Made In Chelsea is back! HAPPY POSH AUTUMN, EVERYBODY! It’s time for pumpkin spice Krug, and Faberge egg stew! Throw another copy of the Magna Carter on the fire! Put your hands in your mink lined muff! You don’t have to look at a dull grey and brown painting of a man on a horse for your personal entertainment any longer, hurrah! But you might want to keep your ermine trimmed cushion handy for the first five minutes, because Proudlock is wearing the sort of fedora that could set feminism back by a hundred years. It’s the kind of hat that could make grown men cry, then form a band that only performs swing covers of Mumford and Sons songs. Most of us would, if we had to choose between wearing that hat and exposing our heads to a kettle of ravenous vultures, willingly go beak to bloody scalp. And we’ve not even got to that incidental shot of Sam dancing, which makes me think that DPD will be doing a brisk trade in Fulham, sending lorries filled with care packages of Canesten for the poor chap.
Liv has not grooved to the beat of a fungal infection for quite some time. She has been cloistered at home in Henley with her mother, Katie, who should win some sort of award for her performance in this episode. I suspect Katie thinks that the whole premise of reality TV is nonsense, and she’s noisily breaking the fourth wall with such ferocity that I wonder whether she’s trying to get revenge on some distant neighbours for an especially loud basement pool conversion. Mytton and Ollie pull up on the gravel and Katie shoots out before the engine has stopped. She may well have written ‘EXT. BENTLEY DRIVEWAY. POSH WOMAN EXCLAIMS GREETING’ in biro, on her palm. ‘GOODNESS ME. WHAT A TREAT. LIV WILL BE SO PLEASED TO SEE YOU,’ bellows Katie, so wooden that you’d have to order her right now from Oak Furnitureland if you wanted to guarantee Christmas delivery. Poor, reluctant Liv is not only bundled back to London to face her Digby shaped demons. She’s also coereced into a nude photoshoot, by Ollie. ‘There’s nothing more liberating than nakedness!’ he beams. In October? When most people feel more liberated with every extra ten deniers? Ollie, are you secretly trying to flog anti bloating yoghurt? Liv is bothered by Digby’s determination to put himself out there as a single man, and go out with her pals – when during their dating days he was slightly less social than Prince Charles on a skiing holiday. He’s asked Mytton on a night out. ‘Obviously I’m gonna go,’ says Mytt. Screentime 1, friendship 0.
Utterly bloody Sam is feeling very lovelorn and sorry for himself because he kissed two different women. In a club. Where Habbs was out on a girls’ night. And she saw him. Sam was ‘obviously drunk’ and cross because he felt Habbs was neglecting him while she was on holiday in Spain with her family. I feel as though this is my fault. Every time I start to like him a little bit, he starts to behave like a wasp with a boner. Sam has a deeply depressing meeting with Habbs, which looks like a deleted scene from the lesser known non-com, Well Actually. ‘I don’t think your actions showed that you cared about me that much,’ says Sam, over the cellophane crinkle of M&S apology orchid wrapping, as Habbs explains that you never really get over seeing a video of your ex snogging a stranger at the top of your social media feed. A little later, Sam takes delivery of a bonsai Habbs ordered from Spain a few days ago, where he claimed she hadn’t been thinking of him at all. It’s like the old advert goes - say it with flowers – and say it in a heartbreaking and ironic way with a bonsai. This episode is extremely poor plant PR.
Habbs is moving on and moving in with Miles, and her old friend Emily, who still has beef with her ex Harry Baron. Emily would quite like to ban the Melons from the new flat, even though Melissa is Habbs’ good mate. Emily, you’ve just spent goodness knows how much on a sofa that can comfortably seat 30 people. Don’t rule anything out just yet, otherwise you might find yourself feeling lonely when you’re watching Bake Off. You can tell that Emily is totally over Harry because she thinks Melissa is ‘boring’ and knows she watches her Instagram stories. She’s chill, she’s breezy. Elsewhere, the Melons are having brunch with Digby, who is dressed like a man who moved back home in the middle of his mid life crisis and found all of his Hunter S Thompson books in his parents’ spare room. Digby is determined that everyone sees he’s living his best, booziest life, even though he’s clearly having the sort of meltdown that makes Alan Partridge look well-adjusted and successful. ‘The amount of EMOTIONAL STRAIN Liv’s put me through! She’s blocked me on Instagram!’ he splutters, infuriated. Mate, move on. Those breakfasts aren’t yours to look at any more.
On that theme, sort of, Liv is live and nude at the Gore, posing on the sofa for Ollie, who has positioned himself as her Break Up line manager. (It must be said that Liv looks utterly spectacular. As an homage to Deborah Frances White, I’m a feminist but even I would date Digby if it meant that I could look like that after breaking up with him.) We meet Ollie’s lovely fiancé Gareth, which feels like some sort of heavenly reward for every long term viewer who has longed for some lasting Locke love for the past seven years.) Ollie and Gareth suggest that Liv has a ‘me’ party, which is going to make life very awkward for every Millennial who has to defend themselves against claims that our generation is the most narcissistic ever. Even Habbs says it’s ‘definitely not a thing’ – although that doesn’t mean she isn’t going to turn up and eat smoked salmon on tiny toast.
Do you know who else is going to turn up? Digby! Because Miles invites him! Is Miles A) the worst human in the world B) the show’s producer or C) both? Digby is reeling after a run in with Katie – would it be cruel to call her Anne Teak? – who was left to deal with Digby on the street when Liv saw him, took fright and hid in a bush. Katie tells Digby that Liv broke up with him because she cared about him too much to hurt him. Digby has manslated this into ‘She’s still in love with me’ and rushes to the countryside to see Liv naked on the lawn. In photo form. ‘This is nice, walking in and seeing pictures of your recent naked ex…this shows a lack of respect for me,’ he complains, as entitled as he is uninvited. Urghhhh. I hope a bird shits on his canape and he thinks it’s cream cheese.
Emily watches Melissa as though she’s a genuine Chanel 2.55 with an Ebay reserve of fifty quid. She eventually deigns to approach her, and the pair have a laboured exchange that even I cannot suspend my disbelief hard enough to go with, although Emily does deliver the brilliant line ‘Why would you want to come around? You have your own flat!’ I have been more convinced by wrestling rivalries than this one. Digby confronts Liv and the pair of them make such huge, sad, abused eyes that I leave them wanting to ring up and report the whole production team to the RSPCA.
Hero of the week
It’s GOT to be Katie Bentley for delivering a kind of emotional Hand of God, playing a blinder and dealing with Digby sweetly and sincerely while protecting Liv with a kind of love shield. We’ve been missing the parent presence in South West London – we want more Katie!
Villain of the week
Look, Sam, you can’t kiss two women when you’re metres away from your girlfriend and not expect to be villain of the week. In fact, you need to win the Nobel peace prize or end world poverty, otherwise you can expect to be villain of the week for the entire series.