Mark Francis and Victoria are deconstructing the hardships of the festive season. For example, the effort one has to go to to lift a flute (champagne, not instrumental). Jess joins them, dressed like Ellen DeGeneres because she is now partially lesbian. They discuss the argument at the dinner party, at which Toff shed salty, Christmastime tears. Mark Francis suggests Toff just talk to the hand (and his answer-phone) and then declares that he is more powerful than God, our saviour on high.
Steph lets her four dogs sleep with her in LA. That’s weird. She also doesn’t know what an owl is. Tiff is explaining the story of how Sam declared his love for her, which involved an owl. “An owl? Like a bird?” asks Steph. No, Steph, like a fish.
Jamie is busy instructing Mytton to end things with Irish Nicola. Shock. He’s so adamant about it that he is out of breath. “There’s only so much pecking you can take,” says James, with his wonderful sharp teeth.
At the church, Wheeze is bitter because she wasn’t allowed to join the choir because she is slutty. Someone’s singing “In the bleak mid-winter” to symbolise the state of Mytton and Irish Nicola’s relationship. You basically half expect a funeral pyre to start being built by the altar. The choir then sing “Ding dong merrily on high” to symbolise Mytton’s massive dong.
Outside the church, Rosie and Mark Francis start going at each other. She tells him that he shat all over Ollie. He tells her to just go and write another blog post. I mean, these two should collab on a book of insults.
Sam’s pouring hot mulled wine into glasses, which always worries me lest the wine glasses burst into a thousand shards and take an eye out. Wheeze asks Sam if he has cheated on Tiff. Sam says no, but that he did kiss someone in Nottingham (the sheriff perhaps?) To be fair, it doesn’t really sound that big of a deal because he wasn’t really even with Tiff then. I’d keep my mouth firmly shut if I were you, Sam. Aren’t I a bad boy?
Giant chess! Binky breaks a giant pawn. The game consequently ends. Wheeze announces that Alik is coming over for the fake new year’s party and that she doesn’t want to move to the states with him. Meanwhile, across the pond we are introduced to Mitch!!! AKA the Lord of All Things Leather. Mitch is basically Alik but with a cigar and a neckerchief. He tells it straight. He is all “Wheeze has to shit or get off the pot. She’s not committed. She needs to be killed”.
Rosie is wearing a black veil for her walk in the park with Jamie, like Lady Death.
Oooh, Jamie’s throwing a party at Warwick Castle. It is, of course, masked. JP has been given a red Ferrari to arrive in, just for the shit of it. He is also wearing a sort of feline mask, which looks a bit like he grabbed it out of the post-Halloween bargain bin at Wilko. Alik asks why the hell he and Binky haven’t said I love you yet. JP retaliates by asking why the hell Wheeze hasn’t moved to New York yet. Nothing like a lack of commitment to see in the new year. JP then quietly tells Binky that he could love her. He doesn’t, but he could. Happy holidays!
Mytton breaks up with Irish Nicola, but has the sense to remove his mask for this particular serious discussion. She doesn’t unfortunately and keeps hers on. Then she exits the castle down a windswept stone tunnel like Anne de Beauchamp, 15th Countess of Warwick on her way to the gallows.
Alik tells Wheeze that Mitch hates her. Sam tells Tiff that he kissed the sheriff of Nottingham. Mark Francis lets Toff talk to his face, rather than his answer-phone. And I tell myself to hurry up and post this blog because I’m off to watch Jurassic World on my friend’s new surround sound system. Happy new year and come back for more in 2016!