Ollie wants to take Tiff up the Shard. Rosie doesn’t care or want to hear about how he’s romancing a Watson given Lucy’s past interference in the Tiff/Rosie/intern situation. She tells Ollie that the Shard is too good for Tiff and that bowling will have to do instead.
At lunch with Mummy Janie, JP calls Binky a twat. To make things weirder, Irish Nicola joins them for some Ask Mummy Felstead advice. She has barely even managed to fondle a breadstick before her tears begin to leak onto the Fortnum’s tablecloth. Mytton and her are still on the rocks. JP remains silent while Binky rips Mytton to verbal tatters and Janie provides some pearls of wisdom. “It’s just an old bird’s view,” she says. Stop that, Janie! Bite your advice-giving, life-saving tongue.
Sam is struggling because Wheeze has gone to New York to start the long process of saving her relationship with Alik (for a whole week). Whilst flinging bread at ducks, he tells Toff that he and Tiff have reconnected genitally. The next day, he explains, he kicked her out, to do the walk of shame like a Dickensian whore.
Jamie enquires as to whether Mytton cheated on Irish Nicola. “Not in Ibiza, no,” comes the cleverly worded response. Mytton then meets her and tells her that the problem they have is that they love each other. Okay.
At bowling, Ollie’s got two massive balls between his legs. He treats Tiff to some lane-side champagne which, frankly, is a massive waste of money, time, effort and grape. She ain’t interested in your massive balls, Ollie.
JP continues to speak freely around Binky, this time at dinner with Lucy and James. Lucy is NOT impressed when he uses the phrase “lips moving, still talking” circa Monica from “Friends” when she wants to make babies rather than jam.
Sam’s got issues eating Nando’s because he is in love with Tiff, despite chucking her out of the house post-coitus. He bumps into Lucy and James. Lucy doesn’t want to hear it. Sam does a lot of twitching and sniffing and can’t keep still, as if he is a cold-turkey drug mule. He enlists Mark Francis to help him buy flowers for Tiff. Mark Francis thinks a telegram would be better, then realises this isn’t 1926. Ollie arrives, also buying for Tiff. When this little revelation comes out, Mark Francis loves it. It’s unlike him to indulge in petty drama but he is relishing this like a politician relishes a nice hog roast.
Whilst shopping for furnishings for Binky’s new flat, Lucy can’t stop staring at JP. Perhaps this is because of the smudge he seems to have on his lip. Binky later bumps into Mytton who isn’t pleased with her slagging him off to Irish Nicola. By way of a cheap shot he says that “it’s weird watching JP not want to spend time with you,” just to fuck up someone else’s relationship for the hell of it.
The singer they all go to see must be cool because he’s kept his filth-ridden Glastonbury wristbands on. Jess tries to take a selfie but I think its set to video (how embarrassing) and Tiff tells Ollie that they should probably just be friends. Sam then takes this opportunity to declare his love, as he twitches and shakes like a nervous terrier. Tiff tells him she can’t tell him what she thinks right now (because she needs to wait for the season finale and do it in front of some sort of fairy-lit stone staircase outside a Berkshire-based manor house, as happens every year with someone).
Next week’s predictions: Because its Christmas, there’ll be an ice-skating scene, an orchestrated mass dinner party, a romantic declaration (incorporating an owl, apparently) and someone will get their muff out (of mothballs (to wear (because it’s cold))).