The highlight of last night’s double bill was seeing Blanche appear at the Barlows’ dinner party dressed as Quentin Crisp. The lowlight was the comedy of embarrassment at the golf club with Dev trying to talk like a PG Wodehouse character while having his private parts squeezed. In between, there was more hand-wringing at number 7 as Maria stalked around the house like a burglar on the rob, stuffing as many of Tony’s belongings as she could into a bin bag before collapsing on the sofa with not one but two huge cushions over her belly. Liam remained silent throughout despite a night of no sleep, but that’s mainly down to the dummy that’s now been grafted over his mouth. I reckon Maria Connor’s Contented Little Baby Book would really give Gina Ford a run for her money.
We were also treated to a lesson in the therapeutic effects of cleaning. If only Kim Woodburn wasn’t in the jungle, she’d have been beaming. Maria felt like bleaching everything in sight, while Gail (on being told that Joe’s finances were on par with the national debt), immediately scrubbed her kitchen down to the MDF. It should be fun seeing prospective buyers taking a look round her house though: “Yes, this is the garage where I was nearly gassed to death, here are the stairs that my son pushed me down” etc etc.
Finally, a plea for help. Can someone suggest a way of erasing the image of Gail wearing Becky’s wedding dress from my mind? Ever since Mrs McDonald raised the prospect, it’s been plaguing my waking minutes. Even turning Steve’s chicken impression into a mobile-phone ringtone hasn’t helped…