Soaps

Last night we watched the penultimate episode of Mistresses which, for those of you that don’t watch it is about – er – mistresses. Clever, that.

I should explain here that the reason why I’m amazed that Himself has got so hooked on this programme is because he doesn’t watch soaps. At least, that’s what he says. His older sister reliably informs me that he was hooked no Neighbours many years ago, but he vigorously denies this, of course.

The plotline for the series is four women who are involved with various men and all in deep trouble.

Katie had an affair with one of her terminally ill patients and, when he begged her to help him end his life, she did. She then went on to have an affair with his son and finally told him what she’d done. Being a thwarted male, he spilt the beans, told mummy and Katie has now been suspended pending a court case.

Jess works for a party planning company and is having an affair with the boss. But when she organises a civil partnership, she slept with one of the women on her hen night. They start seeing each other again and she realises she is deeply in love.

Trudi’s husband Paul was killed on September 11th, she believed. But now a strange woman has turned up saying her son is Paul’s and now that Trudi has won a million quid on the lottery, she wants some maintenance. Trudi is now involved with another man but getting cold feet. She finally decides to give the woman some money and gets to the hotel, waits for hours and then sees her ex-husband running in with this woman and her child.

Siobhan has been trying to have a baby with her husband Hari for ages. As the marriage goes sour, she has an affair with a younger man at work, but when she discovers she’s pregnant, she lets Hari believe it’s his. The bloke at work realises, is livid and tells her where to go. Overwrought, she tells Hari the baby isn’t his and he is horrified.

So there you have it. Writing this summary, it reads as trite rubbish. I have trouble believing some of the situations, and I have no idea what message the programme is trying to convey. We presumably have to wait for next week for that.

But the writing is excellent; each week there are incredible twists and turns in the plot and the tension is racked up by the minute which all makes for very watchable stuff. We have been glued for the last five weeks and I can’t wait for next Tuesday.

Himself was just as keen until in bed last night when I said, “It’s a good soap, isn’t t?”

“Soap?” he cried hotly. “It’s not a soap!”

I hotly asserted it was, and this morning looked it up. According to Wikipedia, “A soap opera is an ongoing, episodic work of fiction, usually broadcast on television or radio.”

I told him and he listened in silence. Then he said, “I think it’s better than a soap.”

Sometimes, I wonder…