Tough Love

Wednesday, September 07, 2005


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One bubbly yet down-to-earth Northern barmaid. Cunningly replaced (in cartoon TV series manner) by an evil doppelganger with permanent eyebags, agoraphobia and unacceptable taste in nightwear.

Seriously, Les Producers de Corrie, what have you done? As the lot of you are card-carrying homosexuals don’t you love strong women? Don’t you want to see them triumphing against adversity and feckless Northern men in leopardskin? You know the drill, ever with a cocktail in their hands and a cheap son in their hearts?

So what’s up with Shelley? Not so much Elsie Tanner as Lisa from East-“We Hate Women”-Enders. Yes, we like a joke (and more excuses to see Charlie with his manly chest out would be gratefully accepted – can’t Jack’s pigeons steal his collection of tight white t-shirts or something?). But this is beyond one.

We want Old Shelley back. Remember her? She used to say things like this: -

In the back parlour in the Rover’s. Fred, Kieran and Shelley. Fred’s in butcher’s mufti, Kieran in a brickie’s Saturday night shirt, Shelley in some asymmetric top that makes her look like a bag of suet with an elastic band round the middle.

Fred (To Kieran, defending his right to wed a Thai bride): You’ve been around the world, and dallied with ladies from every Continent. Why can’t I have my taste of the Orient?

Shelley: Why can’t you be happy with sweet and sour pork like the rest of us round here?

See, that’s what we want back. Sweet and sour pork Shelley. Not joyless All-bran Shelley with added pain, misery and madwomen in the attic.

So come on, get Bev to fuck Charlie to death in a bizarre accident or something and send the actor over to our house for re-education.

And while you’re at it, enough with turning poor Clur into Deirdre already. Send her to Specsavers. Maybe she’ll see sense and realise Ashley looks more like the tall one from Cannon and Ball with each passing day.