Transport taboos

Heed this advice residents of Ramsay Street: steer clear of motorbikes. In all my years of watching Neighbours, nothing good has ever come of donning the leathers, plonking on a crash helmet and going on a two-tyred jaunt.

Erinsborough's inhabitants have enough trouble staying safe in the confines of a car - see the now-defunct Bridget Parker and magnificently norked Dionne "Dee" Bliss - and when the number of wheels on the vehicle is decreased by half, peril becomes doubly likely.

Just a few months back, Lucas went biking, crashed into a lorry and almost paralysed himself for life, Libby's fruitless ambition of spawning children is the fault of her scootering experience, and now Dan, just like his ex-wife, is unable to procreate all because he thought sitting on a saddle and blitzing his way down the open road was a sterling idea. It wasn't. He tumbled into a tree, got an infection in hospital and now his balls don't work.

The tragic turn of events has prompted Steph to inform the stricken Fitzgerald that he is the father of her unborn bambino. Whether or not she goes through with the tell-all, this saga of carnal blunders, paternal perjury, sham marriages and deceit amongst friends is about to unravel.

Libby wanted to cheer up her former flame by sending him a present, but she could not decide whether flowers or fruit would be the best gift. Flowers? Fruit? Dan is a man. Ship him a Top Gear box set, some beer or a year's supply of porn. Alright, maybe not the beer.

KerPlunk would even be an acceptable bounty. I always like a bit of marble-on-plastic rod action when I'm feeling under the weather. Coincidentally, I'm spending most of my nights playing the game at the moment. Not because I'm planning to enter an international KerPlunk competition, I just can't sleep, what with images of Paul and Diana's salacious tryst imbued in my brain.

Makeovers, Mel and madness

I quite like Summer's appearance - her long fringe and tomboyish dress sense really differentiates her from many fashion-conscious young women. As a result, I find Miss Hoyland pretty captivating and sexy.

Noxious Natasha doesn't share my view, however, and made it her mission to give the horror-loving teen a makeover. She wanted to doll up her schoolmate so that her boyfriend, the terribly dreary Chris Pappas, would be turned on. Considering how wooden he is, though, Summer could dance provocatively around him wearing nothing but nipple tassels and he'd just about be able to raise a tentative smile.

Foxy Mel made her return to the show on Monday, as part of the Pirate Net strike saga, and I really wish producers would utilise her more regularly. Since the blonde glamourpuss has been away, the radio station's audience has transferred from a hip, underground group to one full of sexless nerds and shoe-obsessed adolescent girls, as emphasised during Donna's fill-in stint as a DJ.

Pirate Net owner Paul has even bigger problems than a geeky listnership - he has now realised that his golden boy Andrew was the muppet who unintentionally informed the savvy Diana Marshall that he had been embezzling. To say he is in a huff would be a dramatic understatement.

Judging by the trailer at the start of Monday's show, Paul will aim to rectify his problem by dipping his wick in his New York-based boss. "Urgh," was the noise that emanated from my mouth as well.

Is it the Italians?

Susan's stalking has got even more vigorous over the last few days. Mrs. Kennedy's hater is still sending her frightful text messages and e-mails but he/she has now also resorted to following the former teacher home, resulting in Dr. Karl's wife undertaking an awkward, middle-aged woman jog to get back to her abode quicker in the hope of avoiding doom.

Who is behind this morally-reprehensible act of petrifying a feeble female? I think I know. Dark-coloured car, four doors, driver acting suspiciously. It's the Mafia, isn't it? I'm not quite sure what Susan has done to so severely irk the criminal underworld, but if she wakes up with a horse's head next to her on the pillow, my beliefs will have been proved correct.

Still, an equine skull would surely be an improvement on seeing Karl's visage every morning, he says, while a plethora of randy housewives across the land vehemently disagree.

Another member of the Kennedy household was in the action today, in the form of the vest-loving Ringo Brown. After much cajoling from his attractive girlriend Donna, local grease monkey Lucas, new Declan and a surprisingly charismatic skeleton, the Beatle-named builder decided to put down his pickaxe, shun his shovel and resubmit himself into paramedic school.

