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?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment