And so, we’ve come to the end of season two, and what a season it has been. I’m joking of course, it’s been the most depressing eleven hours of television footage I’ve seen since I sat through the Nuremberg Trials on the History Channel two years ago. Whilst it may seem a touch over the top to compare the actions of the four main characters in this show, to some of the most heinous and disgusting war criminals of time – and of course I’m using Godwin’s Law here, but hand on heart – who wore the better clothes, the Nazis, or the girls in Sex And The City? Ignoring all the atrocities, those black uniforms were smart. Shame about all the killing.
As you might have guessed from the title of this episode, we are dealing with some pretty heavy stuff here – how to maintain a friendship with an ex after the relationship has ended. For once, I can’t see the sunshine behind the rain. Honestly, what’d be the point in keeping things friendly if the love has gone? Especially with Big and Carrie. She seems to barely like the man as a person – it’s not like they spent all their time together discussing Chomsky and Descartes – all they seemed to do was have sex, and then complain about it. Descartes might have memorably quipped that ‘I think therefore I am,’ but it seems like the main problem between Carrie and Big was the fact that there seemed to be no actual thinking involved – which as Descartes would rationalise, would mean that they were not really human at all.
Perhaps more cheering is the reintroduction of Steve into the show, even though Miranda sprints off like Ben Johnson on even more steroids when she first saw him on the cobbled streets. Undeterred and determined to rekindle the eternal flame that had been their initial relationship, he turned up at her apartment and Miranda soon realised that she had actually missed him all along. “Whenever I hear something funny I just want to tell you,” she lovingly told him, and not long after that he was cooling her down with his hosepipe.
Long bulky sticks was a common problem with Samantha here actually, after she met a man who was spectacularly well endowed. Being a woman of considerable sexual experience, she was confident she could take his full girth, but alas, even he was too beastly for her tunnel. Her uncomfortable feeling even reminded her of how much she liked her ex with the 3′ cock, such was the brute force of his ‘throbbing member.’ I appreciate that this currently reads like I’m trying to write a really low budget porno, but I can assure you that I’m not getting any pleasure out of this whatsoever.
Neither was Charlotte for much of this episode however, as she spent much of it trying to mount a horse. Sure, even that sounds like a particularly grim snuff film, but even I couldn’t make this sort of shit up. To be honest, I can’t really remember why she was having such difficulty in getting back on the saddle – even though I watched it a mere fourteen minutes ago, so let’s just stay on the safe side and say that it had something to do with paedophilia. The only redeeming feature of this scene was Carrie getting face to face with her doppelgänger, albeit a very brown doppelgänger with an especially waggly tail.
Carrie and Big though, wow what a heartbreak. After instigating a lunch with him in which she hoped would kick start a friendship, he dropped the absolute bombshell that he was planning on getting married to the tasty bit of crumpet he was seeing. To be fair to Sarah Jessica Parker, as much as I dislike the horse faced cocksucker, her acting was pretty good here, perfectly showing the heart breaking into a million pieces, the feeling of complete desperation, the panic, the searing emotion of rejection. To make matters worse, she fell over like a blue arse fly upon leaving the restaurant she was in. I was seconds away from wanting to deck the Big man, but his fantastic canary yellow polo shirt – very much like an American Alan Partridge, which appeared in the episode a bit later on, stopped my anger. If only it was that easy for other emotions.
The trouble is… I still don’t care. At all. So what if two selfish idiots can’t realise that the only time they’re truly happy when they’re together? Who can I emphasise with here, where is my sympathy supposed to come from – and for who? The slut, the pretentious idiot, the dopey one or the absolutely clueless one? I don’t mind that much though, as I can keep ‘enjoyed an episode of Sex And The City’ on my list of ‘things I’ve never done,’ which currently includes: eating mushrooms, watching the TV show ‘Heroes,’ and being wrong.
I’ll save you from Carrie’s crap quasi-philosophical speech at the end where she tries to establish what’s gone on, because I’ve recently heard a song that sums up exactly what she’s going through, in much fewer words.
“I won’t tell you that I love you
Kiss or hug you
Cause I’m bluffin’ with my muffin
I’m not lying I’m just stunnin’ with my love-glue-gunning
Just like a chick in the casino
Take your bank before I pay you out
I promise this, promise this
Check this hand cause I’m marvelous”