Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Neighbours. Everybody needs good neighbours.

This rare behind-the-scenes photo reveals a lot about the Neighboursverse: Karl and Susan drinking coffee and gossiping about Andrew, who is ordering coffee while talking overly loud to Lucas, and some extras practicing drinking coffee. And a camera left unattended while the cameraman gets a coffee

Ramsay Street is a turbulent place at the best of time, but lately it has been off the fucking chart. We’ve got new characters, old characters, characters who wear ties, characters who don’t wear ties, dickheads, wankers and fuckwits. It’s a ticking time-bomb inside a pressure cooker with a lit fuse just waiting to boil over.

I haven’t been able to keep entirely up-to-date with the residents of Erinsborough, but I’m pretty sure I can go all Sherlock on myself and piece together the pieces of this many-pieced puzzle.

Pop the kettle on, this could take a while.
To kick off, let’s see who was super shit enough to not have their Neighbours contract extended:

Zeke’s gone. He might have headed overseas to pursue his blossoming DJ career, but it’s more likely that he died in a canoeing accident. For some reason, water had a magnetic attraction for Zeke, if magnets had the power to kill.

Steph has gone because she ran over Ringo and killed him and was shipped off to jail somewhere in Fuck Knows Nowhere, Victoria. Following the shocking jury decision (although since the charge was drink driving occasioning death, it really shouldn’t have come as too much of a surprise to anyone), Lyn grabbed Steph’s ugly kid (not Summer, the other one) and has moved to Fuck Knows so they can be closer to the drug-addicted alcoholic homicidal maniac that is Steph. I love a close-knit family. Except that they left Summer behind (good choice), so I guess Lyn’s pretty choosey about who she wants in her family. When the ugly kid and Steph get props over you, you might want to stop and think about your life.

Lyn’s absence obviously meant that there was an empty house on Ramsay. Better fill that space up with a couple of dickheads:
Kyle (that loveable larrikin who you may recognise as the bloke who always wears singlets, tries to donk anything that moves, drinks shit tins of orange juice at the pub and will only watch movies starring Steven Segal, just like every 20-something male in existence);
Jade - Sonya’s sister who is inexplicably of a different race than the rest of her family; and
Kate’s ex-boyfriend Mr Policeman, who moved in with the idiots above, regardless of the fact that they didn’t have jobs and are about ten years younger than him. I’m guessing that the pull of Ramsay Street got him in the end; it’s a well known fact that if you spend too long on Neighbours, one day you’ll wake up living in Lyn’s house… Also, the fact that the house is next door to Kate’s place probably helped. Because living next door to your ex girlfriend while you’re sharing a place with the girl you cheated on her with isn’t awkward at all, right? Right.

Mr Policeman is in a spot of bother for blowing the whistle on corrupt cops in Erinsborough, and has been “copping” it from his cop friends since he filed a report. Being the great journo that he is, Paul Robinson got wind of the story and threatened to blow the whole thing “sky high” by running it in the Erinsborough News (readership: 10 billion trillion people). Kate asked him not to run the story for the sake of Mr Policeman (I can’t really remember why, but I think it had something to do with bears), so Paul ran a story about high interest rates instead. Phew. Mr Policeman is safe. WAIT… interest rates are at what level? Jesus, I’m never going to be able to afford a house. Good one, Paul, you peg-legged dick.

After being abandoned by her family, Summer was absorbed into Karl and Susan’s house. Fuck. I couldn’t think of anything worse than living with those two douchebags. In a rarity for Neighbours writing, Karl has realistically cracked the shits with Susan and said, “I am so fucking sick of all the motherfucking teenagers in this house.” (the part of Dr Karl was played by Samuel L. Jackson) Susan quelled that storm by replying, “It’s only for a few more years.” Then they had some coffee and forgot about it.

Summer is also dating Rob Farnham aka Andrew, the mysteriously Scottish son of Paul Robinson. Paul has just offered Summer a journalist position at the Erinsborough News, which for a 17-year old with no qualifications is a pretty tidy opportunity. When I was 17, I worked at Woolworths and wanted a pair of rollerblades. The closest I came to being offered anything while I was working there was when some paedophile tried to get me involved in his Amway-selling scheme. I guess kids today are different with their hopes and dreams, and paedos are way more generous than they used to be.

Andrew has decided to focus his attention on his burgeoning entertainment business (what does that even mean?) and can’t wait to finish school so he can really reap the benefits. Apparently Andrew has been running dance parties for years as a side job to being a student, being awesome and having shit hair. AND he’s only about 15 years old. He might also have access to a time machine, seeing as no-one has even thought about a dance party since 1997.

