EastEnders: Martin's toilet scam can't loos

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EastEnders: Martin's toilet scam can't loos

May 05, 2016 - 19:19
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The bad news: cash-strapped Martin’s exciting career as a male “modawl” didn’t work out. The good news: he’s got tons of toilets to sell. He can’t loos.

EastEnders Andy and Martin talk toilets

The bad news: cash-strapped Martin’s exciting career as a male “modawl” didn’t work out. The good news: he’s got tons of toilets to sell. He can’t loos.

Opportunity knocked after wannabe property tycoon Jack’s bathroom suppliers delivered way too many lavatories. And handy Andy hatched a cunning plan to flog ‘em at 60 quid a plop… sorry, pop. What could possibly go wrong?

When the wheeler dealer EastEnders new boy revealed that he had a dodgy get-rich-quick scheme up his sleeve, law-abiding Martin resolutely insisted: “I can’t.” Translation: “I will.”

“Forty toilets,” whispered Andy. “That’s two grand.” Actually, it’s £2,400. Either way, one nanosecond later Martin replied: “All right. I’m in.” Great decision, Mart. A shed load of nicked bogs. They’ll fly off the shelf.

Perhaps he could sell a few to his bipolar fiancée Stacey, who may need to upgrade her facilities now that she’s hosting naughty knicker parties. Another pants storyline.

Suddenly, Kat’s sister Belinda is a rep for Ladies In Lace. And what better venue to pack in a very big crowd of consumers than Stacey’s very small home? It’s the size of shoe box.

As a vast throng of Albert Square’s wonderful women filed into Stacey’s Tardis-like kitchen, brassy Belinda announced: “The riding crop’s our best seller. Equestrian romance is really in at the moment.”

Talking of which, soppy Sonia vowed: “I’m gonna to go to this party. And I’m gonna to buy myself a naughty bra. You know why? Because I’ve still got my breasts.” No lump, no double mastectomy, no problem. No wonder tawdry Tina looked so worried.

Meanwhile, over at baby-snatching murderer Ronnie’s house it was all going on. Tormented teen Hannah had gone missing and Tim was terribly worried. Wait a minute… who are these people? Who cares?

Because the main event was the return of Roxy, who staggered through the front door battered, bruised and beaten to a pulp. Ronnie and Jack rushed her to hospital where, of course, she swiftly checked herself out.

By an extraordinary coincidence, who else should emerge from an extended hiatus but the Mitchell girls’ mad mother Glenda.

Slender Glenda explained that Roxy had stolen a lot of money from Danny, whoever he is. On the basis that obscure characters stick together, he’s probably best friends with Tim and Hannah. It’s all so hard to follow.

But dramatic developments at the market as crazy Carmel’s second son Shakil arrived on the scene and warned his unlikely mum that her estranged husband was on his way to see her.

Caking on her war paint, Carmel gazed at the mirror and declared: “Who wouldn’t want this?” Well, Masood for a start. Not to mention her hubby, who didn’t turn up.

In other news, Ian Beale told Tina: “You’re fired!” The café will never be the same. It’ll be efficient. And unfairly convicted paedophile Jay landed a job at Les Coker’s funeral parlour. But not before Les stormed: “Get him away from my computer!” Poor Jay, ruined by British justice.

All in all, another hour-long special during which nothing special happened. We could have done with more of distraught mother Alison struggling to cope with the fact that transgender bloke Kyle used to be her daughter Sarah.

Very much a modern man, Kyle burst into tears when mummy rejected him. Anyway, for all those who enjoyed Denise Welch’s brief but powerful performance as anguished Alison, rest assured she’ll be back.

As will Martin’s many troubles when his terrific toilet scam inevitably goes pear-shaped. I’m guessing the police will flush him out.

There are 5 Comments

Nige Smith's picture

An hour special, with not very much if anything special about it. Actors acting like a forest full of trees, plot lines more ludicrous by the week. In trying to fit in with every single PC thing going nowadays, the show lurches from one dreary crises to the next.

