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.
No comments:
Post a Comment