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“Coronation Street” recap: Wallowing Around in Sin

When last we left our Mancunian lezzers, they were hopped up on love and lust and WKD, a British beverage I now know can be replicated with vodka, Blue Curacao and Sprite. (It’s surprisingly tastsy!) Emboldened by the heady combination of Sian’s lips and poisonous blueberries, Sophie asked Sian if she’d like to stay over for a little hanky panky. Sian, of course, said yes. Well, she nodded fervently with saucer-eyes of arousal, which is the same thing.

It’s the morning after their inaugural shagathon, and Sophie wakes up to gaze adoringly at Sian. I mean, of course it’s the morning after; a British soap in a pre-Watershed time slot isn’t going to show naked girls kissing. (Spoiler alert: Yes, they will!)

Sian thinks she saw this scene before in Bridget Jones: Edge of Reason, which makes her Colin Firth/Mr. Darcy, and she is rightfully flattered. (Does that man ever stop being delicious? Answer: No.) Sian squeals for Sophie to stop looking at her, and then flips over in an adorable huff so Sophie can confirm her cuteness. And then Sophie asks a question with multiple folds: “Sian, are you OK with all this? Because if you’re not ready-“

Fold the first: It was their first time together and Sophie’s first time full-stop. Fold the second: They both took a vow of chastity. Fold the third: They’re in Sophie’s parents house and they solemnly swore they wouldn’t do the deed. Fold the fourth: It was each of their first times with another girl, and know Sophie’s like, “I’ve watched a lot of American telly and I think this is the part where you go back to blokes.”

Sian comforts Sophie by saying, “No, I am [OK with all of this]. It just feels weird … weird in a good way. Like a new pair of shoes … Like, they’re gonna be amazing; you just need to wear them in a bit.”

Sophie isn’t particularly offended at being compared to a pair of shoes, and I mean, why would she be? They’re working with a 16-year-old frame of reference, and anyway, some girls don’t like it when you wake up quoting T.S. Eliot. (Apparently.) Sophie is ready to put on the new shoes some more – to wear those things around real good – but Sian doesn’t want to get caught. They agree that Sophie isn’t pushing Sian, that they love one another, and that they’ll meet in the kitchen in their dressing gowns two minutes apart. (So as not to arouse suspicion. As if Sally is capable of thinking about anything other than the one million plots she’s hatched to murder Kevin.)

Downstairs, Sally asks Sophie if “her mate” is awake, and Sophie is like, “Yes. Probably. I don’t know. WHY ARE YOU ASKING SO MANY QUESTIONS? GOD!” But Sally doesn’t hear the insubordination; mostly she’s just looking for something to bitch about. She settles on the time. (Presumably because she’s already spent the morning on the phone with Rita, whinging about the weather. And the next bleeding variable on her list is the way the world spins around the sun without consulting her.)

Sian wanders in and tells Sally to go easy on her girlfriend: “She may have slept-in and partaken of fizzy drink, but you and Kevin are trying to ruin the world with your extra-dimensional horribleness. She needed the distraction.”

Sophie gives Sian the thumbs-up behind Sally’s back and they launch a joint counter-attack to deter Sally from joining them on their shopping trip. They suggest she should phone Rosie and take her shopping instead. Sally goes, “Rosie is a bit more stylish.” Which is like saying, “I guess a clown does know a bit more about makeup.” (Whatever, though: You know I’d join Rosie Webster’s three-ring circus any day.)

The girls hop off the bus after their turn around the shops and Sophie waxes lyrical about how good Sian looks in the dress she bought, and how it’s not impractical in the least to own an evening gown to wear around Weatherfield. Sian giggles, “When are you inviting me to the Oscars then, baby?” And Sophie says, “All right, then, I’ll invite you to the Webster’s!”

Sophie breaks out some cider and Sian goes, “The teenage alcoholism storyline is played; please don’t.” But she kisses Sophie on the cheek anyway, agrees that she deserves a break, and says sweetly, “Didn’t you just invite me somewhere?”

In Sophie’s room, Sian tries on her new awards show dress and Sophie kisses her neck. Sian shrinks away a little and Sophie’s like, “Cripes. I knew I was pushing you.” Sian assures Sophie that she’s not pushing; she just doesn’t want to end up on Sally’s homicide list. The way Sophie is looking at Sian, it’s like – you know how when cartoon characters get hungry they sometimes see other cartoon characters changing into giant cartoon hams? It’s like that, only Sophie sees Sian as a giant pair of new cartoon shoes. And oh, she wants to wear them around.

Sophie plops down on the bed beside Sian and says, “We have ages.” And then she makes this face:

Sian responds in kind:

And the shoes are on!

Sally comes home early, with Tyrone in tow. He’s banging on about how the cod isn’t as big as it used to be their fish and chips place, and Sally’s brain whirls and sputters and she’s like, “Boiling Kevin alive in a vat of oil. I hadn’t thought of that one.” She skips up the stairs to tell Sophie and Sian the good news, that the massacre is still on. When she opens the door she finds them naked under the covers locked in a snog so mad they don’t even hear her eyes pop out of their sockets.

Sally pulls the same face she always does when Baby Jack has the audacity to breathe air.

And Sophie and Sian pull the face of teenagers everywhere who get caught trying on shoes.

Sophie literally says, “We’ve just … been getting ready; we’ve been trying on clothes we just bought.”

Downstairs, Tyrone is still talking about that damn chippy when Sophie and Sian emerge, fully-clothed. Sally wants to know what they have to say for themselves, and Sophie’s like, “You mean, you want to know how it works, or…?” Sally stomps her foot and says, “You gave me your word there’d be no hanky panky in that room!” Me and Sophie and Sian all laugh in Sally’s face, even though we probably shouldn’t. Tyrone finally cottons on to the drama unfolding before him and tries to leave. Sally barks at him repeatedly to stay, but he ultimately manages to free himself from her grasp, and that is just the last straw: “Now look what you’ve done: he came ’round for his tea!”

