Winona Ryder once said: “Dear diary, my teen angst bullshit now has a body count,” clearly she was watching Skins where, in the opening three episodes of the season, two people have been brutally butchered from the cast list. We haven’t seen one funeral.
In fact the closest we come to Richard Curtis territory is a seaside elegy and mere reference to a wedding. Obviously this is too inherently British for the residents of Bristol who are more content to wallow.
It’s all getting totes emosh up in here which is no doubt why the writers this week introduced us all to a new plucky character to reconfigure the group dynamic. He’s gay too, so that not-graphic-enough-sex-scene ticks another demographic box for the youth enveloping programme.
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It’s a brand new week, scum buckets, and to start the downward decline is a brand spanking new episode of Skins and boy oh boy is it miserable this time around! Are you lucky?
First, let’s get real for a moment folks. This is the second episode, so they have to bring out the big guns now that everyone’s back in boring old Bristol and not some country that bristles with sexual heat, so of course, the writers needed to make an episode that tackles the burning issues—as long as something is hotter than fire we’re all happy right?
Of course there were parties and of course there was sex there was even some minimal drug use, but who isn’t rocking a casual line of coke these days. Where was the hard liquor though? We all remember the days when a bottle of vodka lasted for one quick swig, but now it seems everything’s a little too melancholy for anything stronger than a can of lager. It’s so down in the dumps this week that Phil Collins made the soundtrack when not even rain was in the air. These writers need to get their shit together and go on a rollercoaster or something.
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Before we even start talking about the first episode of the new season of Skins can we just discuss the opening titles for a second? As per usual they are the best thing about the show, but they’re also artistic to the point of idiocy.
Why anybody would put an opening sequence so shiny and clearly full of effort onto this absolute shambles of youth television is beyond us. They make you think you might be watching something with vague pretensions of quality instead of a braying collection of ingrate arseholes.
Apparently the writers thought that ‘Racism’ might be a good theme to adopt this year and so the girls colour code each other and add the suffix ‘bitch’ to the end of all terms of endearment, for example: “Hey black bitch, hey white bitch.” It’s like a novelty smack-talking chess set. They all seem to be much more fulfilled in themselves though so it’s clearly worth trying in your own life. Skins after all does come across as a manual for good, clean, wholesome living.
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If you’re under the age of 22 then you will be familiar with the Daily Mail’s nemesis; common sense. Whoops! That should read Skins. If you’re living like the characters in the show, then you’re probably dead and we offer our sincerest sympathies; we died around the same time as Tony who was paralysed by youthful happiness and, you know, a bus.
If you’re lucky enough to be a child now, then we can blame you for the continued success of what is shaping up to be a life affirming/sucking programme.
Either way you will all be suitably disappointed to find out that a new series is going to be cuming (see what we did there?) to E4 on Monday. There are mere days to prepare yourself. Here in the ‘spray bedsit we like to think of Skins as a disease and as you know, with diseases, you must inoculate yourself with small doses to become immune. Based on that logic and no small amount of self-loathing we subjected, or watched, the two ‘webisodes’ on that thing some of you are calling The Internet. It’s a sharp learning curve for us all.
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Skins is a weird TV concept that, in theory, shouldn’t actually work. Firstly, the show’s creators take huge risks every two series by ditching the cast who have just established themselves to viewers in terms of their character traits and personalities. Every new cast will bear similar resemblances to the last, but viewers now have to find someone else that they “connect with.”
Secondly, the plotlines in Skins may have started off being groundbreaking, but will they be rebranded as slightly dull and repetitive?
Not for a second do we believe that the new cast will warp into angelic students who care for the homeless after completing coursework. The drunken partying and drug taking will always remain alongside the emphasised fantasy element that all the characters indulge in this 24/7. Following the teaser trailers we’ve seen, this series looks like it might take a step back from previous intense episodes.
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A new E4 series called Misfits you say? About a group of young delinquents doing community service?
We’ve not been this put off a new TV series since the Bad Girls pilot. In fact, the likelihood of a good series coming from E4 is akin to that of finding a hen’s tooth, or Tess Daly‘s soul.
Imagine the disquiet and shock which consumed us when we saw the first episode of this teen-insert genre here and discovered it’s actually quite good. Maybe Tess Daly has a soul after all.*
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Omg! Lolz!!1!!1! If you’re a 12-year-old with a deluded view on what teenage life is like, that will probably be your reaction.
However if, like us, you live in the real world, you’ll no doubt be banging your head against the nearest blunt object.
Skins can only be described as the Daily Mail’s worst nightmare, since the show takes us into the supposed world of a teenager’s life. It wouldn’t make for good viewing if the characters all had study groups, helped the elderly and grew their own organic vegetables. Instead, it’s filled with boozing, shagging, crying and drug taking. Usually confined to E4, it might now bother you on the big screen.
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This week, we’re going to recommend someone whose music you may hear each week, but will have been blissfully unaware of who it is.
If you’re a Skins fan, then get ready to literally jump around the house like you’ve just had six tins of Red Bull. We’ve managed to pester the show’s musical composer Fat Segal and ask him some random questions which probably just wasted his day.
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