Tag Archives: life

Season Six, Episode Fifteen – ‘Catch-38’

I’m being forced to watch this episode on YouTube, complete with Portuguese subtitles because I can’t find the right disc at the moment. This isn’t really a problem considering the subtitles were probably the most entertaining part of the show. Damning it all with faint praise perhaps, but better than no praise. Incidentally the title of this episode reminds me of my favourite book of all time , Catch-22, which is a must read for anybody who considers themselves to be a vaguely intelligent person.

Carrie reached a relationship landmark with Alexander when he gave her the keys to his apartment. Big news sure, but I was paying more attention to Carrie’s silk gloves. I love the feel of silk, but I always feel vaguely sick when I see it on hands, especially the gnarled beasts which wrap round Carrie’s fingers.

Samantha heard back from her breast cancer results. Life sure travels fast for people in this show, it seems like only yesterday when she was diagnosed. It was of course the last episode, which baffles me some what. The slow build is completely non-existent, a storyline like this could have been season wide, as opposed to being shunted on at the arse end of this one. Still, I suppose Samantha wouldn’t mind being shunted arse first at the end of something.

The doctor was called Doctor Pinker which made me laugh. Couldn’t have been the same doctor which Gay Stanford uses, as that would be Doctor Brown. The results indicated the successful removal of the lump, but chemotherapy was strongly recommended. Samantha was outraged when the doctor inferred that one of the reasons she may have gotten cancer was because motherless. Cancer is surely a small price to pay for no mini Sam or Samantha’s running about fucking everything that moves.

Miranda and Steve went on a honeymoon, leaving Brady in the shaky hands of Carrie and Charlotte who both offered to look after him. Interestingly Samantha did not offer, which leaves me wondering exactly what she’s got going on in her life not to bother. When in Carrie’s care, the little bastard ran amok in Alexander’s apartment, and Brady was also there.

The honeymoon shot off to a sticky start after an initial bout of lovemaking. This was followed by Miranda being incapable of relaxation, fretting over forgetting her phone charger, and bemoaning the lack of television or internet. Sounds a lot like me whenever I leave Bowski towers, but a little more neurotic. In a bizarre scene, Steve said he wanted to wash Miranda’s hair, with a cheeky nod to the classic film ‘Out Of Africa’, but if it was any classic film it was reminiscent of Bridge On The River Kwai. The end of that film features Major Clipton uttering ‘Madness, madness!!!’, a quote that ran through my mind when Miranda got soap in her eyes. It was that sort of episode.

Alexander revealed that he was a father, and that he couldn’t, and didn’t want any more children. Carrie was initially happy with that, but was concerned that he wouldn’t change his mind in the future. That man really has the hands of a dancer and the wings of an angel. What followed was the most mundane, tedious and dull conversation I’ve ever bore witness to, and I once went to a lecture on 17th century bridal wear. It was so boring that my eyes flickered to an article on tap dancing in Africa. Over two thousand words long, and when I finished the conversation was still going on. Never again please.

Samantha tried to use her media savvy to get a better doctor than Mr Pinker. My sympathy for her keeps eroding slowly but surely. It started with the fur coat she was sporting, and increased when she boasted that she had once blown rock star Mick Jagger backstage once. You know what they say about a rolling stone gathering no moss, or rather in this case, no chemo.

After moaning a lot, and having a conversation with a nun about masturbation, Samantha finally got her new doctor when she told the receptionist she was going out with Smith, who had taken her cancer news with typically fantastic grace, and all-American good looks. Charlotte and Harry banged each other which baby Brady saw. It was hard to tell which was balder, Harry’s head or Charlotte’s attempt at looking concerned.

In the end, we got love, life, and love again. Samantha got her appointment, Miranda finally came to terms with being nice to Steve, Alexander got his accent from Russia, and I get a kick out of having the most wonderful girlfriend in the world.

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Season Six, Episode Five – ‘Hop, Skip And A Week’

It’s getting pretty nippy now, the autumnal chill is beginning to sweep through me and cocooning me within its gentle bosom. To be honest, I’m loving it. I was striding through Charing Cross station the other day, and was delighted to find a conker hidden amidst the debris of the homeless and empty plastic bottles that usually make up most London Underground stations. Conkers, coats and cold weather are a perfect tonic to the harsh sunlight, and those three are perhaps the perfect threesome, with only the thought of me, a black me, and an asian me potentially rivalling that.

