Monthly Archives: May 2009

Season Four, Episode Six – ‘Baby, Talk Is Cheap’

It must be odd being like Carrie Bradshaw. At first you think that those sorts of people have everything- the glamorous lifestyle, the dream job and the group of lovely friends, but then you realise what they don’t have. Class, grace, decorum and an unselfish mind. I’d genuinely hate if I ever turned into a Carrie Bradshaw, as it would have meant that I had sold out everything that I once held dear to me.

I say this, because Carrie spent a lot of time in this episode wondering why she kept thinking about Aidan, and why she kept ringing him up and hanging up because she got scared. How incredibly selfish is that? I honestly can’t understand the thought process of someone who cheats on someone, and then whinges and pines for them to come back into their lives. All just seems a bit fake and pathetic doesn’t it?

But not as pathetic as the fake nipples that Samantha was sporting here. Even Miranda tried them on, and as you might have expected, it was disgusting. It was like a rat burying his little furry head through a crack in the sewers – you think it’s cute, but then you realise it’s a dirty little vermin creature that really should be put down. Samantha ended up with a guy who used baby talk in the bedroom, which is a crime one below ‘barking’, and just above ‘dirty talking in a northern accent’ on the filth scale.

Charlotte and Trey spent a lot of time in this episode discussing children, and their plans for the future. Trey’s not actually that bad a guy is he? Sure he’s impotent, and has an annoying haircut, but those are personality flaws I can look beyond. The dreams of having a baby dimmed somewhat though, when one of Charlotte’s married and mothered pals came round with her husband and her kids, and it became apparent that they all hated each other. It’s sad to see when families’ disintegrate, but then I just remember that it’s not really any of my business or concern.

Carrie was still trying to get Aidan back, and so sent him a ‘witty, yet sexy’ email. Emails are so passé, real romantics bombard their exes with letters, texts and desperation until it all gets too much to take. “In love, do actions speak louder than words?” asked Carrie. As a writer, a scholar and a poet I would hope that words still mean something in the grand scheme of things, but I feel that there are also times for spontaneous romantic events, be that a lovely meal, or settling for a handjob.

Miranda was settling for something a little ruder, as she hooked up with a man who enjoyed running marathons, and who also enjoyed sticking his tongue up her arse. A group discussion between the girls revealed that only Charlotte really enjoyed it – and she even liked doing it to Trey. Always knew she was a dirtbag, and I absolutely love it.

What I didn’t love was Miranda and Carrie going out with Steve and Aidan. What was the point? How could Carrie keep pursuing someone who cheated on him? And how could Aidan forgive someone who did that to him? Again, what’s the fucking point? It’ll just happen again, and again, and again. People don’t change; they just get better at masking their ugliness.

I just can’t deal with the idiotic scriptwriters of this programme and their doomed attempt at making things romantic and touching. Carrie throwing stones at Aidan’s window in an attempt to get him back probably would have been a sweet moment in a John Hughes film, but ‘Pretty In Pink’ this certainly isn’t. Women should just come to terms with the fact that they just can’t be nice. It’s not in their genetics. Being mean? Sure. Being selfish? Definitely. Ignorance, pettiness and the ability to crush a man just when he’s at his worse? Well that goes without saying doesn’t it.

And the cunt took her back. He actually took her back. Forget all the complimentary things I said about Aidan, I was clearly mistaken. “All my bad habits are now gone” Carrie told him, as she informed him that she dreamt of his arms being around her all the time. And even though Aidan, the daft fucking cunt told her that she had ‘broken my heart’ he STILL took her back. Why? Why would someone do that? How could anyone be so desperate?

You just can’t love someone who cheated on you. Call me an idiot, say I don’t know how it feels – but in a weird way I’ve got less respect for the people who take cheaters back, rather than the actual cheaters. Don’t get me wrong, they’re both cunts, but different sorts of cunts. Sometimes I really do feel that I’m all alone in a world full of batties.


