To paraphrase the Baroness in The Sound Of Music, there is nothing more irresistible to a man, or a woman, than another man walking around the docks early in the morning with a massive crusty baton of fresh French bread. Ollie Locke is accessorised thusly, causing a great surge of love among us all. In 2018, there is none more daring, dynamic or sexy than the person who actually eats carbs for breakfast. This might explain how Ollie gains Miles’ confidences. The sartorially watchful Locke notices that Miles has not changed his shirt since sun up. Miles reluctantly admits that he has spent the night with Tabitha. Ollie is delighted. Partly because his housemate got a snog and partly because gossip is the only international currency that hasn’t tanked in the last six weeks. The return on a good bit of gossip is better than bitcoin.
However, some pieces of gossip are more valuable than others and the news from last time is going to be very bad for anyone who has shares in Sam’s relationship futures. (As if you would, though. No-one is that stupid.) Sam tells Harry that he and Habbs are ‘smit’ – which means crazy in love and possibly minty fresh. Still, ‘there is one problem’ and we can hear the Jaws theme before Sam reveals that the girl he slept with in Vegas, who he has stayed in touch with, is coming to London. Of course she’s coming to bloody London. She was signing a release form on Google docs while Sam was rolling the condom off. Sam pleads for clemency, claiming he lied to Habbs because he was ‘caught on the fly’. He adds ‘I asked her if she got with anyone in Mykonos, and she asked if I had…I wasn’t really expecting it.’ To put it in context, this is a little bit like saying ‘I asked them how they were, and they asked me, and this question was so unexpected I yelled “I HAVE DICK SHINGLES.’” Sam, you’re less convincing than one of those bizarre cross country trains where they’ve painted a fake fireplace on the wall of the toilet.
Biscuits is angsting over his relationship with Ell, or rather, Miles’ relationship with Ell. ‘Why couldn’t he just want to be friends with me because I’m a nice person. This is tedious now,’ says excellent Ell, who is not interested in being the subject of a love rivalry. ‘No-one called Miles could be any sort of genius,’ sneers Mark Francis, who, oddly, has dressed for the heat in a combination of items that look like he stole them from the cover model of the 1996 Freeman’s catalogue – curious white trousers and a strangely snakey paisley print shirt. I would pay any amount of money to see Mark Francis with frosted tips and a centre parting.
Melissa is occupying a recognisable emotional space. Her best friend appears to have met a serious romantic prospect, and she is mentally fast forwarding to autumn, when she can draw the curtains, light her Diptyque candles and finally have a cosy foursome over for a proper dinner party. She’s already found a recipe for pear and Roquefort tart, she might even have a go at the puff pastry herself. ‘It looks like Sam’s ready for a relationship!’ she tells Harry, mentally clicking ‘buy’ on some new Anthropologie stemless wineglasses. Oh, dear. Harry has news for her. ‘Don’t tell her,’ he urges. ‘You need to give him the opportunity to do that.’ Harry, have you met Sam? Let’s not hold our breath.
In a deeply pleasing reference to MIC episodes of old, Ollie is fishing. Biscuits is fishing for information about Miles and Tabitha, and Ollie is unapologetically indiscreet. ‘I wasn’t going to tell anyone. I’ve told everyone.’ Biscuits decides to bring Tabitha and Miles back together, because Cupid ‘works in mysterious ways.’ What is truly mysterious is that they are usually ways from which Biscuits can benefit. He forces Ell to plot a double date, albeit one that neither Tabitha or Miles will know they’re on until they both turn up. Meanwhile, Habbs decides it’s time to host a couples dinner. When will any of them learn? Big group dinners might be handy for filming reasons, but no one ever gets to finish their main course without being yelled at or bursting into tears. There is no pudding, or cheeseboard, or tipsy game of Cards Against Humanity. It’s all a big Conspiracy Against Humanity.
Of course the dinner is slightly less relaxing than a massage in an abattoir. Sam makes a big fuss about ‘not putting labels on anything’ but adds ‘I would like to think that one day in the future I could call you my girlfriend.’ Woo! Give that commitmentphobe a cookie. Gloriously, Melissa has hired a dialogue writer from the last days of Dynasty. ‘You aren’t starting this relationship on a BED OF LIES, are you Sam?’ Oh, goody. Poor Melissa has accidentally got into the bed too! Harry spent time alone ‘consoling’ the girl Sam slept with, while Sam was with a different girl! Honestly, bloody boys. They are surrounded by opportunity! They could be sampling the world’s biggest all you can eat buffets, throwing deep fried prawns into their gaping maws! They could be watching the magic of Cris Angel, or a circus that costs three hundred dollars a ticket! They could have a picnic at the Bellagio Botanical Gardens! But they went all the way to Nevada and they treated it exactly like a PA at the Southampton Oceana.
The secret double date is marginally more successful. No-one looks as though they want to throw anything at anyone, and we learn that Biscuits drinks wine in a very strange way, pressing his palm against the flat part of the bottom of the stem. Maybe Ell said it was French and he believed her. Harry turns up the morning after and tries to do some damage limitation – as Melissa points out, the time stamps and geography simply don’t fit together. Finally, the gang must listen to some excruciating Croatian folk music, looking sulkily beautiful in summer dresses while sublimating their urges to hiss at each other. For reasons best known to himself, Harry has come dressed as Alan Partridge, in a double breasted brass buttoned blazer. Did he always have that moustache? Is he funding the trip by running a strip club in the evenings? Habbs breaks up with Sam, whose final line is not ‘I’m so sorry,’ or ‘I regret everything’ but ‘I’m not an arsehole.’ Agree to disagree, Thompson? Then Sam and Harry shout at each other as though they’re both auditioning for Mamet. For a second, even Melissa forgets to look gutted, and smiles as though she’s enjoying an unexpectedly good night at the theatre. I don’t care what happens to Sam or Harry, unless a shark jumps out of the sea and bites off both boys’ testicles. That would make this the greatest series of Made In Chelsea of all time.
Hero of the week
It’s got to be our baguette loving, finger licking, beast of the yeast, dispensing tasty crumbs of comfort from the table of endless tension. It’s Ollie Locke.
Villain of the week
Is it Sam? Is it Harry? Is it the driver of the boat who took them safely to the island instead of accidentally on purpose leaving them both in the sea? Perhaps we’re all guilty.