Samantha is beginning to resemble a turkey, one about to be cooked that’s sitting on a basting tray waiting to be moulded into something that doesn’t resemble a dead bird.

We started with Carrie implying that nothing good happens in New York until after nine at night. What about all the rapes and muggings that happen to innocent Japanese tourists all throughout the day? She was observing this because she had been summoned to jury duty which starts early on in the day. As she stood there wearing a pinstriped suit cut into dungarees, I couldn’t help but notice the Starbucks coffee cup clutched into her wiry hand so tightly that it was quite similar to the way an emaciated Ethiopian father hoists their dead child into the air. Don’t hate me, but I’ve sort of jumped onto the Starbucks bandwagon – not for the coffee, but the mango and passion fruit frappucinno. I’m turning into a right dickhead aren’t I?

Miranda spent this episode fretting about leaving her boy behind every time she went for work, and even the work wasn’t going well as she kept being late due to the guilt at leaving Brady. She got into work and was bollocked by her bosses, so to smooth things she over she bought her dead mother into the conversation. That last sentence sounded absolutely disgusting if you have a filthy mind. She was torn between her immoral job, and her bastard child. If only she hadn’t ostracised Steve, maybe she would have had someone else to confide in rather than a sixty year old Czech babysitter.

Charlotte joined the ‘Synogogue Sisterhood Society’ which to me just sounds like a bizarre idea for a club. Do all the women just stand around moaning about their men? “My man hasn’t got a foreskin!!” one moans. “My man won’t wear flannel blue pyjamas for some reason!”. Mad stuff. The old ladies there set Charlotte up on a series of dates which were all unsuccessful. She realised that she missed Harry, which makes perfect sense considering how perfect Harry is.

Samantha got Smith, the hunky model she was seeing on a massive poster campaign advertising vodka nude. Making an ex-alcoholic advertise one of the more potent drinks, what a sensible and sensitive idea. Actually, for all my slagging off of Samantha, she did make a very good point when she said that a relationship can be described as good by whether you smile or frown when thinking or talking about the person you’re with. Whilst it hardly comes across as the worlds biggest revelation, it’s very nice to have something that is pure black and white for once, rather than the shady thoughts that surround this show.

Carrie and Berger was where the real entertainment was in this episode. They were so awkward throughout, constantly bickering and arguing. It makes me sad, because the only arguments I have with people are about obscure football matches. Carrie did use the one argument technique I hate the most, when she simply repeated Berger when he asked her ‘When did you stop being on my side?” Neither person can win when it gets repeated, especially when abusive partners use it. “Why do you keep raping me?” the abused asks. Why do you keep raping ME?” the abuser replies, and probably rapes them again. What lesson have we learnt here? Don’t answer back, and try not to rape people.

“What am I, some kind of horrible job he wants to get away from?” asked Carrie after Big suggested they take some time apart. He was very clever when he said that actually, as he said it in a taxi – meaning he was making her pay for her cruelty in more ways than one. What kind of job would Carrie be? Probably the meaningless office job, 9-5 for a company you barely know the name of. Probably 99% of people reading this have one of those jobs. To those people I can only urge you to do something worthwhile with your time – build houses, make inventions, or most importantly review episodes of television programmes that you hate.

Big rang Carrie again and cast more doubt in her mind. After the conversation with him she decided to go and track Berger down to talk things through, but she decided against it. Berger eventually came back with pink carnations and a metaphorical pick-up truck. All seemed well, he seemed to want to get back with her, until Carrie awoke to find he had left her with a note saying simply “I’m sorry, I just can’t.” The message was classic Berger – subtle and incredible. R.I.P to that man, perhaps the closest this show had to a representation of me.

This being Sex And The City the episode couldn’t be full of doom and gloom, and so it was left to Harry to rescue it, by asking Charlotte to marry him after they spied each other at a Jewish singles event. Quite touching? Possibly, but only if you’ve ever been sexually abused in your life.

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Season Four, Episode Seventeen – ‘A Vogue Idea’

Carrie’s new hair makes her look like Aslan.

Sometimes I feel like Jesus delivering the Sermon On The Mount when I’m about to write one of these reviews.  As Jesus implored his adoring audience to ‘turn the other cheek’, I urge the readers of martinthecity to ‘earn the other week’. Sure, they’re both meaningless statements, but mine does have a certain Je ne sais quoi to it.

