dylan to Stingray, "I don't even know why you're here." Stingray rises to the bait: "You know what - 'cause I'm Kerry's father." They grab each other by the lapels. Harold reaches up to separate them. "Guys!" says Sky plaintively. "Stop it! I don't want this to lead to some stupid brawl. Both of you get out. Now. I want everyone out." Harold and Janelle spring into action, ushering everyone out. Loris leaves as well. "It's her right," says Karl weakly, while the eviction procedures are already well underway. Once everyone's gone, Sky says impatiently: "Well, let's hear it."
Robinson domus. Lyn has packed to leave. Enter Paul. Lyn makes a terrific fool of herself, accusing Paul of having an affair with a blonde bimbo while in New York. Paul seems to enjoy her hissy fit and just lets her get on with it before revealing that the 'blonde bimbo' was, in fact, a jeweller from Park Avenue. He shows her the engagement ring he bought. Lyn agrees to marry him and then weeps.
Scarlet Bar. Will is serving Lou. "Keep the change, my good man," says the generous Lou Bear. "What?" jokes Will. "A whole ten cents? I couldn't." Enter Frazer. Much posturing about the fact that he's a professional gambler. What were the writers up to with that? It's a silly job. Were they up late into the night, smoking weed and saying: "Man, we've already got a doctor, policeman, lawyer, mechanic, fitness instructor, entrepreneur. I know! This new guy could be a pro-gambler! That will prove really credible and interesting to our viewers!"? Frazer seems to think we're interested at any rate, because he's telling us how brave and resourceful he is. Will tells Frazer that Steiger has been looking for him (Frazer). He jokes that that's "got [Frazer] scared." Frazer's bluster is undermined: "The man carries a gun for a living!" he says fearfully. He's a policeman, Frazer. He's not Liberty Valance. Or the Ringo Kid. Or Boba Fett. "And you're applying [?] the house with his only daughter! Good luck," says Will indistinctly. They really ought to sort out the noisy Scarlet Bar extras. Maybe they actually ply them with real booze. "Yeah," rejoins Frazer, "that was before I realised that her Dad was Dirty Harry." Hmm. Steiger is being insistently associated with macho screen icons: first Rocky through the title and now Clint Eastwood's urban cowboy. I wonder who it will be next? I'll make a guess. Do I feel lucky? You betcha. I think it will be Die Hard's John McCain. Yipee-kay-ay. "He [Steiger] left ages ago," says Will easily, "so there's no need to worry." Frazer regains some of his cool: "What do I have to fear from a guy like Steiger anyway?" "Absolutely nothing," says Will amusedly. "He's a guy," obviouses Frazer, "I'm a guy. We're both ..." "Guys," Will finishes his sentence for him. I'm not sure if that was a gay joke.
Surgery waiting room. Dylan, Stingray, Janelle, Loris. "What's taking them so long?" asks Dylan. Karl's probably still struggling to get the envelope open. He's like that guy who opened the result of the IOC's decision about whether it would be London or Paris who hosted the 2012 Olympic Games. He took fricking ages to get the envelope open. Stingray and Dylan then deliver overlapping lines as they advance upon one another. "If you weren't such a freak, we'd still be in there," is Stingray's line, but the best I can do to reconstruct Dylan's is "No one blah-blah's what you stink, Stinger." It probably wasn't important. "I don't care what either of you think," says Janelle sensibly, "but if you don't pull your heads, I'm going to start boxing some ears." Enter Susan. "Oh!" she says, "I'm really sorry. I'll come back." Enter Karl from office. Susan repeats her apology to him: "Karl, I'm really sorry. I thought you'd be free. I'll come back later." "No, no, no, no," says Karl a la Jim from The Vicar of Dibley. "Sky wants to see the family alone. So I'm going to step outside and give them some space." He makes to leave. "So what's the verdict?" Karl leaves without answering. "Typical," says Janelle. Sky, holding Kerry, opens the door to the office. "Stinger," she says. "Dylan, I'll do you next." Stingray looks overjoyed and goes into the office with Sky, who shuts the door. Janelle looks pityingly upon Dylan. "Oh baby," she says, "I don't know what to say." Dylan is struck: "I was so sure." He collects himself: "Well, screw this. I don't need to hear bad news from that cheating moll/mole." He leaves, slamming the door behind him. The phone number for Karl's surgery is 4871 9000 if you're interested.
Karl's Office. Stingray, Sky. Stingray is cooing over Kerry. "Ha ha!" he says. "This is the best spigging thing that's ever happened to me, Sky! It's perfect! It's just awesome! Hello! Hozza, bozza, wicka woo ..." Sky interrupts him. Thank God. "Stingray!" she says abruptly. "You're not the father. Dylan is."
Scarlet Bar. Frazer, Will. Frazer is still droning on about his career as a pro-gambler. "That was my first big win. Chastity's Revenge. Boy, could that gelding gallop." It's possible that the horse has a symbolic name, because Steiger sneaks up behind him and grabs him. Defeat chastity, and its revenge will take the form of a protective father. Steiger wants to get the camping trip sorted out. They should go tomorrow. Frazer would love to go, but promised Will he would ... "Decorate my room," chimes Will. Frazer can't let a mate down, you know? Will then proceeds to stitch Frazer up: "It can wait. You should go. Especially since you love camping so much." "That's right," says Frazer unconvincingly, "I do." "Huh," says Steiger, "I wouldn't have thought that a metrosexual like you would be into roughing it." Metrosexual is a very stupid word. It's used in the context of effete city-dweller with manbag and all manner of hair-care product, but whoever coined it showed a criminally deficient understanding of etymology. 'Metrosexual' is a composite of 'metropolitan' and '-sexual' as a suffix that has come to denote a lifestyle preference. It obviously puns upon 'heterosexual' while at the same time connoting the opposite. In other words, it's a smug, socially acceptable way of saying 'your all gay'. But its implicit emasculation and homophobia aren't the most stupid things about it. 'Metropolitan' is a borrowing from the Greek via the Latin. 'Polis' is obviously the Greek word for city and 'metro' is the word for mother. Hence, 'metropolis' literally meant 'mother city'. Therefore, by taking the 'metro' part of 'metropolitan' and coupling it with the word 'sexual' you are, in effect, just creating a posh way of saying 'motherf****r'. Metrosexual is, then, on every level, an abhorrent chimera of an expression, designed to conceal rather than communicate meaning and would be best consigned to the lexicographal dustbin. The new buzzword 'heteropolitan', while still breathtakingly stupid, at least just means 'different citied'.
Frazer is pricked on by Steiger's assault on his masculinity: "Are you kidding?" he says. "I had a ball at Tuck's Ridge the other year." "Tuck's Ridge?" Steiger scoffs. "That's with the hot showers, the heated cabins, the electric barbecues ..." Electric barbecues must be particularly anathema to the traditional, redblooded Aussie male. "The open fireplaces," says Frazer in his own defence. "I had to chop the wood myself." Steiger isn't impressed. He still thinks that Frazer went to a cissy campsite: "Son, I'm talking about the real deal. Man versus nature. Out in the woods. Hunting." "Hunting?" asks the worried Frazer. "How good does that sound," says Will, who's clearly enjoying this. "Kill your own dinner and you don't need to worry about washing your tackle and so forth," says Steiger. I think he's talking about hunting compared with fishing, but says nothing to indicate this. He might mean that the act of killing an animal absolves one from the need for genital hygiene. "Sounds great," says the hapless Frazer. "Well," growls Steiger, "I think it's about time that I got to know my darling daughter's intended. Looking forward to it." So is Frazer. Steiger strides towards the door. "Pick you up first thing in the morning. 0800 hours." He leaves. "Dirty tackle and wildlife's smorgasbord," says Will meaningfully. "You really lucked out with your inlaws." "You have to come," pleads Frazer. "Er ... no," says Will reasonably. "You can't let me go out there with John Rambo alone!" Rambo! Of course. It's so obvious now. It was never going to be John McCain out of Die Hard. "I can't," says Will cheekily. "I'm redecorating my room." This is punishment for Frazer's boring story about that galloping gelding earlier. "Dude," wheedles Frazer, "have a heart." "A night at Wolf Creek with scary Steiger ... No way," Will says firmly, but it's quite clear that he will end up going. We'll probably be treated to an ironic segue. "I'm begging you!" begs Frazer.
Surgery, waiting room. No ironic segue, just Harold, Loris, Stingray and Janelle. "Aw. It's not the end of the world baby," says Janelle to Stingray. "I know that it feels like it is now, but it's not." "You've got plenty of time left to be a father," opines Loris. "Yeah, but I might not have the swimmers," says Stingray dismally. "Kerry was everything. She was my reason for getting back together." "Well, she still can be," says Harold. "As her uncle you can still be a big part of her life." No he can't, Harold. Dylan promised that he would shut Stingray out of Kerry's life. Keep up. Enter Karl and Susan. They're wearing matching stripy shirts, which is nice. Karl's is grey and Susan's is blue. "Mate," says Karl, "I'm sorry things didn't turn out better." Wow. Did he ever pitch that wrongly. That was lame, Karl. And Stingray's not your mate. "Sorry?" splutters Stingray. "You know, if you weren't such a crap doctor none of us would be going through any of this." Susan looks shocked. "Mistakes did happen, and I apologise for that," says Karl limply. "They were honest mistakes ..." Susan says in support of him. "They were more than that and you know it," Stingray tells her. "My whole life is ruined because you got it wrong. I lost my brother, I lost my girlfriend, God, I nearly evan lost my mind." He turns to Susan. "And you totally condemned me. I'm left with nothing. My life is nothing." He storms out. "Oh, Stingray ..." says Susan, too late. "You'd better have top-notch negligence cover, Kennedy, because I'm going to sue you for every cent you've got," Janelle reminds him. He shouldn't worry too much. She'll probably employ Toadie.
