I’m going to be real with you. There have been moments in my life as a one hundred and ten percent keeno, fully paid up, semi-professional Made In Chelsea fan girl where I have been of the opinion thatSam Thompson is an absolute bellend, and I have wished ill on him. Now, I feel terrible about this. I take it back. Because seeing Sam, gaunt and rheumy of eye and wrapped in a bobbly blanket, has reminded me all too keenly of the crushing, seemingly unsurvivable pain of heartbreak. Sam, I have had more than one dumping that coincided with the clocks going back, and I know that this feels so wincingly horrid that for half an hour a day, it’s almost exhilarating, until the whistle fades to a dull rattle. This too shall pass, Sam, I promise. It might take months and months, but if you keep buggering on, the morning will come when you wake up and don’t feel as though someone has come and peeled all of your skin off in the night. In the meantime, Toff has made muffins.
Sophie has gone on another date with Fred that has turned into a sexy naked life drawing group hang with Boulle and Victoria. We discover that she would like to be sculpted, nude, in a catlike position, and have the result made into the base of a coffee table. So, if any furniture PRs have been watching, get on it - when Sophie shares this on social media, you’ll get shitloads of likes, which is nearly as good as selling a product! Liv invites Digby on the group trip to Tuscany, saying ‘it’s weird, right, really weird, we barely know each other, so weird!’ like that girl in school who would walk up to you, gaze directly into your eyes and shout ‘Odd socks! ODD SOCKS! RANDOM!’ Liv, if you want things to get seriously weird, you should invite her along. After the sexy naked life drawing, Sophie and Victoria have a clearly contrived run-in with Mimi. Mimi has been instructed to make this look casual and accidental, so she is wearing a baseball cap, to indicate that she is chilling out, maxing and relaxing. She is also wearing the sort of jacket that they would make you put on immediately after running a marathon, in space. Victoria and Sophie are mean about this after Mimi leaves. Guys, don’t be such bitches. Someone needs to tell Mimi to get a new jacket, otherwise, she’ll never learn.
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This is what’s a little weird about the Tuscany trip. Even though it’s been organised in Sam Thompson’s honour, he is too sad to go, and prefers to stay at home and mope. Well, maybe that’s not weird. What is perhaps peculiar is that Mytton went ahead and booked everything before ringing Sam up and saying ‘Hello, would you like to go on a cheer up trip to Italy? No? OK, not to worry, we’ll leave it for now and go when you’re feeling up to it.’ In these times of toxic masculinity, ‘Get your balls back and come on holiday’ is not a helpful instruction. On the contrary, I believe Sam has serious cojones when he stands up to the others and says ‘Let me go through what I’m going through.’
Louise and Proudock are also planning a surprise for Sam, and while I don’t think Proudlock could cure heartbreak, or even a mild headache, with ‘positive vibes’, I’m really pleased to hear his high five giving tip: Always look at the other person’s elbow. As someone who has less luck with palms than an unemployed psychic, this is very useful to me.
The lovely thing about being posh is that travel doesn’t ever seem to involve any actual travel. With one bound, half the gang is in Tuscany. Why do we never see them at the airport? Why is there never a shot of Liv buying £50 of tiny hand sanitisers in Boots, and then dropping the contents of her handbag on the floor when the sales assistant asks to see her boarding pass? Will we never get to watch Mytton shovelling tiny crackers into his pocket in the pay as you go lounge? No. We have Liv and Digby soaring over the sunset in a beautiful bright balloon. Their love is a fundamentally eighties love. I hope that all their future dates are trips and excursions that were once bonus prizes on Catchphrase during the reign of Roy Walker. To keep the spirit of naff luxury love alive, Liv reminds us all that she and Digby have not ‘sealed the deal’. Oh, really? I’ll believe that in the way that my Mum believes I was a virgin until my wedding in 2015. Frankie and Harry are on the brink of getting off with each other, although now that Biscuits is out of the picture, Harry’s interest seems to be cooling and hardening like lava turning to metamorphic rock, or porridge that has exploded in its bowl and etched itself indelibly on the door of a microwave.
Proudlock’s ‘good vibes’ gift to Sam is a session with a life coach. There is yet more toxic masculinity as the life coach tells Sam to ‘stop sounding like a little girl and find your balls again.’ Proudlock, I really think you should complain about him to Groupon. Still, we learn that Sam has, in the midst of his heartbreak, bought a house! Even when he’s too sad to wear clothes that have armholes, economically he’s functioning at about 500 percent of what most of us are capable of on our power days.
The life coach has managed to make some kind of an impact on Sam - he’s getting his Tiff tattoo turned into something that will help him to forget her and move on. It looks like a big sausage! Well, it’s a feather, but it’s sufficiently sausagey to make Sam forget all about that picture of Tiff cuddling a pig…wait. Oh no! Proudlock bullies Ryan into getting a tattoo, and we learn just how uncomfortable Ryan is with this because he pronounces it ‘taht-oh’.
Liv ‘seals the deal’ and has ‘high end’ sex with Digby. Eh? I reckon they’re doing some super niche role play, in which she is dressing up as Lovejoy. Molly warns Digby that Liv gets bored easily and Frankie and Harry go truffle hunting. Harry is visibly gutted that Biscuits has already mansplained to Frankie about what truffles are. Sophie and Boulle have an odd, bitchy dinner where he relays stuff that Mimi has said about her, which leads to a showdown, a beef so formulaic that you could add hot water to it and eat it in a mug with rehydrated noodles. Finally, Sam demonstrates his independence and commitment to maturity by moving into his brand new house. Which is next door to Louise’s! We suspect Sam’s moving on is neither real nor figurative! Poor old Sam.
Hero of the week
If anyone deserves this it’s Sam, who is doing what every single one of us who has ever been in therapy knows, and STAYING WITH THE FEELINGS. Thoughts and prayers, Sammy T! Thoughts and prayers.
Villain of the week
Perhaps Boulle, who is fanning the miasma of unsavoury beef like a crappy New York air con unit that drips sweatily onto your face on a hot summer day. Or maybe it should go to the person responsible for Mimi’s Michelin Midas jacket.
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This article originally appeared on The Debrief.