SOAP WATCH

JACI STEPHEN’S ultimate insight into the week’s soaps

When more than four young people are gathered together in one place in soapland, my heart sinks. Only when interacting with adults are they remotely interesting; put them among fellow pupils and their conversation and behaviour are limited, mostly focusing on the use of mobile phones and social media.

EastEnders has thankfully now moved away from the incessant wittering of youngsters that dominated last year’s storylines; however, Corrie has caught the bug. Last week, Amy attended a party packed with her own kind and explained to a boy that she hadn’t received his texts because she was on a two-week phone ban, imposed by Steve. Had she had her phone, she would have been able to text her parents as to her whereabouts, she insisted, when an angry Tracy arrived to frogmarch her home. Yawn. Text me when it’s over.

I’m all for younger people in soaps, but for the most part I think they should be confined to their own series. Bethany’s storyline worked in the Street because it focused on a child being exploited in an adult world. Please, save the kids from... well, kids’ stuff.

HONEY TRAPPED?

Has there ever been a more unlucky character than the hapless Billy? This week he’s fired from his job and the truth about Tina emerges. There’s plenty for love rivals Tina and Honey (pictured) to chat about, but will the truth about Tina knocking down Janet also come out?

Poor Honey. Stuck with a man even less enthralling than the corpses he handled, will she see this as a chance to be rid of him? And who will Billy turn to for advice? Given that every marriage in Albert Square falls apart quicker than an ice cream in hell, he should stay clear of amateur counsellors. Maybe Jay,

who is promoted to temporary manager at the funeral parlour, can find a spare box in which to store him – for good. The phrase waste of space was invented for Billy.

Karen is making some money by offering an ironing service on the side. As she has the look of someone who has been put through the wringer (twice), I wouldn’t trust her to iron a hanky, let alone underwear. When she mixes up the smalls, there is embarrassment as she takes them to the pub for everyone to claim their own. Who, pray, has their underwear ironed? Most locals don’t look as if they wash it, let alone indulge it in post-drying luxury.