Now look what you’ve done: Tyrone was hungry and now he’s going to starve to death because you two HAD SEX.

Oh, British humour, Never change.

Because Sally’s already worked up to steam coming out of her ears, she circles Sophie and Sian some more and points and stares and demands to know things. Sophie explains that sex is what happens when two people love each other, and Sally says, “Well what about the sexual repression you signed on for when you became a Christian, huh? What about the shame God wants you to feel just for having boobs, Sophie? What about that?!”

Sophie says, “I don’t think I believe in God anymore.” Which causes Sian to whip around in her chair, like, “Whaaa?”

Sally’s got to get one more good zinger in, though, before her daily head explosion: “Well, that didn’t last very long, did it? All those fine words and sermons we had to listen to, and now you’re wallowing around in sin like there’s no tomorrow!”

Sophie and Sian pack up their s–t and bounce on over to number 11, seeking refuge with Rosie. Eileen invites them in because why not? It’s already like the Big Brother house up in there. Everyone wants to know about the row that landed Sophie and Sian in vagabond territory again. And for some reason, Sophie tells them. It’s kind of cute and kind of awkward and Sian is like, “Sophie!” And Sophie is like, “Sian and I bought new s-h-o-e-s.”

Eileen goes to the Webster’s to tell Sally she will “get through this gay business.” (Eileen’s son, Todd, is also gay.) And Sally is like, “What? Oh, right. The gay teenagers shagging under my roof. I’d forgotten. Listen, do you know where I can get a shark tank with a shark big enough to eat a full-sized man?”

Back at the Grimshaw’s everyone is tucked in for the night, and the first thing Sian wants to talk about is Sophie’s deceleration about not believing in God.

Sian: Did you really mean what you said about losing your faith?

Sophie: I don’t know, I’ve just been thinking. I’m sorry for springing it onto you like that … I try to be good, follow his rules, and where does it get me? My mom nearly dies of cancer, my dad has a kid with another woman, a tram comes crashing out of the sky – killing and maiming – and I fall in love with you and its a sin.

Sian: That’s what the book of Job’s about, isn’t it? Having your faith tested?

Sophie: Maybe. Or maybe I should have a go at deciding what’s right and wrong for myself, for a change. I can’t do much worse than him up there, can I?

Usually when people compare their suffering to Job, I always have a laugh because, essentially, Job is a guy who got caught in a pissing match between God and Satan. Satan taunts God by saying there’s no one faithful to him on the whole earth, and God tells Satan to just take a look at good ol’ Job, and Satan’s like, “Yeah, I’d be faithful to you too if I was a dashing gazillionaire who had a hot wife and a booming business.” And so to prove Satan wrong, God systemtically destroys Job’s life. God smites his wife and kids, and then his sheep and goats, and then strikes his house with lightning and drops a plague on poor Job’s head until all he has left for company are pox and a couple of friends who show up every now and then to taunt him.

So, you know, when it rains one day and someone forgets her umbrella at home, and then compares her suffering to Job, I giggle. But Sophie has a point: Trams falling out of the sky, killing and maiming and all that.

Sian whips up some pancakes the next morning – which would make me believe in God all over again – and Sophie teases her about how she never cooks at the Webster’s. “You know how your mum is,” Sian says. (P.S. I think she means “mad twatter.”)

What happens next is that Sally and Kevin act like children some more, loudly and petulantly all over the street. Kevin thinks Sally bonked Tyrone and Sally thinks Kevin deserves to think that. They scream and kick and pull each other’s hair, and then Kevin corners Tyrone and shanks him. Tyrone isn’t too fussed, but that’s because Rosie hasn’t turned on him yet. And then she does – and girl!

I don’t even care that Rosie is wearing a coat made of teddy bears.

Kevin decides to file for divorce. He brings in a lawyer to appraise their possessions and says some bollocks about how he froze both his and Sally’s checking accounts and took her name off the garage ’cause Baby Jack has got to eat, you know. Just when they’ve started to scratch and claw to the point of blood, Sophie commands them to chill the f–k out for one single second. Sally uses the silence to tell Kevin that Sophie and Sian are sleeping together now. He says, “You’re all mad.” Meaning all the girls. And Sian, who has been pretty silent through every other Webster shenanigan, has just had it. She screams, “NO WE’RE NOT MAD!” And it is hilarious. And awesome.

Sophie says, “How can you stand there and judge me and Sian when all you are doing is just being cruel and horrible to each other?” (Point, Sophie.)

Kevin says that when Sophie’s older she’ll understand that things are complicated.

“No!” Sophie says. “That’s the thing I understand, and I understand now!” (Point, Sophie.)

“So tell me: What have me and Sian done that is so wrong?” Sophie says. (Nothing. Point, Sophie.)

Sally goes, “You’re right: We’ve been terrible parents. You’ve got more common sense in your little fingers than we have.” (Point, Sophie.)

(If you’re keeping score at home, Sophie is in the lead by a billion.)

After Kevin leaves, Sian assures Sophie that her parents’ divorce is not her fault. And I don’t care how old you are when your parents get divorced, that is always an important thing to hear. You go, Sian Coco. Four for you, Sian Coco.

Kevin pops back round later that night to be the worst f–king thing. He tells his two daughters that his priority is his baby son. Sophie and Rosie are devastated and furious. They don’t cry. They don’t beg him not to go. He’s made up his mind to be a tosser and they know it.

Finally Kevin leaves. Rosie turns to Sally. She narrows her eyes. “Right, Mum,” she says, “What did you find out about that shark tank?”

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