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Season Four, Episode Five – ‘Ghost Town’

I’ve only really gotten into the band ‘The Specials‘ over the last year or so, and it’s eerie how so many of their songs seem relevant in today’s recession and racism hit world. ‘Too Much Too Young’, the bands first number one single was a two minute shank about teenage mothers who were ‘married with a kid when they should be having fun’, whilst ‘Ghost Town’, perhaps the bands definitive song was a mediation on the state of the nation in the late seventies and early eighties – a time of economic collapse, of millions unemployed and the idea that ‘bands won’t play no more, too much fighting on the dance floor.’ Sound familiar? Sure it does, and wholly irrelevant to this episode, bar of course the title. Still though, it’s good to get educated.

And it was great to see Steve again who made another reappearance into the Sex And The City world, when he announced to Miranda that he was opening the bar she had always told him to open. Not only that, but he was opening it with someone else…. Aidan! Another lovely moment, someone suggested to me that they should make a spin-off of Aidan and Steve just walking around walking their dogs, sipping cappuccinos, maybe looking at art – it’d be a great idea. Of course, the reintroduction of Aidan caught Carrie cold, and she was concerned.

Speaking of bars, and alcohol – allow me to off on a little tangent. I watched a programme on binge drinking last night, and it genuinely disgusted me. I mean, go out to any high street at night and you see the same thing – sluts wandering around the pubs of my once great nation, in tutus and chicken-fillet filled tops, waggling their orange arses and bending over at the bar to try and get a free shot of Sambuca.

And then you get the geezers, in too-tight t-shirts, slightly baggy blue jeans and a pair of black shoes that they also wear for funerals, job interviews, and when their grandparents come and visit. They ogle the slags – who are too drunk to say no, and thus a vicious circle emerges. Thing is, who can you blame for all of this? As much as it disgusts me, I can’t have a go at people who go out drinking to forget their awful lives – because what else is there to do? ‘Too Much Too Young’ indeed.

Charlotte and Trey spent a lot of time deciding which bed to get for their apartment, whilst being constantly harassed by Trey’s pushy mother. It can’t be just me who has planned their dream home? I see it as ‘sports casual’ – classic wooden floors, a fish tank, a husky puppy, a ludicrously big television set, framed football shirts festooning the walls, interspersed with tasteful ‘classic’ art. It’s a look that says ‘I’m in control of my house’. Charlotte finally managed to get control of her life with Trey, finally getting rid of the overbearing mother, after the mum caught her and Trey having sex. Good move.

Another good move was Samantha and her Portugeezer splitting up, after Samantha realised that she missed cock a little bit too much. This was despite a strap-on session which amounted to little but back pain. Miranda was worried that she had a ghost in her apartment, and given how barren her sex life was going, the idea that a ghostly apparition coming out between her legs wasn’t the strangest one I’ve ever heard.

Carrie was afraid that she maybe wasn’t over Aidan, and that the horrible way she had treated him would haunt her for the rest of her life. Perhaps the grotty bitch has a conscience after all. Miranda clearly doesn’t though, as she repeated time and time again that she wasn’t interested in Steve any more, and fooled absolutely no-one with her protestations. Honestly, who wouldn’t have feelings for Steve? People afraid of perfection clearly.

As the girls entered the opening of Steve and Aidan’s bar (which was named ‘Scout’ after Steve’s loveable dog) they were worried about bumping into their actions. Carrie was put out as after spotting Aidan across the bar, all she got was a simple nod and a smile. It was as anti-climatic as a cuddle with a gay man – you think it’s going to be memorable because you imagine that they can press all the right buttons, but alas – just like everyone else the just want to get into your trousers. It’s a hard life sometimes, it really is.

We ended with Carrie and Aidan sharing a conversation on the cold New York streets. Aidan looked spectacular with his long tresses cut into a smart new look, whereas Carrie looked like the eternal dogs dinner she always does. Actually, I wouldn’t feed Carrie to my dog for fear of it choking on the shame and the disgust of eating such a grotesque creature. And I don’t even have a dog. But you know what they say, every dog has its day, but not for Carrie – as the spark was definitely gone from Aidan’s eyes, and as she walked the streets alone, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pity in my heart…. Yeah right, I was laughing all the way to the wank bank.

