Monthly Archives: April 2009

Season Three, Episode Twelve – ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’

I wrote down ‘omelette’ on my notes, and I’m only including this because I don’t like going straight into a review. I prefer to let the first paragraph breathe without the confines of having to talk about the show, or me trying to compare one of them to a historical period. I mean, you could just about stretch to saying that Carrie is like Stalin – both curly haired, bushy moustached and nauseating, but that’d be ridiculous. Plus Stalin looked amazing in fur.

Miranda doesn’t look amazing in anything unfortunately, especially during a speed dating session, as she was desperately searching for someone to take to Charlotte’s wedding. Imagine the disappointment at going to one of those speed dates, and you end up with her. Just the thought of her bores me. Sometimes I wonder whether my thoughts on Miranda and my constant slagging her off is like the kid at primary school calling a girl names when he really likes her, but then I remember that I’m straight. Also, that I dislike liars, which I was reminded of when Miranda pretended she was a stewardess to liven things up. At the risk of a High Fidelity ‘top five dream jobs’ occurring, I just want you all to know that being a stewardess is currently 346th in my ideal jobs list, one below ‘Iceman.’

Speaking of top fives, a bearded Scotsman in this episode made me think of my top five Scots. How could I pick a mere five from such a disgusting, illiterate race? Maybe Begbie in ‘Trainspotting’ at a push, but isn’t Robert Carlyle from Sheffield or some northern backwater like that? I’m joking of course, I’ve got nothing against Scotland – it’s the scousers I hate. Calm down. I mentioned the Scots guy anyway, because Samantha ended up gobbling up his haggis, and I don’t think there will be any other references to her in this episode.

Carrie is torn about telling Aidan all the stuff about her and Big. Some pathetic slag piped up with a comment that Men lie about this stuff all the time!” Well, it doesn’t make it right does it? If you can’t be with someone for a month without cheating on them, then you don’t deserve a minute of anyone’s time. “Honesty is overrated,” opined Carrie. Just when you think that the rampant egotist couldn’t come out with such a stupid statement, that happens. Oh, but there’s more – “in a relationship is honesty the best policy?” she said, almost pleading with herself that what she was doing was right.

No offence to anyone who is in a relationship that has had cheating involved, be it you’ve cheated on someone, or you’re still with someone who you know has strayed away in the past, but firstly – you’re all cunts. Secondly, arguably you’re not in a relationship at all really are you? I define a relationship as a connection between two people who only care for each other in a romantic way. What the people who stay together despite all the playing away, and all the dodgy dealings have, isn’t a relationship, it’s an utter sham.

Much like Charlotte’s upcoming wedding to whoever this person is. Can’t even remember his name, Earl? Trey? She despairs when she finds out that he’s terrible in bed, when she sleeps with him for the first time, the night before the wedding. Is it really the end of the world? It could be worse anyway – he could be scouse. Although she eventually married him despite a lot of doubt, the way this show is going she’ll probably end up with a small, Jewish bald cunt who takes his clothes off all the time – thus completely challenging her preconceptions of the perfect man. Nah, what am I talking about – that’d never happen.

Every single time Carrie saw Aidan in this episode without telling him about Big, I lost a little bit more faith in the human race. I’m hardly the most moral person in the world, I mean I’d rather be famous than righteous or holy any day, but I like to think I’m above all the lies and deceit. The trouble is, by having morals, and by always striving to do the right thing (despite the bitterness) it means that even if other people are idiots, or friends are difficult, that you can’t quite get the girl you want to be exclusive with you, you just have to suck it up and hope for a better future.

Eventually though, she did tell him and his gorgeous puppy dog face was a picture, as his features crumpled into a blur of disappointment and misery. Fair play to him though, despite a few tears and a long walk he didn’t take her back, instead informing Carrie that “he needed to be alone for a while.” It was quite a sad ending to be honest, and even the sight of Gay Stanford’s shining bald head failed to make me break into a smile. If you’ll all excuse me, I’ve got a fifty nine part documentary on The Holocaust to get through, and a mini pack of Rich Tea biscuits.


