This weekend, I had a row with my boyfriend. I had drunk too much, he made a joke about me eating a potato, I didn’t like the joke about the potato, apparently I misunderstood the joke about the potato. I went to bed muttering about the potato. It was one of those whole big potato things – laboured over drunkenly, forgotten about the next morning. You know the drill.
Conflict was in the air this weekend. Agne is mad with Francis. Francis is mad with Rosie. Rosie is pissed off with Millie. Millie is pissed off with Rosie. Gabriella and Olly are at loggerheads. Caggie is livid with Spence. I had the row about the potato. There’s all that economic stuff going on in Greece. The world is falling apart, guys. And it’s falling apart quickly.
In this week’s episode, Agne reached new heights of absurdity. After weeks of throwing herself at Francis and Frederik, persistently hinting at them to date her and asking “DO YOU LIKE ZEE ZIP ON MY DRESS, HOW LOW IT GOES?”, she has decided to “Pull a Pankhurst”. That’s right – Agne, that well-known pillar of feminism has left her job in an indignant storm on hearing that the two boys were planning to date her. “No, I don’t sink so,” she ruled. Bold move, Agne. You champion a rare breed of sexual equality. One I know so well. The one that, for years, allowed me to wriggle around clubs in lycra and let fat bankers buy me drinks only to shout: “I’M NOT SOME PIECE OF MEAT!” if they asked for my number. I can only hope that Francis will realise the error of his ways, put that French Knight ancestry to good use and woo the Lithuanian he loves. A glass of wine at Mare Moto should do it. Upside of this rare breed of feminism is that the outraged silent treatment has a short life span. A girl's gotta eat.
Gabriella returned to our screens this week with the mother of all showdowns. It all seemed so friendly to begin with – they made small talk when they bumped into each other. He invited her to the ball. They both lovingly stared at the Nordic Frederik as he sung*, reminiscent of Michael York and Liza Minelli in Cabaret – it was all going so well! But as Ollie sat and flirted with another girl, flicking his hair like a pantomime dame, Gabriella seethed with anger. We’ve all had that feeling. She’s been dumped. She’s been polite. BUT NOW HE’S TAKING THE PISS AND IT’S TIME SOMETHING WAS SAID BECAUSE SHE’S HAD SEVEN GLASSES OF WINE.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she barked. Ollie maintained an air of nonchalance, pretending he had no idea what she was referring to. Hereon ensued what looked like another episode of a Spanish soap opera. Her heavily-khol-rimmed ojos bulged. He flung around his arms. She stormed off from the table, her polyester GUSHING in the wind behind her in a flurry of rage. Will she ever get over him? Will she buggery, by the looks of next week’s episode.
How can I write about this week’s episode without mentioning the showcase of all that is idiotic about men’s seduction theories. Obviously fresh off the pages of “The Game”, Spence decided to ensnare the love of his life with that time-old trick. Being absolutely loathsome. After spending most of the episode speaking in self-invented mottos (“time, is time”, “If I didn’t have confidence in my plan, what sort of a man would I be?!”), he took his theories for a dry-run at the masked ball. (Incidentally, who organised this “ball”? Same people who organised the garden party, I suspect.) He grunted at Caggie like a surly teenager and when asked how he was, uttered the golden line: “Yeah. Lodda work on. Only came tonight to see Fred, so.” Surprisingly, despite his subtle approach, Caggie was not having any of it and quite rightly stormed off. And by the looks of next week’s preview, his “PLAN” may have cost him the girl of his dreams for good.
In a surprising twist, the real success story of this week has been the unlikely (yet, very sweet) pairing of Millie and Hugo. The French Villain has done good by making an honest woman out of the minxiest girl this side of the river. It’s early days – he still seems like he could be a bit of a wrongun – but for now, her straw-sucking days are over.
And in an even MORE surprising twist, E4 have gone and done the most shocking thing since showing George Galloway pretending to be a cat. They’ve re-commissioned Made in Chelsea. That’s right. You have months and months more of these loveable numpties. And even more of my ramblings if my boss wants them.
*Footnote: why did he sing? Round two of his elusive opera career from Frederik’s Incongruous Songbook. What’s in store for us next?
Dolly Alderton is reviewing Made in Chelsea which is on Mondays, E4 at 10pm.
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