While we accept that EastEnders is really trying to drag itself out of the tepid cesspit it has spent the past few years loudly drowning in, recent plots - despite showing promise - are more contrived than ever. Many of which have either been copied from less high-profile soaps, many of which the less high-profile soaps wouldn't touch with a cattle prod.
The drugging of Stacey Slater was straight out of Hollyoaks, just without the courage of its convictions to see through a reasonable gritty storyline which would have involved a seemingly popular, good-looking character proving to be a shifty drug-rapist. Wouldn't it have been great if pantomine cockney Deano Wicks - the latest in a long line of Joe Wicks/Spencer Moon clones - turned out to be a thoroughly evil character? And as for last night's storyline which saw new doctor, Dr Oliver, (who, as all docs are, is rather posh and very rude to single mothers) stranded naked on his doorstep (which appeared to be the doorstep to the doctors surgery - can't he afford a flat in east London, or is that only the domain of wealthy clans such as the Millers?) was pure Neighbours from 1988. Rubbish. As for Pauline marrying in haste to a man with a mysterious past, can we just shout at you RICHARD HILLMAN? Honestly, this was only supposed to be a short post, but - in the words of Mr Furious - anger rising, fingers typing...
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment