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Idiot Features: #MICNY

Tuesday 12 August 2014

Continuing with this column’s penchant for dross about celebs that are one bad credit check away from becoming impersonation acts of themselves at children’s birthday parties, it’s over to NYC where the cast of Made In Chelsea have been seen spotted in multi-coloured Ray-Ban wayfarers, pouring champagne over their faces and screaming ‘BRUNCH!’ really loudly on repeat; generally gearing up to give the tabloids their run of vacuous celeb news and fillers.

Until September, when the weather cools, fashion week comes around and there can be a to-do over who made FROW and in what, MiC NYC will be where we look to for the up-to-the-minute goings on of very little actual goings on. Silly season: we owe you so much. In light of this, this correspondent decided to take the initiative and get a jump-start on deadlines with the rest of the month’s breaking news, making a few predications for what we can expect based on the events that unfolded on last night’s episode.


You thought brunch was already a ‘thing’. You probably have some rather definite recollections of supping a Bloody Mary over eggs on a Sunday morning and it may well even have happened in public too. Yes, brunch has definitely happened to you before! And it wasn’t even the Wetherspoons’ £4 hangover fry up, either, because everyone knows that doesn’t count. Well, I’m sorry to say that you were mistaken; what you were experiencing was merely pseudo brunch. Real brunch, in its true form, was depicted on last night’s episode as an ‘event’, involving a rooftop terrace (apparently all note worthy events take place on a rooftop terrace in New York), buckets of champagne and your entire social scene gathered on the same square foot of roof.  It will also be the most exciting thing you’ve ever experienced in your entire life. If you’re unsure whether what you’re at is in fact brunch, you will be able to tell from the fact that the word brunch will become the second word of every sentence anyone ever utters during the entire brunch. In fact, all you will be able to talk about is the fact that you are in fact at brunch. Brunch. Get it?


Great news for anyone that has ever endured friends/family/people on Twitter loftily preaching about the benefits of yoga and finding their inner Zen, or other such enlightened crap, while they themselves munch through their Maccy D’s breakfast portion and get mildly out of breath climbing a flight of stairs, as all sneaking suspicions were confirmed on last night’s episode. It’s all utter bollocks and really just an excuse for the actual goings on: sex! This revelation was brought to us when Rosie saved two minutes of noisy exhaling from being a complete waste of screen time (let’s go back to brunch. I don’t understand why we’re not still at brunch) by squawking, ”His dick was on my BACK!” eyeing up the choice New York piece that had the misfortune to be cast for this episode as rooftop yoga instructor cum sexual predator. Usually, this would seem too ridiculous for words, but thanks to a dodgy camera angle, he did appear to have his arms pretzeling Louise’s crotch earlier on, so anything’s possible (though if Cheska manages to get laid through this, it will be to the sound of approaching scores of locust).


Forget the September shows, fashion has been given a new calendar thanks to MiC NYC and that calendar shows that fashion is happening NOW. This news was brought to us via the introduction of two new characters in last night’s episode. The first, introduced over the seminal occasion of brunch, is Billie. Billie is a fashion blogger, who apparently doesn’t realise that blogging is the fallback career plan after you’ve appeared on the show. But let’s move on. Billie is so devastatingly chic that her very appearance manages to bemuse Lucy, who bewilderedly asks if what’s she’s wearing is a dress, and reduce Jamie to further neanderthalic states, yelling, “I LIKE SWEETS DO YOU LIKE SWEETS,” at her until she was forced to acquiesce. Plus, she knows Mark Francis, whose sole purpose on the show is to make high-handed remarks about what is chic and what isn’t, entirely missing the irony of the fact that he is doing so on a reality TV programme. The second came later on in the show courtesy of the boys, as Proudlock chewed his face through an introduction to Alik, whom he knows through the fashion industry and ‘does stuff with denim’. Expect overpriced jeans and some God-awful denim wear to appear on ASOS overnight.


Crab makes Louise shit herself. I dare anyone to try and swallow a forkful of shellfish after hearing that.


Possibly the most interesting part of last night’s episode came at the very end of the show, with the preview of next week, as a teary Jamie screamed at Alex Mytton that he hated the ‘prick’, that he needed to start being honest with those that loved him and to ‘fuck off back to London’. Regular viewers may recall that the last season of MiC ended with much gurning and agonising over what Mytton had been getting up to with his nether regions behind girlfriend Binky’s back, with the alarming news that he had been dishing it out to women all over the country, his sexcapades taking him as far as Cambridge. Most horrifying of all was the subsequent revelation that he and Spencer engaged in an orgy, as even the most indifferent watcher will know that Spencer has indiscriminately shagged his way through London’s female population. As we all know, casual sex can come with its downsides and an industrial strength STI is surely what Spencer must be staring down by now, which made the sordid orgy revelation all the more horrifying as the subsequent risk of contamination became even greater. By the ten degrees of separation theory, we’re all just one boozy night and failed condom away from Spencer ourselves. Forget Ebola: this is a far greater threat and something the series is clearly building up to.