You don’t see Madonna for ages, and then three come along together in Coronation Street.
Maddie (who scrubbed up very well), Sophie, and bride Beth all dressed as the pop star for the latter’s Eighties themed wedding. Beth was not happy, but dealt with the situation by pointing that the girls were in “vogue Madonna from 1990”.
As with all soap weddings, Friday’s event had the usual will they/won’t they element when Kirk (who eventually turned up as Adam Ant) had a panic attack about the first dance. His nerves weren’t helped by Beth’s extended family (wonderful – we really have to see more of this heavy drinking, Fraggle Rock convention), who were not impressed with Beth’s choice of groom.
Beth had no such trouble. “I promise to love you on fat days and thin days,” she said, in her pre-written vows. We’re still waiting for the thin days, but it was the right sentiment.
Jonathan Harvey, who wrote the first of Friday’s episodes, camped it up in his inimitable style, with Sean trying to explain his tennis racquet-bearing get-up – “George Michael from his Club Tropicana days”.
There was an equally good episode from Perrie Balthazar, who I presume is a new writer, as the name didn’t ring any bells. Julie was in an increasingly distressed state with Mary taking credit for the cake’s icing (I absolutely love the hilarity this pair continue to create), and Julie finally losing I with Beth’s mother, who was flirting with Dev. “Weddings. Alcohol and polyester,” she sobbed outside the pub, “it’s a powder keg waiting to blow.”
Sally, fresh from rampant sex on the sofa with Tim, missed the ceremony but was in a good mood at the reception: “Everybody’s all right after a few glasses of Prosecco, aren’t they?” Yes. Even Tim.
I felt a bit sorry for Tracy, who must have been thinking about the wedding she was supposed to have had to Rob. She sat solemnly at the bar next to a plate of sausage rolls, vol-au-vents and sandwiches, assuring Beth that she was all right – “Can’t beat a beige buffet.” She was certainly attracting the attentions of Maria and Kirk’s father, Eric, who looked the wrong side of several thousand beige buffets. She, however, had eyes only for Tony, who is another powder keg waiting to blow.
Kirk’s mother’s wedding gift was two flights to Cyprus. “Ayia Napa?” said a hopeful Beth. Alas, no. The accommodation is with the new in-laws. One can only hope and pray for a spin-off of that honeymoon escapade.
The overall message on Friday was All’s well that ends well. The couple were hitched, Dev declared that he liked Julie’s outburst, Liz insisted that she was taking a depressed Steve to Spain (as if that were not enough to deepen any depression), and Maria made up with Luke who, a week ago, Audrey had said looked like “a young Sidney Poitier”. Really? A Hawaiian American? Soaps’ insistence of lumping together all non-white skinned individuals continues to drive me nuts.
Even Sean ended the day with a smile on his face when his new vicar beau Billy turned up. I dread to think how they made use of that tennis racquet when the festivities ended.
So, good luck to the newly weds and, with Julie catching the bouquet, maybe this was prequel to what will soon be another wedding.
I can hear Mary sharpening her cake knife even as I write.