Thursday, December 11, 2003
Can we get a re-wind? (Er, technically this may be a spoiler)
Who says the festive season isn't a time for misery? Certainly not the writers of Emmerdale, that's for sure.
For some of the finer details have emerged for the December 31 disaster that will definitely claim the life of one of the show's characters, and seriously fuck up Hogmany for pretty much everyone else.
Let's set the scene for you. Despite an impending thunderstorm, everybody pretty much goes about their business as usual.
Whinging Tricia decides to leave philandering Marlon and plans to flee the village forever (hooray!) on a bus, presumably at least as far as 'Otton, if not back to India.
However, just like the Bollywood princesses she's been playing, she has a change of heart at the last minute and prepares to forgive all, just as the storm reaches its peak.
But as she makes her way back home, a lightening bolt smashes in to the Woolpack, twatting Tricia and burying her under a pile of rubble.
Inside, all the lights go out, most likely obscuring the draught pumps and leading to some of the punters ending up with cider instead of lager they've requested.
Meanwhile, drippy Ashley and the purty Lousie are heading back from a romantic night out when they swerve a fallen tree, sending them crashing over a bridge and into the water below.
The lives of pretty much everyone else hang in the balance as the storm wreaks its havoc round the village.
If any of this sounds familiar, bear in mind that it will be 10 years to the day that a plane crash devastated the village. Except this time they've done away with the plane, obviously.
Naturally, we have our own ideas of how events should proceed, which go something along these lines:
Inside the Woolpack, the customers begin to question why every pint, wine glass and tumbler seems to have beem filled with a strange, tea-like substance rather than the drinks they ordered.
Suddenly, Diane emerges from the kitchen, cackling, and rips off her blonde wig to reveal she is none other than the not-really-evil-just-a-bit-mischevious T-Bag.*
Seeing Tricia has nearly all the magic silver bells, she takes emergency measures, including a shrill cry of : "Drat you, you interfering brat!"
T-Bag sends a thunderbolt smashing into the Woolpack, twatting Tricia and burying her under a pile of rubble.
Elsewhere, Drippy Ashley gasps his last in his submerged car as the cold water of whatever-stream-runs-by-the-village robs his lungs of oxygen.
Louise removes her hands from the top of his head, reapplies her lippy and exits the car with a relieved: "Thank fuck for that."
And the postman whose name we can't remember emerges from the ruins of his home, with only the torn fragments of his skintight underwear to protect his modesty.
The guy that was Scott's housemate, whose name we can't remember either, nakedly realises Scott's ex-girlfriend really isn't worth the trouble, and sets his sights on a first class delivery from the postman. Much parading about ensues.
Er . . . where were we? Oh yes, Jack is torn to shreds in some hay-baling machinery and the viewers are spared the details of his miserable existence forever more. The end.
Let us know what your preferred version of the fate of Emmerdale's residents is by clicking on the comment link below.
*We apologise in advance for the following obscure 80s children's television reference.
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