(Series 30, ep. 37) The evidence against Charlie Fairhead is mounting. Confiscating the pills Big Mac stole is one thing – he deals with things his own way, he’s very into giving people second chances and supporting his team. So far so sensible. But don’t go and hide the bloody things in your locker, especially when the press is piling the heat on to the extent that Hanssen has to do a press conference about it (and Hanssen hates doing that – it makes him look like an undertaker, apparently). Especially not sensible to leave the pills in your locker, and not lock your locker, and leave your unlocked locker to the prying eyes of new doctor/friend of Hanssen/unknown quantity Elle Gardner. Elle found the pills, and because she doesn’t know Charlie is Special and Unique and The Beating Heart of Holby, she instantly thought he was the pill thief.
Connie and Rita know about Charlie being the Beating Heart etc, so they gave him every chance to say they weren’t his pills. But he refused to tell them it was actually Big Mac, and that’s where I think he was being a bit thick. Weigh up one highly trained, terribly experienced and beloved nurse against Big Mac, who’s neither use nor ornament. It’s just not sensible to get the first one suspended and the second one is at liberty to carry on being neither U. nor O. to his heart’s content.
Will Big Mac grow a pair and admit the truth, and get Charlie off the hook? Will the whole sorry business distract Connie from spending all her time trying to wiggle her bum as much as Zoe Hanna when she goes upstairs, just to show Jacob that she’s a better catch than Elle? Sort yourself out, woman, you’re better than this. Trying so hard to impress Mr Muscle isn’t impressing me. And the same goes for Rita and her sulks at Iain.
In other news, Ethan made the mistake of taking relationship advice from Cal and nearly found himself being molested in a store cupboard. And Max beat Dylan at chess.
Then there was some odd stuff about Robyn and David’s Morbidity Cafe, or whatever it is. I did appreciate that David had baked a lemon drizzle cake with skulls on it specially, but I had to google to find out it really is a Thing. It’s supposed to be quite healthy and (huh?) enjoyable to sit and eat cake and chat about death, but I’m not convinced, much as I do love a lemon drizzle. Robyn might have got herself a boyfriend out of it, but you have to wonder about anyone who’s that interested in death. I’m worried for her already.