Sunday, 23 January 2011

Dec the dick, Tash the tittilator

Old Declan Napier, while always having a bit of an edge, was a decent bloke. He put his family and friends first and worked hard to forge a career, first as an AFL star and, when that dream died, as a junior in the murky world of business. He also showed wit, intelligence and had an aura of coolness.

The new incarnation of Declan Napier, however, is a massive bellend. All the good qualities that previous Dec exuded have not transferred to the new guy. This bloke is not witty, intelligent and cool, he is dull, moody and irritating.

This week the suited-and-booted dickhead, still pining for teenage mother hen Kate, spent virtually all his time trying to sabotage her blossoming relationship with dishy detective Mark Brennan.

First, he said the Erinsborough cop had threatened him and then, after being accidentally clocked by Lucas during a sparring session, made out that the shiner adorning his cheek had been inflicted by Brennan.

An initial believer that her love interest was a wrong'un, Kate swiftly realised it was in fact Dec who was the vindictive little sod, and ended the week smooching her man from the fuzz in front of his wolf-whistling colleagues - once she had removed her girly cycling helmet, of course.

Elsewhere, after much deliberation, Sonya decided to take up Toadie's offer and move in with the goatee-bearded lawyer and his comical adopted son Callum. However, having got wind of storylines currently airing in Oz, I predict a tricky future for the family. The next few months should be well worth a watch.

Naughty Natasha was finally exposed as the highjacker of the school social money, after her dad caught her shelling out a fortune on a DVD player for the Steph-deprived Scullys. It's not just money that Tash has taken, she has also stolen my heart, courtesy of her penchant for cleavage-hugging jumpers and arse-gripping jeans.

The senior Williams, Michael, had his mind on matters other than just his daughter's criminality, namely Ruud van Nistelrooy-faced Rebecca. They adore each other, you see, but because leaving the nefarious Paul could result in Bec's son spending time behind bars - let Declan rot, sweetheart, as we've already established, he's a cretin - love's middle-aged dream cannot be together. While Rebecca renewed her wedding vows to a man she despises - a man who, in a non-gay way, I cherish - Michael looked on longingly, wishing it was he who was taking her up the aisle.

That was my poorly-written synopsis of recent goings on in Erinsborough. Hope you liked it, though I’m sure you didn't. The vapid-sounding raisin toast on sale at Harold's is probably more flavoursome than anything I could ever hope to pen.

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