Well, Steve and Becky are – in my opinion – the most unlikely Corrie couple ever and I believe the Street’s writers intend for them to be the new Jack and Vera, and judging by the upcock that was their wedding last night, it’s looking like a) Friday the 13th lived up to its reputation and b) just like Jack and V, nothing’s ever going to go right for the pair!
Good old Hales came up trumps with the “dream dress” though – Becky’s dream dress that is, which is a dream shared only by Barbie I suspect – and resplendent with tiara and pink hair extensions, Becky looked like every Disney fairytale princess just exploded on her, which it seems, is exactly what she wanted!
As Hayley put it, “You look like something out of a fairytale” but she failed to mention which one… I’m going with anything from the brothers Grimm. Poor Becky, but how the wardrobe department must love her character! Imagine their excitement given that their usual remit is which anorak Blanche is going to wear that day or whether Norris should don a new cardi… I bet they had a ball with Becky’s dress!
But back to the wedding preparations, and the first clue that things were not going to go well came when the hairdresser turned up with a bottle of Scotch which, when added to the massive quantities of champagne that Becky was downing like water, was pretty much guaranteed to ensure the bride would be legless by the time she got to the altar. In fact, a person less used to booze would’ve ended up in A&E being treated for alcohol poisoning, but given her love of Snakey B, the whisky-champers combo was a mere aperitif to Becky… at first.
Poor Hayley tried her best to get the blushing/neon bride to slow down by calmly saying – in her usual ‘understatement-of-the-year’ way – “You don’t want to be overdoing it” but overdo it she did and when the booze combined with her nerves, by the time the wedding got underway, Becky was as drunk as the proverbial skunk.
While all that was going on, Blanche – who’s always the first in line to watch when there’s a chance of things going horribly wrong and always with a keen myopic eye for how to make a few bob – had a ‘book’ running as to whether the wedding would actually happen or not.
And as everything began to go the way of Jordan’s ever increasing chest – that is to say, t*ts up – you could almost see the old goat rubbing her hands with glee.
I love that woman! In a previous incarnation, I bet she’d have been one of the women who sat right next to the guillotines of France so she could watch the heads landing in the basket, with a thermos of tea and a few sandwiches at her side, wearing the ever present beige or grey imperméable. Norris would’ve probably given her a lift; he loves a good disaster too.
So, hoping for a day filled with money spinning catastrophe, Blanche tried to stack the odds in her favour by buying Becky yet more booze and told the increasingly tiddly bride-to-be, with a joy known only to the truly catty, that she already had her something borrowed; the groom, since he’d not long ago ‘belonged’ to Michelle.
Another of the more amusing characters in last night’s Corrie was the registrar who, it turned out, was a big fan of sailing and regaled the nervously waiting Steve with tales of his adventures on the high seas and informed him that every Englishman has “a bit of Drake in him”.
“Charlie?” asked the bemused Steve. “Francis” replied the registrar, with no hint of amusement.
“I’ve got an 18-footer. It’s quite a sight in full sail” said the registrar, and I’m assuming since he wasn’t wearing any kind of trouser scaffolding, he was referring to his boat.
And since they had time on their hands, he went on to inform Steve about the last wedding he’d performed on a Friday the 13th…
“Take the last one I did on Friday 13th; packed house, square-jawed groom, blushing bride…. She wasn’t blushing” he revealed, adding, “She’d had a reaction to the hydrangeas in her bouquet. The poor lass must’ve looked like the Singing Detective in her photos” he reminisced fondly before finally saying, “Well, I’ll be out on the poop”.
Funny coincidence that because the bride was, by then, ‘out on the pi**’ rather than ‘out on the poop’.
Becky, full of joie de vivre and an inordinate amount of booze, had climbed onto the factory roof, as you do, and burst into a rendition of ‘We Are The Champions’ for no apparently good reason.
“I am flamin’ loved!” she yelled while Blanche took bets on her falling off the roof…
However, once down from the roof, Becky leaned somewhat heavily on Roy, and it was off to the registry office where Becky staggered down the aisle, much to the alarm of the registrar, but she rushed to the loo before vows could be exchanged.
From that moment on, Becky was too far gone – and too unconscious – for the service to continue, so, unmarried and clueless about that fact, she was carried into the Rovers looking how I imagine Barbie would if some wicked little girl had just dragged her through a hedge backwards then let a cat maul her.
This was all like Christmas day and her birthday rolled into one for Blanche as she gleefully collected her winnings from those who clearly don’t know how soap weddings work and who’d foolishly put money on the wedding going smoothly.
So what’s Becky’s reaction going to be when she finds out she’s not married? Take a look at our Coming up on Coronation Street weekly spoiler article to find out, but don’t read it if you don’t want to know!