Made In Chelsea Ibiza, Episode 6: Liv’s Kisses Wreak Disaster, Frankie Couldn’t Get Home Any Faster And Sam And Tiff Don’t Live Happily Ever After

As holidays go, this series of Made In Chelsea has been about as relaxing as pitching a tent on a roundabout and then walking up and down the M25. But that’s all part of the fun.

Made In Chelsea Ibiza, Episode 6: Liv’s Kisses Wreak Disaster, Frankie Couldn’t Get Home Any Faster And Sam And Tiff Don’t Live Happily Ever After

by Daisy Buchanan |
Published on

Occasionally something so truly horrible happens in Made In Chelsea that the only way to deal with it is to pretend it was a bad dream, not something that happened to real life humans. We’d all hoped the harrowing dinner party we were forced to witness last week had fallen into that category. Also, at least the screaming diners got food. We viewers were forced to witness something truly distressing and we didn’t even get our tea made for us, we were left to sort out our own toast. We were praying the bad dinner would never be spoken of ever again. Olivia dashes our hopes by immediately describing it as ‘a ball of laughs’, which is too clunky to be properly sarcastic, and not even a real expression.

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Then we see Sam looking all red and puffy of face, which means we’re staring down the barrel of another bloody hour of Tiff-whingeing. Well, that or he went to a sketchy hotel spa and had a dodgy glycolic peel. ‘Tiff is doing this purely to hurt you,’ hisses arch stirrer Harry Baron, as Sam wails about Pablo, the ‘seven foot Goliath’. No, Harry, I think Tiff is doing this because Pablo almost certainly has a very big penis, and after spending years of your life analysing arseholes in Fulham’s priciest coffee shops, there is something deeply appealing about having a fling with a very handsome man who speaks very stilted English. As they speak, Tiff is smooching with him under a tree, while apologising for bringing him to a gathering that was slightly less fun than the Last Supper. ‘Broke ups are hard,’ says Pablo, generously. Quite.

In kissing news, we learn that Sam Prince and Olivia have been at it. I’m going to argue that this is the shark jump, the moment that MIC stretched the dimensions of reality like a jumper that has been pulled over the wearer’s knees, making it look as though they’re pregnant with a rhombus. Liv and Sam Prince. It is less believable than Garfield coming out and getting together with Nermal. It’s such a strategic storyline bunk up that it makes the Royal Family’s approach to romantic relationships seem casual and mellow. Liv maintains it’s all a big joke - obviously Sam’s keen. But Ibiza is packed with very handsome men who would get off with her as soon as they’ve finished pouring her rosé. There is no universe beyond the 'reality' one where she’d do sexy kissing with a boy who is less mature than Tom Hanks in Big, and has a collection of polo necks in lieu of a personality.

Julius and Ella bitch about Liv, Frankie goes back to London and we try to feel sad about her tearful goodbye to Jamie Biscuits, but all anyone can concentrate on is Biscuits enormous, shaven head. Mimi complains about Tiff, and how very unfair it is that Tiff won’t be civil. I’m pretty sure that all Tiff wants to do is stand a good 30 metres away from Mimi and then take her thumb and forefinger and squish her into the horizon and out of her life. They meet for a drink. ‘It’s not awkward for me, it’s awkward for you because of what you did to me.’ Producers, if you were to put this on a high quality fitted t shirt I would pay up to forty pounds for it.

The boys go for a big night out, and watch the sun come up while burbling nonsense, perched on some rocks. Goodness, they must have knocked back lots of fizzy drinks in order to be talking so much nonsense, so quickly! They’ve been up all night, and they seem wide awake! How mysterious! Mytton goes on about how it was the ‘best night ever’, but it can’t have been that good because his sunglasses are still hanging onto the neckline of his t shirt. If he’d have really gone for it, they’d have fallen off on the dance floor, or at least resting on the top of a urinal at Amnesia. Biscuits SWEARS IN FRONT OF THE SUNRISE NOT TO GET BACK with Frankie, so I’m prepared to place a large wager on a reunion at the start of the next series. Sam wisely points out that breaks don’t work, and Mytton tells him that he’s covered in snot. It doesn’t matter how much you know about relationships. No-one will take your advice if you’re covered in bogeys.

Frankie sees Emily in London, and she’s sorry-not-sorry for flirting with Harry, but Emily is clearly bored of talking about Harry and just wants to get on with having a nice cosy time in her flat. Smart girl. Back on the island, Harry is enjoying the final few days of calm and relaxation…hahahahahaha NO he’s trying to manipulate Liv into fighting with Julius. Toff comes back from London and learns about Liv and Sam, so there’s plenty of conflict on the table for Liv to enjoy if she wants it. A buffet of bad feeling. A waffle bar of war. A…newly refilled hash brown tray of hatred? Nah, maybe not that last one.

It’s pardy time! Biscuits is explaining that his strong look was cultivated by cutting off the sleeves of a ladies’ gilet. Do correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure that a gilet is already sleeveless, and Biscuits has traumatised some kind of bomber jacket. Liv and Toff have a predictable argument about Sam Prince, which somehow incorporates the Julius war. (If I had to take a history exam on this series, I would fail.) Harry hears a rumour that Biscuits has, to use Daisy’s parlance, ‘bonked’ someone. ‘How will Frank take it? Badly, I hope!’ Oh, fuck off, you amateur sociopath.

Liv throws a drink at Julius, bookending the Ibiza trip neatly. We started with a drink fling, we ended with a drink fling. Alpha and omega. Sun rise, sun set. Sam and Tiff have a final break up chat. ‘I hope we can always be respectful to each other,’ she sobs. The scene would have much more gravity if they weren’t both covered in glitter. Thanks for a lovely summer, MIC! As holidays go, it has been about as relaxing as pitching a tent on a roundabout and then walking up and down the M25. But that’s all part of the fun.

Hero of the series

She wasn’t in it for long, but lovely Louise Thompson was extremely wise and mature, as well as bringing the best lewks. Statement necklaces for days. We love you, Louise!

Villain of the series

As much as I hate myself for giving him the attention, Harry Baron - not just for the havoc wreaking but for being high on arrogance, low on charisma and less fun to watch than Piers Morgan’s ball sac.

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This article originally appeared on The Debrief.

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