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Season Four, Episode Four – ‘What’s Sex Got To Do With It?’

Like the medley at the end of ‘Abbey Road’ or the jokes that roll by a few hours after something terrible has happened (natural disasters, terrorism, Jordan and Peter Andre splitting up) sometimes the best things come towards the end of a situation, but I really can’t see anything in this show being remotely surprising or pleasurable at any time. This is an especially salient point now that my initial reason for maintaining this blog has evaporated into the cold skies above. No longer is this an attempt to rekindle a dying flame, but instead ‘martinthecity’ will hopefully become a manifesto in how to live life properly, as opposed to being a snivelling wreck who sighs with disappointment every time they realise what they don’t have. Perhaps I never wanted it in the first place after all. It’s just boring innit?

Why are people so boring anyway? Especially music fans – the way they press a clammy CD into your hands, eager eyes expecting you to proclaim it as the second coming of Jesus. No thank you friends – music is just like any other form of entertainment – films, books, pornography, something that is to be enjoyed, and not over analysed too much. I say this, because Carrie is still with the jazz man, and jazz has to be one of the most excruciating genres of music ever. Carrie was struggling with the idea of sex and relationships here, pondering whether having great sex was more important than a great relationship. Considering she writes a sex column, I hope she knows which side her bread was buttered.

Miranda was enjoying butter in this episode, or more specifically buttered treats as she was substituting men and sex for cakes and pastries. She had given herself a ‘sex strike’ which to me is like a one handed man banning themselves from clapping – it’s not going to make an awful lot of difference is it? Things got so bad for Miranda that she ate a piece of cake out of her bin that she had thrown in there after realising she was relying too much on the bakery goods. It was a deplorable and disgusting act, but considering it’s Miranda, I can’t really be too surprised can I?

Samantha was continuing her descent into the murky world of lesbianism with her Portuguese lover. I hate Portugal purely because it’s one of the few words I can’t spell without resorting to a dictionary first. I also hate the Portuguese for the sheer horror of having to watch Samantha and the ‘other one’ sharing strawberries over kisses. I can understand that in another situation, with other people that it would be rather romantic, but honestly it was like seeing mums try and dirty dance on the dance floor of a shit chain nightclub to ‘Livin’ On A Prayer’.

As it is, Samantha turned out to be a bit rubbish at the whole ‘pleasing a lesbian’ situation, and so she was gently taught how to please a woman by the Portugeezer, like a Yorkshire mother teaching their daughter how to suck cock for the first time. I was sent a text yesterday by an old friend saying that they had a dream about me where I had an affair with their mum. I can only implore that I would never do such a thing – my heart is with the Lord, and Lord Voldemort only. You know when you think you’ve made one joke too many? Yeah, me too.

“What came first”, Carrie thought, “the chicken or the sex?” Just when you think someone can’t display any more idiocy than they had already exhibited, someone asks a question like that. If we take it literally, of course the sex came first – because how else are the fucking chicken going to be born? And if we delve deeper, go into the metaphorical, explore beyond the realms of human nature and thought, then we can still answer it. The answer of course being, whatever you want it to be. That’s the beauty of life my friends – open questions, and cornflakes.

Carrie soon realises that whilst mind blowing orgasms and jazz LP’s might be a good thing, not being able to connect with someone is a bit of a waste of time. She finds out that the Jazz man has ‘ADD’, and so, being a typical woman with no nurturing or caring ability at all, she decides to get rid of him – but only after one last sensational sex session. Says it all about her and women in general doesn’t it? Always getting their own way in the end, with a little bit extra. I felt like Samantha did when her lesbian lover ejaculated right into her eye – a touch shocked, incredibly aroused, and rubbing my eye like it was nobodies business.

As Eminem sang in the chilling and powerful anthem ‘Without Me’, ‘Fuck that, cum on your lips, and some on your tits.’ Who could argue with such craftsmanship? Not I my friends, not I.

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Season Four, Episode Three – ‘Defining Moments’

Carrie started this episode being pals with Big, and wondering ‘what really defines a relationship.’ Someone as loveless as Carrie would no doubt see a relationship as some kind of ‘status’, but the true romantics in life – mostly me, view a relationship as something organic and beautiful. Close your eyes and think of the nicest thing you can imagine. If that thought involves being with someone you really really really really like, then that defines a relationship. When you lose all your inhibitions with somebody – that’s a relationship. When the world seems to stop turning when you’re with someone, and everything else seems irrelevant and not important – that’s a relationship, not the bullshit idea of money and ‘something to do’ that most idiots seem to believe in.

Speaking of idiots, Miranda ‘hooked up’ with some idiot who drew cartoons for a living. This so called ‘cartoonist’ had a habit of going to the toilet whilst Miranda was brushing her teeth, which made her feel rather uncomfortable. To counter this, Miranda had a slash in front of him to try and change boundaries. Looking at Miranda sitting on the toilet, newspaper tossed aside, legs akimbo, reminded me of the opening half an hour of ‘Saving Private Ryan.’ Sure, I  appreciate that it looks realistic, and artistically speaking it was a breakthrough and a triumph, but there is only so much horror one can take – and whether that’s hundreds of ‘soldiers’ dying in a Hollywood studio, or a thirty five year old ginger lawyer taking a piss, enough really is enough sometimes.

Samantha met a lesbian who she was rather attracted to. I’ve not seen so much rug munching since my dog went mad over some gone off Pedigree Chum, and promptly proceeded to rip up my bespoke vintage carpet with its razor sharp teeth in a complete frenzy. I’ve stuck to hardwood floors ever since, and of course the dog was put down. Alas, the real dog – Samantha failed to be extinguished, and she even tried lecturing Big on relationships – warning him to stay away from Carrie.

No offence to anyone, but Samantha trying to lecture Big on relationships and life would be the equivalent to Kate and Gerry McCann telling Ian Huntley not to kill children – a touch hypocritical when all of the people involved are guilty of the same thing, whether that’s being selfish lovers, or murdering innocent children. Allegedly.

Speaking of children, and childish things, Charlotte got a love bite from Trey. Never really understood the appeal of those. By all means have a little rough and tumble in the bedroom, have a bit of a bite if the mood takes you, but why would you want to end up looking like you’ve been attacked by a gang of particularly angry wasps? I wouldn’t know about wasps actually, I’ve never been bitten by anything – unless you count the infamous day where I was stung by Cupids arrow, which enabled me to give all my love into the world.

The film ‘Seven’ deals with the seven deadly sins as made famous in the little known philosophical book entitled ‘The Bible.’ I was flicking through my battered copy of that particular work of fiction the other day, and I began to make a connection between the aforementioned sins, and the four lead characters of Sex And The City. Each sin is represented by at least one, and usually two or three of the ladies in the show. Let’s go through them, and stick with me here.

Gluttony – Samantha’s insatiable appetite for all things sexual at the expense of emotions and feelings certainly falls under the idea of ‘an inordinate desire to consume more than that which one requires.’ Carrie’s smoking as well – not really relevant, but I will never be able to fully express eloquently how much I hate smoking.

Lust – Clearly all four of them suffer from this vice, and whilst I don’t really have a problem with the idea of lust, if the Bible said it, I must – and shall believe it.

Envy – Women in general are all jealous of each other, and these four are no different. From feeling jealous of another woman’s shoes, to shooting poisoned glances at a married couple and their charming son, each of the four shows classic signs of envy – and crucially they don’t acknowledge this, rather blaming the rest of the world for their own faults.

Anger – Who can forget when Carrie smacked Big in the face? Or when Miranda angrily slammed the phone down after phone sex? Or when Charlotte angrily hated HERSELF because of failed relationships? Or even Samantha’s complete self loathing of herself, which masquerades as confidence? Oh, all of you forgot…

Greed – Whether it be Miranda wanting the ‘perfect’ man without concentrating on her own imperfections, or Charlotte negotiating a new prenuptial agreement prior to her relationship with Trey, greed is a central feature of Sex And The City, and is one of the main reasons for all four women continually making stupid mistakes.

Sloth – Too much Chinese food, not enough yoga.

Pride -‘The excessive belief in ones own abilities’ – an attribute that could be certainly labelled at Carrie who prides herself as an expert on sex, relationships and love in general, despite being as good at those three things as Michael Barrymore was at having low key pool parties. Also, Carrie skimping about in little outfits when she has all the sex appeal of a grandmother in a used nappy.

Sex appeal was apparent at the end of the episode, where Carrie remarked that “I really like this guy” referencing a jazz musician whom she had flirted with in the episode. That’s the problem with life – as soon as one door closes, another opens – and the new one is playing jazz. Fucking jazz! Who even listens to jazz apart from geography students and indie kids who illegally downloaded ‘Kind Of Blue’ by Miles Davis one night and listened to thirty seconds of it before putting on La Roux or something shit like that.

What is the world coming to? Why can’t everyone be more like Gay Stanford?

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Season Four, Episode Two – ‘The Real Me’

If you were thirty-five years old, wouldn’t you spend your time doing something worthwhile, rather than going out to places full of people literally half your age in an attempt to be in with the ‘scene’? Not Carrie though, who spent the early part of this episode gallivanting around a club with Gay Stanford, who was wearing a pink checked blazer. You really can’t tell that some people are gay can you? The night out turned out to be a bit of a result for Carrie however, as she was offered an opportunity to model for a charming Asian lady who looked like Vera Wang. Whoever Vera Wang is – sounds like a dodgy sex fetish.

I thought Gay Stanford’s blazer was going to be the biggest fashion faux pas of the day, until Miranda was seen sporting a furry white turtle-neck sweater, which wouldn’t look out of place in the ‘Stay Another Day’ music video by East 17. We were also lucky enough to see Miranda sweating profusely in the gym again which almost made me throw up my peach and barley smoothie. Honestly, the sweat patches below her armpits looked like the inhabitants of Hiroshima and Nagasaki after the Atomic Bombs hit in 1945 – disgusting and desperate. Despite all this though, some mad bastard strode up to her in the gym, told her that she looked “very sexy” and arranged a date with her.

Miranda was worried about this, as she was wearing her gym clothes, had bashed up hair and was out of breath. I really don’t understand people you know. Someone as sexless and grotesque as her should be chomping at the bit at the mere sniff of someone being interested in her looking all natural, but no – her female tendencies came to the fore and caused her self doubt. ‘Doubt’ was also a word that was in Charlotte’s mind, as she was experiencing problems ‘downstairs’ which she was told was a yeast infection. Why someone would shove a bottle of beer up there I have no idea, Kinga in ‘Big Brother’ had the right idea when she put a wine bottle up there. More continental.

Samantha spent this episode getting naked pictures of herself taken to remind herself when she was older of how beautiful she once was. It’s a shame that she wasn’t a youngster during today’s digital age. With web cams, phone cameras, CCTV, paedophiles magnetic lenses she could have made a lot of money taking her clothes off instead of whoring herself out metaphorically in the world of public relations. Word of advice for any girls out there who want to be taken seriously – take all your clothes off and put the pictures on the internet. Seriously, guys love it and your self esteem will go off the scale. At least that’s what Tom from MySpace told me.

Alan Cumming made a cameo appearance as a fashion stylist helping Carrie pick an outfit for her modelling debut. He used the same accent as the one that he had in ‘Josie And The Pussycats’, which I feel is a very underrated film. It’s certainly in my top ten films with ‘pussy’ in the title. I’d tell you the others, but this is a family blog. Charlotte’s ‘pussy’ turned out not to be filled with yeast, but rather it was just ‘depressed’, and so she was asked to keep a ‘vagina journal’ to try and cheer ‘it’ up. One can only imagine the horror of a journal like that that had been filled in by Samantha. ‘Feel a bit loose today, but that’s what you get when you have sex with a different person every day from the age of twelve.” It’d be less a journal, more a novel to rival ‘War And Peace’ in terms of breadth and content. And less fulfilling I imagine, though certainly a touch damper.