This episode followed Carrie’s foray into the world of ‘Vogue’. Fewer magazines leave me as cold than a quick glimpse through the glossy pages of Vogue full of the smears of desperate wannabes spunking into the adverts, that  exception of course being ‘Chilly Mcfreeze’ magazine, a windswept romp about how to survive in harshly cold terrain.

For someone who claims to be intelligent, Carrie ain’t half dim. After calling Vogue ‘relevant and provocative’, she then sent in a five hundred word article on accessories which read exactly like her sex column. The blonde old bird from ‘Boston Legal’ told Carrie what’s what by telling her that not everything has to be about men – I agree, sometimes you can write about lesbians as well. Carrie protested that she was merely using ‘a little humour’ in the piece, but I’m afraid she deserved her criticism. As a writer of sorts I understand that the hurt when someone tarnishes your work is often very jarring and cutting, but she deserved it.

She deserved it for two reasons – one for saying that ‘Vogue is about vision’. No it’s not – it’s about selfishness and broken dreams. The other reason was her drunkenly flirting with the old guy who gave her the job in the first place. It felt apt that they were listening to Billie Holiday on the jukebox, as her desperate life of racism, heroin and desperation really hit home the feelings I get when I watch people like Carrie flirt. Seeing her drunk is a bit like seeing a three year old boy pulling the wings off a fly – you know you should step in and stop the cruelty, but the chances of vermin and scum being destroyed is one that shouldn’t be passed up on.

Samantha and Richard were discussing his birthday. Richard hates birthdays and I feel his pain 100%. I also love his name – Richard Wright, it reminds me of the very unlucky ex England goalkeeper who shares the same name and is now playing back at Ipswich. Maybe the producers of the show missed a trick by not including more footballing namesakes – they could have had a character called Paul Gascoigne who snorted a bit of coke, put on some fake tits before flicking his balls up in the air and ending up in a dentists chair position. Oh, I’m wrong sorry – I’d blanked Miranda out of my mind.

For his birthday he requested a threesome with a 21 year old woman who had been semi flirting with the couple. I’ve never understood the idea of threesomes, to me they just seem like a fight between a cocker spaniel and a massive tiger. At first it’s pretty amusing and light-hearted, but eventually someone’s gonna get their head bitten off.

Miranda incidentally was worrying about being a mother. Charlotte offered to throw her a baby shower to make her feel better. Unfortunately I have already reviewed a Sex And The City episode which strongly featured a baby shower, and so I have already used my baby shower ‘I’ve only been to one in my life, and that was when I went swimming aged six months’ gag. I am now repeating myself, which humorously gives me a lot more in common with this show than I initially realised.

Miranda and Charlotte had a little argument until they kissed and made up. “Watch out for the sharp edges’ was one of Miranda’s insults, a sentence she should perhaps have used to Steve when he was ram-raiding her with his one bollock that eventually gave her the demon baby. Carrie compared Miranda to a ‘father figure’ at one point, which made me wonder what my life would have been like had I had a pale, butch ginger lesbian in my life, as opposed to the guy who gave me my thick dark hair, and steely green eyes, but also my lack of empathy and short temper. Either way, I would have had different coloured pubes.

The threesome mentioned above lacked the power of the infamous American Psycho threesome – not enough requests to eat ass, or biceps flexing. It did result in a really nice moment when Richard realised that he really did love Samantha and wanted things to be exclusive between them. It must be really nice and filling when you tell the person you want to be with them and it all works out well, rather than both of you staring like rabbits in the headlights not moving on. And you know what happens to those rabbits… They run away. Forever.

Carrie met our old friend whose name I now think sounds like a cream for thrush – the Manolo Blahniks. Unfortunately for her she put them on as the old dude she was flirting with him earlier stripped down to a pair of Versace briefs and motioned for her to Vogue him right up. In classic Carrie selfishness style, she turned him down. Mind you, he did call her Cookie, and I fucking hate loving nicknames.

One final thought – Carrie boasted to her boss that “men I may not know, but shoes I know”. I think a statement like that really sums up the meaningless of not only this show, but life in general. It actually makes me feel sick, how on earth is that something to be proud of? Oh well done, you can own ten pairs of Kurt Geiger shoes, but you can’t hold down a loving relationship because you concentrate too much on the outside, and not enough on the inside. As a raven haired goddess once sang, “you’ve got to give a little, take a little, and let your poor heart break a little. That’s the story of, that’s the glory of love”.

I wish I was a child again so I didn’t have to worry about this shit any more.