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Season Three, Episode Eleven – ‘Running With Scissors’

We start with Big and Carrie continuing their affair in a succession of grotty hotels. I’ve never felt entirely comfortable staying in hotels – I prefer home comforts, not the awkward sheets, the televisions with just ‘CNN’ and the prostitutes sidling around door to door selling their dirty goods. I’ve got respect for hotel workers though, the filth they must see on a daily basis.

Charles Dickens is referenced at the beginnings, with his infamous quote that “it was the best of times, it was the worst of times” being mentioned. My favourite Dickens novel is ‘A Christmas Carol’, and I do emphasise with Scrooge – but only in the Blackadder television spoof, where Scrooge gets progressively more depressed and horrible, from a nice start. I feel exactly the same whenever I watch an episode of this – initially I’m positive, thinking “it can’t be that bad today can it?” but no, it’s always terrible. Especially without Steve, god I miss his curly locks.

Carrie did confide in Miranda that she was having an affair, after telling Samantha in the previous episode. Seeing Miranda ask for a cigarette as she contemplated what she had just been told very nearly made me fucking sick. That fag wrapped pursed round her cold, emotionless lips was enough to make anyone want to die. Carrie in this episode was ridiculous, every other minute she was bleating on about how she’d messed up. Sure, sure – you did. Learn to live with it you daft slag.

Along the lines of living with something that eats you up like a particularly juicy cherry tomato, Samantha was forced to take an AIDS test after meeting the male her. Despite their attraction towards each other, he insisted on knowing that she was ‘clean’ before he could destroy her with his iceberg. And just like the titanic, Samantha felt very down when she had to go and take the test. I sometimes worry that I have AIDS – not through loads of promiscuous sex, but because of my raging heroin addiction.

Samantha’s addiction to sex became all too apparent as she was cross examined by a doctor before her test. All went well until she was asked how many sexual partners she had gone through in her very long life. The look on her face when she was counting was very similar to the look a fashion student gets when you ask them how they could possibly justify their course choice when they wear such ridiculous attire – the look of hurt, fury, and emotional damage. Samantha was found to be clean in the end, although perhaps she had a long hard look at herself in the mirror after that escapade.

The only thing Miranda looks at in this episode, is one of those talking sandwiches who give flyers out to advertise cafes. Reminds me of the truly shocking event that took place when I was in the boozer the other day watching the football. A chicken sandwich walked into the pub, and asked the barman if he could have some pork scratchings with the ale he had just ordered. “Sorry mate”, the barman said. “We don’t serve food.”

She does get turned on by the idea of fucking the guy in the sandwich suit though, even though she initially got angry at him telling her to “eat me” every time she walked past. Proof that she’s such a feminist when she complained about the choice of words he was using, only to then have dodgy thoughts about him. Seriously though, the kinky shit Miranda’s already experienced in this show – we’ve had very sloppy phone sex, faked orgasms, poorly orchestrated sex talk, and also the proof that she’s into masochistic behaviour – getting rid of such a great guy like Steve for gods sake! I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again – women are dirty.

Charlotte spends this episode with a new gay character called Anthony, who helps her organise her wedding. I’ve written down that he was an ‘angry’ gay, but I don’t know if that makes me sound homophobic – I’m not, I own George Michael’s greatest hits. And loads of gay porn. It’s tough to say who would win in a scrap between Gay Anthony, and our old favourite Gay Stanford – certainly not the fans, that’s for sure.

All goes tits up for Carrie in the end though, and not just when she’s being fucked by Big. “I’m in a weird place right now” she said. Surely that place is called ‘Your Own Personal Hell?” I’ve been through that place as well, although I often get it confused with Liverpool. I’m less likely to get my heart stolen in my own personal hell though. I also wrote down that Carrie was asked if she was a prostitute by a Japanese businessman as she was trying to look incognito in a hotel by wearing sunglasses INDOORS. I assume there was a reason I wrote that down, because there is no chance I did it just to insult Carrie anymore – it’s not my style at all. I should mention that Charlotte finds out about the affair and is upset, but she’s not the only one…

A gloomy ending then as Big’s wife catches Carrie in her pink bra, in Big’s apartment, in the navy, in utero, in the summertime. Either way, she’s in-too deep. Though not as deep as his wife ‘Natasha’ who falls down some stairs chasing Carrie, losing a tooth in the process, and ending up looking like an American, female Shane MacGowan. No ‘Fairytale of New York’ for anybody though, more ‘The Wizard Of Oz’, with me playing Dorothy, Miranda being the wicked witch of the West, Big playing the cowardly lion, and everyone else as the munchkins because I can’t remember who else is in it. Actually, Carrie could play the scarecrow – they certainly share very similar physical features, and she does sing this song very well indeed. Seems very apt.


