Around once every eight months or so, one of the *Made In Chelsea *crew* *shocks us by demonstrating an infinitesimally tiny bit of self awareness - and this time, it’s Biscuits’ turn when he calls Mytton out for sighing to indicate knackeredness and saying ‘Cor, hard day at sea!’ In fairness, Biscuits likes to give us the impression that he’s frowning over spreadsheets, and trying to get Candy Kittens into the Ocado featured offers when we’re all fairly confident that he spends one day a month ‘working’, by sitting underneath a conveyor belt with his mouth open, occasionally mumbling ‘needs more sugar’. Mytton knows just as much about hard work - as a professional DJ, he needs to spend all of his time remembering to download the right Spotify playlists, which means he’s got to be on top of his iPhone storage situation. And do you *know *how many administrative skills are required to successfully plan an orgy?!
Mytton makes a fairly gross comment about how Frankie might be spending all of Biscuits’ sweetie dollars at the bar, while Emily assures her that Harry Baron is ‘rancid’ and that she’s never going to sleep with him again ‘unless he’s changed into a completely different man’. Emily, we love you, and we want to be ambitious for you, but we want to be real. We think that all it would take for you to hook up with Harry again is for him to change into a completely different man’s trunks. Or just a new pair of clean ones.
Watch: We Spoke To Lucy, Proudlock And Binky From Made In Chelsea
Mimi tries and fails to find a single person who is prepared to endorse her bad feelings for Sam. (Mytton seems keen, but in a ‘stirring means screentime’ way, and Mimi is clearly hoping for someone to tell her that she must follow her heart, or the guiding vibrations of a vaginal jade egg.) Sam Prince is still sulking for sex, and trying his luck with the locals. He demands that Daisy tell him the Spanish for ‘lady baby’, explaining ‘it’s my word for girls’. Sam, I’ve had *norovirus *that made me less sick than the grotty concept of a ‘lady baby’. Then, in news that is a surprise to precisely zero people, Harry tells Emily that Frankie is a clawed liar and she should only listen to Harry, who is nice and good and handsome and has a penis which has been in the Daily Mail’s cancer prevention health supplement. Emily is completely taken in, even though Harry is such an awful idiot that he is voluntarily wearing a shirt the colour of a Bristol Stool Chart Seven. ‘I’m so confused,’ she wails. Yes, Emily, we’re all confused. Harry has slightly less personality than a promotional cardboard cut out of Muttley from *Wacky Races, *but here he is on our screens once again, yammering about how great he is.
Mimi and Sam flirt tipsily, trying and failing to make us care about their forbidden love. Sam says that if he had his way he’d ‘steal a kiss,’ because when you’re trying to get someone to fall for you, it’s apparently hot to try and make yourself sound like an erotic Hamburglar. In other ‘boringly predictable scandalous passion’ news, Emily and Harry Baron hook up again too, and she’s spotted attempting to look winsome in his Charles Tyrwhitt shirt. Their post coital set up is so queasy that it could be a badly dubbed advert for discreet European incontinence pads. ‘Try Piss’n’kiss! Let yourself go - he’ll never know!’
Tiff Skypes Liv and Frankie, and barely mentions Sam - she’s clearly been having a *lovely *sexy time in Croatia, and no-one will ask her about her adventures because they’re so desperate to demonstrate a show of head tilting concern. Scummy Sam Prince has sex with a lady baby in Toff’s bed. ‘You can laugh about this now, but I bet you’re pretty disappointed in yourself,’ grumbles a stern Ella, who gets laughed at for her trouble. Frankie pops over to see Liv and catches a post coital Harry, who tells Frankie to ‘be a bigger person’ and sort out her friendship with Emily. Urghhh, when will someone bury him in the sand, stick a bucket over his head and wait for the tide to come in!? Predictably, Sam and Mimi have a snog - although the finest psychics in the land might not have guessed that it would be during a yoga session in which Sam elected to go topless.
Frankie has a birthday party planned by generous Biscuits, who says ‘I’m going home, so this is my send-off’. It’s really not a pardy unless it’s all about Jamie. Liv harangues Sam for doing the one thing he wasn’t supposed to do on his break from Tiff, by having sexy feelings for a mutual friend. Sam defends himself. ‘I’m trying to stay so true to what I’m feeling right now, and I’m feeling like I’m going to do whatever I want!’ That’s admirable, Sam, if you’re being a selfish tool for spiritual reasons, in order to achieve full personal growth. ‘No-one is thinking about me!’ he wails. That’s not true! Sam Thompson thinks about Sam Thompson, and no-one else, all the time! Frankie and Emily fight about Harry, and Frankie admits to having a soft spot for him ‘in a friendly way’. Dude, *how can this be? *What’s to *like? *There are poisonous spiders that would make better friends than Harry. Sam Prince tells Toff about his scuzzy behaviour, truly believing that she’s going to congratulate him for his bravery and honesty. Liv runs off to be sick. Sam might not have any luck with ladies, but he’ll always be the MIC baby.
Hero of the week
Let’s give it to Ella for *attempting *to inject a bit of moral weight and gravity into this series’ increasingly icky shag fest. Eventually, Sam Prince will feel bad and Ella will be able to enjoy the sweetest sensation in the world - being right.
Villain of the week
Again, it’s so hard to pick one, but I’m tempted to award it to selfish Sam Thompson - because there’s nothing more rage inducing than hearing a wealthy white man defending his right to do *anything *he wants.
Like this? You might also be interested in...
We Grill Made In Chelse's Frankie Gaff on her Instagram Feed Secrets
43 of the Most Outrageous Made in Chelsea Quotes of All Time
Follow Daisy on Twitter @NotRollergirl
This article originally appeared on The Debrief.