Corrie at 50

The woman on the radio was well excited. Corrie is unmissable this week, she declared breathlessly. So with that in mind I suggested to Alex last night that she interrupt her viewing of Come Dine With Me and switch over to real TV. So we watched. Tyrone bought a bottle of whiskey in the local shop from the blubbery Asian who was fooling around with the dippy one from Dinnerladies. Sally was worried about Tyrone and suggested she would pop around. Kevin’s face clinched stiffly and said no. Meanwhile Sally served dinner to her pretentious elder daughter (apples fall from trees) and her younger lesbian daughter who now seems to be living at home with her lover – while both of them are still at school. Rita meanwhile, at 70+, weaved home tipsy from her vodka and tonic in the pub – good on you, Rita, while the bride to be sat glum at the bar amid the raucous singing at her hen night in the Rovers. Ken, looked dashing in his open necked shirt at the stag night in the new night club and kept glancing anxiously at Nick while smiling nervously at his son Peter, the groom and former bigamist.

An ex-con railed around the street looking for a lost little blond boy and called her ex-con husband to help in the search. Meanwhile Molly, who moved into the street some time ago from Emmerdale, delivered Tyrone the killer blow that he was not baby Jack’s father. Oh my God. In one of the houses on the street, Fiz’s slimy husband ended up killing the deluded Glenn Close like character. Then there was chaos. I think there was an explosion in the nightclub and the pub emptied of women who ran running towards the club screaming about their men folk. It all happened so fast. The posse from the pub was led by dearest Deirdre with her big glasses and orange face. “Oh my god, Ken, do something,” she rasped in her smoky baritone voice. Just as Ken was about to save the day a passing train collapsed from the bridge, like they do. More screams and chaos. The camera, which was in the right place at the right time, caught the horror of the scene in Ken’s face. What on earth would Uncle Albert make of all of this he was probably thinking.

The title to the show read four funerals and a wedding. The woman on the radio was so right. Another typical night on the street it was not. I wonder will Google do a special on the day Corrie reaches 50.