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The Archers: The Odd Couples

I'd rather be at Jax

So Kenton and Kathy have split asunder eh? Well, you might say you were surprised they’d lasted so long, and you might be right. But in the Archers even the most implausible couples plod on and on for all eternity; there’s rarely any call for mediation. So although in the real world Kathy and Kenton wouldn’t have lasted five minutes, there are plenty of other couples whose continuing existence ought to bring a large delegation from Relate to look and marvel and maybe give out certificates.

Alistair & Shula – Frankly they’re an incredible couple, and I use the word in its old sense, meaning it defies credibility. Poor old Alistair has had several chances to make it out of Shula’s gnarled clutches, including before their ill-fated nuptials when she shagged Richard Lock. That was a perfect opportunity for Alistair to pack his possessions in a large spotty hankie and make merrily for the open road but like an oaf, he forgave her. A mere couple of years later she had turned him into a sulking, misanthropic gambler.      Real-world relationship rating (RRR): By now he’d have had an affair with the receptionist at his vets practice, twisted the will in his favour, and buried Shula beneath the stables. And there ain’t a jury in the land that would convict him.

Eddie and Clarrie – Given that Clarrie is resourceful, respectable and earns her own income, her mystifying willingness to stick around can only mean one thing: that this is fiction. Not that I was in any doubt, obviously (ahem). Eddie has settled down a bit lately, but he has always been and always will be a wastrel, a chancer, a ne’er-do-well, whose only contribution to the household is to make Clarrie wail, ‘Ohhh EDDDDDDIE!’ at regular intervals.     RRR: Clarrie would have quickly remarried an estate agent called Roger, and be having a nice middle-class life with a hostess trolley. Occasionally she would think of her brief sojourn in Meadow Rise, and shudder. Eddie would be living in a static caravan with some drunken trollop who’s no better than she oughta.

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Holby City: Pain for Ric, and the drugs aren’t working for Michael

Ric Griffin has cancer. We know this because he keeps ignoring phone calls from the oncology department about his treatment, and every so often he clutches his stomach, doubles up and goes “Nnngh!” So far he’s managed to pass this off as indigestion, but it can’t be too long before his colleagues, who are all doctors and nurses lest we forget, start to draw conclusions.

Anyhoo, in between going “Nnngh!” Ric has also managed to fit in a spot of hanky-panky with Annalise, the estranged and lollipop-headed wife of Michael Spence. Only by the end of the latest episode Ric had dumped her (which made her cry like a 14 year old – that Ric must be Hot Stuff), presumably for the noble reason of not wanting to put her through looking after him when the nnngh!-ing gets too much. Or because she’s very annoying.

Meanwhile, Annalise’s estranged and tight-trouser-wearing husband Michael is spiralling into coke hell. He needs to have a quick word with Mark “Jesus” Williams, who spiralled into coke hell himself not that long ago and so is bound to have some sage advice. Like “Why not wear trousers more suitable for the 21st century?”

Goth Sister Freda this week recreated a memorable scene from Carry On Doctor/Nurse/Whatever (I’m not actually a fan of the Carry On movies, what with being over 11 and that) by leaving a nasty racist patient with a sunflower sticking out of his back passage rather than the rectal thermometer he was expecting. I just hope they rinsed it before they put it back in the vase.

And Young Dr Oliver Valentine continued to try and guess, along with the audience, whether Irish Dr Greg is nice or nasty. I have no idea, myself, but reckon Connie is wise to keep him at arm’s length for now.

Posted by PLA (who likes Holby so much she blogs about it A Lot)

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