Who’s still trying to make ‘fetch’ happen this week in Made In Chelsea? It’s Habbs! She’s bitching about Miles, complaining to Melissa because he’s left the ‘apartment’ in quite a state. Habbs. You. Live. In. A. Flat. I’m sure it’s luxuriously appointed, and filled with horrible, expensive sofas and cushions exhorting everyone’s bottoms to ‘Live Laugh Love’. It might have even come with a built in Lucite dining set, and sheepskin rugs that ‘baaaa’ when you touch them. It’s almost certainly the sort of place where one could imagine Patrick Batemen doing a lot of blank faced murdering while listening to Graceland. But it’s in South West London, and that makes it a flat. Chelseas, for the love of Mark Francis, please learn some basic rules about hiding the fact that you’re all pretend posh. Memorise your Nicky Haslam lists. I’ll wait.
Understandably, Melissa is much more interested in Sam’s play for Habbs, and one man’s ability to make his sister’s engagement party into a Say Anything style cry for help. ‘I’m literally in torment in my mind,’ says Habbs, worryingly. For someone who claims to be literally plagued and consumed by hellish internal conflict she’s making decent inroads into her champagne. ‘He’s manipulative – these aren’t mistakes he’s made. You’re only going to get stronger,’ says wise Melissa. Yes! Pick up the resistance weights and build those Sam repelling muscles! Harry and Tristan turn up, and Harry offers everyone ‘champs’. Dude, what did I just say about vulgarity? It would have been less upsetting for everyone if you’d turned up with a bottle of Asti Spumante! Habbs describes Tristan as ‘a safari man’, which is not a proper job title and an unfortunate phrase, being one specified animal away from ‘Elephant man’.
Predictably, Sam is sulking because he can’t have what he wants. Sulking. This isn’t a romantic pine. This is an adult man behaving like a spoiled, obsessive toddler. Even the always patient Ollie looks as though his sympathy has been stretched beyond breaking point. Liv has come to live with him, and she’s making breakfast for everyone. It’s lovely to see that kitchen getting used, because it’s nearly as good as Nigella’s. It is festooned with huge copper pans. I don’t want to watch Sam being an idiot, and Liv tormenting herself with complicated romantic decisions. I want to watch Ollie making soup, for an hour. Bafflingly, Liv has never lived with anyone before. Ollie has lived with ‘thousands of people. But not, like, in a commune.’ After two weeks of dating, Harrison has presented Liv with a gold necklace, but Liv is still thinking about Digby when she’s in bed with him. It’s very, very hard to feel sympathy when another woman’s greatest problem appears to be a surfeit of jewellery, but in this case we feel for Liv. She really is literally in torment.
Mark Francis and Victoria ambush Louise and Ryan, and demand to know when they’re getting married. (Mark: ‘I find it bizarre that some people know how many weddings they have been to.’ Ryan: ‘I do, and it’s two.’) Louise wants to get organised, and Ryan wants her to ‘slow down’. Once you’ve proposed to someone, I don’t think it’s fair to accuse them of taking the relationship too fast. It’s like inviting them out for dinner and saying ‘I didn’t know you were going to be so hungry’ when they order a starter and a main.
Melissa has a painful run in with Sam, who is whining and comparing his behaviour to Harry’s before he’s said ‘Hello, how are you?’ Sam is super needy. ‘Please stop laughing at me, and my feelings and emotions?’ Sorry Sam, shan’t. I am going to meditate upon your rap, and your Frantastic mix CD, just to spite you. Liv messages Digby – and with spooky precision, the crew have managed to film Digby with his phone during the exact moment that the text is received. We even see the three little dots on Liv’s screen! How do they do that? It’s as rare and magical as catching a whale mating dance on Blue Planet. We can only assume that the producers were recording footage for five years or more in order to catch the magic and spontaneity! In the time it takes to go to the loo and look in the cupboard for chocolate biscuits, Liv has spent the night with Digby. ‘I don’t want you to lead me up the garden path,’ says an earnest Dig. Dude, even in your rarefied world, any domestic outdoor space in central London is worth getting excited about. Don’t fight it. ‘Do you think the best thing is to keep it between us?’ he adds. Digby, you are on TV. You have been on TV for some time. Those other people in the room with you aren’t concerned, tech toting distant relatives.
Sophie, Star Of The C Plot (I’m determined to make this catch on, it’s an old timey reference to the Virgin Mary, you philistines) has offered to coach Miles in the art of lurve, and den hof Machen, the German art of courting. ‘It’s very hard to meet people in real,’ moans Miles. Is this terrible youth slang, or just Miles being French? Sophie makes den hof Machen sound quite complicated (there is an implication of plumed horses and suits of armour} but it’s mostly chair and coat based. She takes Miles to a bar where he successfully chats up a women, presumably because being seen with Sophie has raised his stock.
Digby and Ryan talk about Liv. Digby does not admit they’re doing the do, and both men are so freaked out by the prospect of an emotion based chat that they say ‘mate’ approximately 942768 times. In three minutes there are more ‘mate’s than there are f-bombs in the whole of Reservoir Dogs. Then Harry Baron is at it in the car with Sam! It’s a Smashie and Nicey redux with no jokes. Harry suggests that Sam might like to take the hint and desist. What’s that, Harry? You told Sam that he should go to Habbs’ favourite restaurant and interrupt her date with Tristan? No? You’re doing it anyway! Habbs and Tristan are having an excellent date before Sam descends the restaurant staircase (which Habbs is staring at a second before Sam hoves into view. How peculiar.) ‘I don’t mind having you here while I’m doing this!’ Sam says generously to Tristan. It’s like watching a plane crash, but one where your prevailing emotion is embarrassment for all the passengers.
Mytton forces Liv to break it off with Tristan, and Harry and Melissa have a dinner party. Miles brings Izzy, the girl from the bar, and Sophie gives us a masterclass in small talk. Izzy is studying history. ‘I love history!’ beams Sophie. Be positive, be enthusiastic and most of all, be vague. This will get you through every single Christmas party you attend. Worryingly, Habbs agrees to go for coffee with Sam – she appears to be warming to him after he humiliated her and interrupted her dinner. This is a very bad sign. Even Louise thinks her brother is being a bit of a prick about this. ‘I know we’re very used to getting our own way and we don’t like it when things don’t fall into place,’ she counsels him. It’s taken seven years, but the gang are becoming self aware! Astonishingly, this theme continues as everyone becomes relatively empathetic and helpful when they learn that Liv and Digby have been sleeping together! ‘I’ve been there,’ murmurs Louise to Liv, as Habbs sticks up for her spiritedly. Friendship never ends! (And neither does the job of the influencer. Against my better judgement and understanding of my own body type, I bought Habbs’ dress from the internet. If I put it on and start fancying Sam Thompson, I shall know the dress is cursed).
Hero of the week
I’m sorely tempted to give this to Tristan, for acting with borderline heroic grace when his date got interrupted, and not laughing at Harry over his fizzy faux pas. Louise and Habbs are highly commended for their services to paldom.
Villain of the week
For the sake of tough love, it’s Sam. To put it in language you might understand, we know you’re heartbroken but you’re being rude, entitled and obsessive, mate. Never go to dinner when you haven’t been invited, mate. Mate.