I also ain’t fucking gay, despite my love for musicals.

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Season Four, Episode Eleven – ‘Coulda Woulda Shoulda’

…And so Miranda thinks she’s pregnant as her period is three weeks late, and perhaps more crucially, she’s actually been tested as preggers. Usually there is a fantastic opening paragraph of this blog full of laughter and joy, but the thought of another little Miranda running about is one that leaves me full of dread. Steve’s the dad, stemming from their one fuck in the last episode. I always knew he had it in him – one ball or not you can just tell he’s as fertile as fuck – he has to be, imagine the effort it takes to get past Miranda’s lazy ovaries. As if life couldn’t get any more awkward for Miranda, she wanted an abortion – just as it was revealed that dear Charlotte only had a 15% chance of conceiving. Cue the tenseness.

Also cue a potential abortion, as Miranda decided that she wanted to get rid of the little devil brewing inside of, without telling Steve. I’m not really sure of my opinion on abortion, I’m in a bit of a quandary about it. My liberal side says ‘pro choice!’, and that people can do whatever they want, but then my sensitive side suggests that a life is a life and you can’t butcher a baby, especially if you haven’t even told the dad! I suppose the film ‘Juno’ is the biggest positives for abortion, as no-one would want anything to do with anybody involved in that flick. Samantha and Carrie both revealed that they had both had abortions, and I must say the flippancy of their discussion about it depressed me somewhat – it was like something had died inside of me.

Samantha spent this episode hanging around with ex actress Lucy Liu who was known for her roles in ‘Charlies Angels’, and the television series ‘Ally McBeal.’ I used to watch Ally McBeal quite a lot when I was younger, until I realised I was turning into a bit of a gay boy. Since then it’s just been musicals and Brokeback Mountain ad nauseum. Samantha also spent four thousand dollars on a bag which she didn’t even get in the end. That’s a lot of money to spend on something, but when you get to the age of Samantha then there is no point whatsoever in saving money for a rainy day, because the next time it rains you’ll just melt. Cos you’re a witch. lol.

A lot of guilt was occurring in this episode. Carrie was guilty because she couldn’t tell Aidan that she had once had an abortion, and Miranda felt guilty at not telling Steve that she was up the duff with his goods. Incidentally, both pregnancies happened as a result of using no protection at all, which is further proof I suppose that women are dirty dogs and shouldn’t be trusted to do anything. I’m joking of course, by all means they can take their clothes off for a living and get paid for it. Whilst I’m writing about nonsense, anybody who uses an umbrella in the summer – as Carrie does in this episode, deserves to be aborted.Abortion – abortion?

Speaking personally, if I’m with someone I don’t think I need to know everything about someone and their past, just the important stuff. I mean, I don’t need to know how well someone has been fucked in the past, and I don’t want to know the first time they ever ate a ham cheese and pickle sandwich, but certainly I’m well interested in any emotional traumas that have happened in their past, not for egotistical reasons, but purely because I hate people living in the present haunted by memories of things that have happened in the past. I’m perceived by some people as a bit of a dick, but I’m really not – I genuinely just want the people I like to be as happy as they can possibly me. All this niceness probably stems from my Ally McBeal days.

The news that Miranda was keeping her baby certainly didn’t fill me with much joy, but I think I’ve gone beyond having emotions for this show. Perhaps it’s time to ABORT the whole thing? ..Anyway, Steve still didn’t find out about the baby, but I wouldn’t worry about it if I was him. The longer he doesn’t hear about the vermin growing inside of her the better, unless miracles upon miracles the baby inherits the majority of Steve’s characteristics, such as his beautiful blue eyes, his thick curly hair, and his love for basketball. God forbid the blighter gets Miranda’s flame hair, her moodiness and terrible fashion sense – the abortion really would have been the best thing all around then.

Carrie ended the episode going back to the place where she had slept with the person who made her pregnant all those years ago, and realised that she had made the right decision. “I did have an abortion”, she told Aidan, and for once she wasn’t referring to her utterly terrible haircut. She was afraid of Aidan being judgemental, but he seemed alright. She should have a bit more faith in people I reckon – if someone does judge you for something that you’re genuinely sorry and regretful for, then they’re probably not the sort of person you should be worrying about impressing or talking to in the first place.

