Feel like TOWIE has become more soap than reality show? So does Joey Essex! And he's gone all Phil Mitchell to prove it. Will Gore reports
Wednesday night in Essex was all about fighting. Not actual fisticuffs mind, just a load of bickering and meaningless stares. Oh, and the odd smashed glass.
Much of the trouble stemmed from the last episode in which Ricky was rumbled for bitching about Jasmine and her brother Danny. Joey Essex was none too happy that his friends were being "mugged off" and when everyone's favourite man-child is not happy then we should all be very afraid.
It must be said that even when Joey is in full Phil Mitchell, "what did you say?" mode he is about as intimidating as a Victoria sponge. Yet still Ricky's bottom lip quivered a good 'un when he was confronted. It was a nice touch from Joey to stick up for the Walia's. Danny and Jasmine may have a thrush-like ability to irritate, but I'm not sure they deserve abuse from Ricky, who in the absence of Mario (where is Mario?!) has taken on the role of pouting villain.
The Joey-Ricky confrontation might have been this episode's grand finale, but in truth it was no match for the Bobby Eyebrows and Gemma shouting match that preceded it.
On Sunday we saw Gemma undergo hypnosis and last night she was still under the influence. Disappointingly this didn't mean she spoke with a French accent or barked like a dog whenever anyone clapped, but instead it just amplified her habit of talking about herself on a pretty much permanent basis.
The new "improved" Gemma apologised to Arg (who was sporting the finest roll neck jumper this side of The Review Show), but fell out spectacularly with Bobby when she attempted to make it up to him as well.
As with their row a few episodes back, once again, and despite myself, I found myself on Team Gemma. Asking Bobby whether he has the requisite experience to run a party planning business seemed like a fair enough question, yet it provoked the kind of outburst that the Daily Mail likes to call "a foul mouthed rant".
Bobby threw his glass against the bar and screamed at Gemma, "My c*ck hurts from all this". Just to make clear his discomfort he added, "You're making my b*llocks ache", before storming away.
Maybe I wasn't listening in biology class, but I'm almost certain a verbal disagreement in an Essex pub can't cause such an extreme physical reaction. What is more certain, however, is that new boys Dan and James, who were sitting quietly in the boozer when the barney kicked off, already have the countenance of condemned men.
The looks on their faces as Bobby shrieked about his penis suggested they aren't entirely happy with the decision they've made to sign up to this perma-tanned circus. I, on the other hand, say, "Roll on Sunday". Hopefully Bobby (and his balls) will be feeling better.
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