This week Skins decides that the popular literary figure Shakespeare, you might have heard of him, is cool. Grace decides that sustaining a voice doesn’t matter, and everyone gets out their ‘coke eyes’. Sounds good I know.
I appear to have missed all important plot points this week, if indeed any occurred, and only saw Frankie kiss everyone on command while saying that she isn’t bi-sexual she “just likes people”, great writing coming to you from E4 since 2005.
Despite all this it was however Grace’s episode, though it did appear to be more like a Mr.Blood (Chris Addison) greatest hits compilation as he pranced about the scenery spouting nonsensical shit in a pan-British accent. The accents played a large part of this weeks shows mainly because, never having been to Bristol, none of them sounded remotely Bristolian in nature. Of course I recognise that they are professionaly trained thespians from the ‘big-city’, but I mean come on, if you can’t make it Skins then you have no chance, which is why nobody knows what any of the previous cast members are doing. Nicholas Hoult being the exception, but then he worked with Hugh Grant so nothing else really matters does it.
GOD I ALMOST FORGOT THE PEA SONG.
For those unawares the pea song is a cultural movement unbeknown to anyone in the modern world that isn’t a complete and utter shit-tard of a human being. If this doesn’t signal a last attempt at greatness before ‘the fall’ then I don’t know what does. Empires have been ruined by less. Just ask Julias.
I’m still recovering from that memory for a while so let’s discuss the aforementioned ‘coke eyes’. Picture the scene: four quiet girls in a bedroom full of floaty stuff with nothing to do, they get out their limitless supply of cocaine, kiss daddy goodbye, and run off to the club that doesn’t ask for any form of identification from said underage children. It’s a great world I know. Once at this club where all their friends also happen to be, it’s obviously not a school night, they decide to ‘get off with’ some fat bloke and his mate, Matty takes unkindly to the unwanted attention Franky is recieving and asks him politely to leave by scaring the living shit out of millions of people with what is the complete opposite of Bette Davis Eyes. That boy can act. Maybe. No, no he can’t. We can all begin to walk the long road to recovery know because he clearly had an overdose of something. Sorry about that long-winded rant, but someone had to say it and I am speaker of the truth. Anyway I’m sure next week all this trouble will end, or be exacerbated-who knows, when him and Franky just have sex already, Liv won’t mind she’ll just have another five bottles of Vodka.
Since I don’t know what I’m saying anymore I’ll just stop saying things, other than that the music this week was unusually good and I would like to say well done Kyle. We had a bit of Jessie J, The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart, James Blake, The National, and Magnetic Man amongst others. God it’s a great time to be alive.