Anna May's picture

Poor old Les Coker. Loves dressing as a woman, but his wife’s so ashamed she won’t let him tell anyone, even if it means it’ll stop them being blackmailed to the tune of a thousand quid every month. Has she been living on another planet for the past few months? It’s no holds barred in Walford now. You can do what you want, with whoever you want, in anyone’s clothes you like and nobody cares. I know I don’t. The poor guy, though. Trying to sell his ‘buy now, die later’ funerals in the pub, in the hope he can afford to pay Aunt Babe’s hush money. What a cow she is, but what a cow his wife, Pam, is too! If only he was a schizophrenic. Then he could divorce Pam and marry Christine instead. Omg, I’m actually hoping that happens now.

But see…that’s Pam all over, that is. Pouring kindness on to boys like Jay, who’s currently being done for messing with underage girls, but neglecting her husband’s need to fulfil himself as Christine. She can’t even bear to accept poor, misunderstood killer, Ben, as her own grandson’s boyfriend. Her whining voice is enough to drive anyone to murder and, considering there are still a few people left on the Square who haven’t had their turn at whacking a spade into someone’s brain, she could very well be next.

Actually, looking at my watch, I’d say we’re due another murder right about now and, what do you know, the Beales are discussing bringing Psycho-Bob back to Walford High from some boarding school elsewhere, which has apparently changed him…most probably into someone completely different. Either that, or Louise will step into the breach and try to do away with Ben by way of a red hot shovel to the face, to make up for all the teaspoons he burned her with. Of course, it won’t work because Ben is immortal, being destined to regenerate in the vicinity of Arthur’s bench (he loved this place) for all eternity. Mind you, with a face full of bandages, it’d certainly make it a lot easier to replace him several times a week, instead of the obligatory once a year.

Don’t look now, but there’s an impenetrable blockade outside Ian’s café and he’s been forbidden to enter by the market traders. I don’t know…one day, people like you…the next, they won’t even let you into your own property. Tina’s probably in there right now stuffing all the fresh cakes she can find down her knickers and lining her bra with bacon. Why would she do that? Because she’s a thief…Ian.

Lo and behold, Martin’s helped to nick a load of toilets from Jack Branning without him knowing. Guess what, though? Kyle knows about it and so does Stacey…and everyone else on the Square who just happened to be wandering about outside while several huge boxes with bogs in them were clumsily delivered straight into Stacey’s kitchen! Into her KITCHEN, folks! No matter, though, because she’s totally elated to find them there after rushing back from the Vic, where she’s just chucked her drink over Jack to stop him leaving the pub. Because THAT’s how you stop someone leaving a pub. You don’t distract them by talking to them normally to avoid suspicion. No…you throw a drink in their face and blame it on a spasm. A SPASM!

Never mind all that, though. Buster Bloodvessel has just barged into Ronnie’s house demanding Glenda spills the beans about Roxy’s whereabouts. Very bad manners, if you ask me. Ronnie returns a few minutes later to be asked the same thing and finds out Roxy’s not only run off with a few thousand quid belonging to Glenda and Danny (I’d forgotten about him), she has something belonging to Mr Bloodvessel as well. He leaves angrily with Glenda in hot pursuit...all the way to the front door, shouting insults at him to further help the situation. Surely a simple, “Lip up, fatty!” would have sufficed.

JimB's picture

I have to agree with your questioning of the BAFTA award Kevin. There's no justification of it at all that I can see.

Nipper01's picture

I'm glad I'm not the only person to think that BAFTA have lost the plot re. Eastenders. The most depressing program on TV, script writers story lines are predictable, bringing back 'old characters' points to desperation for ratings. All of these points I feel are obvious to most people AND THEY STILL GAVE IT AN AWARD. Any of the other soaps are far superior, so I begin to smell a rat. Is it a case of 'this year it's your turn, next year it's their turn', which to me makes the whole thing farcical.