Made In Chelsea Season 16, Episode 2: Sam Meets The Ghosts Of Girlfriends Past
By Daisy Buchanan Posted on 15 Oct 2018
What’s the most romantic way to celebrate your engagement? Does it involve a boating lake, chilled champagne, a string quartet? Or would you commemorate your eternal and lasting love by summoning Jamie Biscuits and having him scream ‘GET IN! GET IN! GET INNNNNNN!’ until you could no longer remember whether you are pledging your troth or you’ve just won a rugby match? Proudlock has obviously chosen the latter. We’d like to congratulate him while reminding him that if he chooses Biscuits as best man, it’s entirely likely that he will spend the stag do on remand in Tallinn, missing the wedding.
Proudlock and Biscuits briefly outline Sam’s relationship failures to Mark Francis, whose resultant facial expressions appear to be the gift that keeps on gif-fing. His reaction to the kissing video will be painfully familiar to anyone who spent Boxing Day 2007 accidentally watching Two Girls, One Cup with their Mum. He’s the Mary Whitehouse of the digital age! Although he clearly knows exactly what he’s doing when he later proudly tells Sam ‘WE CAUGHT A VIRUS!’ It’s all very meta, watching him perform for the cameras after watching Sam doing the same. Anyway, Biscuits and Proudlock have a plan for Sam: ReHabbs. I’m quite concerned that Sam’s had his heartbreak protracted because one of the producers came up with this pun six months ago.
As he descends further into full Partridge-dom, Digby thanks Miles and Tom for getting him out of the house and ‘having a bit of banter’. No. Banter is chewy, burned bacon, wrapped around a sausage of toxic masculinity. Banter is employed by people who are amused and aroused by mugs that are decorated with women whose bikinis disappear when the hot beverage goes in. Banter is why your Uncle Alan was unsuccessful when he appealed the ruling at that tribunal. There is nothing decorous about banter, and as soon as the word emerges from Digby’s mouth, we know that Mark Francis is clutching a damask cushion and sucking his whole head back into his own skull with horror. Miles offers to organise a double date with Digby – he wants to take Emily, and he’s bringing a pal from work for Dig. WHAT WORK, MILES? Did you once take your own glasses back to the bar, and think that counts?
Understandably, Habbs is not pleased about the fact that Miles and Emily’s relationship has taken a flirty turn. She’s also cross about the way that Melissa keeps mentioning her flat, which Habbs is clearly keen to brand an ‘apartment’ – a detail that the Sunday Times columnist Dolly Alderton described as defining a whole personality type. Still, Melissa fixes things with her uncanny Sam impression. I might have that as my phone background, to cheer me up during tough times. It’s almost as enjoyable as Sam’s actual face, and the expression he pulls when Biscuits and Mytton delete every trace of Habbs from his phone. ReHabbs has commenced!
The C plot of this episode revolves around a party in which Sophie Hermann plans to sing songs on top of a piano. Fred is involved. I can only make sense of any of this by thinking of it as a precooked supermarket pastry tart base that will support the ultimate eggy horror of the final scenes. But my goodness, if I was as underemployed as this crowd, I’d constantly be making statements like ‘I’m planning on having a little cabaret evening’. There wouldn’t be a piano in the South East that remained unpolished by my bottom. Made In Chelsea is always much more fun when there’s a little nod to Mapp And Lucia within the new luxe, green juice, Dubai airport glossy hour of tantrums. So even though it’s not that funny when Fred rehearses Sophie at the gym, the day before the performance, I am grateful for the break in tension, and shamefully pleased that her efforts are slightly Florence Foster Jenkins-ish. After all, if Sophie opened her mouth and angels flew out the world would somehow seem a little less fair.
Miles, Emily, Miles’ old colleague (I remain unconvinced) beautiful Bruna and Digby have gone to Beach Blanket Babylon. I went there once. I ate risotto that tasted as though they’d microwaved a packet of M&S Be Good To Yourself rice, and added mushrooms picked from a local driveway, still authentically covered in gravel. This was followed by a tepid salmon fillet that was mysteriously served with what tasted like almost warm vanilla yoghurt from a Muller Crunch Corner. It was miserable and I couldn’t even get drunk because the waiters would have ignored me if I’d taken my knickers off and used them as a catapult to throw a salt shaker at their heads. Everyone in BBB is very, very slender. I wonder why?
Miles and Emily call Habbs to torture her by telling her all about how hard they’re flirting and how much fun they are having. By quite some margin, they’re the worst. But Habbs, who does not want to be at home alone while her new flatmates – sorry, apartment mates- are out without her, has gone to dinner with Liv. Can you guess what’s going to happen? ‘I’ve just got to do me, mate,’ moans Digby softly, as Miles puts the phone down on a lot of incandescent diners. I have a very bad feeling that ‘doing Digby’ has nothing to do with dating silent brunettes, and everything to do with wearing those fleeces decorated with wolves howling at each other into a man made fibre sky.
Sam is also embarking on a course of self discovery – because Proudlock and Biscuits have rounded up his ex girlfriends! Sadly, there is no Tiff. ‘She does NOT like you!’ shrieks Biscuits, with slightly less respect for Sam’s self esteem than a dog has for a bathtub. What do we learn? From a video link, Mimi says ‘don’t be a fuccboi’, and from the distant recesses of our memory, Fran says ‘don’t rap, or make a poorly photoshopped mix CD.’ I’m not sure that’s such a bad idea. Surely Frantastic is now a collectors’ item?
It’s time for the Party of Contrivance! Sophie rolls across the piano and mimes almost discreetly, while someone sings Fever from behind a curtain. We’re hoping to see a replay of the final scene of Singin’ in The Rain, but no such luck. Sam tells Habbs that he has become much more mature in the past 24 hours, before Biscuits finds him and pulls him away like a Vaudeville stagehand. He might have to invest in a curved cane. Digby has brought Bruna to the party even though he doesn’t appear to have had a conversation with her, so Liv phones for an emergency rugby player. Maybe she got him from Deliveroo, I hear their stuff is scrum-my. (I’m so sorry.) The showdown is predictable, but Harrison the rugby player appears to be looking forward to some spite sex, so ultimately he’s the real winner.
Hero of the week
It has to be Mark Francis, for services to facial exercise. He’s got to be the all in gurning champion of 2018.
Villain of the week
Miles for his insensitivity, his creepy stealing of Digby’s clothes, his callous mockery of his new apartment mate Habbs but mostly because I really, really, really don’t like him.
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