I am going to spoil the ending of this entire episode in the first paragraph, so if you don’t want to know what happened on last night’s Skins and/or be seized with eternal terror, stop reading now.
I mean it.
Remember how I’m always saying Effy has magic powers? Well, now I understand that Effy has a specific kind of magic power called Effy is a Veela. OK? Effy is a Veela and her voice is a siren and every man who sails a ship will crash into the Isle of Eff. Some will live, and some will die, and some will hack the other sailors into pieces or peel off their skin — which is the case with Doctor F-ckster, who is, I guess, fashioning a Freddie-shaped coat out of Freddie, which he intends to wear while axe-murdering Effy.
OK, recap over. Now, go find yourself a Freffy shipper and hug it out.
Wait, no — hang on. I have two more things to say:
1) It was 3 a.m., thundering and lightning like mad as I watched this epsidoe. At the very end, when the camera panned outside the door and Dr. F-ckster started walloping Freddie with his bat, I was already terrified — but at the exact moment the blood splattered against the window, the top shelf of my walk-in closet collapsed, which caused every other shelf in my closet to collapse, and it was just this percussion of books and boxes and picture frames and clothes and old laptops and whatever else just crashing and smashing, in the middle of the night in the middle of a storm in the middle of a murder, ten feet from my head.
2) I think we’re all pretty clear that deconstructing narrative is my favorite thing in life, but having Effy’s psychiatrist beat Freddie to death with a baseball bat is the dumbest thing I have ever seen. I am trying to think of anything that has ever repulsed me like that on TV.
I mean, I watch a lot of stupid shows on the regular with my nephew, like Yo Gabba Gabba, which will give your mind a seizure; and Thomas the Tank Engine, whose narrator thinks every time is the right time for a Sunday School lesson; and Wow! Wow! Wubbzy!, which is annoying to a brain-melting degree, even though Wubzy’s best friends are flaming homosexuals. And yeah, those are dumb. But my nephew is three. He doesn’t know he deserves better.
So I am going to recap everything besides Dr. F-ckster’s scenes because Skins is better than that, and we’re
better than that. And aren’t there more important things to scare kids
about than getting legitimate psychiatric treatment from legitimate