Turned out to be a disaster for the majority of people in the episode. Miranda’s new guy ended up deserting her, as he realised she wasn’t the naturally pretty and lovely woman he had thought she was, but rather an over confident loud mouth whose opened legs start to smell a bit less tempting after a few glasses of Rosé. Nothing wrong with confidence in a lady, it isn’t a turn-off, but pretending to be someone you’re not certainly is. As a completely random photographer said during the episode, “the little flaws make people beautiful” and I’m inclined to agree. Though even I can’t overlook Miranda, I just can’t.

Even Gay Stanford ended up forlorn and miserable, as he was set up with Gay Anthony, the bitchy fashion guy who was seen in the last season choosing Charlotte’s wedding dress. To say the mincing involved between the two would rival my world famous Shepherd’s Pie recipe would be an understatement. As it turned out though, they didn’t like each other, with Gay Anthony thinking Gay Stanford too ugly. Late at night sometimes, I think about whether my prefixes of ‘gay’ at the beginning of their names is a little bit homophobic and rude, but then I open my eyes, look at my George Michael bedsheets and grin broadly. I sleep well after that. Why do all gays hate each other anyway? Live and let love guys! Right up your arses.

The episode ended with Carrie getting some advice from Heidi Klum before strutting her stuff on the run way. Isn’t it bizarre how Heidi Klum is going out with soul superstar Seal? I guess none of us are ever gonna survive without a little crazy. Crazy is what Carrie seemed anyway as she fell over whilst walking down the catwalk, though I think I’ll rename it the ‘horse faced fucking bitch’ walk as that would sum up how she looked, sprawled on the floor, tail literally between her legs. Despite her fall, she was cheered on by her pals as she got up and finished the walk. Why? Reminds me of those oh so proud parents who tell their child they’re going to be the next David Beckham when their boys team have just lost 9-0 to the year below – who had someone with no arms as a goalkeeper. That’s the problem with the world – everybody loves a loser. Which is why everyone hates me.

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Season Four, Episode One – ‘The Agony And The Ex-Tacy’

A new dawn, a new day, and a fourth season of Sex And The City for me to enjoy. Who said that all your chickens can’t hatch at once? I don’t actually know if that’s the right cliché, all I know is that chickens are probably my 46th favourite animal, one behind the Ox, and one in front of the woman.

Everyone looks a little bit older, a little furrier and a touch more tired. We’re straight in with all people moaning about being single. Some things never change do they? Like your racist grandfather who is still fighting the second world war in their dementia ridden brains, a woman moaning about being single will always happen. “Society views single people as sad and pathetic” someone remarked. Sure. Don’t really get the desperation with being single or in a relationship. If you’re that desperate it’s very easy to get SOMEONE to go out with you. For most people all it takes is a few kind words and a couple of Aftershocks. That theory does go against my own personal morals that relationships should mean something genuine rather than a time passing moment, but I wouldn’t be where I am today were I not a hypocrite. I’d be in Paris.

A lot of this episode centred on the idea of soul mates, and whether they truly exist. Surprise surprise, Carrie and the rest of the gang (minus Charlotte who was on my side) didn’t believe in them. Personally speaking, although it seems a bit off that some people never find happiness with a person, I’d hate to think that the special person for me wasn’t out there somewhere. What a depressing life it would be to live your life without believing in that. Reminds me of folk who don’t believe in perfection either – why bother living if you don’t think perfection can be achieved, what’s the point? “Are soul mates a reality, or a torture device?” asked Carrie. Neither – it’s like that scene from Donnie Darko when that mad teacher thinks that everyone is either to do with ‘fear’ or ‘love’. Ultimately meaningless.

Samantha tried to fuck a priest in this episode, but he wasn’t interested – which I can only assume was because she wasn’t under the age of ten, and male. Sometimes the old stereotypes are the best, and I don’t think anyone would disagree with me inferring that everybody associated with the Christian and Catholic churches are bent and paedophiles. That’s not to say I’ve got anything against religion – I’m very open minded, I just hate having my thigh squeezed when I’m trying to belt out ‘All Things Bright And Beautiful.’