Scarlet Bar. Lou and two glasses of champagne. Enter Mishka. Great. "Here she is!" says Lou. "Russia's most beautiful trolly-dolly. How was your flight?" "Ah," replies Mishka, "much turbulence. Little babies up-chucking all over. I tell you - air-hostessing is not so glamourous." "You must be exhausted," says the sympathetic Lou Bear. "Well, I'm going to spoil you rotten." "Yeah, I cannot tell a lie," says Mishka, contradicting her earlier statement that she loves Lou too much to tell him truth. "I am simply having of bad news." "What's wrong sweetheart?" enquires Lou. "Is too terrible to say," Mishka avers. "Come on," Lou insists, "it can't be that bad." It is: "They cancel Melbourne to Moscow flight." "They can't do that!" says Lou, flabberghasted. Mishka demurs: "Uh hu. Not enough passengers they say. No more trips to see my Lou Bear. You and me - we are drapes." "That's 'curtains' actually," says the fastidious Lou Bear. Mishka's malapropisms are consistently hilarious. Mishka insists that there is nothing to be done. "I but cog in wheel of Russian aviation." "We'll go to the Immigration Department and get you a permanent visa," says Lou. Mishka: "Immigration department not giving out visas like Warney give out love?" Huh? Via text message? "Where there's a will there's a way," cliches Lou. "Come on!" "When you fighting for us you most sexy man," Mishka tells him. Lou chuckles.
Casa de Timmins. Sky and Kerry knock on the door and Dylan answers it. "If you're here to tell me what a great uncle I'll make ... maybe another time," says the defeated Dyldog. "Dylan," says Sky, "you're Kerry's father." Dylan doesn't understand: "But you called Scottie in first." He never was very bright. "I just wanted to let him down gently, after everything that's happened." "I'm the father!" boasts Dylan. "I knew it! [to Kerry:] You and I knew it from the beginning, didn't we? I'm not going to let you out of my sight. Ever." "You're a natural," says Sky, feeling a little left out. "How could I not be?" says Dylan. "I'm her dad." I remember a fascinating case where a mother had sex with two twin brothers and was unsure as to which one was the father of her baby. Since their DNA was identical, there was no way of determining paternity and, when one of the twins sued for access to the child, the judge was left with a knotty problem. Neighbours missed a trick. Sky should have slept with both of the Robinson twins before Cameron was killed and Robert was carted off to prison. That would have been a great storyline.
Scarlet Bar. Frazer and Will. They're still going on about the camping trip. "It'll be fun, you know, men getting in touch with nature," says Frazer. Will is unconvinced: "Hmm ... Getting in touch with it and shooting it. No thanks." Frazer changes tack: "OK, I've got ... er ... fifty, no a hundred bucks ..." Will is unbribeable: "I'm not going Fraze. I want to be around Carmella when she gets out of hospital." "One hundred and fifty," says the increasingly desperate Frazer. "It's one night!" "So, you won't have any trouble surviving without me," says Will neatly. "Yeah, no," says Frazer. "Hey you're right. It's not like you owe me. I mean, telling Rosetta and Carmella that it was me who got the money for the burn surgery. That wasn't a betrayal. Not exactly. Although you did give me your word." His emotional blackmail succeeds where his other gambits failed: "Alright! I'll go! But after this we're even." Frazer kisses Will, who looks pained: "Let's not get carried away," he says.
Enter Lou and Mishka. "Well, that's it," says Mishka. She is only eligible for a visa if they can prove that they have lived together for two years. "Why worry," says Lou mischievously, "when we've known each other for more than twenty years?" "You are making me much confused, Lou Bear," says Mishka and she does, indeed, look much confused. "Ah, darling," continues Lou in the same vein, "surely you haven't forgotten Fiji! I fell in love with you instantly when I saw you across that crowded lagoon. 1986. Seems like yesterday." Mishka squeaks. "I see. You think we should scam system. Back in Russia, scam IS system!" That's a heartbeat away from: "In Soviet Russia, system scams YOU!" Lou rationalises: "Now, it's not like we're not genuinely in love." Mishka joins in wholeheartedly: "You bought me cocktail in coconut and then you invite me back to your room to see etchings [of Harold in the nude, reclining]. And me such nice girl from Moscow!" "Ho, ho, ho," says Lou. "That's the spirit!" Mishka has a doubt: "But we still married to others." "We'll bury that," says Lou dismissively. "How to prove to immigration that we have such long history?" wonders Mishka. "That'll be half the fun!" says Lou. My heart sinks. Another ineffably stupid storyline. It'll be just like Green Card with Gerard Depardieu. Christ, I think I've seen that film twice.
Ext. Sky and Stingray. "Stinger," pleads Sky, "will you please just hear me out?" Stingray has nothing left to say to her. He's getting into a taxi. "Just stop for a second!" Sky demands. "Your friendship means so much to me - and I couldn't have got through the pregnancy without you." Stingray is sceptical. "Stingray. You're my best friend," says Sky. "Kerry and I need you now more than ever." "And where is she now?" asks the astute Stingray. "With him? This is how you wanted it to be all along. I was just a consolation prize and a bad one." "Well," says a vexed Sky, "that's not how I saw it at all." "I've got to go," Stingray tells her. "Well," Sky asks, "where are you going? Please don't use this as an excuse to start drinking again." "You know," says Stingray, "I can't think of a better one." To the driver: "Go." The taxi drives off. "Stingray!" calls Sky. "Stinger!" The cab pulls round the corner and out of sight and Stingray leaves Erinsborough forever.
Scarlet Bar. Stingray. What the hell? What was the previous scene all about, then? Why was Stingray in a taxi, if he was just going to go to the spigging Scarlet Bar? He's staring down a glass of beer, waiting to see who blinks first. Enter Will. "Who served you that?" he asks. "The other barman," obviouses Stingray. "He's obviously not up to speed on who not to serve yet." "It must be warm by now," Will informs him. "You've been staring at it for half an hour." "What? Are you keeping tabs on me?" demands Stingray. "Nothing slips by me," boasts Will with laughable hubris. "Well, I don't need a lecture," Stingray tells him. Will knows. "If you did, that glass would have been empty ages ago." "A bended vibe so ..." sings the vowelly woman on the backing track. Stingray leaves the glass untouched. Will treats himself to a self-satisfied little nod.
Kinski domus. Susan and Karl. Karl's burned the dinner. He suggests ordering a pizza but, fascinatingly, it transpires that neither he nor Susan are hungry. Karl can't get the look on Stingray's face out of his head. And what he said. "It was all true. My mistake has completely changed the course of that boy's life." "Karl," lies Susan, "you didn't make a mistake." "Medically, no," says Karl. "I can accept that. But morally? And as far as relationships are concerned? He developed a dependency and it's my fault." "I judged him too," says Susan. "Him and Sky. And we both told Rachel to walk away." Advising Rachel to end the relationship was the right decision, regardless of Stingray's present predicament. "Yeah, yeah," says Karl in order to shut her up. "He really has lost everything, you know. How ironic that I could lose everything as well." That's not irony, Karl. It's all about actions and their consequences. Behaving badly and getting your just desserts is decidedly unironic. "If we have to sell everything we will," Susan assures him. "If I have to sell this house, I will. We'll get through this."
The nest of Timminses. Loris and Janelle. "Once we've sued Dr Karl Bloody Kennedy for everything he's got, it's going to be five-star all the way round here," promises Janelle. "Legal action is not going to solve anything," warns Loris. "I want that bufflet to pay and then I'm going to fritter away every last Kennedy cent," Janelle tells her. "Revenge is not all it's cracked up to be," says Loris gnomically. "Especially when you've got a few problems a bit closer to home." "Oh, the boys will sort themselves out," says Janelle cheerily and contrary to all the evidence before her. "And as far Karl: It's not revenge. It's justice." Enter Stingray. Loris gives him a hug. "You OK?" Janelle asks him. Stingray tells her that he is. Janelle had a horrible feeling that he would go on some kind of bender. "Do you want to smell my breath?" Stingray asks, and before she has a chance to reply, he breathes on her. I bet his breath smells of onions. "I told you, Mum, I'm on the wagon," Stingray says proudly. "Coming up to a week." "Ah," says Janelle, pleased, "everything's going to be OK. You can move back in here. Dyl'll come round." "If I do [move back in], will you let go of me?" jokes Stingray. Janelle has been giving him a big, squeezy hug. She releases him. Enter Dylan carrying groceries. "Ah hey, Dyl," says Stingray. "I just wanted to say: congrats." He proffers his hand, which Dylan breezes past. "Hey," says an outraged Janelle. "Your brother just had the guts to walk back in here and offer you his hand. The least you can do is shake it." Dylan gets a sixpack of beer out of his shopping bag and offers it round. Stingray looks cowed. "You have got an ugly side to you, my boy," Janelle tells Dylan. "Real ugly." Yeah, he does. It's his face. "Look," says Dylan to Stingray, "I know you must be gutted, but I can never forgive you for what you did to Kerry. Anything could have happened. So I don't want you near my daughter. Ever."
House of Trouser. Frazer is packing to go. Will is ready. Frazer hates "bugs. And snakes." And he's "not wild about spiders either." I would have thought that in Australia, where the fauna is quite literally out to get you, that that attitude was perfectly rational.
Ext. A rugged truck pulls up. Rugged Steiger is driving. He's daubing his face with camouflage stripes. Will and Frazer get into the truck. Steiger calls Frazer 'Fiona' and Will 'Willemina' and tells them not to worry about their nancy-boy tents. "Mine's big enough for all of us." Creepy. Steiger has a rugged dog in the back.
Mishka and Lou have surrounded themselves with ferns. They're faking their meeting in Fiji. Lou's wearing a 'KISS' t-shirt and has a fake porno moustache. Presumably, that's what he looked like in 1986. Since Lou didn't appear in the show until 1988, we have no way of knowing whether or not the KISS t-shirt and moustache are an accurate representation of Lou's appearance in that year. However, this is what he looked like two years later at his first appearance:
No porno moustache. I got this picture from the 'Magic Moments' section of Perfectblend.net. Which is great for a bit of Neighbours nostalgia.
