It begins, bewilderingly, with Binky hailing a cab - an actual black cab, muttering ‘Heathrow, please’ and texting her Mum to say ‘Things are over with JP, leaving town for a few days, need to clear my head’. She’s wearing an excellent pair of Wayfarers, but doesn’t appear to have any luggage - that tote bag is barely big enough to contain clean knickers and a phone charger. Who casually saunters off to Heathrow in the middle of the day without allowing an extra 13 hours to get through Security? Who doesn’t book a minicab, being sure to block their number so that the mini cab company doesn’t remember the tearful 40 minutes you spent trying to find one of their drivers at arrivals after you’d rolled off an overnight flight, smelling of cheese and farts? (Come on, it’s not just me.) Who doesn’t have a bag big enough for a multi socket plug adaptor, and a spare multi socket plug adaptor, in case they get mugged? I don’t think she’s going abroad at all! She’s going to lick her wounds at the Middlesex Holiday inn, possibly while enjoying their unlimited pastry buffet! Still, though. If it’s ended with JP, all our Christmasses have come at once! Might have a celebratory glass of Bailey’s and prawn ring!
We learn from Liv that soy milk ‘makes you girly because of oestrogen’ and that she stopped drinking it after it made her cry. Liv, is it possible that you were weeping because of your inability to fully analyse the idea that gender is a construct, and that there is nothing feminist about dismissing the feminine? Just something to think about. Tiff slags off Toff, which is marginally less interesting than her own alleged lactose intolerance. It turns out Toff is still working at The Lady - we’d forgotten, and we’re not sure that Toff or her editor had remembered either! Jess comes to see her at work with snacks and party thoughts. ‘Your birthday is coming up,’ Jess says, and Toff squeals ‘I don’t believe it!’ Every year, Toff! It’s a shock to us all. She plans to invite Tiff because ‘it’s the right thing to do’ - admirable, but I have a spooky feeling that Tiff might be washing her hair that night.
Boulle is in the park making a to0-do list with a voice recorder - like Elon Musk, if Elon Musk was known for hanging out with ducks instead of inventing PayPal. ‘Finish BOOK…organise BOOK launch…BOOK a massage class,’ he intones, before launching into some peculiar beat poetry which is mercifully interrupted by sweaty Stephanie, out for a run. ‘The last time I saw you you fucked over Toff and fucked over Liv Bentley!’ she cries cheerfully, before asking him if he’s going to Toff’s party. ‘I want to see you in a deep v neck…we’ll be drunk!’ She bounces off, leaving Boulle looking as though he’s just been rear ended by someone who has no insurance.
JP is sad about Binky, but not so sad that he can’t say pompous things about the end of the relationship while playing golf. We discover Sam walked in on Louise and Ryan having sex (‘WHY is that giant, cartoon steak on top of my sister? Oh….oh no!’) and is now wearing his boxers, which does not bear too much close analysis. Toff turns up, Tiff totally stonewalls her, and as his best mate and girlfriend stare each other down, the rest of us start to gain some insight as to why Sam chose to wear another man’s pants. Liv forces Frankie to come up with pros and cons for staying with Jamie. He’s selfish, two faced and a people pleaser, but he does have a very good cleaner.
Louise and Rosie complain about Binky, seeming to take it as a personal affront that she has gone to Heathrow on her own to get her head together. JP joins them and embarks upon his usual one man rant - but instead of hearing a selfish, possessive, entitled idiot wang on and on, Louise and Rosie mysteriously seem to be listening to a reasonable, loving boyfriend. This might be the political landscape of 2016 in a nutshell - if you’re not strong and sober, the worst people start to sound nice and normal just because of the sheer power of repetition. Sam tries to get Tiff to come to Toff’s party, but says excellent, boyfriendly things like ‘You’re my number one priority!’ and ‘We’re a united front!’ and promises to give Toff a talking to. Hooray! Although when he jokes about making her a godmother, Tiff looks as though she’d like to leave a horse’s head in her bed.
Frankie and Jamie have a make or break talk in Holland Park, but it’s hard to concentrate because neither of them seem to be entirely sure what conkers are. Can I shoe horn another ‘the rich are different?’ joke? The best educations money can buy, and no understanding of foliage. Louise and Rosie keep complaining about Binky, who is now back - ‘it’s weird [on WhatsApp] when you know someone has read your message and not replied,’ sniffs Louise. Not as weird as trying to shut the world out and having the red circle of doom buzzing at you because your mates do not feel sufficiently attended to. Binky, serene in cream, wisely says ‘I don’t need to change! I’m a very good girlfriend. I am still learning, still growing up, we all are.’ We’re about to applaud her wisdom when Rosie tells her she’s fucked up and she bursts into tears. Rosie, no-one wants your tough love, ever! Can’t you be normal, and show up with a ‘Luv you hun!!! XOXOXO’ card and a box of Krispy Kremes?
Sam turns up to Toff’s birthday and tried to broach the Tiff Issue - Toff reacts badly, but Sam is coming with a message no-one should have to hear on their birthday. Jess is wearing a perfectly nice ACDC shirt (and I’m sure she can name several albums) but reveals she’s not dressed up because she forgot it was Toff’s birthday this morning. And they’re supposed to be best friends!
Steph is having a dinner party, which she’s throwing purely in order for Mytton and Julius to enjoy her lovely lady lumps. ‘This is going to be a fun dinner,’ says Mytton, who is half a glass of champagne away from yelling ‘NOT’ at the end. Biscuits and Frankie are practically having sex at the table, to Liv’s disappointment and fury. Everyone else looks like they might kill each other with fish knives. Julius calls Sam out for attacking him on JP’s behalf, everyone yells and Julius runs away. Mytton tells Biscuits off for being bitchy, and Jamie tells him, testily, that he wants to sort everything out with Frankie ‘without anyone trying to help’. Steph, attempting to join in, demands that Frankie list the cons from her anti Biscuits list. Obviously, this goes down like an additional poo course. Fred is so stressed that he actually pushes a dread away from his face.
Jess accuses Tiff and Sam of ‘brainwashing each other’, and is very upset that Tiff and Toff might go for a conciliatory coffee. She seems to hate Tiff in the abstract, all consuming way in which some football fans hate Arsenal, even though this makes no sense to the unsporty. Steph escapes, finds Julius and does everything bar whipping off her knickers, straddling his shoulders and saying ‘What would you say this tastes like?’ Julius responds with vim. ‘Do people call you Pratty? You call someone a prat - it’s like calling someone a prick.’ Still, she gets a date out of it. On the one hand, brava. On the other, WHY MUST SHE MAKE THIS SO CRINGEY AND EXHAUSTING?
Binky tells her Mum she thinks JP is ‘not a bad guy. He’s just maybe not the right guy,’ as JP interrupts Rosie and Louise to tell them that Binky has ‘made her bed’ and he is ‘so done with it’. It takes a real man to make heartbreak into a PR branding exercise. He’ll be running the country one day!
Hero of the week
It’s got to go to Mummy Felstead, who seems to be the only person bringing warmth and wisdom and saying exactly what Binky needs to hear. We love you, Mummy Felstead!
Villain of the week
Oh God, probably all of them. Let’s give it to Julius, because if you strip this episode down to its bare bones, someone invited him to a catered dinner party and he then called them a prick, to their face.
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This article originally appeared on The Debrief.