To make up for her disappointment at the priest not sipping her holy water, Samantha spent a long afternoon touching herself up into a frenzy at the thought of him. Isn’t masturbating a cardinal sin anyway? Looking at that old sack of shit sweating in the bed, clammy hands going in and out certainly made me lose a lot of faith in the idea of God. The girls then discussed who they masturbated over when they felt a little saucy. Miranda admitted that she used to finger herself furiously over a bus boy who was rude to her once. If harshness gets her off, I must make her climax every night, such is my disdain and loathing of her.

A central theme here was the idea that people joke around to hide their true feelings, which Miranda did when trying to explain why she wasn’t seeing anybody. I’m a bit of a joker, though it’s mostly because I don’t have the effort to converse with idiots. By that I mean it’s very easy to roll out a few of the old classics, to save myself from having to listen to someone boring talking. Sure, I can kick back and discuss nuclear physics and Stephen Hawking’s football boots, but it is much more easier to entertain people with a bit of humour. Sometimes the old ones are the best.

Though certainly they’re not as old as Carrie, who celebrated her thirty-fifth birthday in this episode. After ringing Big and inviting him to her birthday gathering, she set off to the restaurant, and waited for everyone to come. Only they didn’t, She didn’t know, but a lot of traffic congestion had caused all her well wishers to miss her meal. Nothing worse than someone sitting on their own in a restaurant, especially someone like Carrie. I hate idiots who sit and sip wine, making crap small talk whilst looking around trying to be noticed. Idiots. After sitting alone for a while, Carrie realised that it “felt sad to not have a man in her life to make her feel good.” Sad. For the attention of all women who read this, and feel the same way – email me. I like cuddles, chick flicks and being romantic, you’ll definitely love me.

You’ll love me as Carrie loved Big, when he turned up outside her apartment surprising her with balloons, champagne and a limo. Classy. Yet I couldn’t help feel strangely sad as she squealed like a young girl getting a finger shoved up her gusset for the first time. Is that all it takes to make someone truly happy, something as obvious as that? Can you look past someone’s flaws if they give you flowers when you’ve had an argument? Tough to say, tough to care really, I’m off to shave my beard off. You didn’t need to know that, but then who needs to know anything? I’m just filling up space now. Meaningless nonsense you can’t stop reading. Buy the new Manic Street Preachers album, it’s amazing. Eat more fruit. Livin’ La Vida Loca.

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Season Three, Episode Eighteen – ‘Cock a Doodle Do!’

Series three then, over and out. I was going to talk about the highs and lows, the jubilation and the despair, but I’m in a good mood following Jenson Button’s forth Formula One victory of the season, and Phil Mitchell’s return to alcoholism in Eastenders. Whoever said that laughing at people is wrong, was clearly a mug.

We started this episode with Carrie being awoken by the sound of cocks, and not for the first time I imagine. This time though, it was the crowing of roosters which had been left outside her apartment. Samantha was having similar problems, as she kept being woken up by the transsexuals who loitered outside her place in the early hours of the morning. For once, I knew exactly how she was feeling – some of the grotesque creatures who appear at my university wearing all sorts of ridiculous clothing really get to me, especially when I’m stuck in a lift with ten idiots sporting cowboy hats, ironic t-shirts, and hair straighteners.

Charlotte spends the majority of time pining for Trey, and I can’t see much wrong with that. I don’t have a problem with people missing someone they’re not with any more, as long as you don’t bore everyone with your woe, a healthy degree of obsession can be pretty good. It all worked out for Charlotte anyway, as Trey came storming down to her place, and finally gave her the fucking she deserved. Whether or not this means that they’re back together or not is beyond me – in Sex And The City land two people having decent sex usually ends up with a lot of regret and misery.