A wood somewhere. Steiger and the House of Hotties n00bs are camping. The tent has holes in it. Steiger dismisses Frazer's protestations: "A little spider bite never hurt anyone." Hmm ... I think that this guy would beg to differ. NB this link is definitely not for the squeamish. I wish to God that I'd never seen it. For those of you who don't want to see the horrific effects of a spider bite, or are irritated by FHM-style babes 'n' gore, have a look instead at this lovely picture of goats in a tree. How did they get there? Nobody knows. Frazer asks where the guns are. Apparently, guns are for little girls. Steiger has a crossbow. I wonder if Steiger subscribed to his 'guns are for little girls' philosophy when Pepper was young. Did he used to give her firearms to play with in lieu of Sylvanian Families and My Little Pony? The three of them are going hunting for wild boar. And Razorbacks can be seriously dangerous. So it's kill or be killed. "Hold me," says Frazer to Will in a small voice.
Bishop residence. Harold and Loris want Kerry to wake up so that they can have some quality great-grandparent time with her. Harold can't wait for Kerry to be old enough to go to the circus. He and Loris talk about how much they love the circus. This is all getting a little surreal. Enter Dylan. He's bought a mobile for Kerry. It's very nice. Enter Sky. Dylan tells her he wants to be alone with Kerry. He'll fight for custody and will be involving lawyers. Presumably, he means Toadie and Rosetta. He leaves. Sky decides to take Kerry to see her family in the country. She packs hurriedly and takes off. Loris tells Harold that she is the "most morally bereft of all the Timminses." She confesses to being the Baby Swapper. That is, the one who swapped Bree Timmins for Ann Baxter.
Credits.
Um.
Kierkegaard was right when he said ...
Er. I don't actually know what Kierkegaard said. Or who he was. Or why people are continually going on about him. I'm not even sure if I've spelled his name correctly. I'll try something else.
"Th'offence of greatness is when it disjoins remorse from power," Cassius tells Brutus in Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. How true! When George Bush ...
No.
I know: I'll try my hand at a novel:
"It is a fact universally acknowledged that from the earliest consciousness of her girlhood a woman is in want of a husband. Or, rather, she conjures before her eyes the image of a hero-saviour - romantic, implacable, perfect. Jessica did not flout this rule, and in fact could be numbered among its most ardent adherents. She had had too much Jane Austen, too young. She'd missed the irony and the anger of that particular authoress, and so instead her young imagination was suffused with a charactery of decorous, witty damsels and of rugged, taciturn, goodhearted men who needed only to have their emotional lives, and their sensitivity, unlocked by the right woman; to have their characters moulded by fondly indulgent female patience and tender female kindness. She was never wholly able to eschew this fictive world, and, so, whenever she thought of marriage and of weddings - and she thought of them often - she relied upon an early nineteenth century aesthetic. She was possessed of a reverence and a mistyeyed nostalgia for a world that she had never experienced and which, to all intents and purposes, had never existed.
Her husband's brusqueness would mask his proper sensibilities; he would be understanding, yet never effete, and chivalrous, though never misogynist. Her wedding, according to these fixed ideals of bourgeois, nineteenth century England, would take place in a quaint little village church, or in a grand Georgian house, with an exquisitely mannered ground, and sweeping, tamed vistas across the countryside, with sheep tastefully arranged upon the horizon. Never, never, not in her wildest dreams, did she imagine that she would meet the love of her life, conduct a love affair with him and, eventually, marry him all within the confined space of an elevator. An elevator she would come to know as the 'Elevator of Love'. And yet, this is precisely what happened."
Ah, screw it. I'm not cut out for anything grander than Neighbours.
Here's a picture of my little collectable figurine of Steiger hunting wild boar:
I also have Harold playing the tuba with seaweed in his hair and Pepper and Rosetta trying on lingerie in the kitchen of Number Thirty.
Speaking of Ascending the Elevator of Love, I was delighted to see the novel make a reappearance in the show in the episode that aired on 15 March. You can see it here. Sixteen minutes and thirty five seconds in and Frazer is sat reading Rosetta's copy. His verdict? "What a load of rubbish!" Apparently, it's written by someone called Henrietta Crawford. I was so excited by the fact that Ascending the Elevator of Love might be a real book that I tripped over the stairs in my rush to get to my computer and order it on Amazon. Alas, it doesn't exist. A Google search reveals only this blog. A search for "Pepper Steiger lesbian" will also lead you here, as one disappointed Poo Poo fan found to his or her dismay after wading through two and a half pages of results. The webcounter at the bottom of the page here tells you the sites that referred visitors. It was the first time I'd looked at it and you can imagine my glee when I found that such a search had been made. Ironically enough, I do actually write lesbian Neighbours slash fiction. But I do it under a pseudonym.
The internet really is a place of infinite wonder. Neighbours seems to produce its own brand of likeably cackhanded fandom. Most sites are behind the times. A Google search for Neighbours-related dinkum yields a veritable reliquary of halfhearted fansites and blogs. Here's one from some foulmouthed blogger claiming to be Toadie from Neighbours. He's like some sweary adolescent in the first flush of his youth, who's still exhilarated by obscenity. Also, he's got way more comments than me. I'm pretty sure he's not the real Toadie, because he's consistently misspelled Dr Karl's name. If he were the real McCoy, then he'd have read Karl's name in the script on a daily basis and so wouldn't spell it wrongly. Another curio is this network of Neighbours characters' MySpace entries. It's a catalogue of class prejudice, casual sexism and occasional, bizarre sensitivity. Check out Bree's entry. My favourite site by far from the Google-Neighbours charnel house is the never less than entertaining 'What Rhymes with Susan Kinski?' Neighbours poetry site, whose name is an odd, unintentional echo of Nosey Rosie's blog, which is entitled 'What Rhymes with Rosie?' The world is full of weird little coincidences. Anyhow, here's a poem from the site by MALM:
"Cassie
Cassie, the sheep
A grass chewing pet
Your appearances are sporadic
Have you been to the vet?
I wonder if you're still there
Chewing that lawn
Munching and crunching
Since the day you were born"
My favourite line is the second: "A grass chewing pet".
In the hope of instigating spirited, witty repartee and providing myself with inspiration and lessening my own workload with this blog, I've decided that readers can contact me here with suggestions, artwork, observations, poetry, Neighbours-themed rants or whatever.
Before I get stuck into recapping a month-old episode (after this I'll bring the blog up-to-date and start afresh), here's more from my friend, and Steiger's greatest champion: "What Steiger doesn't know about police work ... no ... about life ... just isn't worth knowing." Quite.
The answer to the last cryptic clue was "Janelle".
Neighbours 12/02/07
The previouslys show Lyn telling Susan that she's going to dump Paul; Stingray and Dylan talking about fatherhood and Dr Karl fumbling with the envelope containing the results of the DNA Test.
The episode's title is 'Eye of the Steiger', a pun on the song from Rocky IV and that Frosties ad. Here's a picture of Steiger's eye:
I lifted this image from an Australian counterpart (don't click the link if you're worried about SPOILERS) - another jaded Neighbours recapper, called ataRi, who rightly points out that it is terrifying. "Steiger should have just played a background character with no personality," she/he says and I quite agree, "because at least then we weren't really expecting to find one. He attempts to deliver, but really he just scares the children. My children." By the way, don't defect to that site. It might well be updated on a weekly rather than an 'if I can be bothered' basis, but it lacks the charm and intellect that I can supply. Seriously. Please don't go. My happiness and my ego are wholly dependent on my weekly hit rate.Karl's office. A direct continuation of the end of yesterday's cliffhanger. "Stuff this," says Dylan, "I know I'm Kerry's father. We all do." "Could you be any more full of yourself?" Stingray asks him. "Like being a booze-hound makes you so upwardly mobile," says Dylan nastily. Um. What does that mean? "Be quiet!" snaps Harold. "You know what," sneers Dylan to Stingray, "I don't even know why you're here." Stingray rises to the bait: "You know what - 'cause I'm Kerry's father." They grab each other by the lapels. Harold reaches up to separate them. "Guys!" says Sky plaintively. "Stop it! I don't want this to lead to some stupid brawl. Both of you get out. Now. I want everyone out." Harold and Janelle spring into action, ushering everyone out. Loris leaves as well. "It's her right," says Karl weakly, while the eviction procedures are already well underway. Once everyone's gone, Sky says impatiently: "Well, let's hear it."
Robinson domus. Lyn has packed to leave. Enter Paul. Lyn makes a terrific fool of herself, accusing Paul of having an affair with a blonde bimbo while in New York. Paul seems to enjoy her hissy fit and just lets her get on with it before revealing that the 'blonde bimbo' was, in fact, a jeweller from Park Avenue. He shows her the engagement ring he bought. Lyn agrees to marry him and then weeps.
Scarlet Bar. Will is serving Lou. "Keep the change, my good man," says the generous Lou Bear. "What?" jokes Will. "A whole ten cents? I couldn't." Enter Frazer. Much posturing about the fact that he's a professional gambler. What were the writers up to with that? It's a silly job. Were they up late into the night, smoking weed and saying: "Man, we've already got a doctor, policeman, lawyer, mechanic, fitness instructor, entrepreneur. I know! This new guy could be a pro-gambler! That will prove really credible and interesting to our viewers!"? Frazer seems to think we're interested at any rate, because he's telling us how brave and resourceful he is. Will tells Frazer that Steiger has been looking for him (Frazer). He jokes that that's "got [Frazer] scared." Frazer's bluster is undermined: "The man carries a gun for a living!" he says fearfully. He's a policeman, Frazer. He's not Liberty Valance. Or the Ringo Kid. Or Boba Fett. "And you're applying [?] the house with his only daughter! Good luck," says Will indistinctly. They really ought to sort out the noisy Scarlet Bar extras. Maybe they actually ply them with real booze. "Yeah," rejoins Frazer, "that was before I realised that her Dad was Dirty Harry." Hmm. Steiger is being insistently associated with macho screen icons: first Rocky through the title and now Clint Eastwood's urban cowboy. I wonder who it will be next? I'll make a guess. Do I feel lucky? You betcha. I think it will be Die Hard's John McCain. Yipee-kay-ay. "He [Steiger] left ages ago," says Will easily, "so there's no need to worry." Frazer regains some of his cool: "What do I have to fear from a guy like Steiger anyway?" "Absolutely nothing," says Will amusedly. "He's a guy," obviouses Frazer, "I'm a guy. We're both ..." "Guys," Will finishes his sentence for him. I'm not sure if that was a gay joke.
