First off, here’s the link.
There was an awful lot going on in this week’s episode of the Small Heath saga; Freddie the Horny Bolshevik was ploughing ahead with his plans for a Marxist revolution (quick, someone alert the Daily Mail), bringing money from London to Stanley Chapman by barge (of course).
His increasingly up-the-duff wife Ada highlighted just how unsuited they are to each other when she complained: “How come you do all the work and Stanley Chapman gets all the money?” Ada (bless her) was obviously too fixated on the tragedy of Freddie’s ‘urquhart’ to listen to his canon of socialist rants, or she might have noticed it is veeery unlike capitalism.
Something had to give, and for Ada that someone was Stanley Chapman who she promptly dobbed in to Aunt Polly (Queen of Darkness), who promptly dobbed to Tom Shelby, who promptly dobbed to C.I. Campbell who promptly ambushed Stanley, who promptly said he knew nothing (which was true – bless him) to the reluctant policeman, who promptly beat Stanley, who promptly had a seizure and died. Freddie was promptly declared public enemy number one in Stanley’s wake (not his actual wake, I doubt he got a wake – bless him). Adda-girl Ada.
Apart from this, C.I. Campbell revealed the depths of his ruthlessness (and they were pretty disturbing); Tom hired Grace to be the ‘classy’ face of his legitimate bookmaking operation; Ada gave birth and Freddie got arrested, blah blah blah.
Anyway enough of that rubbish, the best plot-line this week involved Tom Shelby combining a peace treaty with his brother’s love life. The war between the Shelbys and Lees reached new heights this week when the gypsies planted a hand-grenade in Tom’s car and almost blew up his cute little brother Finn. Meanwhile widowed brother John (he of the WORST ‘urquhart’ and the quizzical Stan-Laurel expression) sought Tom’s permission to marry the local prostitute Lizzie Stark to be a good mother to his four children – how long did he look, five seconds? Inconveniently for Tommy, Lizzie had hitherto been his regular prozzie. He tested her loyalty by offering her money for ‘bonus night’ which she took (bless her). This revelation broke John’s heart.
Tommy remedied this state of affairs by selling John to the gypsies! After a parlay with the head gypsy momma in perfect Romany dialect (although I thought Irish travellers spoke Shelta, but a little research definitely points to Romani being used here), Tommy ended the war by arranging a marriage old style – under the shotgun. He basically got John to show up under false pretenses and the dumb schmuck looked like deer in the headlights (bless him). This was Papa Lazarou stuff – “aw, youuu’rrre myyyyy Brummie nooooooow!” This made Patty Stanger’s match-making approach look positively subtle. Luckily, the bride was easy on the eye, but she’s played by Aimee-Ffion Edwards who specialises in deranged characters, if you’ve ever seen Luther or Skins. What has John let himself in for? As in Big, Fat, Gypsy Weddings tradition, there was lots of drunkenness (mostly by Ada, who also supplied the ‘fat’) and dancing (luckily this show predates the cringey moves contemporary travelling girls favour). It seems the Lees and the Shelbys might be a match made in heaven after all, and that spells bad news for C.I.Campbell and Grace.
Peaky Blinders’ Awards
Quote of the week: “Men and their cocks never cease to amaze me.” (Aunt Polly)
Boo-hiss moment of the week: C.I. Campbell threatening to put sweet little Finn Shelby in prison with the very bad men.
Delusional statement of the week: “London is crackling with revolution” (Freddie the Horny Bolshevik.)
Wrong end of the stick award: Tom Shelby for saying “Aunt Poll – give ‘em some new shoes” to lovelorn single parent John Shelby.
Biggest cause for celebration: Grace didn’t sing – not once!
My sincere apologies to regular readers for being tardy with this week’s PB post; there should never be an excuse but this week I was working out of a skeezy Docklands hotel after my husband returned from a business trip to New York for two months (ooo la dee dah!). Rest assured, I was watching on Thursday night, while trying to finish up a spot of freelance work, and praying the cockroaches didn’t eat me. I think I’m ready for my first National Geographic assignment now…