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.