Surgery waiting room. Dylan, Stingray, Janelle, Loris. "What's taking them so long?" asks Dylan. Karl's probably still struggling to get the envelope open. He's like that guy who opened the result of the IOC's decision about whether it would be London or Paris who hosted the 2012 Olympic Games. He took fricking ages to get the envelope open. Stingray and Dylan then deliver overlapping lines as they advance upon one another. "If you weren't such a freak, we'd still be in there," is Stingray's line, but the best I can do to reconstruct Dylan's is "No one blah-blah's what you stink, Stinger." It probably wasn't important. "I don't care what either of you think," says Janelle sensibly, "but if you don't pull your heads, I'm going to start boxing some ears." Enter Susan. "Oh!" she says, "I'm really sorry. I'll come back." Enter Karl from office. Susan repeats her apology to him: "Karl, I'm really sorry. I thought you'd be free. I'll come back later." "No, no, no, no," says Karl a la Jim from The Vicar of Dibley. "Sky wants to see the family alone. So I'm going to step outside and give them some space." He makes to leave. "So what's the verdict?" Karl leaves without answering. "Typical," says Janelle. Sky, holding Kerry, opens the door to the office. "Stinger," she says. "Dylan, I'll do you next." Stingray looks overjoyed and goes into the office with Sky, who shuts the door. Janelle looks pityingly upon Dylan. "Oh baby," she says, "I don't know what to say." Dylan is struck: "I was so sure." He collects himself: "Well, screw this. I don't need to hear bad news from that cheating moll/mole." He leaves, slamming the door behind him. The phone number for Karl's surgery is 4871 9000 if you're interested.
Karl's Office. Stingray, Sky. Stingray is cooing over Kerry. "Ha ha!" he says. "This is the best spigging thing that's ever happened to me, Sky! It's perfect! It's just awesome! Hello! Hozza, bozza, wicka woo ..." Sky interrupts him. Thank God. "Stingray!" she says abruptly. "You're not the father. Dylan is."
Scarlet Bar. Frazer, Will. Frazer is still droning on about his career as a pro-gambler. "That was my first big win. Chastity's Revenge. Boy, could that gelding gallop." It's possible that the horse has a symbolic name, because Steiger sneaks up behind him and grabs him. Defeat chastity, and its revenge will take the form of a protective father. Steiger wants to get the camping trip sorted out. They should go tomorrow. Frazer would love to go, but promised Will he would ... "Decorate my room," chimes Will. Frazer can't let a mate down, you know? Will then proceeds to stitch Frazer up: "It can wait. You should go. Especially since you love camping so much." "That's right," says Frazer unconvincingly, "I do." "Huh," says Steiger, "I wouldn't have thought that a metrosexual like you would be into roughing it." Metrosexual is a very stupid word. It's used in the context of effete city-dweller with manbag and all manner of hair-care product, but whoever coined it showed a criminally deficient understanding of etymology. 'Metrosexual' is a composite of 'metropolitan' and '-sexual' as a suffix that has come to denote a lifestyle preference. It obviously puns upon 'heterosexual' while at the same time connoting the opposite. In other words, it's a smug, socially acceptable way of saying 'your all gay'. But its implicit emasculation and homophobia aren't the most stupid things about it. 'Metropolitan' is a borrowing from the Greek via the Latin. 'Polis' is obviously the Greek word for city and 'metro' is the word for mother. Hence, 'metropolis' literally meant 'mother city'. Therefore, by taking the 'metro' part of 'metropolitan' and coupling it with the word 'sexual' you are, in effect, just creating a posh way of saying 'motherf****r'. Metrosexual is, then, on every level, an abhorrent chimera of an expression, designed to conceal rather than communicate meaning and would be best consigned to the lexicographal dustbin. The new buzzword 'heteropolitan', while still breathtakingly stupid, at least just means 'different citied'.
Frazer is pricked on by Steiger's assault on his masculinity: "Are you kidding?" he says. "I had a ball at Tuck's Ridge the other year." "Tuck's Ridge?" Steiger scoffs. "That's with the hot showers, the heated cabins, the electric barbecues ..." Electric barbecues must be particularly anathema to the traditional, redblooded Aussie male. "The open fireplaces," says Frazer in his own defence. "I had to chop the wood myself." Steiger isn't impressed. He still thinks that Frazer went to a cissy campsite: "Son, I'm talking about the real deal. Man versus nature. Out in the woods. Hunting." "Hunting?" asks the worried Frazer. "How good does that sound," says Will, who's clearly enjoying this. "Kill your own dinner and you don't need to worry about washing your tackle and so forth," says Steiger. I think he's talking about hunting compared with fishing, but says nothing to indicate this. He might mean that the act of killing an animal absolves one from the need for genital hygiene. "Sounds great," says the hapless Frazer. "Well," growls Steiger, "I think it's about time that I got to know my darling daughter's intended. Looking forward to it." So is Frazer. Steiger strides towards the door. "Pick you up first thing in the morning. 0800 hours." He leaves. "Dirty tackle and wildlife's smorgasbord," says Will meaningfully. "You really lucked out with your inlaws." "You have to come," pleads Frazer. "Er ... no," says Will reasonably. "You can't let me go out there with John Rambo alone!" Rambo! Of course. It's so obvious now. It was never going to be John McCain out of Die Hard. "I can't," says Will cheekily. "I'm redecorating my room." This is punishment for Frazer's boring story about that galloping gelding earlier. "Dude," wheedles Frazer, "have a heart." "A night at Wolf Creek with scary Steiger ... No way," Will says firmly, but it's quite clear that he will end up going. We'll probably be treated to an ironic segue. "I'm begging you!" begs Frazer.
Surgery, waiting room. No ironic segue, just Harold, Loris, Stingray and Janelle. "Aw. It's not the end of the world baby," says Janelle to Stingray. "I know that it feels like it is now, but it's not." "You've got plenty of time left to be a father," opines Loris. "Yeah, but I might not have the swimmers," says Stingray dismally. "Kerry was everything. She was my reason for getting back together." "Well, she still can be," says Harold. "As her uncle you can still be a big part of her life." No he can't, Harold. Dylan promised that he would shut Stingray out of Kerry's life. Keep up. Enter Karl and Susan. They're wearing matching stripy shirts, which is nice. Karl's is grey and Susan's is blue. "Mate," says Karl, "I'm sorry things didn't turn out better." Wow. Did he ever pitch that wrongly. That was lame, Karl. And Stingray's not your mate. "Sorry?" splutters Stingray. "You know, if you weren't such a crap doctor none of us would be going through any of this." Susan looks shocked. "Mistakes did happen, and I apologise for that," says Karl limply. "They were honest mistakes ..." Susan says in support of him. "They were more than that and you know it," Stingray tells her. "My whole life is ruined because you got it wrong. I lost my brother, I lost my girlfriend, God, I nearly evan lost my mind." He turns to Susan. "And you totally condemned me. I'm left with nothing. My life is nothing." He storms out. "Oh, Stingray ..." says Susan, too late. "You'd better have top-notch negligence cover, Kennedy, because I'm going to sue you for every cent you've got," Janelle reminds him. He shouldn't worry too much. She'll probably employ Toadie.
Scarlet Bar. Lou and two glasses of champagne. Enter Mishka. Great. "Here she is!" says Lou. "Russia's most beautiful trolly-dolly. How was your flight?" "Ah," replies Mishka, "much turbulence. Little babies up-chucking all over. I tell you - air-hostessing is not so glamourous." "You must be exhausted," says the sympathetic Lou Bear. "Well, I'm going to spoil you rotten." "Yeah, I cannot tell a lie," says Mishka, contradicting her earlier statement that she loves Lou too much to tell him truth. "I am simply having of bad news." "What's wrong sweetheart?" enquires Lou. "Is too terrible to say," Mishka avers. "Come on," Lou insists, "it can't be that bad." It is: "They cancel Melbourne to Moscow flight." "They can't do that!" says Lou, flabberghasted. Mishka demurs: "Uh hu. Not enough passengers they say. No more trips to see my Lou Bear. You and me - we are drapes." "That's 'curtains' actually," says the fastidious Lou Bear. Mishka's malapropisms are consistently hilarious. Mishka insists that there is nothing to be done. "I but cog in wheel of Russian aviation." "We'll go to the Immigration Department and get you a permanent visa," says Lou. Mishka: "Immigration department not giving out visas like Warney give out love?" Huh? Via text message? "Where there's a will there's a way," cliches Lou. "Come on!" "When you fighting for us you most sexy man," Mishka tells him. Lou chuckles.
Casa de Timmins. Sky and Kerry knock on the door and Dylan answers it. "If you're here to tell me what a great uncle I'll make ... maybe another time," says the defeated Dyldog. "Dylan," says Sky, "you're Kerry's father." Dylan doesn't understand: "But you called Scottie in first." He never was very bright. "I just wanted to let him down gently, after everything that's happened." "I'm the father!" boasts Dylan. "I knew it! [to Kerry:] You and I knew it from the beginning, didn't we? I'm not going to let you out of my sight. Ever." "You're a natural," says Sky, feeling a little left out. "How could I not be?" says Dylan. "I'm her dad." I remember a fascinating case where a mother had sex with two twin brothers and was unsure as to which one was the father of her baby. Since their DNA was identical, there was no way of determining paternity and, when one of the twins sued for access to the child, the judge was left with a knotty problem. Neighbours missed a trick. Sky should have slept with both of the Robinson twins before Cameron was killed and Robert was carted off to prison. That would have been a great storyline.
Scarlet Bar. Frazer and Will. They're still going on about the camping trip. "It'll be fun, you know, men getting in touch with nature," says Frazer. Will is unconvinced: "Hmm ... Getting in touch with it and shooting it. No thanks." Frazer changes tack: "OK, I've got ... er ... fifty, no a hundred bucks ..." Will is unbribeable: "I'm not going Fraze. I want to be around Carmella when she gets out of hospital." "One hundred and fifty," says the increasingly desperate Frazer. "It's one night!" "So, you won't have any trouble surviving without me," says Will neatly. "Yeah, no," says Frazer. "Hey you're right. It's not like you owe me. I mean, telling Rosetta and Carmella that it was me who got the money for the burn surgery. That wasn't a betrayal. Not exactly. Although you did give me your word." His emotional blackmail succeeds where his other gambits failed: "Alright! I'll go! But after this we're even." Frazer kisses Will, who looks pained: "Let's not get carried away," he says.