I suppose saving people's lives is more rewarding than digging a hole or tightening a nut (as you can see, I know very little about the world of construction), but I couldn't care less which career Frazer's little brother adopts - as long as it keeps him away from his guitar!

Sex, ties and...spectacles

I am devastated at the moment. Not because a family member has perished or because Charlton failed to advance through the League One play-offs (although I must admit that does still irk me). No, I am upset because Karl Kennedy's distinctive reading glasses are gone. Blown to smithereens in a blender, those red monstrosities are no more.

Dr K's shocking garb is now restricted to his patterned golfing jumpers. He donned an atrocious baby blue one this week on his 18-hole round with Susan at Erinsborough's local golf club.

At one point, Karl's wife even compared him to Tiger Woods. I've always thought there were similarities between the skin-flint Kennedy patriarch and the world's premier golfer - more to do with their womanising natures than their abilities with a 9 iron, however.

Elsewhere, I was shocked - and a little disturbed - to see that Toadie's impressive tie rack hangs above his bed. What sort of ornament is that? Couldn't he find a pretty picture of waves rippling against a bay? Oh yeah, Dee died in that environment. Sorry mate, my apologies.

Another of the big stories - yes, I'm counting the the tie-rack saga as a big story - was the continued strife in Kate and Declan's relationship. The dancing Ramsay got all flustered when Napier tried to deliver her his pork sword and as a result, the pair spent much of the week trying to figure out what the other wanted from their union.

It comes as no surprise to me that Dec and his fair maiden aren't getting down to some jiggy jiggy. Kate is very attractive but I just don't see her as a sexual being. She needs to learn how to be a slut - perhaps blue box-owning Susan could teach her.

Donna-stemmed musings

Sexy she may be, but Donna really is a clumsy oaf. She almost killed Ringo in a house fire some months back and her habit of setting things alight returned this week when she knocked a candle on to her fake-titted mother's diary.

Finding her dad is going to be an arduous task now, but unlike in real life where the truth would probably never have come out, this is Neighbours - expect a highly unlikely sequence of events that sees Donna and her daddy reunited.

The candle accident happened during Earth Hour - a 60-minute period where your phones should be switched off and your TVs and laptops left alone - or to put it another way - a 60-minuted period where babbling Eco-nuts try to prevent other people from getting on with their lives.

I want the world to live long and prosper but if I've got to send an e-mail, then I'm gonna damn well send one.

Hairdo annoyances

I have many wishes. I wish Karen from the BBC comedy series 'Outnumbered' was my sister, I wish I could go on a date with the stern but sexy, poker-playing TV presenter Victoria Coren, I wish my facial hair grew in a more manly way and I wish I didn't have to walk so far to get to my nearest train station.

But more than anything, I wish Zeke Kinski would get rid of his quiff. That boy's hair enters a scene before he does. He used to have an appropriate indie-band coiffure so I don't quite know what has persuaded him to go all 'Danny from Grease'. I don't like it and while we're on the subject of the Pirate Net DJ's style, lose the waistcoats as well - you're neither a snooker player nor attending a high-brow get together. SORT IT OUT.

Inappropriate shindig tunes

I'm going to keep this post short, mainly because I don't want to be a bore, but also because my attention span over the last seven days has been pitiful.

In fact, the only Ramsay Street moment I can remember irking me this week was when Susan suggested to Zeke that they play the music of Sinead O'Connor and Enya at his Irish-themed birthday bash. A women who sings about her dead mother, and the emitter of possibly the most boring sound of all time. Oh yeah, that's bound to get everyone in the party spirit.

Cutthroat cricket and medical matters

Yay. After what seems like years without it, a Ramsay Street tradition has made its welcome return - Road Cricket.

The stumps were dusted down, the bat was removed from the garage, the ball was polished and the excitement was evident.

But if anyone thought a mild-mannered, jovial game of leather on willow was going to take place, they were sorely mistaken. (I didn't mind you, Aussies don't play friendly cricket).

Instead, chafed Callum used the game to try and injure Steph, the luscious lady whose fake relationship with Toadie has seen Sonya expunged from his life.

