Lucy and Jamie, the new sexless couple of MIC, are walking Lucy’s dog. She’s wearing a kilt-type-dress and Jamie’s got a massive issue with his face. No, not his protruding square under-bite. He appears to have impetigo, which Lucy better be wary of because that spreads like crusty treacle. The dog is from Harrods (natch) and is called Digby. It used to be called Kevin. Lucy changed its name. I changed the name of my cat when I adopted her. I was worried that it might confuse her but she prefers her new name. She told me.
Binky’s throwing a party for her dog, Scrunchy or whatever it’s called. How can it be its birthday already, she only got it 2 episodes ago? Alex arrives and kisses Binky. He obviously enjoys it because he exudes a noise that sounds as if he’s just tasted a delightful sugared almond.
As seems to be the trend in Chelsea, Andy sits with Stevie (who I at first think is wearing dungarees but it’s an apron) at the restaurant he is having his date with Tiff at. When I go on a first date, I drink a bottle of red wine at home and then go out. I wouldn’t be able to cope with a friend sitting there with me talking my ear off. What’s more, Andy keeps laughing like a fat banker. Tiff comes in. She is partially reminiscent of Gemma from Seasons 1-3 who once removed the cork from a bottle of wine with her teeth (again, me before a date). She then ended up being Richard Dinan’s PA. She was fabulous and drunk. Tiff is heinous and dull. She smears some red sauce all over a floppy slab of dough and Stevie loves it because he presumes this means she’s dirty in bed.
Also, her bra strap is showing. Slut.
Phoebe and Wheeze are having high tea. My suspicion is that they are actually high. They come to the decision that, because the men are all going camping that weekend, the girls should all go to a spa together. ALL the girls. Like, even the ones that literally despise each other. Yesssssssss!
Proudlock’s ponytail has now morphed into a bun. He looks like my Great Aunt Helen.
The boys arrive on their camping expedition in the woods. The producers have played in some wildlife sound effects, but they’ve put the wrong CD in because I swear I can hear the call of a greater crested toucan. They pretend they don’t know which way they’re going and then there’s a shot of them walking off, as if from the POV of somebody watching through the trees, as if they’re being stalked by a forest-dwelling inbred cannibal. Here’s hoping.
At the spa, the girls get their canastas out and at the camp site, the boys get their poles out. Andy is strategically sat on a tree stump strumming at a guitar. What’s this? He does music? He is doing a gig!!!!!! This will be rich. He claims that he doesn’t want to make it a big thing, which begs the question “why are you wanging on about it on a TV show, you lying twat?” Stevie and Proudlock ask him if he’s got a good stage presence. He says he doesn’t know yet. That means he hasn’t. And let’s face it, it’ll be shit. He’s no Gabriella!
Fran and Binks are on a sofa chatting and I’m immediately disappointed that they don’t hate each other anymore because of the Alex love triangle. Fran, you need to be more bitter. Acceptance doesn’t become you. Enter Phoebe wearing a jumper with eyes on it, symbolising the fact that her evil peepers are constantly watching us all. Fran starts crying and Phoebe says “don’t cry” in the same voice as the girl from The Exorcist when the anti-Christ has fully overtaken her soul. Lucy comes in and Phoebe skips off, claiming that Jamie has just texted her. Whatabitch. Lucy looks crestfallen. CRESTFALLEN!
Phoebe flounces off to see Wheeze, who says “what up?” FFS. As if by magic, it turns out that the boys campsite is like literally at the bottom of the spa’s garden. So Wheeze and Phoebe decide to crash the boys’ weekend and flutter off into the forest like a couple of woodland nymphs in search of their missing set of pan pipes.
Mark Francis and Victoria are conducting inventory on his vintage collection of silver grape scissors. MF is instructing the butler what to do with the cutlery and I sense a raging sexual tension between them. It’s all a bit Downton.
The girls interrupt Francis, who is telling a ghost story about a phantom dog that licks people’s hands, and “scare” the shit out of everyone, even though the producers had already told them they were going to jump out at them. There’s a juxtaposition of love stories that unfolds amidst the flora and fauna. Whilst Jamie tells Phoebe he’d gladly put all his eggs into her basket, Andy says to Louise “in the nicest possible way, I don’t want you here”. Ahhhh, that IS the nicest possible way to tell someone to Rack Off.
The next morning, the rest of the girls seem to be breakfasting in a monastery. Binks gets a call from Alex, who is standing next to the pond that Narcissus fell in love with his own reflection in before wasting away with personal desire. He reports that Phoebe stayed at the campsite with Jamie (did they/didn’t they shag) and Lucy cries her little heart out, while Cheska slips a cheeky Pop Tart.
Back in LDN, Spenny and Proudlock are going to Andy’s gig. Spenny hasn’t been around much in this episode because he’s too busy posing wearing nothing but a gold Rolex and leaking the pictures to the Daily Mail (it’s not that big, TBH). Un-shockingly, he’s already feeling claustrophobic in the Stephanie relationship, but it’s okay because she’s cleaning the flat.
At the gig, Andy is wearing a backwards cap. I suspect this was his last ditch attempt, as he left the house for the evening, to make himself seem slightly less pathetic in his attempts to be a pop star. Lucy says she’s nervous for him. She should be.
Alex says “Bonjour Monsieur” to Jamie. Thank God he’s pretty!
Cheska has invited the entire staff of Universal Records to the gig, as if to humiliate Andy further. She then calls him a rock star. Does she want his body? She must do, because I’M more of a rock star than Andy.
Fran drops the bombshell that Phoebe has gone on holiday with a boy that she likes a bit. Lucy takes this morsel of inconclusive information and tells Jamie, with relish, that Phoebe has gone on holiday with her boyfriend. She spreads that relish over that piece of bread and sucks on the sweet nectar of revenge.
Andy starts to sing and I die on the inside. He’s putting on some sort of stage voice. He’s trying to be husky like Chris Rea. His style is sort of country meets…shit. Tiff screeches over the music and I pretty much don’t blame her (even though she’s hideous) and Spenny seems to be reacting to the music by having a seizure. Wheeze, who wasn’t invited, is sort of break dancing to the awful, awful song that is inexplicably escaping Andy’s mouth. I pray that it will stop.
Spenny and Jamie then have a row over Lucy. She walks off (good girl) and Jamie calls Spenny “Puggy”. He then throws a drink over Jamie (presumably because he just called him “Puggy”) and Jamie wipes off the drink with a tiny, flaccid napkin.
Next week’s predictions: Phoebe wears a kerchief; Spenny wears a mustard suit.