It’s BAFTA, bitch! As reported a couple of weeks ago, our fave show was up for a gong. And that’s right – they won on Sunday, consequently embittering the likes of Lord Sugar and Ant & Dec. Everyone was livid, Graham Norton called them insufferable (he’s such a queen); but the joke’s on them because Made In Chelsea has finally been recognized for the televisual genius that it is. I’m going to get serious on your asses for a moment kids – the reason TV snobs and people above a certain age don’t appreciate this show is because they don’t actually realise that it exposes the lives of people in their twenties accurately. Send a gang of twenty-somethings off to a farmhouse mansion in the remote English countryside and at one point there will be a red-wine fuelled tiff in a sauna, someone will be humiliated on an open-plan balustrade, and someone else will get into a Jacuzzi bathtub with a bottle of rum, plotting their revenge on someone else, while the rest of the group play giant jenga. I’ve been there.
In summary – that BAFTA was deserved!
Last week’s predictions: Josh tells Phoebe to go and fuck herself because he still loves her (YES, BUT I THINK HE LOVES BOYS, WHICH IS WHY HE IS SO BENT OUT OF SHAPE); Josh then realises he actually loves Ollie (NO, BUT I’M ACTUALLY THINKING HE MIGHT LOVE PROUDLOCK); Ollie realises he loves Oscar; Oscar realises he loves Ashely; Ashley gets a makeover to redeem her sexual humiliation (NONE OF THESE PEOPLE WERE EVEN IN IT THIS WEEK – BOO YOU WHORE); Louise and Andy have sex to get back at Spencer (YES, AND IT WORKS); Spencer and Lucy have sex to get back at Louise (NO BUT THAT’S CLEARLY WHERE THIS IS HEADED); Claudia Winkleman makes a triumphant return, only to see Jamie’s God-awful tattoo and consequently runs for the hills (CLAUDIA SEEMS TO HAVE VANISHED OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH) 2/6 – I need to get my head back in the game!
MIC: SEASON 5; EPISODE 6 (which I have peppered with shots of me imitating the facial expressions of several classic moments from this week’s show)
Spencer and Lucy are in Paris (which the subtitle lists as being in France for those of you unfamiliar with it). I have honoured this by posting a picture of myself with two small baguettes. Lucy comments that it’s nice to be able to get away from everyone – most people pop to Starbucks to do this. Oh Christ alive, Spenny is speaking French to a waiter. Something about a “Mary de la Blood”. To be fair, Lucy doesn’t seem that impressed and Spencer basically tells her she needs to change her attitude. I think the conversation goes something like this:
Lucy: “What would you change about me?”
Spencer: “Your whole overall general attitude…stop being a cautious bitch and let’s go and make sex in the French castle that they filmed the 1998 Drew Barrymore hit movie ‘Ever After’ in.”
Back in London (England), the other boys are bitching about Spencer and Lucy’s trip to Paris (France). Francis has made a giant sandwich (I think the term one commonly uses for this size sandwich is “a doorstep”). There are a lot of “get your mouth around that” jokes flying around. Jamie finishes ranting and indeed does get his mouth around it and seems to enjoy it a little too much.
At a jewelry shop, Binky and Rosie confront Lou-wheeze about the fact that she and Spencer have continued to make sex since their break-up. Wheeze starts to cry because realization finally creeps over her that she is a ridiculous whore. The other girls try and tell her that sleeping with the man who has destroyed her life isn’t such a bad thing. Um, yeah, it is. They then metaphorically slap Wheeze in the face with a rubber trout by talking about the Spencer/Lucy trip to Paris (France).
Andy is in Soho with Stevie, talking about how he asked Wheeze out on a date at Fran’s birthday. “That’s sick!” Stevie exclaims, with glee. He of course means “sick” in the positive sense but I don’t see it that way. It’s “sick” in the vomit-inducing sense because Andy is hideous. Stevie leaves and Fran walks in and orders a G&T and gets dumped. Instead of throwing that G&T in Andy’s face, she leaves with dignity and her head held high. She is clearly on the wrong show.
Back in Paris (France), Spencer and Lucy are on a bridge made of padlocks. Spencer says that his favorite thing of the day was Lucy’s company. She says “oh, behave” like Austin Powers. She then says she has enjoyed getting to know Spencer better. He says “ahhh, sweet” in a really gay voice. He jokes about getting a hotel room. He isn’t joking.
The token Mark-Francis/Victoira scene isn’t “token” this week because this episode, in my opinion, BELONGS to Mark-Francis. He’s slutting it all over the shop! First of all, he’s in his office pretending to talk on the phone to, like, Gucci or Versace or Vivaldi or someone. Then he announces that he is going to style Binky. Sorry, but what precisely is his job? He calls Binky while she and Lucy are bouncing on balls, to ask her if she’ll do a photo-shoot. Binky can’t grasp the concept but he tells her “never mind darling, just go with the flow”. He tells her that he wants to put her in Graff. She thinks he says “grass”. He says “no, no, no darling, not grass. Graff. Graff. Laurence Graff. Graff on Bond Street. Graff on Sloane Street. Graff in Miami.” She then replies with “okay, Marky-Boy”. He immediately regrets his decision to employ her.
