Ka-loo ka-lay everyone! It’s almost the end of the week, and just like Lenny Henry tells us on those awful hotel adverts, it’s almost time for the weekend. And what’s a weekend all about? Going out, getting trashed and generally being like those pesky kids from Skins, sitting around in your pants as much as you can in 48 hours.
It’s what sets us aside from the animals y’know. They can’t figure out the little hole bit for willies.
It’d be remiss, and frankly irresponsible of us, as your favourite website of all time ever in the history of Google, to not keep you occupied between your next bottle of something fizzy or yeasty. It’d be like the 1994 film, Baby’s Day Out. You clearly can’t be left to your own devices can you? Sometimes, just sometimes, you actually make us sorry to know you.
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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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Life is hard for many people for much of the time. But we all deal with it in different ways. Some people take solace in religion; placing their happiness in never seeing a ghost. They’d rather have a piece of toast and watch the evening news. Those people are idiots and mediocre ’90s pop stars.
Some people turn to alcohol or narcotics, like many a disgraced celebrity or role model. Would it surprise you to hear that a member of the hecklerspray bedsit likes to drink a bath of gin before singing the chorus from ‘I Know Him So Well’ from the musical Chess? Would it surprise you that it’s Matthew Laidlow?
Whereas some people get happy by watching television and seeing that no matter how hard life can be; unemployment is at record high, there’s cruise liners capsizing and you’ll never be good enough for your partner, but no matter how hard life can be, you’ll still be better than the people you’ll see on TV. Fat Pat carking it? You’re better than her. Not sure which of 12 potential men is the father of your child? You’re better than her. Women chef overcooked her souffles and is now having a massive breakdown? You’re better than her as well.
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It’s not every day that someone will dedicate literally minutes of their time watching upcoming things on TV to tell you whether what they’ve watched is good, not so good, or the equivalent of getting your toes stapled and then having aforementioned staples removed by the blind nuns that secretly made Kate Middleton’s wedding dress while they sloppily down pints of homemade lemonade.
No-one takes the time to sit down and tell us what’s actually good, and more appropriately what has the most emotional resonance and character development in it; instead it’s just flash in the pan reactions to developments in the soaps or whatever drama is getting the Daily Mail’s “We’re Not Racist But…” full brief pantaloons in a twist. Or even what coke snorting gnome, Frankie Cocozza is up to. TV is important business everybody! It teaches children how to read and speak, as well as to fear larger women who have chandelier earrings and make-up like Salvador Dali.
Actually, scratch that. There’s a reason no-one spends the time to dissect episodes of Outnumbered or whatever nauseating film Channel 4 stick on at daft o’clock. It’s a waste of time. So allow us, dear hecklerspray readers, to guide you through the perilous TV guide and point out what you should, or shouldn’t be watching this weekend.
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Hello soap fans!! Missed us? No, we didn’t give you a second thought either but now that we’ve just about recovered from Pat’s quick, yet annoyingly drawn out death, we’re back to spoil everything for you and tell you what’s going to happen this week. But first here’s a little catch up.
Did we mention that Pat was dead? Well she is. Her last moments were spent in bed with a soaking wet Michael French shouting “MUM!” 2cm from her face, weighed down by monstrous earrings, desperately clinging to a script that would never end while the country secretly wished that David Essex would appear from the wardrobe singing ‘Oh What a Circus.’
Sadly, not even fake son number 2 Nick Berry could be bothered to turn in the Vic and play ‘Every Loser Wins’ on the piano so off she popped and now we all have the funeral to look forward to (40 sodding minutes of funeral time on Friday viewers. You have been warned.)
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It’s spoiler time again people, which will either ruin your week and send you into a murderous rage or you’ll thank us very sweetly like the hideous Munchkins that you are. Either is fine with us.
This week, there’s so much going on in Eastenders that we’ve decided to say “BALLS!” to the other soaps and shower you with events from the very real and not at all fictional Albert Square.
And no, you’re not allowed to complain. YOU ARE FORBIDDEN.
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It’s time to visit Soapland again as we know this is the only thing that makes your miserable existence bearable. We even caught Matthew Laidlow trying to bribe fellow writer Joanna Bolouri with cake and even violence in the hope she’d reveal the whereabouts of David Essex since his departure.
He’s still recovering in hospital as she takes Soaps even more seriously that you losers do.
First up it’s Eastenders where it’s Yasmin’s first birthday party and as Christian has never missed a party in his life, he buys her a card and teddy, hoping to get an invite. Realising that Christian is only using her daughter’s party as an excuse to get on the good foot, Amira tells Syed he’s not welcome and Syed secretly puts his plans to backflip naked onto Christian on hold.
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This week we’re dedicating the entire spoilers section to Eastenders! Why? We have no idea but there’s so much going on we literally wet our pants writing this.
First up on Albert Square, the next story line destined to drag out for at least 17 years continues with Amira using her daughter Yasmin to manipulate ex husband Syed for reasons still unknown to everyone, even the writers.
Ben spots them playing happy families in the park and tells Christian who takes off his white vest and thinks Ben is a specky liar but doesn’t tell him that because he’s too busy frowning and flexing in his direction. A sexually frustrated Ben then asks hecklerspray writer Joanna Bolouri to help him out by opening a cafe, where Syed and Amira will rendezvous, allowing Christian to catch them at it. Hoping this will speed up this stupid plot, she readily agrees.
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