The end of season five then, one that has seen the death of relationships, the start of relationships and the death of relationships. Also the start of relationships. Relationships. Anyone wanna know about relationships? Ask me, I’ve watched Sex And The City. Relationship central. Relationships.
This episode is about relationships. We start with an idiot sitting at a piano in a bar, sporting the most hideous goatee I’ve ever seen. No-one in the history of the world has ever successfully pulled off a goatee and managed to look attractive. Not even music or acting legends like Craig David or the fella who played Beppe Di Marco in Eastenders have managed to make me believe. Anyway, this ‘piano man’ is getting married, despite the fact that everyone thinks he’s gay, presumably because of the goatee. Gay people who won’t admit they’re gay – almost as bad as people who make it their life to make people admit things they’re not able to come to terms with. Just think of Justin Fashanu – no-one else did.
“How do you sustain a relationship without the butterflies?” asked Carrie, with the butterflies signifying the uncontrollable urge to remove your partners clothes and fuck ’em senseless. The simply answer to that, is that you don’t, not if you’ve got any semblance of respect or class, or even basic morals. Without the spiritual, and sexual spark, a relationship ceases to exist, and it’s cruel on both people and should be ended as soon as possible. I sound like an even more mythical Uri Gellar, a thought that I had always imagined as impossible, much like bending spoons with my mind.
Charlotte’s relationship with Harry was going well, despite her describing him to her friends as “bald, short and talks with his mouthful.” She could have least given the cunt a fighting chance! She also told him to get his back waxed, which he agreed to if she’d come with him to a wedding they were both already going to. Romance isn’t dead, it’s just hidden under too many copies of Heat Magazine. What next though, is he gonna make her convert to Judaism because he can’t marry someone who isn’t a Jew?
Steve and Miranda had sex after lying down together on a bed. Miranda was intoxicated by the scent of the flowers Steve had given her, which just goes to show that you can be the most heartless bitch in the world, but flowers, a bed and a great fucking guy like Steve are all you need in this world of gimmicks and novelty condoms. Miranda still moaned about it, but it was a different kind of moaning this time – a lick your lips type of moaning, rather than the pursed lips crap we’ve all had to put up with in the past.
Carrie saw Berger on his motorbike and her heart fluttered. He had broken up with his girlfriend and bought the bike as a present, which is better than buying a gun but actually less safer thinking about it. To reward him for coming, Carrie proceeded to talk and talk and talk about her life, about her cluster-fuck relationship with Aidan, her usual boring spiel. She’s like the annoying idiot you work with who just talks and talks and talks and talks and talks about fuck all that you can’t tell to shut up cos they legit will just go and kill themselves in the photocopier room.
People need to realise that sometimes it’s the things you don’t say that make you a lot more interesting.
Samantha threw a party before the wedding and everyone came, even three young girls with fake tits that looked as hard as Gay Stanfords cock at the sheer thought of me. This was such a weird episode looking back, with Samantha throwing a cantaloupe through a window, and more disturbingly Gay Stanford looking after Miranda’s child for a short while. It was disturbing, not because I think he’s a paedophile you racists, but because he genuinely looks like a baby so it was hard to tell who was who. After realising it was Gay Stanford’s cock being pleasured, things became a lot clearer.
Berger came back at the end of the episode, dancing with Carrie in an open necked shirt, whilst Carrie giggled wearing what appeared to be a short frilly pink curtain. Just eighteen more episodes to go of this journey, which to me is a bit scary cos that’s not a lot at all. I try to make deals with myself, telling myself that if I did two episodes a day I’d be done in just over a week and I could book my trip to New York as a reward, but I guess I just enjoy the feeling that there is always a new episode around the corner. No matter how much I dislike the show, it’s been a quiet constant in my life for the best part of a year now.
I mean, I don’t drink, or smoke or take drugs so writing is pretty much my catharsis in life. I don’t see this as me reviewing Sex And The City, it’s more an opportunity for me to express everything I want to say about love, life and the world in general with a good solid base to fall back on. If I’m being really honest, it’s also a great chance for me to slag off every race, religion and creed in the world, mostly with my tongue firmly in my cheek. Just gotta dust off a few more Sikh and Hindu gags for the upcoming final season.