Enter Lou and Mishka. "Well, that's it," says Mishka. She is only eligible for a visa if they can prove that they have lived together for two years. "Why worry," says Lou mischievously, "when we've known each other for more than twenty years?" "You are making me much confused, Lou Bear," says Mishka and she does, indeed, look much confused. "Ah, darling," continues Lou in the same vein, "surely you haven't forgotten Fiji! I fell in love with you instantly when I saw you across that crowded lagoon. 1986. Seems like yesterday." Mishka squeaks. "I see. You think we should scam system. Back in Russia, scam IS system!" That's a heartbeat away from: "In Soviet Russia, system scams YOU!" Lou rationalises: "Now, it's not like we're not genuinely in love." Mishka joins in wholeheartedly: "You bought me cocktail in coconut and then you invite me back to your room to see etchings [of Harold in the nude, reclining]. And me such nice girl from Moscow!" "Ho, ho, ho," says Lou. "That's the spirit!" Mishka has a doubt: "But we still married to others." "We'll bury that," says Lou dismissively. "How to prove to immigration that we have such long history?" wonders Mishka. "That'll be half the fun!" says Lou. My heart sinks. Another ineffably stupid storyline. It'll be just like Green Card with Gerard Depardieu. Christ, I think I've seen that film twice.
Ext. Sky and Stingray. "Stinger," pleads Sky, "will you please just hear me out?" Stingray has nothing left to say to her. He's getting into a taxi. "Just stop for a second!" Sky demands. "Your friendship means so much to me - and I couldn't have got through the pregnancy without you." Stingray is sceptical. "Stingray. You're my best friend," says Sky. "Kerry and I need you now more than ever." "And where is she now?" asks the astute Stingray. "With him? This is how you wanted it to be all along. I was just a consolation prize and a bad one." "Well," says a vexed Sky, "that's not how I saw it at all." "I've got to go," Stingray tells her. "Well," Sky asks, "where are you going? Please don't use this as an excuse to start drinking again." "You know," says Stingray, "I can't think of a better one." To the driver: "Go." The taxi drives off. "Stingray!" calls Sky. "Stinger!" The cab pulls round the corner and out of sight and Stingray leaves Erinsborough forever.
Scarlet Bar. Stingray. What the hell? What was the previous scene all about, then? Why was Stingray in a taxi, if he was just going to go to the spigging Scarlet Bar? He's staring down a glass of beer, waiting to see who blinks first. Enter Will. "Who served you that?" he asks. "The other barman," obviouses Stingray. "He's obviously not up to speed on who not to serve yet." "It must be warm by now," Will informs him. "You've been staring at it for half an hour." "What? Are you keeping tabs on me?" demands Stingray. "Nothing slips by me," boasts Will with laughable hubris. "Well, I don't need a lecture," Stingray tells him. Will knows. "If you did, that glass would have been empty ages ago." "A bended vibe so ..." sings the vowelly woman on the backing track. Stingray leaves the glass untouched. Will treats himself to a self-satisfied little nod.
Kinski domus. Susan and Karl. Karl's burned the dinner. He suggests ordering a pizza but, fascinatingly, it transpires that neither he nor Susan are hungry. Karl can't get the look on Stingray's face out of his head. And what he said. "It was all true. My mistake has completely changed the course of that boy's life." "Karl," lies Susan, "you didn't make a mistake." "Medically, no," says Karl. "I can accept that. But morally? And as far as relationships are concerned? He developed a dependency and it's my fault." "I judged him too," says Susan. "Him and Sky. And we both told Rachel to walk away." Advising Rachel to end the relationship was the right decision, regardless of Stingray's present predicament. "Yeah, yeah," says Karl in order to shut her up. "He really has lost everything, you know. How ironic that I could lose everything as well." That's not irony, Karl. It's all about actions and their consequences. Behaving badly and getting your just desserts is decidedly unironic. "If we have to sell everything we will," Susan assures him. "If I have to sell this house, I will. We'll get through this."
The nest of Timminses. Loris and Janelle. "Once we've sued Dr Karl Bloody Kennedy for everything he's got, it's going to be five-star all the way round here," promises Janelle. "Legal action is not going to solve anything," warns Loris. "I want that bufflet to pay and then I'm going to fritter away every last Kennedy cent," Janelle tells her. "Revenge is not all it's cracked up to be," says Loris gnomically. "Especially when you've got a few problems a bit closer to home." "Oh, the boys will sort themselves out," says Janelle cheerily and contrary to all the evidence before her. "And as far Karl: It's not revenge. It's justice." Enter Stingray. Loris gives him a hug. "You OK?" Janelle asks him. Stingray tells her that he is. Janelle had a horrible feeling that he would go on some kind of bender. "Do you want to smell my breath?" Stingray asks, and before she has a chance to reply, he breathes on her. I bet his breath smells of onions. "I told you, Mum, I'm on the wagon," Stingray says proudly. "Coming up to a week." "Ah," says Janelle, pleased, "everything's going to be OK. You can move back in here. Dyl'll come round." "If I do [move back in], will you let go of me?" jokes Stingray. Janelle has been giving him a big, squeezy hug. She releases him. Enter Dylan carrying groceries. "Ah hey, Dyl," says Stingray. "I just wanted to say: congrats." He proffers his hand, which Dylan breezes past. "Hey," says an outraged Janelle. "Your brother just had the guts to walk back in here and offer you his hand. The least you can do is shake it." Dylan gets a sixpack of beer out of his shopping bag and offers it round. Stingray looks cowed. "You have got an ugly side to you, my boy," Janelle tells Dylan. "Real ugly." Yeah, he does. It's his face. "Look," says Dylan to Stingray, "I know you must be gutted, but I can never forgive you for what you did to Kerry. Anything could have happened. So I don't want you near my daughter. Ever."
House of Trouser. Frazer is packing to go. Will is ready. Frazer hates "bugs. And snakes." And he's "not wild about spiders either." I would have thought that in Australia, where the fauna is quite literally out to get you, that that attitude was perfectly rational.
Ext. A rugged truck pulls up. Rugged Steiger is driving. He's daubing his face with camouflage stripes. Will and Frazer get into the truck. Steiger calls Frazer 'Fiona' and Will 'Willemina' and tells them not to worry about their nancy-boy tents. "Mine's big enough for all of us." Creepy. Steiger has a rugged dog in the back.
Mishka and Lou have surrounded themselves with ferns. They're faking their meeting in Fiji. Lou's wearing a 'KISS' t-shirt and has a fake porno moustache. Presumably, that's what he looked like in 1986. Since Lou didn't appear in the show until 1988, we have no way of knowing whether or not the KISS t-shirt and moustache are an accurate representation of Lou's appearance in that year. However, this is what he looked like two years later at his first appearance:
No porno moustache. I got this picture from the 'Magic Moments' section of Perfectblend.net. Which is great for a bit of Neighbours nostalgia.
A wood somewhere. Steiger and the House of Hotties n00bs are camping. The tent has holes in it. Steiger dismisses Frazer's protestations: "A little spider bite never hurt anyone." Hmm ... I think that this guy would beg to differ. NB this link is definitely not for the squeamish. I wish to God that I'd never seen it. For those of you who don't want to see the horrific effects of a spider bite, or are irritated by FHM-style babes 'n' gore, have a look instead at this lovely picture of goats in a tree. How did they get there? Nobody knows. Frazer asks where the guns are. Apparently, guns are for little girls. Steiger has a crossbow. I wonder if Steiger subscribed to his 'guns are for little girls' philosophy when Pepper was young. Did he used to give her firearms to play with in lieu of Sylvanian Families and My Little Pony? The three of them are going hunting for wild boar. And Razorbacks can be seriously dangerous. So it's kill or be killed. "Hold me," says Frazer to Will in a small voice.
Bishop residence. Harold and Loris want Kerry to wake up so that they can have some quality great-grandparent time with her. Harold can't wait for Kerry to be old enough to go to the circus. He and Loris talk about how much they love the circus. This is all getting a little surreal. Enter Dylan. He's bought a mobile for Kerry. It's very nice. Enter Sky. Dylan tells her he wants to be alone with Kerry. He'll fight for custody and will be involving lawyers. Presumably, he means Toadie and Rosetta. He leaves. Sky decides to take Kerry to see her family in the country. She packs hurriedly and takes off. Loris tells Harold that she is the "most morally bereft of all the Timminses." She confesses to being the Baby Swapper. That is, the one who swapped Bree Timmins for Ann Baxter.
Credits.
Tuesday, 6 March 2007
Neighbours character follows Jack and Nina initially to become another character (7)
Hullo! Janelle Timmins here. I'll be doing the recap for the next couple of eppies. So there'll be no more artsy-fartsy references to Shakey or to Dickens. Breezer's book is enough literature for me. I'm a down-to-earth kind of a gal and don't hold with no high-filutin showiness. There's a couple of things you should know about me before we get started. Despite my wrong-side-of-the-tracks, bogan background, I never swear. Every time I try to, it comes out as meaningless gobbledygook. Like if I try to say 'Ferkarchered' it comes out as 'Spiggin'. So you'll just have to use your noggins to imagine the torrent of four-letter words I'd like to be able to use, if only the show was on after the chuffing watershed! The other thing you should know about me is that I love my kids and I won't brook nobody running them down! If you breathe a word against them, I'll spiffing kill you all.
I'm s'posed to tell you that the answer to the last poncy cryptic clue was 'Pepper'.
Neighbours 09/02/06
The Prevos show us that we're going to get some Lynnie and Paul action, some DNA Test action (about spiffing time!) and something about Janae and Boydie. They also show that top-notch, spigging awesome moment when I gave that hufter Doc Kennedy what for. He spigging deserved it.