Miranda worried if she was stuck in a rut, especially when she rang up her local Chinese takeaway and the girl on the other line giggled as she finished Miranda’s order before Miranda could finish. Pretty embarrassing that – personally I’ve stopped eating Chinese food, because it reminds me a little bit too much of women. Too expensive, too unhealthy and a little bit too greasy. My feelings of nausea soon turned to unbridled joy as Carrie and Miranda strolling down a road suddenly saw Aidan and… STEVE sitting around chatting with each other, stroking their dogs and enjoying the sunshine.

The feeling of amazement went up a notch when out of nowhere two beautiful ladies came and sat next to Aidan and Steve, and Miranda and Carrie realised that the two men had moved on – and moved on in spectacular fashion. I’m a big fan of awkward moments, and looking at those two ghastly creatures wondering what to do was a picture. My face almost exploded with the gleeful smile I had. I even overlooked Steve’s Hawaiian shirt, such was my fantastic mood. Probably my favourite moment of the show so far.

This made Carrie have a small crisis, and made her think whether it was true that she obsessed over men so much. “It’s so much easier for men to move on” a slapper said, and my good mood evaporated. What a load of bollocks, yet another myth perpetrated by women to make men seem emotionless and empty. And then something reMARTable happened. Her thinking continued, and eventually she struck gold. “What if everything isn’t the mans fault?” she said. “Maybe the problem is us!” About fucking time! At the end of the last episode I had a small moan about how women were selfish idiots, but maybe I was wrong all along! Maybe the penny finally dropped!

…Or maybe not, as Big rang up Carrie and arranged a lunch date. Some people just never learn do they? Good on Miranda for once, she protested to Carrie that it was a bad mistake, and whilst I felt like disagreeing with her for the sake of it, I had to give her that point. Something that Carrie failed to do, as her and Miranda became embroiled in an argument where Miranda was reminded about how she got rid of Steve because she can’t deal with imperfections in people. Which for a ginger lawyer, is one of the most hypocritical things I can think of. Like a fit Scouser. I struggled to pick a side to see who was right, it’s like supporting the Israelis and the Palestinians – either way you’re gonna get bombed. Perhaps a fight to the death between the two of them, with the winner getting written out of the show would have been best.

After the argument Miranda couldn’t stop thinking about Steve. Hopefully that’s a lesson to all women who let go great guys just because they can’t deal with being someone who isn’t like someone else – ie, an unemotional arsehole. You can’t treat someone like utter rubbish and expect that you’ll feel alright about it when you find out that they’ve moved on and you haven’t can you? You’ll just pine and worry, and go to phone them about five times a day, never actually making the call. I’m genuinely glad Miranda realised that, and whilst Steve deserves better, their reconciliation over a Chinese meal was at least a little bit nice.

As for Carrie and Big, they ended up getting very wet. Damp. Moist and shivering as they both fell into a lake after a botched attempted kiss by the Big man. As they dried off in his bedroom, one of them – can’t remember which as dickheads all look the same to me, remarked that their relationship was a good idea in theory, but it just didn’t work. I know what they mean, but sometimes you’re surprised. I was on the Tube yesterday, and two events really stood out. Firstly, I was sat opposite a bald man and his girlfriend, and due to the heat of the day his forehead was bristling with sweat. His missus lovingly wiped the sweat from his bulbous forehead with a napkin, and they looked very loving. On my way back from work (on the Picadilly line to Covent Garden fact fans) I saw a middle aged couple looking absolutely miserable. They had just come back from holiday, suitcases on their knees and complete miserableness on their worn out faces. Where had the love gone? No relevance, but things like that really depress me. As does racism. And Liverpool.

The season ended with all the girls having a party on a roof somewhere enjoying themselves. I wish I could say the same for me, but I’ve just realised that I’ve only got one Granny Smith apple left, and that my friends is a disaster. Still though, I’ve got three more seasons of this fantastic show to get through! Woooooooooo! Sorry for the extended review today – this was the longest episode of the show so far in more ways than one, and you have no idea how much I’m praying that there are no hour long special editions of the show, as that might be too much for even me to take. As a reward, have a random YouTube video of a baby elephant, and thanks for reading this rubbish.


Filed under 3rd Season