Archive for February 13th, 2008

Skins. Episode one

February 13, 2008

Before I start, I want to point out how annoying it is when you are intending on writing a review of a programme that you have watched goggle-eyed since episode one of the first series and then some Johnny-come-lately wanders down your driveway and jumps on your FUCKING BANDWAGON especially when they are one of your favourite reviewers in the world and you fancy them a bit, and therefore find yourself in the position of wanting to touch your usurper inappropriately while spitting bile into their eyes.

Despite Brooker encapsulating everything that is great about Skins in 700 neat and well-chosen words, I shall continue, pointlessly but unbowed, like Scott tootling onwards after Amundsen, but with less frostbite. Follow me onwards to the South Pole (Bristol).

Nearly a whole year has passed since series one of Skins finished. A hollow, Skinsless pit of a year. The worst year of my pathetic little life. But now it is back! Hurrah! Hang the bunting! Call the local DJ! etc etc. The last series ended with Tony (teenage arrogance given flesh) being knocked over by a lorry after doing the Machiavellian life-messing thang on all his friends and… one sec. Sorry, I know I’m incapable of writing a review of Skins without shoehorning in a few mentions of their myspace sites, but what the fuck? Tony’s PARENTS have posted a message on his profile. His parents, no less.

We like to thank [sic] everyone for the flowers, cards and well wishes you’ve sent. The thoughtful messages have been a real comfort at this very difficult time.
Best

Jim and Anthea Stonem

Maybe da kidz have a different type of relationship with ma and pa than I did as a teenager, but is it really believable, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, really, that said kidz would tell them the password to their myspace site? I think not. There’s also a video of him in a coma on the profile, that I assume they’ve posted as well. Which is completely understandable of them, and not disturbing at all.

Anyway, onwards and downwards. Last night’s episode started with some urban dancin’, and I mean like really proper DANCIN’ from gay Skin Maxxie and some other equally implausibly beautiful teenagers (I grew up in the West Country, and people look weird down there, not all shiny and even of teeth. Even of tooth perhaps, at a push). One of them took her top off and had a see-through bra on. Saucy. Maxxie went home where his dad (Bill Bailey) practices country and western dancing with his dog. He gave up his dog dancing dream to join the construction trade, did Bill, and he thinks his son should do the same.

Tony is all spazzed up from his accident and upsetting his father with his frustrated anger at the world (Tony’s dad, incidentally is played by Harry Enfield – I wonder which ageing comedian will be invited to star next? Please, please, please let it be Russ Abbott). Max’s mum does Tony’s flies up for him. It looks like she is giving him a blow-job. Ho ho. There is a rave. Michelle gets it on with two blokes but only ‘cos her head is all messed up like, due to Tony. Sid takes acid and misses his girlfriend who is being taught the bagpipes in a mental asylum in Scotland.

There is more dancing as teens dripping in sweat take their tops off and rub against each other. ‘Chrriiiiist’ wheeze a thousand equally perspirant old men around the country.

Maxxie gets it on with one of the Asbo-homophobes who hang round his estate. Everyone goes home. It is college in the morning. Tony finally manages to sign his own name meaning that he can register for the new term (nice Somerset touch: that was an actual requirement when I was at sixth form).
 So yes, mock away, but it was great. I missed you Skins. Welcome back my loves, welcome back.

Advertisements