The eppie's tito is "From Here to Paternity", which is a pun on the movie "From Here to Eternity". The paterno suit isn't a laughing matter, OK? If anyone's laughing at my boys' predicament I'll come round their house and set fire to their pubes.
Hoyland house. Boydie and Janae. "I know I've been different since I got back from Tasmania," says Boydie. "You've been treating me like a stranger," says Janae. Trouble in paradise! Janae should lighten up if she doesn't want to lose her hubbo. "It wasn't intentional," says Boydie. "Tazzie was my last hope of finding Dad and I failed. I guess I just needed to deal with that on my own." "Well not any more. Hey, you have a wife now who can make it all better," says Janae and she puts the moves on him. That's my girl! The thought of sex stirs a flashback in Boydie to an affair he had in Tazzie! Belgium! What a spiggin cake taker! "I'm sorry," he whinges. "I can't do this." "Share it with me," pleads Janae.
Scottie at his AA Meeting. He's been sober for six days! Bravo Scottie. He shows his fellow alchies a piccie of little Kerry. He "held her in his arms just the once - at least they tell me I did. And every time I reach for a bottle, she saves me." Aw, that's touching. It brings a tear to a mother's eye. Scottie goes on: "I've made so many promises. I don't blame people for doubting me. But this time I know I can do it. Do it for her. The thought of letting her down just kills me." He sits down to polite applause.
Harold's house. Loris, Harold and Kerry. "There we are," says stuffy old Harold, "a nice, dry, new nappy, eh?" "You'd be better off with disposable ones," says my old hemmie of a mother-in-law. Cripes, actually, since Loris bought me a house, I suppose I'd better be nice to her. "Wouldn't you darling?" she coos at the baby. "They're environmentally friendly these days. Made of tea leaves." Ha ha! Imagine dunking a dirty nappy in your cuppa! "Yes," says Harold firmly, "but they're not reusable like the towelling ones." When I was raising my kids, I didn't have all this namby-pamby debate over nappies. I just used binbags. And they were grateful for them too, despite the chronic nappy rashes they all developed. "What about those so-called safety pins?" asks Loris. Pfft! Safety pins! I used to use rusty nails and it never did my kids any harm. Apart from that one time that Scottie got tetanus. "I've stabbed myself I don't know how many times," concludes Loris. Harold shows her a magic fastener. They decide that they're both such clever greatgrandparents and they congratulate each other before kissing. Enter Sky with a towel on her head. "Excuse me!" she says, "if I wanted that kind of behaviour from babysitters, I'd have hired teenagers." I didn't employ babysitters for my kids. I used to leave them in the care of a local pack of dingoes. Sky tells us all that she's had a nice shower. That's good to know. Enter Stingray. "Hello Bernie," says Loris according to her confusing habit of calling my kids names other than their own. Scottie just wanted to see that Sky and Kerry got home safe. He assures them all that he's been sober for a week and is allowed to hold the baby. "If you're waiting for the test results to come back. you're wasting your time," he announces. "I might as well get to know her now."
Robinson house. Elle and Paul are talking and Lynnie is coming down the stairs. I'll let you in on a trade secret: Those stairs don't actually go anywhere! Haha! Lynnie just walked up there, waited for the director to yell action and then walked down again! Filming Neighbours is a real hoot! "If you feel that's the way to go, then just tell her," advises Elle. "It's not that easy," Paul insists. "Dragging it out isn't helping any," replies Elle. "So, you're really OK with it?" asks Paul. "My main worry is the business," says Elle. "I mean, you don't even know that Lyn will still want to stay working at Lassiter's." "You see," agrees Paul, "that's the thing. I have got no idea how she's going to react." Close up of Lynnie's stupid face. We none of us know how she's going to react to anything. However, you can bet your bottom dollar that it will involve a lot of screeching. She clears her throat. "So ..." she wheedles. "What's going on?" "Dad's got a problem at work," lies Elle. "What sort of a problem?" Lynnie persists. Paul and Elle simultaneously spout forth different lies: "Invoicing descriptions" says Paul. "Staffing Levels". Paul's attempt to cover the mistake doesn't work. "Anything I should know about?" asks a sus Lynnie. "No, not really, no," Paul tells her. Fair dinkum.
Kinski household. Oh no! Sus is back! She's such a stuck up mole. Doctor Hockey Puck didn't hear Sus pull up, because he's got some music playing very loudly. He tells her so, and then has to repeat it because she can't hear him. Someone turn the Belgian music off, will ya! Sus does so. Thank God. It was awful. "I thought you hated that," says Sus. I would've thought that everyone hated that. "I do," says the dilly doctor. "I just missed you so much." Aw, don't make me barf! "What's going on?" wonders Sus. "My music playing. Fancy lunch." "Can't a man make his wife a special welcome home lunch without her getting suspicious?" asks Karl peevishly. "First of all," says Sus, "I'm not your wife." She waggles her finger at him. "And second of all, I know you too well." Maybe she's thinking about Karl's extramarital affairs. "Oh, you're a hard woman!" says Doctor Blobhead. "Tell me," Susan commands. "There's been a stuff-up [That's putting it mildly!] - the paternity of Sky's baby is in doubt. It's turning into a nightmare."
Scarlet Bar. Harold and Loris. "Did you see it?" asks Harold. Loris: "Hm?" "Scott's hand," Harold elaborates. "When he was holding the baby, I thought I saw it tremble." What are you trying to say, Harold? Are you slandering my Scottie? You should be very careful matey! "He's sober," Loris points out. "Well maybe," concedes Harold. "And he's just going through withdrawal problems. I just don't think we should leave him with the baby." "At least he knows he's got a problem. Give him a break, Harold." Right on, Loris! You tell the old wowser. "Six dry days does not make him a responsible person," says Harold pedantically. "Maybe," says Loris wisely. "But Dylan's no better, and he's the responsible one." What?? That didn't make any sense, Loris. Harold seemed to understand her: "Yes, but. He's more mature." "Yeah but," Loris continues, "I think that fatherhood could be the making of Bodie. You know, the one thing that could ..." "What?" Harold chimes in. "Stop him falling off the wagon. Yes but I won't have little Kerry praying [the old figjam's got his mouth full] the price. Not again." "Of course," says Loris quietly. Harold's still eating and talking at the same time. He says something that might be: "Soon know one way or the other." He really shouldn't deliver his lines while he's munching. [Ed: It's the Marlon Brando school of acting. When he was told that the dialogue couldn't be understood, he insisted that that was all right because you wouldn't be able to understand the character either. That's fair enough if you can so convincingly portray such mumblers as Vito Corleone, Terry Malloy and Stanley Kowalski, but Ian Smith as Harold Bishop is stretching the point somewhat. Besides, Harold would be too polite to talk with his mouth full, wouldn't he?]
Hmph. Couldn't resist interferin' and showin' off could he? Mike's a regular Harry Beernuts. "Whatever the outcome," says Loris, "it's going to be a dark day." That entire last scene was filler. I don't know why I bothered recapping it in such detail. Ah, well. Enter Janae and yours truly. At last! A scene with me in it! Terrif! "If she's Scottie's kid, then we'll probably never see Dyl again and if she's Dyl's. Well, Scottie will probably just drink himself into the gutter," I say. Wise and needful words. "Either way, we lose." Then I order a drink. "OJ and champs please. Don't worry about the good stuff." I have to say that, because, once, someone put Dom Perignon into some expensive freshly squeezed OJ. Cheap cava and supermarket own brand orange juice are good enough for me! I'm not fussy. "What if she's someone else's kid entirely?" I say excitedly. "Problem solved!" I'm so CLEVER. Janae doesn't respond. "What's wrong with you?" I ask sensitively. "Is it your brothers, or are you and Boyd still blueing?" Enter Boyd. He hides behind some extras. "You know he's ... [muffled something]." It's real loud in that Scarlet Bar! You can barely hear yourself think. Young and old alike love to hang out there though. The guy behind the bar is called 'Robbo' or, at least, that's what it says on his shirt. I've never seen the Bruce before. Seeing champagne being poured reminds Boyd of some floozy. "I just want it to go on and on forever!" says the floozy. Crikey! Her wish came true. This scene really is going on and on forever! Meanwhile, Janae and I are still talking. "He'll be all right," I say. "Which is more than I can say for your brothers after Kennedy's stuff-up." Too bloody right. Exit Boyd. Some annoying "Doo-da-da-doo" song is playing in the background.
House of Medical Incompetence. Karl Spitting Kennedy and Sus. The build-up to finding out who's the father of my granddaughter is very, very long and seems to involve nothing but endless jawing and recapping by everyone on the spiggin street. Sus is no exception: "So, there's a chance that your original assessment could be right, and Stingray is the father." No spiff, Sherlock! "The more I see baby Kerry the more I doubt it," says Karl fearfully. "So, Dylan is the father." Sus is never afraid to state the bleeding obvious. Sus tries to persuade Karl that it wasn't his fault. She doesn't succeed: "Passing the buck is not going to hose Janelle down." What is that, Kennedy? Is that a fire-fighting metaphor or a crowd control metaphor? I'm going to sue you for every last cent you've got Kennedy, and then I'm going to feed you and your children to the wallabies. And your children's children. "She's making all kinds of threats," says Karl. Ha! The cheek! I'm going to geld the ferckarchering boob. "You know Janelle - she's all talk," says Sus. That's it. Now she's on my list too. "It's tearing her family apart," says Karl, "and they need a scapegoat." You're wrong there matey. What we need is justice.
My house. Me, Loris, Scottie and Dyl. Scottie and Dyl are bickering about who the father is. Loris steps in: "Neither of you would make a good father ... The important person here is baby Kerry and she deserves a united family and I'm going to give her that if it kills me." I was going to say that too. It's just that, you know, Loris was just quicker off the mark. That's why I spent the whole of that scene standing in the background looking useless.
