Tyrone on trial! What we learnt from Corrie’s dramatic court week

Tyrone on trial! What we learnt from Corrie’s dramatic court week

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Let’s not underplay this: I am devastated. Devastated. It’s the end of Kirsty; my favourite Corrie villain of all time since Lewis Archer was my favourite Corrie villain of all time a few weeks ago.

There she was, all hurt face and big eyes in the back of the prison van, and I don’t think there’s any plot twists around the corner to save her. It’s not 24. She’s not going to be intercepted in a prison van switch and turn up with a different hairdo as Tony Almeida’s new sidekick.

This is properly the end. Unless.... well have we clarified how long her sentence will be? Is there going to be a trial?

And if there is, can we please get Deirdre back in the witness box, because that woman was made to stand up in court, dropping her hs and hamming (amming?) it up like Tyrone’s mum â€" ironically â€" probably taught her to do during her stint in prison. “’e was ‘oppin mad!” she pronounced, with a dramatic arm sweep and a cheeky glance ove r at Ken.

So we didn’t learn how to speak properly, but here’s what we did learn from this week’s Corrie...

Corrie does court: It’s a thing of genius

No wonder it’s such a regularly occurring plot device. Mary on the back row with her sweets and her note-making. The dramatic barristers shouting things like ‘But I put it to you sir that you were snogging the preposterously named ‘Fiz’ in something called a ginnel while Stella from The Rovers put the bins out?’. Deirdre, just being Deirdre, as Fiz threatened to ‘smash her stupid glasses’.

I mean, the less said about those jury members they’ve wheeled out from the local extras school, the better (Anyone got a shocked face? Do your best shocked faces, guys!), and Tina was pretty crap on the stand, but the rest of it... pure perfection.

Tyrone's 'Mr Cellophane' audition piece may have gone a bit too well

 

So much better than the slightly underwhelming Fire Week, during which we lost Sunita and someone who’s name I’ve already forgotten. Terri?

Oh chill out, Mike Barnes from Hollyoaks, I know your mate’s name really.

It’s Tammi, right?

Stoned Sylvia: Now that’s how to do a light-hearted plot balancer

Remember a few weeks ago when I discussed just how rubbish the storyline about Nick’s olives was ? Yes, well let’s not go over it, because it was bad enough having to discuss it once.

Olives: lovely to eat; boring in a soap opera storyline. But this week’s drama/ comedy juxtaposition was SO MUCH BETTER.

Stoned Sylvia, being sold special brownies (I may be in my early 30s, but my drug lingo is about as current as Sylvia’s, apologies) by her mate from the 1 o’clock club. Great writing (“The most surpris ing thing you’d expect to find in a brownie would be a glacier cherry or a walnut” and “If you think you’re going to push your dirty drugs in this establishment, you’re very much mistaken” being two of my personal favourites), great acting, and a very funny moment involving Sylvia greedily licking mayonnaise off a sandwich when she got the munchies.

Classic Corrie.

Sunita is the only person who has a grudge against Stella

Really though? Really? Because I know a few more, just a few and their names are THE ENTIRE NORTHERN HALF OF THE COUNTRY.

Our grudge is thus: it’s been a good year now since you arrived in Corrie, purporting to be a down-to-earth northern barmaid. The fact that you still talk as though you live in the east end of London and are married to Ian Beale (oh wait), and that this has not been worked into a storyline (Identity theft? A big con? A few years living in Kent when Eva was a baby? All would have worked) is starting to grate.

Sunita's got cause for a grudge, she's had to listen to a lot of wailing

 

I’m not saying I burnt down the Rovers - I promise you I didn’t, I’ve got an alibi and everything â€" but I cannot speak for my Northern comrades. We take our accents very seriously.

Want some help? Listen to the way Tyrone says ‘Rub-eh’. Got it?

When things go wrong, who doesn’t want Anna Windass to make them a bacon sandwich and a tea?

It’s the morning version of Sally Webster with a bottle of wine in the fridge. Pre-midday, I want Anna’s butties; post midday, crack open the Sauv Blanc Sal, me and Gail are coming round.

Kirsty is the greatest Corrie villain there ever was

I know what you’re going to say, and who didn’t love Tricky Dickie? But for me, he was too purely evil.

I like my baddies to make me doubt myself, to every now and again to do something that makes me think ‘Oh wait! Actually he/ she is really lovely! I’ve been wrong all along! Let’s al l go and get a bacon sandwich from Anna Windass together!’.

It’s the reason I was so partial to John Stape. And I know what you’re thinking â€" you’re thinking ‘Didn’t she say Lewis Archer was her favourite ever Corrie villain, about three weeks ago?’ (Well either that, or you’re new to this column, in which case, you’re not thinking that at all, and also HELLO! Thanks for joining us! I hope you like it?).

You're barred: Maybe

 

But this week, and for as long as this storyline’s been at the fore, my Best Baddie prize goes to Kirsty, peaking as she walked into court, hysterical that she may hurt baby Rub-eh, and handed her over to Tyrone. She cried, Fiz cried, and oh god, I cried.

See! She wasn’t bad everyone, she was troubled, and haunted, and it wasn’t her fault, ok? Good, glad we’ve got that sorted, now when’s the prison break happening?

Tune in next week when we’ll be hoping Ryan’s nipples stay in his ridiculously low-cut shirt (this is Manchester in an awfully cold March, Ryan, please just do up a button) and see if what I think might be happening between Gary and Tina is actually happening between Gary and Tina. Anyone else spotted it?

Tweet me @cgcorcoran and let me know.

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