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Season Three, Episode Ten – ‘All Or Nothing’

Cheaters never prosper. Never forget that.

This whole episode seems to hinge on a quote from someone that “no-one should come to New York unless they’re very happy.” So what? Jade Goody once called an Indian film actress ‘Shilpa Poppadom’, and look where it got her. Actually, I’ve not heard anything for a while – anyone know? Panto or something? “It’s behind you!!!” Not the cancer alas. My actual point though, is that whilst it’s easy to use a quotation as the basis for living your life, when it’s plainly untrue then you shouldn’t. I say this, because one of the dumb idiots says “We have it all!” whilst clinking glasses, when it is so apparent that they are all depressed in many ways. In fact, and this is genuine – this is legit the most downbeat episode of Sex And The City I’ve seen so far, although Miranda in the gynaecologists chair pushed it close.

I’ll start with Samantha for once, as that storyline made me the most depressed. After boasting of not needing anyone, she realises the desperate lonely position she is in, when she is bedridden with the flu, and has no lovely partner to come round and make her feel better. I’ve never had the flu, but last winter I legit couldn’t speak for a week due to a horrible cold – someone was kind enough to send me loads of Lemsip sachets and cough sweets – it’s things like that which make you realise how much of an idiot you’ve been sometimes.

Speaking personally, I suppose that’s all I’ve ever wanted really – someone who’ll put up with my annoying quirks, laugh at my terrible puns, and look after me when I think I’m much more ill than I think I am. Where did it all go wrong? For me and Samantha. At least I’ve got youth on my side – for someone like her to be of a mature age and still not getting the fact that acting like a harlot is very unlikely to get you far in life is worrying.

Also concerning is Miranda having phone sex with a man called George. I can’t seem to type a new name these days without intensely thinking about my top 5 things to go with it, so without further ado – top 5 George’s – George Best, King George V, the entire country of Georgia, Gay George from Rainbow, and shooting right in at #1 is Barry Bulsara, aka ‘Barry George’, who definitely did not kill Jill Dando. Speaking of which, what does this ‘Swine Flu’, and a 9mm bullet share in common? The fact that Jill Dando can’t stop either of them.

The phone sex though, I’ve not seen so much slimy writhing since E.T took a bath in the popular science fiction film of the same name. Seriously, it’s been a grim episode – Carrie chasing a dog in the rain whilst wearing heels, Miranda writhing about masturbating, Samantha’s puffy nose – and Charlotte selling herself out by writing a pre nuptial agreement with her husband to be. Can’t understand why she’d have such a problem though – if you’d known someone for a month and were getting married (not for love, but because you felt like it was the right time) you’d take every legal opportunity you could to come out with it smelling of roses surely? Otherwise you’d end up with the cream in Miranda’s knickers after the phone sex – which she can’t even do properly, as this ‘George’ ended up having loads of girls on the go.

I’ve saved Carrie till last, because it’s all so predictable and sickening. She jumps straight back into bed with Big. Honestly, she’s as open as The Golden Gate Bridge, and she has me desperately hoping she’ll follow the mugs in this video and just end it all. I suppose if you can live with being a cheater, a liar and a scam you’ll get through life merely hating yourself to the core, rather than feeling guilt, so there is that to consider as well.

What really got me though, was the fact she said ‘I love you’ to Aidan after he said it to her, and after she had enjoyed her session with the Big man. I know it’s three words easily said, but how can anyone morally justify it to themselves to say it to someone you’ve cheated on twice?! The arrogance, pigheadedness and sheer emptiness of a human brain to do something like is staggering. Who knew women could be so manipulative and false? Oh wait, everyone.