The podgy kid may bear more of a resemblance to legendary spin bowler Shane Warne but he proved himself to be quite the Brett Lee during the cricketing escapades, almost annihilating Steph's attractive noggin with a fast-paced beamer.

But hey, why I do have a soft spot for the mixed-up Scully chick, anyone who commits the cardinal sin of batting in dainty sandals deserves all the the misery that comes their way.

Steph's ousted beau, Lucas, has had a tough time of it since she chucked him, and he even turned to Andrew Robinson's "Impress the Girl" manual this week in order to doctor his ailing love life. Lucas mate, during you time in Erinsborough you've bedded Elle, bonked Libby and canoodled with Steph, you don't need to read a manual, you need to write one.

Karl will be putting his pen down after deciding to leave his newspaper advice column and return to practicing at the town's hospital. Disgusted by the state of the sanatorium whilst being treated there for either a) a dicky heart, b) angina or c) a severe case of indigestion, KK decided he had to take evasive action, which in his mind meant re-donning his health cloak. (I know it's not called that but I wish it was).

The humorous healer will be working alongside the dishy Dr. Doug Harris at Erinsborough's body-fixing unit, a medic bound to set some of the female cast's pulses racing, if you know what I mean.

Scu-becchi: An unnecessary mess

So, the reason for Steph and Toadie's extended rendezvous away from Ramsay Street has been revealed - he is going to be the "daddy" of her Dan Fitzgerald-made unborn sprog.

Though the not-so-loved-up duo have yet to reveal that Ms. Scully has an embryo floating around inside her, they used this week to convince their friends and family that they are love's young (ish) dream, so that when the Erinsborough community realise Steph has a bun in her proverbial oven, they will assume it's Toadie's tadpoles that have created the little tyke.

The story sounds good in principle, as while there has ultimately been heartbreak for now-walking-again Lucas and cute dog trainer (I think that's still what she does) Sonya, it at least protects luscious Libby and bothersome Ben from learning the truth about sexy Stephanie and deceitful Dan. (I'll tone down the alliteration from now on, I promise).

But why can't the eldest Scully child just spin the yarn that she got a little too steamy with a stranger in a nightclub. It's hardly an unbelievable turn of events, as with her biker-chick foxiness and ample chest, Steph would surely have no trouble getting a geezer to poke her.

The mechanic's step-daughter Summer continues to play a weighty role in the street, this week encouraging Harry to not give up on his dreams of making the school basketball team and embarrassing class douche bag (yes, I did just use the word douche bag) Macca in front of her giggling pals.

Neighbours has been devoid of a takes-no-crap gal since the radiant Elle left our screens and while Summer is not as feisty or delectable as Paul's journalistic daughter, she is not far off it and has been a very welcome addition to my TV-watching life.

The other big news in Erinsborough was that Dr. Karl has returned from his sojourn to Milaaaarn, sporting "snazzy" new attire, with his much-anticipated Italian-crafted reading glasses proving to be the butt of many a character's joke.

The Kennedy patriarch - with a far-from-chic pink jumper, which he rather stupidly opts to drape over his shoulders, and brown suede loafers - now looks as though he is auditioning for the presenting role on tedious BBC daytime fare Bargain Hunt, but the show certainly lacks a comedic, and often condescending, punch when KK is on one of his European jaunts.

Karl's stepson Ezekiel - or Zeke for short - put his brief flirtation with felony in the past and resumed his radio career, albeit under the unwanted guidance of Paul. Never one to miss a bit of money making, Senor Robinson has demanded that PirateNet plug any item going, a scheme that may put even more spondulix into the obliquitous tycoon's already-swollen back pocket but is straying too far from the station's publicity-free, devil-may-care stance and alienating many of the original listeners.

That's the view of Mel, anyway, the sultry blond minx, PirateNet's manager or something. There's a point. With Rebecca as CEO, Zeke as programme controller and Paul the master puppeteer, pulling strings behind the scenes, what exactly does Mel do?

If she wants a new job, I've got some suggestions. My personal masseuse, my personal kiss tester - you get the gist.

