Let's get the drama out of the way first. "If you ever want to speak to me again, you need to admit to everyone that you made up that we slept together." There, in a nutshell, is the beautiful pairing of Spencer and Louise, two narcissistic, Teflon-coated, compulsive liars. In the most romantic way possible, these two deserve only each other.
Butter wouldn't melt in Louise Thompson's mouth, but is she defending her honour too much?
Phoebe planning a dinner party, for "all our friends". And there was me thinking she'd alienated everyone with her pale face and dark tongue. Silly me, not realising six poshos will go anywhere for a free drink and the chance to throw meaningful glances around the room.
Cheska putting on her music blinkers for the sake of friendship/commission when regaled with the sound of white man's calypso from the other side of the studio... "You're rocking it, Andy."
"Francis taught me this game the other day, it's called ego boost." Jamie knows how to make a dinner party schwing.
Spencer and Jamie having a quick bromance chat, INEVITABLY talking about exes. And it's so obvious they're referring to Lucy Watson, with Louise all the while smugly smiling. And what's with that creepy music?
Ohhh... that's what. Cut to the morning after, and Spencer sheepishly telling Andy Jordan that he and Louise "kind of hooked up" after one glass of expensive wine too many. His reason for sharing the good news? "I just wanted it off my chest." Oh, ok then. "She loves you so much... she's petrified of you knowing," Spencer adds by way of verification, making sure Andy therefore knows.
Andy curling up for comfort in Stevie's warm embrace, with Spencer just about managing to keep the grin off his face until out of camera-shot.
The scriptwriters, sorry, I mean producers, finding something for Francis Boulle and Rosie Fortescue to do... involving Francis painting Rosie, requiring her to stay completely motionless and communicate nothing....
Louise trying to bluff it out when Andy accosts her, with repeated uses of "What up?" Never mind sleeping with her ex, surely this streetspeak should be enough for Andy to swap her permanently for Stevie and guitar.
Phoebe and Rosie... no, forget that, that just wasn't a best bit.
Now Jamie's the new Spencer, and Spencer's orbiting his own strange planet, scriptwriters, sorry mean producers, attempting to turn Louise's pint-pot brother Sam into the new Jamie. With one of the most contrived pairings ever, as he courted Fran with poetry. All slightly simple, but yet creepy.
Mark Francis - restoring order amidst the mayhem where he can
Spencer's couch, where it's getting a tad Freudian. "I had no real trouble disappointing them," he reveals of the "women" in his life, while the highly-paid shrink consults the Personal ads. "I wasn't always popular," he reflects, while she checks her eBay watched list. "But it was no big deal," he decides, while she tries to work out yet another academic way of telling her quaffed client, "you're basically a d*ck."
Mark Francis as usual rescuing the situation with a realignment of priorities. "I'm just worried it's all going to unravel," he moans. The delicate relationship nexus of Spencer, Louise, Jamie and Co? The BAFTA award-winning plot development? Ah, it turns out not. "I don't know where I'm going to find another 19th century kimono."