The Gang Go To A Pardy At Edo’s. Alex Turns Out To Be A Big Man Ho. And Mark Francis Learns About Nando’s!

In which Mummy Binks confronts Myttons.

MIC

by Daisy Buchanan |
Published on

Oh E4, you big bunch of dafties! You’ve made quite the scheduling error – this is last week’s Made In Chelsea! We’ve definitely seen this before – Binky weeping on her bed, possibly because of Mytton, possibly because she’s down to her very last can of Baptiste. Oh, it’s Mytton alright. He’s leaving. looking smugger than Raffles The Gentleman Asshat Shagger. BOOOOOOO, Mytton. BOOOOOOOOO!

Obviously Cheska and Fran have known what’s going down since the very second penetration happened. Perhaps they stealthily fitted Mytton’s penis with a LiLo-style ankle tag. And they’re angry. 'The person she thinks she’s in love with doesn’t even exist,' mutters Fran. Does Binky think Alex is Father Christmas? And elsewhere Stevie has been alerted to the fact that Binky has just made The Beast With Two Passive Aggressive Facial Expressions. 'She’s still in love with him, she can’t act,' he says, pausing to remember the word he’s after while off camera, a clock ticks, a sun sets, he grows a greying beard and the adverts get queued up. 'Rationally!' he finishes. Is vocabulary currently being rationed, Stevie?

We discover Lucy needs an intern, and Stevie has suggested that Riley is the one for the job. They chat about Sam’s sex demands and his baffling sense of entitlement, but the rest of us are distracted by Lucy’s demands. Why the hell does she need an intern? Has she decided that speaking her mind is arduous, and she wishes to outsource it? Is she still seeing Erik, and does she need someone to hold his towel? Will the intern be polishing her grill? Maybe the intern will be a good accent coach, because nothing is more awkward than Lucy’s fake, American 'awkward!' Ooof.

Why the hell does Lucy need an intern? Has she decided that speaking her mind is arduous, and she wishes to outsource it?

Sam is perfectly capable of fighting his own battles, thank you, so when Rosie, in an excellent jacket that is reminiscent of both abstract Modigliani and squid ink pasta, turns up to see Louise, Sam gives it to her through both barrels. Admittedly from Sam it’s more of a joke shop cardboard gun with a flag that says ‘BANG!’ but he tries. 'You didn’t tell Riley what I said about her, did you?'

'Yes!' replies Rosie, bemused but confident. 'You know, I wouldn’t want anyone to act like I was a piece of meat.'

'What’s done is done,' sighs Sam, as if he’s Sean Bean doing Sharpe and not a small and arrogant boy who looks like he doesn’t get his hair cut unless his mum makes him an appointment.

Riley is emphatically not a piece of meat. Riley is a young professional, in the midst of meeting her prospective new boss. 'Mwah, how are you?' she greets Lucy. Then, remembering they’re not supposed to know each other 'Nice to meet you!'

Lucy gets to the point. 'I’ve just started a new business and I’m finding it busy and stressful,' she reveals, sounding slightly shocked. Perhaps she thought she’d read a book on how to start your own company but accidentally picked up the one next to it which was about how to go for a massage. It’s OK, Riley has interned at Alexander McQueen. 'I’m organised,' she smiles. 'Are you driven?' replies Lucy. Bad luck Oyster card users, it sounds like this isn’t the gig for you.

At an equally fancy bar, an equally tense meeting his happening – Binky is telling her mum that she 'held hands' with Alex. 'Currently the way I feel about Alex I would like to see something unpleasant happen for him. There are a million people out there who would fall over themselves for you. You don’t need this gimp.' HEAR HEAR, MUMMY FELSTEAD. She’s unable to be in the same well-lit dining area as him, and when he eventually turns up, she responds to his cheery 'See you soon, Janey!' with a growl and a scowl. Smarmy, smarmy bastard.

It’s not just Lucy who has to deal with the realities of running a business – another cottage industry is springing up in the Royal Borough. Mark Francis is making pocket squares! He’s brought Rosie and Proudlock to his supplier to stop him from losing his mind when he has to choose between '280 different whites, in crepe, duchesse, tweed…'. If I must hear one word the moment before death, let it be Mark Francis seeing me off with the soft aural caress of 'duchesse'.

