It’s always worrying when Made In Chelsea starts close to a large body of water, mainly because I have many questions about exactly what the production insurance policy covers, but this week’s MIC begins at Elliot’s swank estate, where he’s invited his chums to enjoy the ultimate posh boy toy - an unheated, outdoor pool. Sam rushes at it then backs off a bit, like a seaside donkey who has just nicked a toddler’s ice cream only to be chased by its angry Dad. Biscuits throws himself in, like a cheerful idiot, with every degree of arctic, wet chill registering itself on his forehead in nanoseconds. Biscuits, never go to the North Pole. You think you’d probably like it but you almost definitely wouldn’t.
Lucy and Jess go shopping, although as soon as Jess suggests that they make a regular date of it Lucy announces that she’s quite tired and her arm hurts. In fact, Lucy is so keen to put Jess off as a regular playmate that she suggests she asks out Biscuits! Jess nearly does this at a barbecue but is possibly put off by the fact that almost all the bois seem scared of fire, having ‘evolved’ or devolved from a group of people who had a ‘man’ to deal with their fire issues, from the lighting of their semi legal cigars to the extinguishing of their highly flammable brocade trousers. Rosie tells Louise to make it work long distance with Alik, while Stevie ‘wisely’ tells Alik not to hold his breath. Stevie might be more convincing if he were less frightened of the tongs that got a bit hot after someone used them to pick up a sausage.
Toff’s sentimental education at the hands of Mark Francis goes on, although this week, Toff has something to give back. She tells Mark Francis all about the dick pic - mainly Elliot’s, because he has been sending her unsolicited images of his penis after she decided to stop replying to his texts. Let’s be clear - unless someone sends you a message that says ‘Hello, please send me images of your genitals, if you would like, then I would like ;) ‘ only then would it be OK to do so - and you’d have to make your peace with their use of creepy home made winky emojis. To send a picture of your willy to someone who hasn’t even hinted that they want to see it is a truly scummy, sordud move. ‘NFY!’ announces Mark Francis. ‘He is Not For You.’ Quite.
Jess gamely asks Biscuits for a date, and they share a giant glass tube of strawberries and cream while he bangs on about how weird it is to be asked out and have to sit on his fledging alpha maleness for a whole half hour. And Tiff goes on a queasy double date with Sam, Josh and Steph. If Sam were any more smug, someone would ask him to present The One Show and Josh is spouting shit about Lucy at a higher, stinkier volume and velocity than I did the last time I ate a half price seafood salad. Lucy learns about this sneaky coupling through Rosie, natch, and decides to surprise Tiff in a normal, sisterly way. You know, sitting in the dark and waiting for her to come home so she can have a go at her. ‘If I come across judgemental, I’m sorry,’ says Lucy, after Tiff hinted that she might want to live her own life and not have all her ideas shot down. ‘But I think this is going to be short lived.’
Binky and Rosie stage a gloomy, half arsed intervention on Louise, saying that they’ve heard Alik isn’t overly bothered about keeping the transatlantic love dream alive. ‘But maybe the boys got something wrong!’ says Binky hopefully, in the way you might reassure a small child whose classmates have just got wind of the fact that there is no Santa. Happily, Alik turns up. ‘Ah, rouge!’ he says as he helps himself to rose, with the easy, unchallengable confidence of a man who thinks ‘vin’ is French for ‘red’. He horse whispers Louise into cheerful submission again, promising that their love can weather storms and rack up Avios points. Oh, we hope so.
Lately, the ‘pardies’ have a ‘feats of strength’ vibe and now the gang get to become competitive about the respective skills of the people who do their laundry. Anyone for tennis?! Alik obviously goes fully McEnroe to the delight of Mark Francis, who is umpiring in a cloud of scorn and something by Penhaligon. Elliot, the nasty, dickish, scummy worm, has the audacity to bowl up to Toff and tell her ‘I’m going to be much more assertive, you have no choice in the matter,’ and she politely replies that she’s not feeling it, when she ought to say ‘Mate, I haven’t been able to keep anything down since I saw your scrotum. Come near me again and I’ll get someone to pelt you with rotten quails’ eggs. And Biscuits smooches Jess, in the time honoured manner - a quick fired ‘Do you like me yes/no.’ It’s love almost all.
Hero of the week
I’m giving this to the poor sod who has to clean Elliot’s pool, as I can’t imagine that was a pleasant task after all the bois had been shivering in it. No amount of money in the world serves as adequate compensation for fishing Andy Jordan’s soggy veruca plasters from the water.
Villain of the week
Obviously this is Elliot, because I cannot hammer home hard enough that sending pictures of your junk to non interested parties is not on. Especially because Elliot said it was ‘Sort of [Toff’s] fault’ because she wasn’t responding to the texts that didn’t have nudes in them! Let’s wheel Elliot around schools and make sure consent is covered in sex ed. He can dress as a big foam penis, if he likes showing them to people so much.
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This article originally appeared on The Debrief.