Scarlet Bar. Lynnie is solemnly contemplating a napkin. Enter Sus. Lynnie greets her enthusiastically. Then it's straight down to business: "I want you to know that Karl did everything by the book." Shame the book was called How to Completely Stuff Up Two Boys' Lives. Lynnie is the town gossip. Everyone knows that you have to get her on side in any dispute. Unfortunately for Sus, Lynnie is absorbed by her own problem. She loves to think that she's charitable and a good friend, but really she's incredibly self-absorbed. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful to Lynnie to giving house room for me and mine, but her generosity can be consumed by her own petty problems. Sus continues: "It's just that I got on my moral high-horse and judged Sky and judged Stingray ..." she notices that Lynnie isn't paying the least bit of attention to her confession. "You OK?" Lynnie's been waiting for someone to ask. "It's Paul," she says eagerly. Her favourite topic of convo is herself. "He's been really, REALLY weird since he got back from New York and I think what's going on is ..." Her mobile rings. "Oh! It's Flick! Do you mind?" Sus doesn't. Lynnie takes off. Pan across to Harold and Sky. Enter Dyl. He's bought Kerry some baby clothes. He leaves. "Granddad," says Sky, "he'll go off his tree if he's not the father." "We'll cross that bridge," says Harold, "when and if it happens." Come on, Harry! That's a mixed metaphor. Bridges don't happen. If you're thinking that my spotting a mixed metaphor is out of character, then I guess it's because Breezer's cleverness is rubbing off on me! Back to Lynnie and Sus. Lynnie is still on the phone: "Bye, OK love, we'll talk soon." She hangs up. "Hey, mystery solved! Paul did see someone else when he was in New York. She's young, pretty, blonde ..." "Oh come on," says Sus. "There'll be an explanation! I'll tell you one thing ..." "Don't!" shrieks Lynnie. "Don't even go there, Susan! I'm gonna dump him, before I let that snake dump me."
Robinson House. Paul and Elle. "It's like she's worked out what I'm going to hit her with and doesn't want to hear it," says Paul. He's deffo going to ask her to get hitched. This is INGENIOUS misdirection by the writers, and I'm not just saying that so I can get better storylines. "Just do it, Dad," commands Elle. "Pussyfooting around is not a good look." It's not a look at all, Elle, you imbecile. There's a knock on the door. "I'd better grasp the nettle I suppose," says Paul as he answers it. It's Dyldog. He's brought some shopping. "A delivery van just pulled up on your driveway," Dyl says helpfully. Paul goes to check it out. "Ah goodie," says Elle, "you have discovered the joys of retail therapy - welcome to the club." She means the bourgeoisie. Retail therapy is for those with money - as for the proletarian, it only deepens his debts and compounds his problems. Elle will be first against the wall when Ramsay Street joins the global revolution. Dyl shows Elle that he has bought baby clothes. She is discomfited. Baby clothes are her Kryptonite. There's some blather about whether Dyldog's the father or not and whether Elle can handle a boyfriend with a baby. Enter Paul with a bottle of wine. It's '85 Chateau Sautôme, which is Paul's favourite French draught. The creepy music of going insane plays. Christ, I hope I don't ever here that music when I'm on screen! There's a whole crate of wine. Paul thinks Elle's been very generous, it cost $4000. Elle tells him she didn't order them. But ... it's her name on the delivery note, and her credit card.
Ext. Boyd collects his mail and looks triumphant. Janae goes inside. Elle crosses to him. She's angry that he's messing with her. Boyd reminds her that it was a stack of Triple Sec that sent Max over the edge. "I'd say that whoever's [by saying 'whoever's' he's given himself away!] rattling your cage is doing a pretty good job of it." Preening arse.
A sunlounger. A pair of legs. Camera pans up to Boyd and across to the pool. Oh no! Janae has drowned and is floating face down. The poor little chook. Boyd has a flashback to rescuing the floozy from drowning. Back to present. Phew! Janae is fine. She was just seeing how long she could hold her breath. Inside, Boydie tells Janae about his affair. The root rat! The floozy's name is Glenn. She and Boydie "spent a lot of time together". "Did you kiss her?" asks Janae. By 'kiss', she means 'ferkarcher'. "Janae, I'm so sorry," says the maggot. "This is why you were so understanding of Steph and Toadie!" Janae realises. Yeah, that was surprising. Janae immediately begins to make excuses for Boyd. Poor girl.
My house. The usual suspects. Enter Janae. She doesn't think she can go to hear what the idiot Kennedy has to say as to Kerry's paternity. Everyone bustles out except for me and Janae. I have a blue with her about how selfish she's being and then she breaks down. I soften, assuming that it's the baby business. She shouldn't bottle things up. "You should come to me. Or Boyd." Whoops! That provokes yet more tears. "Men are useless at most things, bur when the chips are down you can count on them." Wow, I just don't know when to shut up, do I? More tears still. I look thoughtful.
Ornamental pond. That was a pointless shot.
Karl's Office. He's late. Spiggin typical. "The results were left in my pigeonhole in the hospital by mistake." No one cares, Karl. "Oh another [mistake]," I say wittily. Karl's had the test results duplicated because he doesn't want another error. "Get on with it!" I yell at him. The music of tension plays and
Credits.
That's just spiffing great. Leave me on tenterhooks, why don't yer?
I'm s'posed to tell you that the answer to the last poncy cryptic clue was 'Pepper'.
Neighbours 09/02/06
The Prevos show us that we're going to get some Lynnie and Paul action, some DNA Test action (about spiffing time!) and something about Janae and Boydie. They also show that top-notch, spigging awesome moment when I gave that hufter Doc Kennedy what for. He spigging deserved it.
The eppie's tito is "From Here to Paternity", which is a pun on the movie "From Here to Eternity". The paterno suit isn't a laughing matter, OK? If anyone's laughing at my boys' predicament I'll come round their house and set fire to their pubes.
Hoyland house. Boydie and Janae. "I know I've been different since I got back from Tasmania," says Boydie. "You've been treating me like a stranger," says Janae. Trouble in paradise! Janae should lighten up if she doesn't want to lose her hubbo. "It wasn't intentional," says Boydie. "Tazzie was my last hope of finding Dad and I failed. I guess I just needed to deal with that on my own." "Well not any more. Hey, you have a wife now who can make it all better," says Janae and she puts the moves on him. That's my girl! The thought of sex stirs a flashback in Boydie to an affair he had in Tazzie! Belgium! What a spiggin cake taker! "I'm sorry," he whinges. "I can't do this." "Share it with me," pleads Janae.
Scottie at his AA Meeting. He's been sober for six days! Bravo Scottie. He shows his fellow alchies a piccie of little Kerry. He "held her in his arms just the once - at least they tell me I did. And every time I reach for a bottle, she saves me." Aw, that's touching. It brings a tear to a mother's eye. Scottie goes on: "I've made so many promises. I don't blame people for doubting me. But this time I know I can do it. Do it for her. The thought of letting her down just kills me." He sits down to polite applause.
Harold's house. Loris, Harold and Kerry. "There we are," says stuffy old Harold, "a nice, dry, new nappy, eh?" "You'd be better off with disposable ones," says my old hemmie of a mother-in-law. Cripes, actually, since Loris bought me a house, I suppose I'd better be nice to her. "Wouldn't you darling?" she coos at the baby. "They're environmentally friendly these days. Made of tea leaves." Ha ha! Imagine dunking a dirty nappy in your cuppa! "Yes," says Harold firmly, "but they're not reusable like the towelling ones." When I was raising my kids, I didn't have all this namby-pamby debate over nappies. I just used binbags. And they were grateful for them too, despite the chronic nappy rashes they all developed. "What about those so-called safety pins?" asks Loris. Pfft! Safety pins! I used to use rusty nails and it never did my kids any harm. Apart from that one time that Scottie got tetanus. "I've stabbed myself I don't know how many times," concludes Loris. Harold shows her a magic fastener. They decide that they're both such clever greatgrandparents and they congratulate each other before kissing. Enter Sky with a towel on her head. "Excuse me!" she says, "if I wanted that kind of behaviour from babysitters, I'd have hired teenagers." I didn't employ babysitters for my kids. I used to leave them in the care of a local pack of dingoes. Sky tells us all that she's had a nice shower. That's good to know. Enter Stingray. "Hello Bernie," says Loris according to her confusing habit of calling my kids names other than their own. Scottie just wanted to see that Sky and Kerry got home safe. He assures them all that he's been sober for a week and is allowed to hold the baby. "If you're waiting for the test results to come back. you're wasting your time," he announces. "I might as well get to know her now."
Robinson house. Elle and Paul are talking and Lynnie is coming down the stairs. I'll let you in on a trade secret: Those stairs don't actually go anywhere! Haha! Lynnie just walked up there, waited for the director to yell action and then walked down again! Filming Neighbours is a real hoot! "If you feel that's the way to go, then just tell her," advises Elle. "It's not that easy," Paul insists. "Dragging it out isn't helping any," replies Elle. "So, you're really OK with it?" asks Paul. "My main worry is the business," says Elle. "I mean, you don't even know that Lyn will still want to stay working at Lassiter's." "You see," agrees Paul, "that's the thing. I have got no idea how she's going to react." Close up of Lynnie's stupid face. We none of us know how she's going to react to anything. However, you can bet your bottom dollar that it will involve a lot of screeching. She clears her throat. "So ..." she wheedles. "What's going on?" "Dad's got a problem at work," lies Elle. "What sort of a problem?" Lynnie persists. Paul and Elle simultaneously spout forth different lies: "Invoicing descriptions" says Paul. "Staffing Levels". Paul's attempt to cover the mistake doesn't work. "Anything I should know about?" asks a sus Lynnie. "No, not really, no," Paul tells her. Fair dinkum.
Kinski household. Oh no! Sus is back! She's such a stuck up mole. Doctor Hockey Puck didn't hear Sus pull up, because he's got some music playing very loudly. He tells her so, and then has to repeat it because she can't hear him. Someone turn the Belgian music off, will ya! Sus does so. Thank God. It was awful. "I thought you hated that," says Sus. I would've thought that everyone hated that. "I do," says the dilly doctor. "I just missed you so much." Aw, don't make me barf! "What's going on?" wonders Sus. "My music playing. Fancy lunch." "Can't a man make his wife a special welcome home lunch without her getting suspicious?" asks Karl peevishly. "First of all," says Sus, "I'm not your wife." She waggles her finger at him. "And second of all, I know you too well." Maybe she's thinking about Karl's extramarital affairs. "Oh, you're a hard woman!" says Doctor Blobhead. "Tell me," Susan commands. "There's been a stuff-up [That's putting it mildly!] - the paternity of Sky's baby is in doubt. It's turning into a nightmare."