Still though, as Samantha remarked before she turned back into the slag we all hate to watch, “If you don’t have a guy who cares about you, it don’t mean shit”, which is perhaps one quote we can all agree on. Well that and what’s got more brains than Jill Dando – her doorstep! Who cares if the jokes are ten years old, they’re still fresh! Right? Right? Hey, come back here…

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Season Three, Episode Nine – ‘Easy Come, Easy Go’

My handwriting is getting progressively more shocking, so if I say anything stupid/sexist/homophobic/ageist/racist/controversial here I’m gonna blame it on not being able to read my silky writing properly. Apparently my handwriting slants to the left, which means I’m cold, indifferent and insane. But then I’m not one of those idiots who diagnose themselves on the internet – oh, you’re bipolar because sometimes you feel upset? Or are you just a whiny attention seeking cunt?

Let’s start with Miranda then if we’re on about whiny cunts. Her and Steve are politely trying to get over the fact they have split up, even though Steve is still staying round hers whilst he looks for a place to live. Miranda still feels emotional over the break up, rationalising that women think more with the left side of their brain, inferring that they’re more emotional than men, and think more emotionally. Brilliant, as if I didn’t have enough meaningless psychological knowledge, there was some more for me to enjoy. Miranda also asked whether it’s smarter for one to use their heart or your head in a romantic situation. Heart, always. In five years time, all your head will be doing if you used that would be telling you how you should have gone for it, where, if you used your heart, at worst you’ll have a little heartbreak that’d be fun to get over.

Carrie is having Big problems again, namely that she keeps bumping into him. Carrie and Aidan meet the Big man and his missus, in a meeting eerily reminiscent of the classic Hulk Hogan vs The Ultimate Warrior bout at Wrestlemania 6 – the irresistible force, meeting the immovable object. No leg drops here though unfortunately, although we did almost find out Big’s real name before Carrie accidently spilt coffee down his trousers. I’d say you can’t make this turgid rubbish up, but some bald cunt wrote this episode and actually thought it was good. Either way, if his real name isn’t Hank or Sebastian, this has all been a massive waste of my time.

The trouble with Carrie though, is that she can’t stop thinking about Big. Interesting isn’t it, the games ex’s play. You spend so much time with someone, all those days of lovely talking, of a smooth ocean, until it can literally all disappear within the space of a week. Then the games begin – who will contact who, and when, and how – it’s all rather pathetic isn’t it, but depressingly easy to fall into such a trap.

I think I’ve written down ‘women are obnoxious’, but that could quite easily be part of my Latin classes. I was probably referring to Miranda being gutted when she found out that Steve had found another girl so soon. She made her bed, and she needs to lie in it. Alone. Sexless. Wearing flannel chequered pyjamas. Miranda wonders if she’s ‘tragic’ because she’s a successful career woman, and thirty-four and single. She’s half wrong. She’s not tragic for those things – no-one should feel embarrassed at making a success of their lives, though nor should they needlessly boast about it. No, Miranda is tragic because she ticks too many bad female stereotypes. Obnoxious? Sure. Sour? Sure. Laugh less eyes? Sure. Dungarees? Sure. I suppose that’s what you get when you get a lesbian to play a ginger. Terror.

Aidan offers to ‘strip Carries’ floors’, and I’m unsure whether that’s a euphemism or not. Samantha’s actions in this episode leave no room for a double entendres though, as she’s with someone who has ‘funky tasting spunk’, almost asparagus like. I was going to make a David Seaman gag here, cos ‘Seaman’ sounds like ‘semen’ but all I can think about is an amusing paragraph about David Seaman I read in a very entertaining sports related blog written by a modern day philosopher. I think it’s available by clicking here. The only clicks in Charlotte’s life though, was the click of a ring box being opened as she became engaged to a man who lets women dictate to him what to do with his life. I can’t believe I watch this mess sometimes, I really can’t.

Nor could I really take, or understand Carrie jumping into bed with the Big man during a chance meeting at a hotel. Real mature, really morally right for Carrie to do that wasn’t it. I’ve written before on here about how bad a role model she is for women, and this is no different. Yes, everyone makes mistakes, but how is constantly making them and then blaming them on other unmitigated factors going to help anyone? I know it’s only a show, and I know in the show they used to be together, but he’s married for gods sake! I’m no idiot liberal, but some things just aren’t right you know? At least wait until he’s out of the relationship – because if you don’t you’re as bad as him!