Unslurped beverages & quickfire recovery

A bizarre trend has hit Erinsborough - people are purchasing drinks and not consuming them. Toadie's sweetheart Sonya did it first, buying what looked like a coffee but then opting not to swallow it down. Hot on her heels were Andrew and Donna, who also acquired some liquid refreshments, only to waltz off leaving them untouched.

Zeke's animal-loving strumpet Mia followed suit, fleeing Charlie's before she could glug on her repulsive-sounding lime and tofu concoction. I know people lead busy lives but - at the risk of sounding like my dad - why shell out money for something if you're going to do bugger all with it?

I don't know how much wonger - if any - Lucas is spending on his rehab programme but it must be the greatest healing syllabus known to man. The mechanic was told in his hospital bed that his road to walking again would be long and arduous, but just one day - and one session of trundling practice later - Lucas was prancing around on his feet, albeit with the help of crutches. It's just too bad his new love Steph is up the duff with his brother's sprog and can't face a relationship with him.

Speaking of relationships, Susan tried to get Lyn into one this week in order to take her mind of conniving Paul Robinson. The singles' night at Charlie's was more up Susan's avenue than Lyn's though. Sassy Mrs. K was flirting like nobody's business, despite hubby Karl watching with intent at the opposite end of the bar. What with her blue box of sexy attire and now her flagrant amorous behaviour, the usually straight-laced Ramsay Street veteran has developed some really slutty overtones.

I'll end my dissection with Zeke, who remarked to Declan that he was half-way through his radio show, when in fact he had five minutes remaining. Kinski may be one of Neighbours' brightest sparks, but he is a mathematical idiot.

An Erinsborough Christmas

A February tradition was upheld this week as the Yuletide episodes of Neighbours were broadcast in the UK. Nearly every character was getting into the festive mood - archenemies Rebecca and Lyn fought tooth and nail to win the Christmas Spirit competition, an accolade the latter accrued, seemingly because she was more of an embracer of other religions, Paul "Pegleg" Robinson dressed up as an elf, and even Dr. Karl - a skinflint for most of the year - loosened his purse strings to give his long-suffering wife Susy K a jaunt on a horse and cart.

But surely the most cringeworthy Noel-based nonsense was Harry, Kate and Sophie belting out "We Wish You a Ramsay Christmas." The girls' rendition was bad enough but the last line of the festive ditty took the biscuit when lanky Harry - being driven back to his terribly lax foster home - popped his head out of the car window and ended the tune with ".....and a Ramsay New Year." I could do nothing but recoil in horror.

Of course, not everything revolved around seasonal joy. Dopey Dan exited the street to start a new life - as an English teacher in Sydney I believe - but not before banging Steph and having a final row with his soon-to-be ex-wife Libby.

So desperate to leave Erinsborough was he, Fitzy didn't even find time to bid farewell to his brother. That, in addition to being dumped over the phone by journalistic high-flyer Elle, sent Lucas over the edge. He donned himself in leather, put on his out-of-fashion crash helmet and goggles, revved up his motorbike, rode too fast and careered into the back of a lorry. He might die but in true Neighbours style, the scruffy grease moneky will probably just endure a period of temporary paralysis.

In a swift recount of other news, Paul married Rebecca, unaware that ex-spouse Lyn still wants to get into his pants, Kate likes Declan, Declan likes Kate but memories of the now-defunct Bridget are scuppering their plans to fornicate, and Toadie's sweetheart Sonya is back on the scene, looking even hotter than before.

And finally, the schoolkids received their VCE scores. Some were great and some were solid, Declan's though, was not good enough. Never mind mate, I'm sure you'll be fine, your step-dad is loaded after all. The most intriguing part of the exam scores, however, was that they were sent out via text message. Times really are a changing.

Bankers, eh?

It has all been a bit morbid in Ramsay Street of late, hasn't it? Baby deaths, relationship breakdowns, curly-haired teenagers placed in foster care. Where are the jollities?

Oh hang on, this should be a laugh, Donna's just invented this season's must have - The Shrugalero. Off she trotted to the bank, and despite having no business nous, no money, no potential clients and no profit margins - yes I have been watching Dragons' Den - she did a fashion show and got her hands on some spondulix.

That must be how bankers worked prior to the credit crunch. Picture this.