Scarlet Bar. Harold and Loris. "Did you see it?" asks Harold. Loris: "Hm?" "Scott's hand," Harold elaborates. "When he was holding the baby, I thought I saw it tremble." What are you trying to say, Harold? Are you slandering my Scottie? You should be very careful matey! "He's sober," Loris points out. "Well maybe," concedes Harold. "And he's just going through withdrawal problems. I just don't think we should leave him with the baby." "At least he knows he's got a problem. Give him a break, Harold." Right on, Loris! You tell the old wowser. "Six dry days does not make him a responsible person," says Harold pedantically. "Maybe," says Loris wisely. "But Dylan's no better, and he's the responsible one." What?? That didn't make any sense, Loris. Harold seemed to understand her: "Yes, but. He's more mature." "Yeah but," Loris continues, "I think that fatherhood could be the making of Bodie. You know, the one thing that could ..." "What?" Harold chimes in. "Stop him falling off the wagon. Yes but I won't have little Kerry praying [the old figjam's got his mouth full] the price. Not again." "Of course," says Loris quietly. Harold's still eating and talking at the same time. He says something that might be: "Soon know one way or the other." He really shouldn't deliver his lines while he's munching. [Ed: It's the Marlon Brando school of acting. When he was told that the dialogue couldn't be understood, he insisted that that was all right because you wouldn't be able to understand the character either. That's fair enough if you can so convincingly portray such mumblers as Vito Corleone, Terry Malloy and Stanley Kowalski, but Ian Smith as Harold Bishop is stretching the point somewhat. Besides, Harold would be too polite to talk with his mouth full, wouldn't he?]
Hmph. Couldn't resist interferin' and showin' off could he? Mike's a regular Harry Beernuts. "Whatever the outcome," says Loris, "it's going to be a dark day." That entire last scene was filler. I don't know why I bothered recapping it in such detail. Ah, well. Enter Janae and yours truly. At last! A scene with me in it! Terrif! "If she's Scottie's kid, then we'll probably never see Dyl again and if she's Dyl's. Well, Scottie will probably just drink himself into the gutter," I say. Wise and needful words. "Either way, we lose." Then I order a drink. "OJ and champs please. Don't worry about the good stuff." I have to say that, because, once, someone put Dom Perignon into some expensive freshly squeezed OJ. Cheap cava and supermarket own brand orange juice are good enough for me! I'm not fussy. "What if she's someone else's kid entirely?" I say excitedly. "Problem solved!" I'm so CLEVER. Janae doesn't respond. "What's wrong with you?" I ask sensitively. "Is it your brothers, or are you and Boyd still blueing?" Enter Boyd. He hides behind some extras. "You know he's ... [muffled something]." It's real loud in that Scarlet Bar! You can barely hear yourself think. Young and old alike love to hang out there though. The guy behind the bar is called 'Robbo' or, at least, that's what it says on his shirt. I've never seen the Bruce before. Seeing champagne being poured reminds Boyd of some floozy. "I just want it to go on and on forever!" says the floozy. Crikey! Her wish came true. This scene really is going on and on forever! Meanwhile, Janae and I are still talking. "He'll be all right," I say. "Which is more than I can say for your brothers after Kennedy's stuff-up." Too bloody right. Exit Boyd. Some annoying "Doo-da-da-doo" song is playing in the background.
House of Medical Incompetence. Karl Spitting Kennedy and Sus. The build-up to finding out who's the father of my granddaughter is very, very long and seems to involve nothing but endless jawing and recapping by everyone on the spiggin street. Sus is no exception: "So, there's a chance that your original assessment could be right, and Stingray is the father." No spiff, Sherlock! "The more I see baby Kerry the more I doubt it," says Karl fearfully. "So, Dylan is the father." Sus is never afraid to state the bleeding obvious. Sus tries to persuade Karl that it wasn't his fault. She doesn't succeed: "Passing the buck is not going to hose Janelle down." What is that, Kennedy? Is that a fire-fighting metaphor or a crowd control metaphor? I'm going to sue you for every last cent you've got Kennedy, and then I'm going to feed you and your children to the wallabies. And your children's children. "She's making all kinds of threats," says Karl. Ha! The cheek! I'm going to geld the ferckarchering boob. "You know Janelle - she's all talk," says Sus. That's it. Now she's on my list too. "It's tearing her family apart," says Karl, "and they need a scapegoat." You're wrong there matey. What we need is justice.
My house. Me, Loris, Scottie and Dyl. Scottie and Dyl are bickering about who the father is. Loris steps in: "Neither of you would make a good father ... The important person here is baby Kerry and she deserves a united family and I'm going to give her that if it kills me." I was going to say that too. It's just that, you know, Loris was just quicker off the mark. That's why I spent the whole of that scene standing in the background looking useless.
Scarlet Bar. Lynnie is solemnly contemplating a napkin. Enter Sus. Lynnie greets her enthusiastically. Then it's straight down to business: "I want you to know that Karl did everything by the book." Shame the book was called How to Completely Stuff Up Two Boys' Lives. Lynnie is the town gossip. Everyone knows that you have to get her on side in any dispute. Unfortunately for Sus, Lynnie is absorbed by her own problem. She loves to think that she's charitable and a good friend, but really she's incredibly self-absorbed. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful to Lynnie to giving house room for me and mine, but her generosity can be consumed by her own petty problems. Sus continues: "It's just that I got on my moral high-horse and judged Sky and judged Stingray ..." she notices that Lynnie isn't paying the least bit of attention to her confession. "You OK?" Lynnie's been waiting for someone to ask. "It's Paul," she says eagerly. Her favourite topic of convo is herself. "He's been really, REALLY weird since he got back from New York and I think what's going on is ..." Her mobile rings. "Oh! It's Flick! Do you mind?" Sus doesn't. Lynnie takes off. Pan across to Harold and Sky. Enter Dyl. He's bought Kerry some baby clothes. He leaves. "Granddad," says Sky, "he'll go off his tree if he's not the father." "We'll cross that bridge," says Harold, "when and if it happens." Come on, Harry! That's a mixed metaphor. Bridges don't happen. If you're thinking that my spotting a mixed metaphor is out of character, then I guess it's because Breezer's cleverness is rubbing off on me! Back to Lynnie and Sus. Lynnie is still on the phone: "Bye, OK love, we'll talk soon." She hangs up. "Hey, mystery solved! Paul did see someone else when he was in New York. She's young, pretty, blonde ..." "Oh come on," says Sus. "There'll be an explanation! I'll tell you one thing ..." "Don't!" shrieks Lynnie. "Don't even go there, Susan! I'm gonna dump him, before I let that snake dump me."
Robinson House. Paul and Elle. "It's like she's worked out what I'm going to hit her with and doesn't want to hear it," says Paul. He's deffo going to ask her to get hitched. This is INGENIOUS misdirection by the writers, and I'm not just saying that so I can get better storylines. "Just do it, Dad," commands Elle. "Pussyfooting around is not a good look." It's not a look at all, Elle, you imbecile. There's a knock on the door. "I'd better grasp the nettle I suppose," says Paul as he answers it. It's Dyldog. He's brought some shopping. "A delivery van just pulled up on your driveway," Dyl says helpfully. Paul goes to check it out. "Ah goodie," says Elle, "you have discovered the joys of retail therapy - welcome to the club." She means the bourgeoisie. Retail therapy is for those with money - as for the proletarian, it only deepens his debts and compounds his problems. Elle will be first against the wall when Ramsay Street joins the global revolution. Dyl shows Elle that he has bought baby clothes. She is discomfited. Baby clothes are her Kryptonite. There's some blather about whether Dyldog's the father or not and whether Elle can handle a boyfriend with a baby. Enter Paul with a bottle of wine. It's '85 Chateau Sautôme, which is Paul's favourite French draught. The creepy music of going insane plays. Christ, I hope I don't ever here that music when I'm on screen! There's a whole crate of wine. Paul thinks Elle's been very generous, it cost $4000. Elle tells him she didn't order them. But ... it's her name on the delivery note, and her credit card.
Ext. Boyd collects his mail and looks triumphant. Janae goes inside. Elle crosses to him. She's angry that he's messing with her. Boyd reminds her that it was a stack of Triple Sec that sent Max over the edge. "I'd say that whoever's [by saying 'whoever's' he's given himself away!] rattling your cage is doing a pretty good job of it." Preening arse.
A sunlounger. A pair of legs. Camera pans up to Boyd and across to the pool. Oh no! Janae has drowned and is floating face down. The poor little chook. Boyd has a flashback to rescuing the floozy from drowning. Back to present. Phew! Janae is fine. She was just seeing how long she could hold her breath. Inside, Boydie tells Janae about his affair. The root rat! The floozy's name is Glenn. She and Boydie "spent a lot of time together". "Did you kiss her?" asks Janae. By 'kiss', she means 'ferkarcher'. "Janae, I'm so sorry," says the maggot. "This is why you were so understanding of Steph and Toadie!" Janae realises. Yeah, that was surprising. Janae immediately begins to make excuses for Boyd. Poor girl.
My house. The usual suspects. Enter Janae. She doesn't think she can go to hear what the idiot Kennedy has to say as to Kerry's paternity. Everyone bustles out except for me and Janae. I have a blue with her about how selfish she's being and then she breaks down. I soften, assuming that it's the baby business. She shouldn't bottle things up. "You should come to me. Or Boyd." Whoops! That provokes yet more tears. "Men are useless at most things, bur when the chips are down you can count on them." Wow, I just don't know when to shut up, do I? More tears still. I look thoughtful.
Ornamental pond. That was a pointless shot.
Karl's Office. He's late. Spiggin typical. "The results were left in my pigeonhole in the hospital by mistake." No one cares, Karl. "Oh another [mistake]," I say wittily. Karl's had the test results duplicated because he doesn't want another error. "Get on with it!" I yell at him. The music of tension plays and
Credits.
That's just spiffing great. Leave me on tenterhooks, why don't yer?
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