Monologue – 23 Jan 2017
The big happy news of the week is that Rob has been binned. I was very ready to join in the general celebrations but I didn’t feel I could do so wholeheartedly partly because…well….once again I seem to have missed a meeting. Did I nod off and miss the bit where Lilian told Justin the whole story? Or Stephan did? How did he know everything in such detail? Where was the shock horror reaction from Justin? I mean that wasn’t important, really, was it. Not the final denouement to a two year storyline that would result in the most hated man in Ambridge and a perceived threat of actual physical violence being removed from the village…I mean why would we want to hear that? Hmm? Not when we could spend AN ENTIRE SODDING EPISODE at Freddie and Lily’s party? I am on the verge of hysteria here. It’s the same reasoning as us not being allowed to hear Ian’s groundbreaking visit to Helen in prison but apparently we were all gagging to hear Jennidarling try out paint samples on the radio?
Well as it was apparently so important we’d better deal with this party. Lily is just unbelievable. They seem to have based on Cher in Clueless. What kind of a freak has nibbles at a teenager’s party? Surely a teenage party involves one person dancing by himself, a group of boys dismantling the stereo, someone drunk talking to the hamster, one person crying and one person holding another person’s long hair back while they throw up in the downstairs bathroom. Everybody at this party had names that sounded like a range of furniture from SofaWorld. Things like Hamilton and Amber. There was probably a futon somewhere but I wasn’t sure. One of them was called Pawston. Or Cawston. I think one of the writers just sat on their keyboard until some names came up. Shelley’s allergic to crab apparently, so make a note of that as it might turn out to be relevant in six months time. Because it sure as hell wasn’t relevant now. One of them had long legs, a long face and a velvet choker. And went Neigh.
This is another bit of personality transplant. Lest we forget, about a year and a half ago Freddie was stomping about roaring at his mother for a little scrupmy induced rumpy with Uncle Roy and treating her like a rampant Mata Hari. Now they’re both patronising her into the ground and talking about her as if she’s a dozy nanny.
I’ve got a lot more chance with Amber if I don’t have to say much, said Johnnie. I’m more of a point and grunt man. Isn’t pointing brilliant? Freddie took his trousers off and Johnnie said there’s not much of a moon, which seemed a little overly critical.
Susan’s got a new lipstick. Spring Shimmer. It came in a palette with Rampant Snobbery, Real Custard and an overly persisitent shade called Tracy’s Tongue. You try and rub it off but it won’t go and if you ignore it you find it all over your trousers.
Helen’s deafness is back. It comes and goes, really. When it’s about her, her hearing’s really acute, but when people say “I don’t want to talk about it” she just can’t hear it. When someone says to you, Helen, “I don’t want to talk about it” the answer is “Ok”. Your answer should not start with the words “but I just want to say….”. Anyway true to form Krusty said to Helen I do not want you to come for a walk with me. So, they went for a walk. Krusty said I don’t want to talk about this. So they had a chat about it and then Krusty decided to share her big secret, the fact that she’d made up a father for her child, with Helen, because she is so good at keeping secrets.
Things were all a bit stilted over at Adam and Ian’s. “Oh do you want the bathroom first?” No, after you. I’m planning on having a massive poo so I’d advise you to get in there quick.” Then after a pissed up evening drinking Cosmopolitans at the party, Ian let Adam back in to the bedroom which was a relief as all his clean pants were in there.
It wasn’t fate throwing you and Roy together at new year, Tracy, it was you throwing your mouth at Roy.
Bert went up to Home Farm to watch Adam spreading his fertiliser for inspiration. He gave him some wise words about marriage and pointed out that you needed to keep talking. Poor Freda. I bet she’d gave given a kidney for a bit more silence from Bert. Every row a bloody poem.
In a commendable show of realism Krusty told Tom to promise her that he would never ever ask her to marry him again. When’s Leap Year? Hmm.
But back to the best bit of the week. Rob getting fired. My favourite bit was when Justin made him do all the work first. A two hour meeting on a Friday afternoon, let’s go through all the spreadsheets in the world, oh and by the way did I mention that you’re more fired than a rifle range? Rob said with his customary maturity well I wouldn’t want to work here anyway. And justin was like well actually like no-one likes you? And I’m going to tell everyone else not to like you? And Rob was like…well actually we don’t know what Rob was like. But he won’t just disappear. Not Voldemort. He;ll be back, married to Hazel Woolley, or at the helm of a bulldozer, having bought St Stephens with the aim of turning it into a Costa. I’d like to say Bye Bye Robart but I don’t think you’ve gone. You’re a bit like Sherlock – I keep thinking this must be it but then there you are again. So I won’t say bye bye…I’ll say au revoir. And also, ha ha. The end.
