Sad news everyone – Nana Moon, otherwise known as Hilda Braid, passed away on the sixth of the month. R.I.P.
It’s in tribute to her brilliant performances in ‘Enders and Citizen Smith that I type the following:
Anyway – what’s going on in the ‘Enders recently? I must’ve missed an episode somewhere along the line, because it seems that Manc bloke, Jase, is suddenly being pursued by herds of heavies, Gangs of New York style. Your archetypal Eastend gangsters have been following him for weeks now, and I can’t fathom it. You can tell they’re bad sorts because they cup their fags in their hands when they smoke – a sure sign of a criminal past. One or two of them wear leather. It’s terrifying.
Anyhow, Dawn’s in trouble, because she’s now his fancy-lady and this can only end in tears. On their first date they got grief from the likes of the repulsive Garry ‘obbs and the prune-faced Roxy before going straight back to hers. It’s only a half an hour show, so there’s no time to muck about, see? They did a kiss at the end of the show, which means, in Walford, that they also did sex and are now lovers.
Mickey turned up in his first solid storyline since he played second fiddle in Jase’s painter and decorator strand. He had about five lines and three minutes screentime. I can’t believe he gets a salary for that. He’s on about £100,000 a year for pretending to gladly take a fiver so he can go to the Vic, vacating the set so that the bigger players can do a scene. He is the proverbial spare prick at a wedding, except he’s getting paid one hundred grand annually for loitering. The bastard.
In other news, we learned that Honey is due to give birth to Billy’s child. The last one had downs syndrome, a source of much agonising all round. There’s uncertainty as they didn’t check for abnormalities with this pregnancy. When you think about it, there’s no need really – Billy’s the Dad – it’s bound to look warped. The poor child’s father looks like ET in a toupe. I don’t know why I’m banging on about it anyway, it’s bound to die before its born – this is Walford where infant mortality rates beat the rest of the country a dozen to one.
The best scene last night featured three human actors and four dogs, all of whom stole the show from their homo sapien colleagues. So here’s to Henry, Terrence, Genghis and Wellard being given a bit more screentime to stem the misery. Come on BBC bosses, you know it makes sense.