Getting to know you, getting to know all about you: Part 1

Posted on December 19, 2011 by Myras_Kitchen 2 Comments

No, we’re not about to burst into a cheesy musical song, though it’s the right season for it, and we will if you want, we’re pretty cheap really.  Mr Myra’s Kitchen usually pays us not to burst into song, you might want to be aware of that before you make your choice.

No, this week was all about getting to know some of the Oaks’s newbies (and oldies) a little better over seasonal mulled wine and nibbles.  Some of this was fascinating.  And some of it was less fascinating.  We’ll leave you to decide which was which.  But let’s start with Maddie and Callum, who were getting to know each other down in the village.  Or not, as the case may be.

See, about that.  We’ve barely had a chance to get over SinBart (we lie, we’re not over it, we’ll never get over it), and now the Oaks bring us … the Next Big Teen Romance.  Caddie.  Yeah.  Soak that up.

Yes, this week, Callum (sullen, rude, “deep”, dodgy facial furniture, looks like it got accidentally attached) and Maddie (Sienna Mini-Miller, Princess Bitch, “shallow”) were the Big Story.  This seemed to involve going on a picnic by the river in December [INAPPROPRIATE LOCATION SHOOT ALERT] where they “got close”, then immediately fell out again before they got home.  I can’t remember what it was about.  Her noxious mates, I think.  Seriously, these two have barely been out on a date and they’re already about as joyful as a menopausal married couple heading for divorce.  Like Liz Taylor and Richard Burton in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, but a whole heap less fun.  I mean, we know time is accelerated in the Oaks, but this was ridiculous.  There was finger pointing.  “Don’t think you know me!”  “Yeah, well, you don’t know me!”  Yada and, unless I’m very much mistaken, yada.  Didn’t we have this last week?  Or was it the week before?  Or both?  Or have I just developed early-onset Alzheimers?  It was like living in a goldfish bowl.  Her mates then locked them together in a room and I think we went round the whole thing again, possibly a coupla times, ending with a row on the stairs, during which we briefly considered the benefits of throwing ourselves down them, Diane-stylee, just to bring the thing to an end.

The ordure was well and truly stirred when Tara turned up to add to the mix.  Tara, in the words of the ever delightful Sinead (oh yeah, you know our thoughts on Miss O’Connor), was an aged wrinkly skank of about 30, making her a good 5 years older than the rest of them.  (Note: Sinead love, if you’re ever going to endear yourself to Myra, a bit of casual ageism ain’t gonna do it.)   Anyway, moving along a great deal faster than the storyline itself, turns out Callum’s big secret wasn’t that he ran a Lord of The Rings chatroom and dressed up as an elf at weekends.  No, it was Tara, who turned out to be Callum’s teacher’s wife.  We think.  And Callum’s ex.  Scandalous, in a Justin-Becca kinda way, except played off-screen by people we don’t actually know.  Anyways, she’d decided she wanted to be with him, though we couldn’t for the life of us figure out why, and Callum didn’t look too sure either, although his face was so inert it was sometimes hard to tell what he was thinking.  Or if he was thinking at all.  Maddie M-M duly had another tantrum and threw her toys out of the pram.  “You don’t know me!”  etcetera, etcetera.  You get the picture.

Seriously, I’m not the best person to blog this.  I find Mads hard to like.  Partly because I can’t make out anything she says, the rise and fall of her voice being not apparently linked to any discernible words or meanings, and partly because she was accompanied this week, as ever, by her annoying entourage, buzzing round like wasps on an old jam sandwich.  These are Tilly, a ginger LESBIAN wasp  (did she mention she’s a LESBIAN this week?),  and George, a camp GAY wasp, still being played by a wooden spoon, now with the contents of the Help the Aged charity shop thrown randomly over him.  This is called FASHION, apparently.  We think we’ll stick to the ole discount outlet black jeans, thanks mate.  You can’t go wrong, and there’s less likelihood of being helped across the road against our will.  These two flank Mads’s every move, or at least they did until she tore Georgy-Porgy off a strip, ostensibly for his clammy-handed crush on Callum, and made him run off and cry in the (girls’) toilets.  It was no one’s finest hour.

To make matters worse, we’ve discovered that Callum has an anaesthetic-like effect on us.  He sends us to sleep and when we wake up and realise he’s still there, we start weeping.  We’ve started to work through our Callum issues by wandering around the room pumping weights when he’s on.  We don’t see much of the story, but we’re getting great triceps and our bingo wings are a distant memory.  “You’re so alive,” Tara enthused, explaining his irresistible magnetism, or something like that.  “You’re electric!”  Sweetheart, if Callum is electric, then we think batteries aren’t included and someone forgot to buy them.  “You get me,” he muttered at her, glumly.  “Pure poetry!” she gushed, thus proving conclusively that love is indeed deaf as well as blind.

Anyhoo, we think that was it.  He got back with Tara for no obvious reason other than having had three fights with Maddie already this week (maybe he was just worn out, we know we were), and Mads snogged one of the band to get back at him.  Possibly all of the band, we haven’t actually worked out which one is which yet.  Then he was going to run away with Tara.  Then he didn’t.  He got with Maddie instead.  Tara left.  OK?

We’re never totally sure how to handle the Oaks when it goes into hormonal loop mode, other than work on our general fitness and wait for it to be over.  We’ll admit we entertained thoughts of hibernating through it, like one of David Attenborough’s snuggly polar bears in an Arctic winter, but WARREN was back at the end of the week with the rest of the McFox-Bradeee Bunch, it looks like it’s all kicking off BIG TIME, and we’re not missing that.  So we made a special effort to stay awake, and in the spirit of Harry Hill, to make it all worthwhile, we just thought we’d share with you this immortal moment:

Most Electric Lovestruck Expression of the Weeeeeeek!