How can you be with someone who cheats, and who is cheating on someone with you? If they do it once, they will do it again, and again and again, and really – the character of Carrie is certainly old enough, and ugly enough to know better. If she can’t control what’s occuring between her legs, then perhaps she (and women like this) need to start doing something other than having sex and then discussing it. Sex and the City, more like fucking awful. Dreadful. I’m with Stone Cold Steve Austin – don’t trust anyone.


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Season Three, Episode Eight – ‘The Big Time’

In my alone time, which is becoming less frequent due to me being such a great guy I sometimes think about whether I’d like to be a ‘Big’ or an Aidan. Ideally you’d like to combine the two – Aidan’s affability and luxurious mane, and Big’s fantastic suits. What has this got to do with this review? Wait and see…

One thing to consider strongly though, is that Carrie actually has a perm in this episode, and I’m pretty sure she’s too stupid to be ironic. Although, saying that – idiots who wear stuff to be ironic are usually idiots. “Oooh, look at me wearing this bright t-shirt! Only idiots wear bright t-shirts! But I’m wearing one because it completely goes against my dour personality! DYSWIDT?” Only one word for them – idiots. Terrible fashion in general in this episode – one man has a ponytail for gods sake. I’ve only met one geezer with a ponytail that I’ve ever liked, and that was my old Philosophy teacher at college. Didn’t stop me from getting a U in my exam though. Who knew that talking about the film Miracle on 34th Street guaranteed you a fail?

‘The Menopause,’ two words that will send any woman shivering into the abyss. Samantha is panicking that she might be entering the stages, whilst Miranda is looking forward to it. Who knew that the miserable twat would be eagerly awaiting the opportunity to be morose and miserable with good reason? It’ll come as no surprise that she’s as moribund and angry as it comes when Steve tells her that he’d quite fancy having a child with her over some noodles. Nice to see some give and talk in the relationship eh.

Steve though, he’s a great guy – still. Honestly can’t see anything wrong with him. He actually watched an episode of Scooby Doo during this show. Seriously, what a guy – what a laugh. Great fucking guy – those tight knit curls, beautiful. “Let’s hope the baby inherits my positive attitude,” remarked Steve, and I have to agree – as long as the baby gets that, and his hair colour it might have a fighting chance at a decent life. Surprised me that Miranda didn’t want a baby – don’t all women have the names and room colour schemes wrapped up by the time they’re ten? Certainly Noah and Amelia have been in my mind for at least six months…

Carrie meets Big on a boat, and I can only assume that the reason she didn’t throw herself off like the worthless piece of rubbish she is was purely to torture me some more. The only good thing about this segment was the reference to the classic television show ‘Loveboat’ which is definitely in my top 45 television theme tunes – the top three of course, containing the themes from ‘Neighbours,’ ‘Only Fools and Horses,’ and ‘Happy Days.’ Still though, the chance meeting confused Carrie who had a little worry over whether she still had a Big piece of Big in her Big gloomy heart. Big. Big. Big. Big. Big. Oh, my top one Big’s? Oh, just Notorious….

“Men are like cars,” some slag said at one point. “When they’re available, their lights go on.” I agree – to the same extent women are like buses. Shit, slow and unreliable. I’ve got a horrible feeling that I’ve already used a bus analogy in one of my previous reviews, but the day I stop making crap metaphors is the day I die. Samantha like a seal for example? I won’t explain that one. Think about it. She does reveal her real age to the girlies here, but for the discerning television audience it remains one of the greatest mysteries of our time – the Janitor’s real name in Scrubs, what’s in the briefcase in Pulp Fiction, and how that odious sweaty cunt Edith Bowman keeps getting work.

Samantha does sleep with someone here, although she “slept with him to shut up him.” Isn’t that a really depressing thing to say? No surprise that women have such low self esteem when they do things like that? Not as depressing as the sight of Samantha’s crimson river flowing through the crisp white sheets of the bed, reassuring her that old age is still a time away. Nor as depressing as Charlotte getting involved with someone really boring who just kept talking and talking and talking. Such a smooth operator that he told Charlotte that he loved her, which to a squealing cunt like her is music to her elf ears. Not quite Nat King Cole, more Anal Cunt…

Steve bought a dog as ‘practise’ for the baby, which was an incredibly sweet thing to do, but Miranda’s stupid fucking brain couldn’t couldn’t compute the idea of someone being nice to her, so she ended the relationship – citing Steve as the problem. How can perfection be a problem? Miranda is such a corporate suit – I’d love to destroy her like that cunt from Juno does to the paedo in ‘Hard Candy.’ Hopefully this doesn’t mean the end of Stunning Steve.

