NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

What a dramatic day.

It began at six o'clock this morning with Monkey crashing around the bedroom. He seemed perfectly convinced that I had, for some dastardly reason, stolen his cagoule. Nothing could be further from the case. As a rule, I don't go to places where I need a cagoule, unless accompanied (read: dragged) by Monkey. I explained this as best I could through my hangover and hayfever. Monkey needed said cagoule, because he was going to Glastonbury or, as he insists on calling it aggrivatingly, "Glasto". Eventually, he stormed off before I remembered I actually had taken the cagoule on a shoot about six months ago to Iceland. Ooops. Monkey is likely cold and wet right now, but probably high too so I'm not feeling too sorry for him. Also, I don't feel sorry for anyone going to Glastonbury, because they are clearly so deranged as to be well beyond any help or solace sympathy could offer them.

Anyway, then, at work, my friend and I became convinced our exec had placed adverts for our jobs on Productionbase. Immediately it became a question of whose job it was. "Mine, definitely," moaned the lovely Frosty. "Mine," I whimpered. Turns out is was neither. "I thought you could use some help," said my exec, sweetly, though nervously because he's as socially dysfunctional as the mob at Glastonbury. "You both looked a little swamped." Actually, we both looked a little guilty, having drunk ourselves nearly to death in the Stewart at lunch in anticipation of near future unemployment.

But the worst was the last. Arriving home to a joyfully empty flat, I made dinner and a mess I didn't feel the need to tidy up, and put on Hollyoaks. Yesterday it reminded me why I have loved it for so long, by introducing a new variation on the old "interrupting the wedding" chestnut by having a madly distraught mother interrupting the ceremony by yelling at the priest: "You hypocrite! All this time, you've been having sex with my son!" Golden. And Mandy, who I couldn't be happier to see, had the most fantastic expression of glee, mixed with: "Well, obviously. What more do you expect from that family?"

But tonight Hollyoaks had an ace up its sleeve. From the start of this episode, you could tell something was about to kick off. 'Max and Steph: happily ever after' read the banner outside the Dog. Doom! DOOM! "This is what it is like to be a winner!" exclaimed OB. Doom! "I think this is what they call the perfect day," mused Max, as he and OB (YAAAAY) had a love-in. Doom! By the time he was knocked over in a deeply unconvincing stunt as Niall randomly run him right over, it was almost a relief. Until OB threw himself on Max's prone body, as poor Tom watched yet another relative expire. I'm beginning to think Clare was onto something, Tom is the common factor in all these premature deaths. Anyway, steeled as I was for this disaster, watching OB cradle Max in his arm ("I love you, mate," said Max, with his dying breath), I lost it completely. Yes, I cried at Hollyoaks. What are you going to do about it? I grew up with them! "What am I going to do without my best mate?" sobbed OB. What am I going to do with you two?! My only criticism (apart from with the, you know, dying and stuff) was that Mandy and Tony weren't there. Steph threw herself on him, of course, but somehow I was aching for some old-school OB, Max, Tony, Mandy, even Cindy facetime as a goodbye thing to our boys. The camera pulled away, and there's Max stone dead, surrounded by OB, Tom and Steph. It was devastatingly sad. Back when we were fourteen, I never thought it would end this way...

Monkey rang shortly afterwards to rave about fucking Glasto, home of the crazed who like wearing the same boots for three days straight and not sleeping in a cozy bed even when you're hangover, and the noise and the cold and the wet and the mud and the awful toilets and the overpriced booze and food and the crowd and the moody mob and I hate hate hate hate Glastonbury. With a passion. Almost as much as I hate Lauren Laverne. Which is a lot. "Watch it later!" said Monkey. "I hate Lauren Laverne," I said . "Oh, fuck off," he said, "and why do you sound like you've been crying?" I explained the Hollyoaks situation. There was a pause.

"Does this mean we don't have to watch anymore?" he asked.

NO.