Time for knacker’s yard, Shame­less!

Midweek Sport - - NEWS -

Peo­ple say chavvy Brits do not eat enough fresh veg – but the five-a-day mes­sage has clearly taken hold on the Chatsworth Es­tate.

In the first episode of the fi­nal se­ries of Shame­less, which be­gan this week, Frank ( right) and pals got through more mush­rooms than Jamie Oliver has man­aged in his whole ca­reer.

Magic mush­rooms still count right? Fi­bre is fi­bre.

Quite why th­ese green-fin­gered Man­cu­ni­ans were har­vest­ing their ‘shrooms in late win­ter, when you’d nor­mally get them in the au­tumn, was a bit of a mys­tery.

Per­haps we should blame global warm­ing.

Or, more likely, we should blame the fact that Shame­less binned any no­tion of re­al­ism about six se­ries ago, when the car­toon vil­lains of the Maguire fam­ily nudged the Gal­laghers from cen­tre stage.

Let’s be hon­est: this once bril­liant and ground­break­ing show has gone on too long.

Ev­ery “new” plot feels re­cy­cled – Frank gets an­other new job, Jamie has an­other iden­tity cri­sis, an­other cop­per wants to shag one of the crims HAS it really been four long years since we were last treated to a por­tion of Ant and Dec’s

Yes it has. “The show where you don’t just watch the ad­verts, you win them!” was moth­balled in 2009 to al­low the Ge­ordie hosts to work on low-bud­get in­die movies and a con­cept al­bum.

OK, I’m ly­ing. It was so they could make more Satur­day night ITV1 pap like

and Any­way, as they kept telling us, a lot has changed in the last four years.

That is true. Most of us now have Sky Plus.

Which means we don’t just fast-for­ward through the ad­verts, but the whole show! – and the characters have noth­ing left to say.

It is still worth watch­ing, though, for the oc­ca­sional bits of ge­nius.

Like the open­ing scene, which saw the Chatsworth get its very own Olympic ring from the Lon­don Games – but it turned out to be a mas­sive zero from a used car sales­man’s fore­court. That is the best il­lus­tra­tion yet of what the north gained from Lon­don’s big jolly.

Some of the writ­ing re­mains ra­zor sharp, too. Like this lit­tle gem from Frank, when his ea­gerlyawaited prozzie had to cry off due to a dose of the clap and a pair of chub­bers turned up in her place.

“I don’t care if she’s got AIDS,” he cried, “I’ll get dou­bled bagged up and watch her tam­per with her­self. I’d rather do a Rock Hud­son than get tram­pled by th­ese gas­tric ban­dits.”

Or how about this lit­tle speech from Mimi, who gave it the full Comic Re­lief treat­ment when try­ing to per­suade a pair of screws to let the com­mu­nity ser­vice team work on her own build­ing project.

“Less than a mile from here, English kid­dies are risk­ing ill­ness and disease by hold­ing in their urine and fae­ces be­cause they haven’t got func­tion­ing toi­lets.

“That or they walk to Map­ley Park and risk nonc­ing by pae­dos. Half term starts to­day. Imag­ine the joy on their lit­tle faces if they get back to find they can shit and piss in safety.”

For th­ese rea­sons, I’ll still watch and love Shame­less to the bit­ter end.

But in my heart I know it is time for Chan­nel 4’s faith­ful old pit pony to take its fi­nal walk to the knacker’s yard.

Or the Fin­dus fac­tory. A bit of horse lasagne will go nicely with all those mush­rooms. “I have been on this planet a lot longer than you, David” said Gail in Corona­tion Street. No, Gail, you AR­RIVED on the planet be­fore him. But then we all saw you get into the space­ship and fly away, right af­ter you pointed your glow­ing fin­ger at El­liott and said “I’ll be right here.” EASTER came early to Al­bert Square, with Phil Mitchell ris­ing from the dead.

He was quicker about it than Je­sus, get­ting back on his feet in less than one episode.

But you know what Eas­tEn­ders is like. Thirty min­utes usu­ally feels like three days.

If you care, it was Jack Bran­ning who did the hon­ours, lamp­ing Phil in a row at the garage and ac­ci­den­tally knock­ing him into the car pit.

Af­ter briefly chan­nelling the spirit of Ken­neth Wil­liams – “Phil! Stop messin’ abaaaaaht!” – he pan­icked and fled, leav­ing his un­con­scious foe for dead.

And if you think you can­not get lower than nearly peg­ging out in a car pit in a skanky work­shop, they were ar­gu­ing over who gets to nail Sharon.

Now that really is the pits. WELL, it had to hap­pen even­tu­ally – babe Eva Price’s boobs have fi­nally killed some­one.

The vic­tim was new ar­rival Eric, el­derly fi­ancé of Eva’s schem­ing granny Glo­ria.

Sur­pris­ingly, the cause of death was not suf­fo­ca­tion, which is al­ways a risk when deal­ing with fun­bags that size.

In fact, the old fella suf­fered a heart at­tack in the Rovers shortly af­ter invit­ing Eva to be his “com­pan­ion” on a round-theworld cruise. Fed up with her lot in Weather­field, she was verg­ing on say­ing yes.

Clearly, it is a health haz­ard even THINK­ING about spend­ing some qual­ity face time with those per­fect mel­ons, all smooth and tanned and slick with oil and.....sorry, I’ve just gone a bit dizzy, I’d bet­ter have an as­pirin and a lie-down.

In other news, young Katie has been given a job at Dev’s take­away de­spite ad­mit­ting she knows noth­ing about mak­ing ke­babs.

If she gets stuck, she needs only to think of Ja­son’s re­la­tion­ship with Stella to re­mind her what to do – you stick your meat into a hot nan, then give it plenty of sauce.

COMIC: Manford

and Paloma


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