Another cottage industry is springing up in the Royal Borough. Mark Francis is making pocket squares!

Anyway, he’s not going to stand around describing fabric for my own fusty gratification, he has big plans! Plans to screenprint his pool submerged torso over every pocket square in the land. It’s a little Robert Mapplethorpe for River Island, and I’m into that. 'I want to be caressing half of London’s nipples!' he smiles. And he can achieve it without putting a single postcard in a phone box. The nipple chat has reminded Rosie of the Sam situation. 'HE’S HAD A GIRLFRIEND?!? I’d love to know where he takes girls on dates,' responds Mark Francis, gratifyingly going full Lady Bracknell. 'He’s only taken her to Nando’s before,' replies Rosie, realising her mistake when Mark Francis starts to look confused to the point of full concussion. 'They sell chicken.'

'Oh! I thought it was a wine bar!' he cackles. Of course you did, Mark Francis. Of course you did.

And now to Fran’s job! I forgot she had a job! 'I’ve started working in Indie now!' she tells Andy, who has come to see the studio. Louise Mensch has much to answer for. 'This must be a nice place to… hide from your domestic issues,' replies Andy, responding to a producer, off camera, who is frantically miming 'TALK ABOUT BINKY AND ALEX' by recreating a big, stupid quiff with their hands.

It’s time to meet Edo! 'I’m literally working in the studio next door!' he cries. Literally. Because otherwise 'working in the studio next door' could be a metaphor for doing a really big poo in a nearby toilet. 'Ah, do you work here?' replies Andy, who is not the Mo Farah of The Uptake. Edo invites everyone to a party out East, and Andy looks worried. 'Ed will be there! Our friend Fordy!' says Edo, forgetting he is supposed to have just met Andy. But he’s more concerned about leaving Fulham. 'Obviously, I’ve been East! I’ve been… to The City,' he says, thoughtfully. Andy, Addison Lee will go out as far as Old Street. You’ll be fine.

Riley is working hard, and Stevie is hardly working. He brings her some banana bread before an angry Lucy arrives and tells him to shoo. 'This is a working day, Stevie! I’d appreciate it if you didn’t pester my intern!' If she’d had a broom on her, Stevie would be sat in A&E right now. And Louise is planning a netball game. 'THE FUCK is netball?' replies a baffled Stephanie Pratt. If only we’d had the guts to say that to our teachers 10 years ago. 'It’s like basketball, but you can’t pivot!' replies Louise cheerfully, violently pummelling Stephanie to demonstrate some netball. Yes, that will entice Stephanie.

Binky, who is tired out just hearing a description of netball, reveals what happened with her and Alex. 'I’m terrified of telling Lucy. She’ll try to freak me out.' Louise agrees that Lucy can be more judgemental than a collection of high court judges sitting on the judge’s bench of a judge themed reality show. 'I don’t think I could ever be with someone who has cheated on me,' sniffs Stephanie, conveniently forgetting that’s exactly what she did in the last episode. Elsewhere, Proudlock is counselling Alex, but there’s not really anything worth of note about the exchange other than the fact that Proudlock is wearing a brown trilby, a brown alligator-print vest and a medallion, and looks like Van Morrison if Van got left out in the sun.

The netball game is loaded with animosity. Stephanie riles everyone up before the first ball drops by telling Lucy that Binky slept with Alex and Louise thinks she’s Judge Judy. 'Anyway! Let’s go netball!' she says brightly, a woman no longer encumbered with bearing bad news alone. 'Louise is only doing this to make herself look more sane,' hisses Lucy, possibly hatching a plan to garrote Louise with a netball bib. Andy and Stevie have turned up to perv, and they’re punished with the presence of Sam, who tells Stevie 'You bitched me out hard!' Dude, that doesn’t mean what you think it does. And your lip is wobbling. Stevie is genuinely puzzled. 'You’re not being Stevie at the moment, you’re being a big balls!' adds Sam. Stevie looks like he’s being made to play the 1982 edition of Trivial Pursuit and is stuck on a question featuring Michael Heseltine.