Customer - Can I have a mortgage?
Banker - Can you afford one?
Customer - No, but I can burp the alphabet
Banker - Of course you can have a mortgage.

I know something Zeke cannot have - Sunny. Ms Lee has trundled back off to Korea after she realised that her family would never let her stay in Oz and Neighbours bosses realised she was an awful character. Her leaving party was fun though. The lead singer of her favourite band looked like an oriental Dennis Taylor.

Speaking of appearances, Harry has taken my advice and decided to implement the ankle sock into his dress code. If only Rebecca would take my advice and indulge in some naked wrestling with Steph, Libby and Donna.

However, my TV highlight of the week - a concept in no way stolen from Harry Hill - was when Harold's store worker Jamilla verbally rinsed Paul when he asked what cakes were on offer. Not only does the girl speak, but she does it with attitude.

Essays and Elle

Dan "Fitzy" Fitzgerald really is a stickler for the rules, isn't he? When news of timid Sunny's essay-writing crime came to light, the principal of Erinsborough High was not budging. He was letting the exchange-student organisation know, regardless of how well acquainted he was with the pupil involved.

I'm with him. Not because I am a stout advocate of school policy but because it is likely to mean that Zeke's annoying girlfriend is going to be extinguished from our screens and sent back to her homeland, which, despite her having a broad Aussie accent, is South Korea, the dog-eating capital of the world.

Persevering with schoolwork-based noticings, I had to chuckle at Libby's reaction to Kyle's Sunny-written assignment. Canning is a pillock, of that there is no doubt, but Fitzy's wife seemed genuinely shocked that the self-titled K-man had actually given her an essay with words on it. It was as if she expected pages of cartoonish cock drawings or a collage of Rolf Harris, made out of penne pasta, Wotsits and glitter and held together by Ready Brek.

Other highlights of the Ramsay Street week included how easy it was for Ringo to walk into Donna and Saffron's mediation encounter, and that terrific scene when Karl and Harry trundled past each other in Harold's Store, wearing virtually the same clothes.

I did have a teary moment, though, when exquisite Elle waved her goodbyes to Erinsborough in order to follow the journalistic dream. At least I still have her milfy step-mum Rebeccaa and the foxy grease monkey Steph.

Josh to Heaven, where to for Elle?

Sometimes Neighbours shenanigans swirl around my mind for ages. I can be walking along, making a cup of tea, having a whale of a time on a bouncy castle, stroking my terribly unmanly stubble, and then Ramsay Street palaver hits me and I chuckle, reminisce or groan.

This week, however, I can only really remember a few moments of note. Firstly, Lou swanning about in his vest. The seedy smile that Captain Carpenter always exudes is endearing but I could really have done without seeing his old-geezer folds peeking out of that cotton garment.

And secondly of course, there was the unfortunate demise of Josh, the editor of the West Waratah Star. I'm sad the newspaper guy has gone to the place in the sky but resent him for perishing as it means my beloved Elle has had an epiphany and decided to chase the dream in NYC, or so she thought.

It now appears the beautiful coffee-shop owner come journo is destined to write scintillating stories from the war-torn areas in the Middle East, didn't Riley Parker go off and do the same thing?

From next week's trailer, it seems as though a parting of the ways between Elle and the more interesting of the Fitzgerald brothers is inevitable but surely if she does sojourn to Iraq, Afghanistan and the ilk, Lucas would be a necessary ally, after all, with tanks and trucks being blown up left, right, and centre, the war people would be crying out for a mechanic.

If Elle does depart, a small part of my life will die, but now that Lou has moved into number 30, some humorous horse play between the silver-topped punchinello, Toadie and Callum will quickly perk me up.

The Deb, dancing and Dan

Aah, the deb finally arrived and what an occasion it was. However, I have some questions. I thought the gala was for students of Erinsborough High, so why was two-thirds of Ramsay Street there having a good old shindig? I am glad Toadie reared his head though, as his short burst of rapid dancing, along with his bordering-on homoerotic love of dance guru, Jason Coleman made my week. Admittedly, I have a had a quiet week.