Not a very happy ending for Carrie either – as Big turns up at her flat literally seconds after Aidan told her that “you make me very happy,” so not the best timing. I felt for Big, I really did, but is missing someone really enough? Is it better to never tell someone you still like them, or is it best to just say ‘fuck it,’ and just do it? Can you turn up at a doorstep miles away with a crumpled bouquet of Sunflowers and a thousand explanations for why you were such a dick and why you never made the effort? Gloomy people in love make me sad, which is why I’m glad that things seem to have sorted themselves out for me at the moment.

To cheer myself up (and you for having to read this shit,) how about a video of a dog with a balloon?


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Season Three, Episode Seven – ‘Drama Queens’

Consider this statement, made by Carrie about five minutes into this episode: “For the first time in my life I was in a relationship where nothing was wrong.” Contemplate the feelings you’d get from that, had it been you who had said that, and you who had realised that. Elation perhaps? Certainly a feeling of happiness, a feeling of content – a lovely, glowing feeling that would be hard to get rid of. Everyone would feel like that right? Yeah, sure – everyone but Carrie.

Try as I might to like her in any way at all, when she still needlessly moans about being with someone with no problems, you have to wonder about the sanity of such a person – and perhaps the sanity of women in general. I set out to watch all these episodes to understand women, to really try and get to know the fairer sex better, but I’m getting a horribly uneasy feeling for such a devout feminst. Is there actually anything to understand, or are women as vacuous and selfish as they come across? To make matters worse, she was wearing a pair of dungarees.

Miranda and Steve though, great couple, great relationship. They enjoy all the finer things in life – lasagne, ice cream, eight minutes of quality love making, and do it all with a smile on their faces. Well, Steve smiles a lot. Miranda tends to grimace, but I’m gonna give her the benefit of the Botox doubt. I’m sure there is a human in there somewhere. Their relationship is so strong that it survives Miranda doing Steve’s washing, and seeing some very unfortunate things – she realises that the feeling of contentment that she gets with Steve is worth all the spunk in the world.

Samantha is experiencing the feeling of too much spunk as well (add spunk to my list of least favourite words,) by enjoying a highly charged sexual relationship with someone who takes Viagra – but not to boost their flagging libido, but because they like the feeling it gives them inside – one that’s apparently akin to taking speed. Not being one to not do something, Samantha joins in taking these pills, and ends up getting addicted to them. Or, wait for it – aDICKted. It’s been a long day, fuck off.

Charlotte spends this episode trying to get married, which I’m only talking about but I’ve got very little to say. All style, no substance that’s me. One interesting thing she does say though, is that she had created “all that drama in my head for nothing,” which is something that we are all guilty of at points, but women especially. A friendly bit of advice for you all from someone who sees through your insecurities – CALM DOWN. The whole world isn’t against you, a missed text isn’t the end of the world, his cock rubbing up against another girls gusset….

Seeing Big whilst going to the opera with Charlotte made Carrie realise that she wanted to be with Aidan, because whilst he couldn’t give her the fluttering butterflies that fancying a true anti-hero would give you, he gave her different types of feelings because he was so bloody nice. What a prick she is.. Consider some more statements: “You always say the right things!” or “Now I know I wanna be with the man who wants to be with me.” I mean come on – it took her thirty seven episodes, or about fifty years in Kim Cattral years to realise that? And people are confused when women tell them that they’re the ones who are strong emotionally. All wrong.

Carrie actually says the words “I played this all wrong,” which to me suggests not only immaturity, but also arrogance as well. The thought that you can ‘play’ a relationship, or anything apart from Football Manager is a dark, macabre thought. How dare anyone, let alone a curly haired cunt attempt to control anything so pure, and so lovely? And yeah, whilst I felt a little tingle of nostalgia and sadness when she said “the idea of losing Aidan had me short for breath,” because yeah sure when you lose that feeling of contentment you have with someone it feels absolutely terrible, and makes you realise that you should appreciate the nice things in life because one day they won’t be around, but that doesn’t mean that I can excuse Carrie for displaying every female stereotype there is.

