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Made In Chelsea Croatia, Episode 5: Liv Cuts A Rug, Tabitha Needs A Hug And Miles Is An Emotional Thug

© E4

One thing we've learnt from Made In Chelsea is that the rich are different. When they wish to confront their enemies, they invite them out to lunch. We’re living through an era of unprecedented strangeness, and there is only one truth that can be proven incontrovertible during this difficult time. If you live within half a mile of Fulham, you shall never have the opportunity to enjoy a meal in a restaurant. It’s impossible to go out for eggs on a Saturday morning without someone leaping out from under the table and providing a garnish of unsolicited advice and home truths. If anyone suggests going out for a 12 course tasting menu and complimentary wine flight, you’re better off feigning busyness and staying at home with the curtains drawn, stapling your eyelids to your cheeks and sprinkling chilli flakes over your loo roll. You’d have a nicer time. So it’s a shock to everyone that Diana and Melissa’s lunch begins and ends with courteous enquiries about health and wellbeing, and at no point does anyone have to remove a shard of wine glass from their companion’s forehead. ‘You haven’t done anything wrong, I don’t want you to think I hate you,’ says Melissa, generous and mature as a free cheese buffet. ‘But Habbs, for some reason, is not having my back…’ For that is the other Rule Of Lunch. There is always a target, but they’re not necessarily invited.

Diana might be new, but she’s been exceptionally well briefed. She skips off to Lunch 2 with Habbs and Biscuits, and gives Habbs a full report of every single mean thing Melissa has said about her. Whatever we might say about Harry (and there’s plenty) there’s no denying that he’s very good at saving energy. He now has four people who are fully invested in carrying out a fight that he inspired, and he’s free to lie in bed in his pants eating Croatian brand Cheetos, watching Jake Paul videos on his phone. Also, Harry has lied and manipulated himself into a position in which he has a house to himself, because Habbs simply can’t bear to share any more. Machiavelli himself couldn’t have planned a better holiday.

Tabitha and Miles have, as the young people say, ‘gone there’ again. She says it was a snog, he describes what happens in a way that is entirely ungentlemantly, and Tabitha tells Ollie she feels a bit guilty because she’s been seeing a boy in London. I feel a preemptive pang in the way one might when they’re standing by a post box with a letter still in their hand, and no phone. Or a sensation not dissimilar from opening the door of the lift, walking confidently forward and suddenly realising that all that lies beneath your feet is cables and cobwebs. It’s Sam Prince, isn’t it? Tabitha has fucking well been fucking Sam Fucking Prince. A boy with so much unearned confidence that he makes Martin Shkrelli’s self esteem look a bit wobbly. A boy whose intellectual prowess is such that he might struggle to make the qualifying round of Celebrity Catchphrase. La Coeur a sa raisons, I suppose, but Tabitha’s couer is slightly less reasonable than the Cookie Monster in the Bake Off tent.

Liv’s MacGuffin, sorry, dance class, is so torturously dull that the instructor manages to do Hamlet’s entire final monologue with her eyes during her three seconds of screen time. However, we do learn the best worst dance tip of all time. Liv’s Dad told her that the only dance step one really needs is the ‘towel drying’ move. It almost works if you’re Donald Duck. But lying down damply for half an hour with one eye on your phone and the other on Netflix is never going to be ‘the new dabbing’. The only redeeming feature of the dance class is that Lovely Ollie Locke gets involved, a precious bright spot in a dark and fighty world.

Miles gets wind of the fact that Tabitha is sweet on Sam Prince. While we might be baffled by this, it’s really none of Miles’ business. Let’s examine our facts. Miles has been doing bits with Tabitha, in a deeply disinterested fashion, only really bothering when he’s drunk, and finding her interest in him tedious. Tabitha has told no-one about her burgeoning passion for Sam Prince, because they’re not exclusive, it’s very early and she deliberately didn’t make any kind of commitment because she knew she was going on a big sexy holiday. Tabitha’s growing feelings for Sam Prince make Miles’ life much easier. He can walk away, knowing she’s not excessively keen, and he’s not hurting her feelings. So what does Miles do? He resolves to tell Sam Prince at his earliest convenience. Obviously it’s that or get fired from the show, and Miles is too new to take the moral high ground, but I long for someone on MIC to do the right thing, or at least display slightly more integrity than a bowl of custard. Even Sam Prince’s hairdresser is morally suspect. The poor boy has turned up with frosted tips.

In a desperate attempt to stay relevant, Harry Baron has a go at some fake news. ‘Habbs is saying I’m an arsehole! I’m not an arsehole! Admittedly I’ve done things that have been arsehole worthy.’ To be fair, arseholes have a point and purpose. Digby complains that your friends are always the ones who ruin your relationship, by being cruel and obnoxious and pointing fingers when your partner is weeping about the fact that she’s not allowed to leave the house, or wear clothes that show her neck. Friends are the worst.

To prove the point, Habbs tearfully confronts Harry about their earlier showdown. ‘You think I’m an arsehole for lying? If you’d been supportive, we wouldn’t have this issue right now,’ snaps Harry. It’s like watching a sobbing Ophelia being berated by someone in a short sleeved shirt and clip on tie for accidentally going home with a company Sharpie. I think the closest thing to a real emotion that Harry has ever experienced is ‘slightly peckish’. This harrowing episode ends with Miles and Sam Prince both confronting Tabitha, Miles insisting that she’s lying, that she did have sex with him, and here are her earrings to prove it. I have seen MGM dance sequences that make more logical sense. Although MIC has served as a very useful public information film, showing the full and horrible consequences of having sex with Miles. If you value your emotional and mental health, do avoid this one man STI.

Hero of the week

Liv’s Dad, for the information that will make every single wedding DJ’s work slightly more tolerable. As soon as you hear the first strains of Agadoo, just pick up your imaginary towel and get to work!

Villain of the week

Miles, because he is young and dumb and so devoted to blood sports that he ruined two people’s holidays because his ego got slightly dented.

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