Kate Ramsay also showed herself to be very fleet of foot once again, plucking up the courage to perform for Coleman slap bang in the middle of the dance floor. Her execution was solid but she does not have much variety, does she? A few revolutions and a raised hand is all she seems to do.

In other news, Lucas proposed to Elle, she said yes, eventually, and Lucas' brother Dan was exasperated by the whole saga. It is just a shame that it has taken "Fitzy" this long into his Neighbours tenure to develop a personality.

His wife, Libby, has always floated my boat though, the fact she spent a chunk of the week firing infected deb food out of both barrels has not changed that. I do have to question her attention-paying abilities, however.

On Friday, the luscious Mrs. Kennedy-Fitzgerald remarked that she had been married to Dan for "all these years." They've only been wed five minutes, I suppose time flies.

And I must not forget Lib's son, Ben, before I conclude this week's tirade. Most of the time, he is an absolutely shocking actor but his impression of The Simpsons' moustached legend Ned Flanders was a real hoot. The best, and perhaps only, thing he has perfected since his dancing masterpiece outside Harold's Store a few months ago. Why has Jason Coleman not been alerted to this little mover's shape-shifting talents?

School shenanigans and clothing critiques

The Erinsborough posse returned from their Christmas break this week and once again the deb was on everybody's lips. Harry, in particular, was fixated by it, first by trying to confirm his place at the high-school extravaganza and once that was settled, aiming to smuggle booze in with him, just so he could have his way with the pretty Sarah Aquino.

Hazza doesn't have much luck with the girls, does he? I think I know why. Not because of his curly locks or even his tendency for abrupt mood swings, but because in his spare time he wears 3/4 lengths - and long socks. Surely the point of the 3/4 length - a garment won on the legs that is not as short as shorts or as long as trousers - is that some leg is shown, otherwise you'd just wear trousers. Ramsay, however, mixes the 3/4 length not with sporty socks that end at the ankle, but your everyday sock that extends up your shin and calf, meaning there is no leg on display and he looks a complete pillock.

He carried that idiocy into the task of obtaining alcohol. Who in their right mind when trying to buy drink underage would go into an establishment in which they are likely to be known? This moron did. He tentatively walked into Charlie's with his fake ID, supplied by the foxy school bitch, Amanda Fowler, plonked it on the counter and asked the bar geezer for some sauce, before being rumbled by the majestic Lou.

Now even if Harry did not know the bar staff, surely there was a massive likelihood that someone in there would recognise him. And to make it even worse, he went back there later to collect drink from that beardy div who had purchased it for him. Does he have a brain?

Speaking of cretins in school uniform, I move on to Kyle Canning. He's lurked around for quite a while now but he has never done anything to warrant the moniker of "The K-Man." A nickname of that description suggests an element of coolness but this wally is yet to do anything wacky, underhand or sensational. He tagged along with that troublesome ginger kid Justin and hung around with Zeke when he went mental but he has not - under any circumstances - been the mastermind of the operation. K-Man - I think not.

And before I leave Erinsborough High, did anyone see that odd, blonde, clappy-hand kid when Amanda, Kate and Sunny were bickering in the dance class on Friday. Priceless.

Other than the deb, the week was taken up by Elle returning from New York but wishing she was still there and the continued animosity between Libby and Dan, but putting that aside, why does Rebecca always wear a dress?

It makes no sense. I mean, I get that when she's out and about she wants to look the part, but she even wears a frock when she's just dossing around the house, moving ornate furniture or giving one of her traditional motherly chats. Does busty Miss Napier not own jeans and a t-shirt?

Callum - who puts the other kids on the show to shame - certainly owns something, the worst excuse of all time. When someone lobbed a bin on him as he visited his prospective "big school," the rotund kid told Toadie that he fell in it. A person tumbling head first into a rubbish bin and then getting up with the aforementioned item still around their noggin. Yeah, pull the other one son, though if that really happened it would be a You've Been Framed clip I'd pay to see.

That's my rant over, see you all next week.

Welcome Neighbours fans, one and all

After years of watching the fun and frolics in sun-laden Ramsay Street, I have decided to transfer my thoughts into words. Stay tuned for the first installment which hits your computers on Friday.