I feel like Princess Diana when Charles repeatedly slapped her around the face with a Bunsen burner. Hurt, yet also strangely damp…


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Season Three, Episode Six – ‘Are We Sluts?’

Today, we’re talking about sluts, and for once I guess, the title speaks for itself. All four ‘women’ are having doubts over their sex lives, for a multitude of different reasons.

Carrie is perplexed because Aidan didn’t want to plough her immediately following a third date. Like Bob Dylan once sang, it’s just like a woman to get angry and annoyed when someone has a bit of respect and doesn’t want to enter the chocolate factory without washing their hands first. It dawns on her that not having sex with someone after being with them for a mere eleven days shouldn’t be something weird, it should be normal. Subsequently, she wonders if romance is dead. I like to think of myself as the last of the true romantics – I like flowers, love, and being nice. I don’t like tomatoes.

Talking of sour red things that go off if you leave them in the sun for too long, Miranda has some shocking news when she discovers that has has Chlamydia. Because of this, she faces the harrowing ordeal of ringing up all her past conquests to discover which of them gave it to her. I dread to think just why so many men had put their lead pipe battered by her stuttering exhausts, but then there is a certain appeal for battered old vehicles – and I bet she’s a right goer. God bless Steve though, he can make a sexually transmitted disease seem like a fine idea – his wincing when a swab was taken from the inside of his chariot was my highlight of the episode. It turns out that the angry New Yorker from a few episodes back was the carrier, although that’s not very interesting is it?

Neither really were Charlotte and Samantha’s sub-plots. Charlotte gets with a fine lover, only as soon he has almost finished his business, he shouted out “You fucking bitch! You fucking whore.” Not really the most romantic words in the world all told. I’m going to blame his erratic behaviour on violent video games, and hip-hop because that seems like the most rational thing to do. Less time shooting pedestrians and raping lesbians on Grand Theft Auto, and listening to the ‘Wu Tang Clan,’ and he might just have a chance to control his anger.

Samantha’s problems were a little more her own fault. After accidently buzzing in a thief into her apartment, her name is blackballed around her swanky block of flats – and not the black lads balls from the previous episode. There are only so many times you can be called a slag I suppose, and tired of the disapproving looks from her snooty cohabitants, she moved into a more sexually liberating neighbourhood. You know what they say, if you can’t beat them, fuck them. Fuck them hard.

Carrie and Aidan were entering a new period in their relationship – he was getting more romantic, as she was pondering why he hadn’t fucked her yet. He made her grotty bedroom look like a proper gangsters paradise, complete with candles, and a freshly drawn bath. It was a bubbling hub of romance. Still though, looking at Carrie in the bath reminded me of a Guinea Pig with shampoo injected into their eyes as a result of a bizarre testing process. Sure, perhaps they were once cute and loveable, but now they’re just a shrivelled, sexless husk of an animal. Also, ugly.

“I’m a big dirty diseased whore,” implored Miranda to Steve as she told him about how many men she had let drink at her water fountain during her time as a sexually active woman. The answer was forty-two, which would have made Dante Hicks in Clerks self-destruct, as his reaction when his girlfriend told him that she’d sucked thirty seven men off almost drove him over the edge. Is forty two a big number? I suppose it depends on the person as harsh as it is to say. A good looking, non neurotic person, yeah I could understand that, but is there really that many desperate men in the world who would stoop so low? Sadly, there probably is.

We ended as we started, with Carrie and Aidan sharing a kiss, but this time he decided he was ready to plough her. Surprisingly for Carrie, a veteran in the sexual playground, she felt suddenly nervous – as she wasn’t just jumping into bed with the first piece of meat who had taken an interest in her. I can relate to her nervousness though. Last night, I went to what can only be described as a dungeon somewhere in central London. I’ll leave you with the notes I typed away on my phone, as I tried to ignore the horror that surrounded me:

“Trapped in a goth club – massages on tap and trannies on acid. Crocodile Dundee lookalike. Like Barack once said, put lipstick on a pig and it’s still a pig. Communicating using hands only. Does awkward dancing beat people who only dance with envious eyes? Being miserable makes me sound pretentious.’

I’m not pretentious by the way, but as Aristotle once said “I get knocked down, but I get up again, you’re never gonna keep me down..”

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