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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 Three, Episode Eleven – ‘Running With Scissors’

We start with Big and Carrie continuing their affair in a succession of grotty hotels. I’ve never felt entirely comfortable staying in hotels – I prefer home comforts, not the awkward sheets, the televisions with just ‘CNN’ and the prostitutes sidling around door to door selling their dirty goods. I’ve got respect for hotel workers though, the filth they must see on a daily basis.

Charles Dickens is referenced at the beginnings, with his infamous quote that “it was the best of times, it was the worst of times” being mentioned. My favourite Dickens novel is ‘A Christmas Carol’, and I do emphasise with Scrooge – but only in the Blackadder television spoof, where Scrooge gets progressively more depressed and horrible, from a nice start. I feel exactly the same whenever I watch an episode of this – initially I’m positive, thinking “it can’t be that bad today can it?” but no, it’s always terrible. Especially without Steve, god I miss his curly locks.

Carrie did confide in Miranda that she was having an affair, after telling Samantha in the previous episode. Seeing Miranda ask for a cigarette as she contemplated what she had just been told very nearly made me fucking sick. That fag wrapped pursed round her cold, emotionless lips was enough to make anyone want to die. Carrie in this episode was ridiculous, every other minute she was bleating on about how she’d messed up. Sure, sure – you did. Learn to live with it you daft slag.

Along the lines of living with something that eats you up like a particularly juicy cherry tomato, Samantha was forced to take an AIDS test after meeting the male her. Despite their attraction towards each other, he insisted on knowing that she was ‘clean’ before he could destroy her with his iceberg. And just like the titanic, Samantha felt very down when she had to go and take the test. I sometimes worry that I have AIDS – not through loads of promiscuous sex, but because of my raging heroin addiction.

Samantha’s addiction to sex became all too apparent as she was cross examined by a doctor before her test. All went well until she was asked how many sexual partners she had gone through in her very long life. The look on her face when she was counting was very similar to the look a fashion student gets when you ask them how they could possibly justify their course choice when they wear such ridiculous attire – the look of hurt, fury, and emotional damage. Samantha was found to be clean in the end, although perhaps she had a long hard look at herself in the mirror after that escapade.

The only thing Miranda looks at in this episode, is one of those talking sandwiches who give flyers out to advertise cafes. Reminds me of the truly shocking event that took place when I was in the boozer the other day watching the football. A chicken sandwich walked into the pub, and asked the barman if he could have some pork scratchings with the ale he had just ordered. “Sorry mate”, the barman said. “We don’t serve food.”

She does get turned on by the idea of fucking the guy in the sandwich suit though, even though she initially got angry at him telling her to “eat me” every time she walked past. Proof that she’s such a feminist when she complained about the choice of words he was using, only to then have dodgy thoughts about him. Seriously though, the kinky shit Miranda’s already experienced in this show – we’ve had very sloppy phone sex, faked orgasms, poorly orchestrated sex talk, and also the proof that she’s into masochistic behaviour – getting rid of such a great guy like Steve for gods sake! I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again – women are dirty.

Charlotte spends this episode with a new gay character called Anthony, who helps her organise her wedding. I’ve written down that he was an ‘angry’ gay, but I don’t know if that makes me sound homophobic – I’m not, I own George Michael’s greatest hits. And loads of gay porn. It’s tough to say who would win in a scrap between Gay Anthony, and our old favourite Gay Stanford – certainly not the fans, that’s for sure.

All goes tits up for Carrie in the end though, and not just when she’s being fucked by Big. “I’m in a weird place right now” she said. Surely that place is called ‘Your Own Personal Hell?” I’ve been through that place as well, although I often get it confused with Liverpool. I’m less likely to get my heart stolen in my own personal hell though. I also wrote down that Carrie was asked if she was a prostitute by a Japanese businessman as she was trying to look incognito in a hotel by wearing sunglasses INDOORS. I assume there was a reason I wrote that down, because there is no chance I did it just to insult Carrie anymore – it’s not my style at all. I should mention that Charlotte finds out about the affair and is upset, but she’s not the only one…

A gloomy ending then as Big’s wife catches Carrie in her pink bra, in Big’s apartment, in the navy, in utero, in the summertime. Either way, she’s in-too deep. Though not as deep as his wife ‘Natasha’ who falls down some stairs chasing Carrie, losing a tooth in the process, and ending up looking like an American, female Shane MacGowan. No ‘Fairytale of New York’ for anybody though, more ‘The Wizard Of Oz’, with me playing Dorothy, Miranda being the wicked witch of the West, Big playing the cowardly lion, and everyone else as the munchkins because I can’t remember who else is in it. Actually, Carrie could play the scarecrow – they certainly share very similar physical features, and she does sing this song very well indeed. Seems very apt.

