I am going to start this Made In Chelsea review with a small ‘hooray’ for golf! I know! I am surprised as you are! Now, golf is almost entirely the preserve of the posh. Little children cannot improvise a game of golf a couple of sticks, a rolled up jumper and a put-upon, exasperated parent to be the ‘golf goalie’. When I lie awake at night worrying about tax bills and overdrafts, I often think of the thousands of pounds I have saved by not playing golf, because some of the clubs cost more than my Ikea FRIHETEN sofa. Still, golf is an underrated activity, because it gives men the time and space to have a bit of a chat - and the world is set up in a way that gives men first dibs on most things, but not, sadly, talking about their vulnerabilities and complexities with trusted pals. So hats off to golf! It’s allowed Sam Thompson and Harry Baron to rekindle an awkward friendship, and it’s given Sam the space to say that his heart is breaking. ‘Don’t tell me it’s nothing when it turns out to be everything,’ he murmurs, whacking a ball, and presumably pretending it’s Sam Prince’s wandering hands. Golf that pain away, Sammy T!
Liv is continuing in her quest to photograph the strong women of Chelsea, and she’s taking pictures of Victoria, who is channelling one of the strongest women of all time - Joan Collins. Victoria is being pictured surrounded by baying, suited men. Liv only had the budget for about two proper models, so Mytton has been roped in, presumably knowing that these shoots usually have unlimited coffee and free biscuits, and that he probably won’t have to compete with the proper models for the custard creams. Mytton proves his usefulness by drawing Liv’s attention to Digby, a model with a particularly enormous ‘portfolio’. The makeup artist interrupts - she knows him, he’s single and she’ll give him Liv’s number. Hooray! Someone should have a sexy, cheerful Autumn romance!
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Another sexy, cheerful Autumn romance is on the cards for Sophie, who is down in the woods with Boulle and failing to get his bird jokes. (‘What’s a polygon? A dead parrot,’ leaves her colder than a baked potato on a forgotten bonfire.) She says she’s after someone who has their shit together ‘financially’ and, at Boulle’s probing ‘sexually’ - so Boulle puts on a cosy jumper, grabs his notepad and goes down to the Harbour Club (a favourite haunt of Princess Diana, beloved royal icon fans!) and asks Fred about his sexual and financial shit. Tiff and Sam Prince have an awkward encounter - and Sam Prince really is exceptionally rude and dismissive for someone who’s been trying to cop a feel in the recent past. Sam insists they kissed, Tiff says it’s nonsense. I think she’d admit to eating a sausage out of a bin before she’d say there was a smooch.
Mimi brings poor old Charlie to drinks with Sophie and Victoria (and when did they make it up? Victoria was slamming Sophie for snakiness before Taylor was able to edit her Instagram comments!) Mimi is quite rude to Charlie, who says he’s taking a back seat to her magazine relaunch. One day, when I’m really bored, I’m going to see whether Mimi’s ‘magazine’ is registered with Companies House or if it’s just a blog for targeting the vegans she hates.
Charlie and Mimi will probably be over before we’ve opened our advent calendars - but the sexy new Autumn romances are going strong! Liv and Digby go for a drink, which is interrupted by Molly the makeup artist, who wants Digby’s keys. ‘Who was that?’ hisses a short-memoried Liv. ‘My sister!’ explains Digby. Phew! New male cast members aren’t permitted to talk to many women, but we can allow a close female relative! Fred’s date with Sophie begins with a frozen sculpture of an emperor penguin and an appalling joke about breaking the ice. It gets worse when Fred says ‘Instead of champagne, I thought you might like some beer!’ and Sophie looks at him as though he is an Ocado delivery person, and she is about to murder him for making a bad substitution. Liv’s date ends with breakfast time nudity, and Fred’s…doesn’t.
Less cheerily, Sam is seriously cracking up. Tiff has a heartrending chat with Frankie, and reveals that she’s so sad she needs to leave the country. Sam confides in off with devastating emotional honesty, rounding off with ‘I wish I wasn’t such a dick’. It contrasts quite, er, sharply, with Mimi’s waspishly superficial dismissal of Charlie. Now, we can’t force Mimi to fancy Charlie, or to date him - but we can’t help but wonder whether Charlie would have more appeal for Mimi if, say, Tiff had pursued him with a little more vigour. Mimi accuses Charlie of ‘playing the victim’ - Mimi, you forced that man to wear beige clothes! In this relationship, he’s never been anything else!
Gently but forcefully, Toff tells Sam Prince that he needs to apologise to Sam Thompson - then Harry Baron turns up and bombastically refuses to shake his hand. Sam Prince says he’s ‘fucking average’ - he’s not good at anything, even insults - and elsewhere, Sam Thompson sobs ‘I don’t want space, I want my girlfriend back!’ as he gazes at a giant picture of Tiff, in monochrome, holding a pig. So if you’ve recently loved and lost, think on. You could be in a top London gallery staring at a life-size picture of your ex, enjoying a porky snuggle.
Hero of the week
Controversially I am going to give this to Sophie, for not laughing at Boulle’s joke out of nervous politeness as so many of us would have done. It’s a ballsy move, and you have to be a confident woman to pull it off. Sophie, you are ridding the world of Dad gags, one joke at a time, and we salute you for it.
Villain of the week
It’s tempting to give this to Sam Prince, again, but let’s give it to Mimi for dumping Charlie with such a crashing lack of kindness, empathy and grace. Manners maketh the Mimi.
Like this? You might also be interested in…
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Follow Daisy on Twitter @NotRollergirl
This article originally appeared on The Debrief.