The netball game is loaded with animosity. Stephanie riles everyone up before the first ball drops by telling Lucy that Binky slept with Alex

Alex arrives, and Mummy Felstead abandons her referee post to stomp off. 'I think he’s very brave, turning up to a place where everyone hates him!' says Louise, optimistically, while Cheska mutters darkly about throwing balls at his balls. 'Are you embarassed?' murmurs Alex, pulling Binky close. 'No, I’m scared for you,' admits Binky. Alex, be a bit more craven, or Sam will tell you off for being a big balls.

Lucy ambushes Binky, who tells her that Alex 'realises what a wally he’s been'. Binky, it’s after the watershed. Use the C-bomb. Detonate it. 'My heart’s saying one thing, my mind’s saying another.' 'GO WITH YOUR MIND!' screams Lucy. Well, Lucy’s lips were moving but the volume is being brought by everyone watching at home. Lucy has heard more rumours, including a story that Alex went out and had sex on New Year’s Eve, in Surrey, when Binky had fallen asleep. Bloody hell, Binky must have gone for a nap before the mini quiches had been taken out of the oven. Unless Alex can stop and stretch time, like a shagging, adulterous Doctor Who…

Mark Francis is working hard on his pocket squares. 'If you were going to a very provincial wedding in the South of France you could almost get away with this,' he murmurs, eyeing up a combination of silk and velvet thoughtfully, as if it were just the thing for sitting on a charmingly rustic bale of straw but entirely unsuitable for anything else. You could wear it to Nando’s, Mark Francis!

It’s time for Edo’s party! Andy has made it to EC4 without being pick-pocketed by a gang of marauding Dickensian orphans, and he’s celebrating by dancing like he’s trying to jam his fingers into a series of unevenly spaced rave sockets. Mark Francis whistles 'Someone’s wearing a lot of carats for the East End!' at Victoria, who is dressed like the Mayor of Swarovski. Edo forces Louise to explain Lucy, and the willies they have encountered separately yet known together. 'That’s a colourful history,' rejoins Edo. Mate, not as colourful as your sweater. As an epileptic, I could have done with a warning. And on that theme Stevie is wearing a strange blue anorak with a jewel print. 'You can’t wear that on our next date,' says Riley, and Stevie smooches her as Sam looks on, his heart becoming dust, his very bones turning to ash. My mind’s telling me ‘Awwwwwww!’, but my body is telling me ‘IN YOUR FACE, SAM!’

Lucy rudely barges Edo out of the way to get to the bar, is appraised of Louise’s recent comments, and storms over to Louise for a good shout, trying to bar Rosie out of the way. Rosie holds her ground, even though Lucy squeals 'YOU’VE GOT AN ISSUE TOO?! LEAVE! I CAME TO SPEAK TO LOUISE!' Poor Lucy’s grill is getting so mangled that you couldn’t sell it for scrap metal. And after an unsatisfying phone confrontation, Binky finds Alex and gets him to admit that he’s cheated four times, at least. 'I got stuck down a tunnel of lying!' protests Alex, as if he accidentally tumbled down a well and just happened to get stuck on four different women, while his trousers just happened to be unzipped. 'I was a coward. I know what I want and I know how I feel.' Please, please please don’t let Alex get what he wants. As Mummy Felstead says, 'There are a million people who would fall over themselves' for our Binks. And only one dumb enough to get stuck in a tunnel.

Hero of the week

This week, our hero is Mummy Felstead, who is never anything less than fabulous, but has shown herself to be so loyal to the Binky Brand that we half expected her to turn up to the netball in a Team Felstead T-shirt. It’s very impressive that she made Binks feel comfortable enough to have an ex sex chat, when most of us would rather eat our old boyfriends’ old underpants than do the same with our mums. And she knows how to speak to Binky in a sweet, unscary way. Lucy, take note. Brava, Janey!

Villain of the week

We can’t do Mytton every week, so we’re selecting Stephanie as our MIC bête noire for purposefully bringing more bad news to the table than the wicked godmother at Sleeping Beauty’s christening. Friends don’t let friends know that other friends don’t like them. And they don’t drop bad news bombs before major sporting events. She could have put poor Lucy right off her game. Also, don’t be a total hypocrite. Judge not, that ye be not judged. Which is a fancy biblical way of saying: 'You can’t slag off other people’s sexual behaviour when you’ve slept with Spencer Matthews.'

Follow Daisy on Twitter @NotRollerGirl

This article originally appeared on The Debrief.

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