Tag Archives: death

Season Two, Episode Sixteen – ‘Was It Good For You?’

The thing about being a hypocrite, is that there is nothing wrong with being one, as long as you’re aware that you are one. So when Carrie asks the question “is it that bad to not be good in bed?” after Charlotte had complained that the man she had been having sex with fell asleep whilst they were getting intimate, it was hard for me not to get all Travis Bickle and shoot the television set off. How on earth could anybody – fictional or otherwise, not realise the stupidity of that comment? It’s not that the actual sentence is that bad – for sure it’s not the end of the world, but for some stupid slag who spends her entire time moaning about sex, it’s a little hard to swallow.

Samantha meets two guys who have no problem with swallowing however, when a gay couple she knows ask her if she would be interested in joining them for a little Ménage à trois. Gay Stanford was unavailable for comment, but I – and a million others could only imagine his arse cheeks clenching at the thought of being pressed towards two fine gay specimens. There was trouble in paradise for her though, as when the gay lads got down to her ivory tower they couldn’t investigate further. Understandable really – I imagine she’s been entered more time than the Suez Canal – and her innards are twice as wide.

Problems also for the rest of the gang. Carrie meets an alcoholic after his cigarette accidently brushed against her when he flicked it away into the cold New York wind. Perhaps it was karma’s way of saying that she should substitute the constant cigarettes in her filthy fucking mouth, for something a lot more wholesome. Alcoholics are my favourite type of addict I think – at least they always bring the party. Well, except for when they’re not moping around selling their failing bodies for a quart of Gordon’s Gin.

All Miranda did in this episode was change her sweaty sheets in the hope that a clean bedroom would mean a clean mind or something. Surely it’s gonna take a lot more than pristine bedding to make someone want to putt her with their nine iron? I don’t really understand this episode to be honest. It might be that I’ve watched 27 episodes of this garbage now, but when all these girls have done is moan about sex all the time, it gets extremely annoying when they try and pretend that they’re above it. Morons.

Think of morons, and you do inevitably think of Carrie – and she excels herself in greed and emotional damage at the end of the episode. When you consider that this particular show featured an extended scene investigating tantric sex, which included a middle aged man lying comatose on the floor whilst a middle aged woman stroked him to orgasm – that’s some feat. I mean, sure – it must be annoying when an ex alcoholic devotes all his time to you instead of hitting the drink, but that’s complimentary more than anything. Certainly it’s no excuse to drop him when you get bored with him, thus making him go back to the dreaded drink – which is exactly what Carrie did.

Perhaps the most disturbing aspect of this episode was the pink satin trousers that Carrie was sporting at one point. I respect the fact that this was made ten years ago, and that fashion changes blah blah – but come on people. Think of the amazing clobber around in the sixties – the suits, the trousers, or the glam apparel in the seventies, or the flares of the 80’s. I’m no fashion expert at all, but is there anything that was fashionable in the 90’s which is still popular now? You look back at music videos and that – and it’s all really boring, baggy boring stuff. Bit of a tangent there, but pink satin for fucks sake!

Was it good for me? About as good as the ‘my dog’s got no nose!’ joke – it smells terribly, just like this awful excuse of a programme. If I wasn’t doing this to try and impress a girl who makes fucking jumpsuits, I’d probably have killed myself by now.


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Season One, Episode Twelve – ‘Oh Come All Ye Faithful’

I got really excited at the title of the episode (the last of the season,) thinking ‘yesssssssss, Christmastime!’ but I am pained to say I was wrong. I had a whole monologue planned about how my ultimate romantic fantasy is to be with someone at Christmas, the whole kissing in the snow, the little squeals of excitement come present time, “but I thought we had decided on little presents this year!!!” and of course the mistletoe, but I suppose that shall have to wait for another day.

The episode is actually about religion, and how Mr Big takes his mum to church every Sunday, and Carrie gets jealous that a) he hasn’t introduced her to his mum (or ‘mom’ if you’re an idiot,) and b) that he just won’t commit to her. Meanwhile, Miranda is fucking some religious nutter who showers after sex (who wouldn’t after being with that thing,) Samantha has fallen in love (with some lad with a three inch cock alas) and Charlotte is worrying about getting married.

Charlotte goes to a psychic to ask her about if she’ll be happy, and what her life has in store for me. She could have asked me for nowt – the answer would be the same for her, as it would be for all females – doomed to a lifetime of insecurity and unhappiness because you never ask for what you want, only for what you think you should ask for. The same could be said of Miranda, who gets more horrible by the episode. This time she’s banging on about folk who are religious, and how she’s met a ‘rational, logical guy,’ yet has a problem because of his religion. As a Jewish Muslim, with various Scientology symptathies, I find this sort of flagrant abuse outrageous, and a touch racist. Also reminded me that I need to sort out my Daily Mail subscription as well.

Back to Samantha – she again fell in love, but his weakness was a tiny cock – and not Jamie Cullum. They met in a jazz club (I’m honestly not talking about Cullum!) and bonded. Made me think of my top 5 jazz tunes –

Miles Davis – ‘Walkin’

Herbie Hancock – ‘Watermelon Man’

DJ Jazzy Jeff ft. The Fresh Prince – ‘Summertime’

Kirk Van Houten – ‘Can I Borrow A Feeling’

and of course, The theme from ‘Taxi Driver’

Carrie gets gutted (not literally sadly) when she eventually meets Big’s mum, and is introduced as a ‘friend.’ Must have been absolutely gutting for her, but I can’t help but feel that she might deserve it. Who am I kidding, of course she did. Episode ends, with her pretty upset as Big just won’t commit to her fully, and so it seems that the relationship – if that is even what it was, is over. Whilst I can relate in some ways to how she was feeling, the lack of communication between the two characters makes things seem a touch less believable. You’ve got to think at least one of them would be able to express what they really want, even at the risk of it falling apart altogether. Certainly though, the lack of chemistry between the two of them in an acting sense makes me a bit unable to suspend my disbelief as well.

Why would an urbane, intellectual like Big want someone like Carrie anyway? She’s utterly charmless, not that pretty, and has no hidden depth – something proved with every metaphor she makes being something to do with clothing, or shoes. Actually, I’ve been asked to talk more about the fashion in the show, so let’s just say Carrie wore a dark blue pair of Adidas tracksuit bottoms at one point in this episode, with a luminous green piping.

Overall, this series has been disappointing, although I am told that the show only really starts to warm up around series three, so long-standing fans of this blog will need not to feel disappointed as it rolls on. Anyone for some meaningless sex?

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