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Season Two, Episode One – ‘Take Me Out To The Ball Game’

Let’s get something out of the way first – fur, or even more ridiculously ‘fake fur’ coats are absolutely horrible. I see all sorts of idiots wearing them in London, especially at my uni, and they all look crap. You won’t be surprised to find that Carrie is sporting a particularly nasty one in this first episode of season two.

This episode seems to be about break ups and how to deal with them, despite Carrie necking a baseball player who ‘bats’ for the ‘Yankees.’ I’m a big fan of most sport, but even I can’t get excited over glorified rounders. Carrie is getting over Big anyway, and we find out that my old favourite Miranda also holds bitterness towards someone who left her ‘two years ago,’  – surely the most sensible man since whomever decided that D-Day was gonna be a good idea.

A big discussion in the episode, was that of how do they get over ex’s? Whilst Carrie tried the age old tactic of avoidance, she turned out to be more Shannon Matthews, than Maddie McCann – plus more ugly. Seeing Big at the end of the episode reminded Carrie of all the good times they had shared, as his big bear like paw gripped her shoulder like a particularly furious wank.

Despite all this being Carrie-centric, the main character in the episode was unfortunately Miranda. As the girls were yet again discussing everything to do with men whilst supping orange juice in a restaurant somewhere, Miranda snapped just like Ken Shamrock, and went on a rather impressive rant, wondering why such intelligent women were reduced to constantly discussing men like that was the only thing important. However, just as I was all set to love her – you see her wearing fucking dungarees again, which managed to be even uglier than those bloody fur coats.

People who think that they’re intelligent are very interesting – though usually in wrong ways. For starters, if you’re so bloody clever then why do you only THINK you’re intelligent – thus signifying doubt, why don’t you KNOW you are? Secondly, there is a massive distinction between actual intelligence, and just being able to, I dunno – quote the 49 times table from memory. Show me someone with a ‘passion’ for maths, and you’ll usually see the box of empty tissues by their bed soon after. See also: philosophy students. Idiots.

So Miranda, wandering through New York in a baggy blue two piece sweat suit suddenly sees the ex love of her life, hides behind a tree, and realises that perhaps the reason she’s so bitter about all this man talk, is that she can’t come to terms with her own feelings. Meanwhile, Samantha is still with the lad with the 3,’ whilst Charlotte is dating someone AGAIN, this time someone into ‘Jazz,’ so clearly a nonce. Seriously people, how many people do you go out with in a year say, cos these folk seem to be with someone new every single week – it’s a little bit wrong.

Carrie cries towards the end of the episode, and unfortunately for her it’s whilst she’s kissing the baseball lad. Reminds me of a very disgusting story someone told me whilst I was at college about one of our mutual friends (I say friends, acquaintances at a push.) Anyway, this ‘friend’ is sucking an Essex lothario off, when he decides he needs to relieve himself – only he’s too lazy to find a toilet, so instead of saying ‘hey, brb lolzzzz,’ he instead pisses in her slutty mouth instead. I say slutty of course, because she didn’t mind – instead spitting it out, and continuing with what she was already doing. And people wonder why the Essex Riviera has such a bleak reputation.

Episode ends with Carrie tearfully ringing someone up from a phone box asking them to meet up as ‘their place.’ You think it’s the Big man, but no – it’s fucking Miranda again, this time wearing a natty black polo-neck – which actually reminded me to get one for myself – thinking of teaming it with a grey blazer. Oh no. I’m actually turning into one of them aren’t I.

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