Proudlock has taken Jamie shoe shopping. WHAT IS THE DEAL WITH PROUDLOCK AND SHOES??? Why is he an alleged expert in shit men’s footwear? He tries to get Jamie to buy some sparkly heels, for God’s sake. Am I living in some sort of parallel universe where I am the only one to take one look at Proudlock’s earring and want to mortify my own flesh? They start talking about how Proudlock wants to press his body up against Phoebe’s and that it will be a real bummer for Josh, who he recently fired. Proudlock insists that he didn’t “fire” Josh, he had to “let him go”. Presumably because the shit shoe business isn’t generating profit.
Talking of Josh, he pops in to see Olivia and Fran, who are having drinks with Phoebe. He comes in, kisses the Newman-Youngs and totally blanks Phoebe, who is wearing a military jacket that she has dipped in glue and rolled in gold glitter. Then he gets up to leave and says “see you around” to which Phoebe replies “will I see you, though?” to which he responds “no!” Wow, Josh is BITTER! The bitter scale on this man is through the roof. It’s reached Uranus by this point. Luckily, Phoebe doesn’t seem to give two shits.
I’ve decided that Wheeze is the new Gabriella of MIC. She is filling the Gabby-shaped void. She is having a catch up with Francis, when Andy calls her and asks her out bowling. She sort of flippantly says yes, chucks her phone down and twitches a bit. All she needs to do now, to match Gabs, is write a song about her break-up with Spencer and hold a casting session with a load of men who look like him. I hear the Pillsbury Dough Boy is looking for work.
On the bowling date, Wheeze calls Andy “nostrils” and he acts like it doesn’t bother him. But it does, so from now on I am calling him Nostrils. After a few beer milkshakes, Wheeze and Nostrils go home together to make a baby that will hopefully provide a permanent cure to decongestion. As they board a taxi together, Nostrils says that he’d like to drive up Wheeze’s Fulham Road!
Spencer is on a racetrack driving a Mercedes convertible, but he doesn’t look cool because he is being supervised by a driving instructor. Jamie doesn’t have a driver’s license, so he has to drive a Ford Focus that is meant for underage people. He’s used to this because his girlfriend is also underage. Proudlock is wearing LEATHER DRIVING GLOVES! FFS! Josh calls him a sneaky snake for talking to Phoebe. Josh is even more laughable than Proudlock’s wardrobe choices.
At Binky’s photo-shoot, Mark-Francis has dressed her up like Zsa Zsa Gabor and is explaining his “vision” to her. He wants “sad beauty”. “Right,” she says. “Do you see what I mean?” he asks. “No,” she replies. Panic flashes across Mark-Francis’ eyes. After the shoot, Wheeze pops in for a chat with Binks. She tells Binky that she looks incredible, to which Binky replies “you look delicious all the time my little chicken-woo”. Wheeze tells Binky that she saw Nostril’s willy. Binky calls her a dirty bitch. Quite, Binky.
Spencer goes for drinks with the boys and tells Francis that he “wants to apologise for the whole housing thing” which makes him sound like he is a representative from Hounslow Borough Council who has come to talk to a teenage mother about the mishap that occurred down at the civic centre. Nostrils and Stevie walk in, and Francis tells Spencer about the Wheeze/Nostrils partnership. Spencer immediately gets angry and says that Nostrils is a “rank snake” and that he doesn’t know how to treat women. Hello, kettle, this is Spencer – you’re black! A lot of “mates”, “dudes” and “bros” start flying around and Spencer ends up having a row with Nostrils about loyalty. He tells him that he only thinks with his dick. The proverbial pot and kettle are trembling on the stove right now. Spencer is the hypocrite of the century. He is a critic of hippos. He is the ancient Greek physician Hippocrates.
At Mark-Francis’ champagne tasting (£950 a bottle) Phoebe decides that this is the perfect forum in which to have it out with Josh. At first you don’t care about it but then it gets AMAZING. The gist of this is that Josh is whining because Phoebe and Proudlock (P²) are entertaining the seed of an idea that they will perhaps consider seeing each other socially. Throughout this, I am converted into a Phoebe fan, who glares at Josh over the top of her champagne flute and replies to his pathetic accusation like a cast member of Downton Abbey. Josh doesn’t have a leg to stand on – his argument is essentially that P² should have asked his permission before talking to one another. He says “friends don’t string people along for 6 months so go and fuck yourself” before slamming his champagne glass down and mincing off, calling her an “idiot” as he flounces away. Phoebe calls him a “dickhead” under her breath and sips the remaining bubbly from her glass. She’s awesome.
Wheeze and Nostrils enter the party to some Quentin Tarantino-type music, Mark-Francis pops his cork and Fran confronts Nostrils. She basically tells him he’s an asshole before jutting her hip out and walking away. She’s classy. The Three Witches are warming on me, it’s just a shame that Olivia lets the team down by not being able to hold her liqueur. Wheeze asks Lucy why she is such a nasty witch, intent on ruining everyone’s lives. Lucy looks sane, compared to Wheeze. She just scoffs in her face and smirks and makes Wheeze cry. She and Spencer are perfect for each other.
Predictions for next week: Cheska and Binky seem to be communicating again; Ollie comes out, at a barn dance; Wheeze will channel Heidi by wearing her hair in Nordic pigtails; Spencer will ensnare Lucy only to shatter her expectations by admitting he is taking different girls to Paris (France) on a bi-weekly basis; P² will start to date properly and P1 will show P2 his collection of tiger-print shoe horns; Josh will confront them at the pick’n’mix stand of an Odeon cinema, throw his fizzy cherries at them and run out sobbing.
– – A