Summer dragged Andrew to the Erinsborough University to do some recon on the campus and students for his ‘entertainment business,’ but Andrew seemed sceptical that the university crowd would be into it. “This guys don’ haf any monay tay partay wif,” he announced. “Noo let’s goo an’ get oorselfs soom coffee. Iss bin aboot an hoor since weef had one.” I’m glad that Andrew knows his target audience so well, and recognises that high school kids earn more money than adults.

In life away from Lyn’s house:
Harold is back from his across-Australia tour, and looky-looky, he’s brought himself a wife - the old duck from the Spray and Wipe ads. The wedding was glorious, as Harold spent most of the ceremony talking about his first wife before they all head to Charlie’s for a drink (orange juice) at the reception afterwards. I loved the fact that the bar was still decorated with advertising despite the reception being held there. I’m sure Mr and Mrs Spray and Wipe Bishop will love the fact that their wedding photos have the dates for Magic Dirt’s 2007 tour in the background.

The Neighbours writers realised that they hadn’t had a chance to use their hospital set for a while, so they made Lou collapse, thereby fixing that little oversight quick-smart by plonking him in the usual private room with machines going “ping” and Dr Karl dropping by to show off his lovely white coat and clipboard ensemble.

I’m not entirely sure what’s in the water in Erinsborough, but Kyle has followed the trend set by Andrew and has also decided to be his own boss by becoming a “professional handy man.” I would have assumed that being a professional man-whore would have been more apt, but that’s just me. I’m not sure where he decided that handiwork was a good idea, seeing as the only remotely handy thing he’s done is apply glue to a shelf, which then attracted a coffee mug and his own hand. Fuck I want to live on Ramsay Street - for one, I’d be able to kill Natasha a lot easier, and secondly I’d be able to become a professional Alec Baldwin impersonator within a week.

I’m going out on a limb and assuming that Kyle is also using Andrew’s time machine to go back to 1947 when handymen still existed. In the year 2011, if your dishwasher fucks out, you call a dishwasher repairman. If your car breaks down, you get a mechanic to look at it. You don’t call a 20-year old kid to turn up and poke around with nothing more than hope and a screwdriver.

Natasha has begun sleeping with a skeezy older man who rakes leaves for a living (seriously, how do I get to Ramsay St?), who makes constant references to the fact that she “looks hot” when she wears her school uniform during their back-seat encounters during her free periods at school. There are two ways that Natasha would ever be described as hot – one is if she has a crowbar sticking out of her mangled face, the other is if you were a skeezy old man. In Neighbours’ latest Community Service Announcement, Tash took a nudie photo of herself (in the toilets at Harold’s cafĂ©) and sent it to Skeezy’s phone.

To end this Neighbours update, I’m proud to announce another Neighbours first:
Say hello to Chris, the token gay kid. Hi Chris. Chris hasn’t done anything of note since joining the cast, and that will be the status quo until another gay bloke moves in. Because as we all know, gay people spend all their time thinking gay thoughts about being gay. Oh, and drinking coffee, but that’s a Neighbours thing.

MEB’s Neighbours predictions
- electrical fire caused by Kyle’s shithouse handiwork
- Natasha’s photo is going to “go viral” and attract more views than the Erinsborough News and Google* combined. She will cop a mighty punishment from her dad, who will forbid her from having sex with random old blokes
*Note: The Neighbours universe has its own search engine, called “Poodle.” It’s pink and has a dog.
- Mr Copper will continue to cop flak from corrupt cops and will eventually leave the street to save the people he loves (from bears?)
- Karl is going to go postal for a week and recite Ezekial 25:17 before killing a lot of people before apologising and going back to being a boring old dick
- Toadie will get married again. That guy loves his nuptials

MEB’s Neighbours Peeve of the Week
In the opening credits, it shows Sonya and Libby together. They are blowing bubbles in the backyard and having a good giggle about it. It looks fucking stupid and if anyone out there can tell me if they know of ANY women (or men) who get together for a good old-fashioned bubble-blowing afternoon in the sun, I’d love to meet them (and feed them to a bear).


Goal thief said...

I'm confused.

Having not watched Neighbours since I was born, all of the things mentioned seem highly unlikely in real life.
Is this a documentary, mockumentary or a rockumentary (music based, due to the number of "singers" coming out of the show)?

I read a few paragraphs and got bored, so I skipped to the end to ask my ever relevant questions.

p.s. I love it when 2 chicks blow bubbles. If anyone replies with known bubble-blowers, could you please out them to your readers, i.e. me, before the inaugural Bubble-Blower-Bear-Buffet™?

Mister Evil Breakfast said...

I understand that Neighbours can be a scary, confusing place.

I don't think that the world of Ramsay can be succinctly summed up with a -umentary suffix though. It is perhaps best described as a genre unto itself - "Neighbours."

I will keep an eye out for more bubble-blowing ladies for you, since you asked so nicely and threw a TM onto the BBBB for me. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours (but don't, it makes me feel a bit weird).

Is this response long enough? I sure hope so.