(function() { (function(){function c(a){this.t={};this.tick=function(a,c,b){var d=void 0!=b?b:(new Date).getTime();this.t[a]=[d,c];if(void 0==b)try{window.console.timeStamp("CSI/"+a)}catch(l){}};this.tick("start",null,a)}var a;if(window.performance)var e=(a=window.performance.timing)&&a.responseStart;var h=0=b&&(window.jstiming.srt=e-b)}if(a){var d=window.jstiming.load;0=b&&(d.tick("_wtsrt",void 0,b),d.tick("wtsrt_","_wtsrt", e),d.tick("tbsd_","wtsrt_"))}try{a=null,window.chrome&&window.chrome.csi&&(a=Math.floor(window.chrome.csi().pageT),d&&0=c&&window.jstiming.load.tick("aft")};var f=!1;function g(){f||(f=!0,window.jstiming.load.tick("firstScrollTime"))}window.addEventListener?window.addEventListener("scroll",g,!1):window.attachEvent("onscroll",g); })(); lowculture: Don't it make you feel good?

Don't it make you feel good?

NUPTIALS! Neighbours, BBC1, 1.40pm/5.35pm

NeighboursIf there's one sentence that strikes fear into the heart of any actor in Neighbours, we would imagine it would be something like "your new love interest is Paul Robinson". Because let's face it, for most people, this means you're DOOMED. It may not happen right away, but there's not going to be a happy ending. If even the formidable, much-missed Izzy Hoyland couldn't survive dating him, what hope is there for anyone else?

Of course, foak in soaps never listen to reason, and hence the scene is set for another soap wedding, and the doomed bride this time is the clearly outmatched Lyn Scully, who will be leaving the show shortly, presumably to the accompaniment of loud cheers coming from our messageboard. She's had a good run, all things considered: spawned several hellspawn children and the occasional nice one. Become a grandmother to a creepy-looking baby. Lost her husband somewhere along the way to a Sheila's Wheels advert. Obtained the requisite lesbian haircut. At this stage, what is there left for her to do?

Marry Paul Robinson, obviously. Except it's not going to work out, because he's already set his sights on Rosetta Cammeniti, with whom he shared some illicit passion whilst improbably locked in Lassiters' wine cellar (and if anyone can explain to us why you'd need a security code to get out of a wine cellar, we're all ears). He's made several protestations of the "I never even thought of cheating on you!" variety, which means he clearly thought of little else. Oh Paul, you scallywag. Don't ever go changin'. So Lyn's wedding is a-go-go, but will it go ahead - and if it does, how long will the marriage last? Our bets are firmly on the side of "not very long at all, at all", so we'll just sit here and begin our sort-of-fond-but-not-really farewell to Lyn Scully, and all who sailed in her. God speed, and if you could arrange for Steph to fuck off too in the not-too-distant future, that'd be super.

Labels: , , ,

By Steve :: Post link :: ::  
2 pop-up comments :: Discuss on messageboard

Links to this post:

<\$BlogItemBacklinkCreate\$>

2 Comments:

Foak?

By Anonymous me, at 12:37 pm  

Er, I was really tired when I wrote this. Sorry.

By Blogger Steve, at 7:42 am  

Post a Comment

Tiny things for you to watch:

* To open in a
new window,
click anywhere
EXCEPT the icon.

messageboard

Your views from our forums. Click on the quote to join the discussion.




About Us

According to Marxist theory, cultural forms such as opera, classical music and the literary works of Shakespeare all fall under the heading of high culture. Low culture refers to a wide variety of cultural themes that are characterised by their consumption by the masses. We might not be Marxists, but we do know we loved Footballers Wives. If you do too, you'll know what this is all about.

GET IN TOUCH:
Click here to email.

La Vida Lowculture