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Season Three, Episode Three – ‘Attack Of The Five-Foot Ten Women’

The word ‘brunch’ is in my least favourite words of all time list (along with such luminaries as ‘sarnies’, ‘butties’,  ‘goodies’, and ‘do’ – as in ‘are you going to Jimmy’s 40th anniversary do?) so it’s no surprise that I started this episode off on a rather sour note when the four idiots met up for a Sunday Brunch. Sundays can do one as well, worst day of the week by far. When the highlight of a day is the Antiques fucking Roadshow, you know it’s not going to be a good one.

It seems to be protocol for New York idiots to flick through the rags that are Newspapers on a Sunday, and all four of them eagerly lap up whatever piece of shit they’re reading. The big news in the papers is that of marriage updates, and one above all others causes a multitude of grief. Big got married. Big deal. Big news. Big. “It’s amazing how upset women can get over the marital status of ex’s,” Charlotte said. It’s amazing how women get upset over anything. A wilted flower, a stained dress, a rape – some people will get annoyed over every minor little thing.

There is not a lot worse than having to read something that you don’t want to, and that’s the situation Carrie finds herself in when Charlotte tells her to get it over with and read what his wedding was like in the newspaper article. I can relate – usually I ignore emails sent to me that I’m too afraid to read for a good three or four hours, until eventually I relent. I was going to do the same the other day when I got an email from someone that I hadn’t spoken to for a while, but sadly it was only a one line email and I’d read it all before I realised what I was doing. Bad times. Big times.

Miranda is having problems as well. Her life must be so hectic with all the brunches and moaning that she chose to get herself a cleaner in. Unfortunately, she suffers from the classic middle class guilt. You know what that is. It’s those idiots who go out and drink a fifty pound bottle of wine with some lobster, swan around everywhere doing nothing of great importance, but think that because they donate a tenner a month to Amnesty International that they do good for the world. Bunch of jabronis. Miranda’s cleaner starts moving her stuff around her apartment, starting from the small – towels, knives and forks, to the downright garbage – her ‘Rampant Rabbit.’

The rabbit isn’t even the most pink thing in this episode, that award went to Carrie’s cheeks after she flushed with envy after bumping into Big’s new sexy wife in a department store changing room. Carrie wonders if there are women in the world who are just there to make other women feel shit. I don’t know if that’s true, and I don’t actually care.

More importantly was gorgeous Charlotte’s insecurity when in a spa. She was too scared to get her kit fully off in the steam room, because she thought other women would comment. Usually the thought of a group of naked women all steaming off together would be a lovely intoxicating thought, but when three of those women include a woman whose hands are as gnarled and wrinkly as a pensioner in a bath, an old dog who has run out of tricks, and a ginger lawyer, the fantasy dims somewhat. Miranda actually said in this episode “I’m perfectly fine with my life as it is.” That’s why you’ve got slicked back hair yeah?

Charlotte eventually got over her problem, when a fellow sauna inhabitant told her that she had a cracking set of tits. I’m paraphrasing, but that was the gist of it. Made me think about how all women care about how they look, specifically to other women, rather than men. If you go out onto a high street with a female, it’s literally like watching a game of tennis – the amount of times their heads bob from side to side checking out the opposition, stopping sometimes for a sly subtle ‘up and down’ look. New balls please. Big balls.

Carrie bought some ‘Manolo Blahnik’ shoes, which I thought was a sexually transmitted disease, but it turns out to be a shoe brand. The shoes were for an event where she thought Big’s wife would be, because she “wanted to look good in front of her.” I laughed at that as well. Sadly for Carrie, the wife wasn’t even AT the event, which meant that all Carrie’s hard work had gone to waste. If buying expensive shoes counts as hard work, or simply greed. If that sounds cringe worthy – and it was, it wasn’t even the most embarrassing aspect of this episode – that was when Samantha got kicked out of a spa for groping the balls of a masseuse. And I thought The Fonz jumping the shark was televisions lowest point.

We end with Carrie laughing manically to herself, after noticing a spelling error on a note that Big’s wife had sent her thanking her for coming to the aforementioned event. It’s a touch sad that typo’s and poor grammar are all that she has over the wife, but I suppose people have to feel good about themselves in some ways. Still though, what a pedantic little cunt.

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