Miracles happen every day on EastEnders. Two women are fighting over the contents of Masood’s postal sack, Kush delivers the line “He’s taking the Mick, Mick” without irony, and Tracey the mute barmaid finally speaks. But all hail the greatest miracle of all: Kaff is back from the dead.
For the uninitiated, Kathy Beale (or whatever she’s calling herself these days), ex-wife of Phil, mother of Ian and purveyor of bacon sarnies, met a mysterious end in South Africa 10 years ago. Now she’s back, looking like Kate Moss’s criminal twin and possibly on the run. Always useful in a crisis, Phil locked her in the Arches, where they indulged in a spot of lust-riddled opening and closing of the door. “This is deff, Kaffy, this can’t be undone,” warned Phil.
“I’m not dead! I’m ’ere!” she replied.
“You are!” he insisted, embarking on the most pointless soap disagreement since that time when everyone in Corrie argued about bin day.
The Square’s a tiny place, but whenever someone’s on the run they can always find a way to tiptoe around without being seen by the locals. (See also: Stacey, who kept her return a secret). But Phil’s current ball and chain, Sharon, is a smart cookie. “Who the hell is K?” she raged, spotting Phil’s code name for Kathy in his phone and even angrier than when someone criticises her little Denny (who is becoming more of a devil child than ever. That Phil hasn’t yet arranged an “accident” for Denny involving a plate of scalding baked beans is a miracle.) When Sharon saw Phil heading out of Walford with a holdall full of suspicion, she followed him to St Pancras with Ian, who came dangerously close to seeing his old ma in a nail-biter of a scene. It’s only a matter of time until they come face-to-face with Sharon. Book your ringside seats now.
In other resurrection news, it turns out that Emmerdale’s handsome villain Ross Barton isn’t actually dead. He’s back and he’s out to cause trouble for his brother Pete, who thought he’d killed him. The ’Dale has suffered a summer of destruction and Val’s funeral brought some much-needed light relief. The seductress’ camp star continued to shine, with a send-off fit for a showgirl. Val had put her order in for strippers, so why not save on budget and combine the two? The look on Edna’s face when she walked into the church said it all. Posters of Val posing with a bottle of champers, flamboyant flower arrangements and a chocolate fountain: this was a proper celebration of her fabulousness. “No dreary tosh, sad hymns or dull Ashley sermons,” was the order of the day.
“I’m just relieved Val hasn’t requested me to be dressed in drag,” said the village vicar.
“Were those fire-eaters outside?” asked Edna, as the strippers went to get ready in the vestry, coming out dressed only in hotpants, sailor hats and shades.
The Elton John impersonator made his entrance, fresh from Las Vegas. “That’s Morecambe’s premiere nightspot, Las Vegas,” he explained. It turned out there’d been a mistake in the booking and he was in fact a Meat Loaf. Still, his Bat Out Of Hell had the stripper chorus line’s bums wiggling in a way Candle In The Wind never could. Against the backdrop of frivolity, Val’s husband Pollard’s grief hit hard and he took her coffin for a joyride in the hearse, adding that touch of drama and raw emotion that Val would have wanted. And all this as the Bee Gees’ Tragedy pumped out of the church.
Over in Coronation Street, it was time to let the tent see the pegs for Paddy McGuinness’s guest appearance as Dougie Ryan, a Lidl Bear Grylls. Nature is his mistress. Camouflage is his uniform. And comedy outdoor references his modus operandi. The sight of Beth on a camping trip is pure joy. The Babs Windsor of this Carry – Corrie? – On Camping farce, she unpacked her leopardskin cushions and couldn’t wait to strip off her rah-rah skirt and go skinny dipping. “Now take off your kecks and get in the water!” she screeched at a reluctant Kirk. But it was Dougie, sniffing the polyester of the tents, telling tales of an intimate moment with a deer, and bringing bunny burgers to the barbecue, who took the summer silliness to the next level. “It’s wild camping. It’s not a spa weekend,” he explained as the novelty of the great outdoors wore off and Sinead went foraging for a pork pie.
“Let Chesney have a go,” he said as the campers struggled to get a fire going. “He looks like he’s got a bit more spark about him. Stick between the palms and rub, lad, rub.” Spitting out those cheesy lines came as second nature to McGuinness but it was back down to earth with a bang back on the cobbles. Twisted firestarter Tracy Barlow wrestled with her conscience as Carla staggered around in a booze-fuelled daze, Jason’s pretty face got battered by small-time gangster Callum, and Lloyd became the latest victim of Liz’s man-eating miniskirt. Dougie may be able to brew up a mean nettle and wood sorrel soup, but even his survival skills would be no match for the Rovers landlady’s spangly garment of doom.
