MIC LA 4: Toff Is Not Easily Led, JP Can’t Be Read And Jess And Jamie Biscuits Get Into Bed
The Debrief: How's Nas going to deal with Jamie and Jess? Not well. Probably.
It begins at brunch, with Biscuits wisely observing the ways of the natives. ‘There are two kinds of LA. The one where you go for a hike and drink your kale juice, and the one where you get up, get drunk and go shopping,’ he beams, toasting his perceptiveness with a glass of something that Gwyneth is almost certainly allergic to. It’s not all joy - Biscuits is drinking to forget that Jess just spent the night in his bed. ‘Nothing happened’, he protests, as if Jess is simply Eric to his Ernie, and they spent most of the night building protective sheaths out of mattress protectors. ‘What would you do in my situation?’ he asks Mytton. Biscuits, never ask anyone for advice you don’t intend to take. And never ask Mytton for advice, because that legitimises him and makes him feel clever, and we must never forget that he’s just a big, walking penis of bad news with a wonky quiff balanced on top.
Not that Binky is bothered - she’s hiking with JP, who wants to know which Hollywood celebrity she’d most like to cop off with. ‘Danny Zucko!’ she announces. What does JP say? ‘So, John Travolta? Dude, have you seen John Travolta? Do you know anything about Scientology?’ No, he just claims that he looks like Danny Zucko. Still, his is Marilyn, because she’s ‘mysterious’. Deadly mysterious. Also, JP thinks you can see Mexico from the canyons, and that LA should have more tall buildings ‘because it’s a city’. We’re not saying he’s stupid but we suspect he chose a Geography GCSE because he really likes colouring in.
Nas, hot to trot in an enviable stripy maxi, is shopping with her new bff Lucy, and grumpy Jess who keeps shooting her evil glances because Nas has the audacity to date someone Jess snogged a couple of times and then ignored. ‘I’m so lucky Jamie’s girlfriends are so chill!’ gushes Nas. Jess, do you feel hot and burny deep down in the area just above your foof? That’s not your breakfast huevos rancheros repeating on you. It’s guilt. Feel bad.
Mark Francis is bespangling Toff, who calls it how we see it and accuses him of trying to turn her into a ‘mini Victoria’. Still, we’d mug her for her cashmere and pearl combo, which is even more eyecatching than poor model Noah, the decoy boy Jess has dragged along to stop people from saying that she fancies Biscuits. Binky and JP pull a brilliant embarrassing parent routine on the two of them - hook up already, you guys! - before bollocking Jess for climbing into bed with someone else’s boyfriend. ‘In our group of friends, we all sleep in each other’s beds!’ claims Jess, as convincing as a child who has just been found in a larder and offered to show their ID, which confirms they are an official poisoned cookie checker. Also, a Chelsea friend is the last person you’d share a bed with platonically. If you sleep in one of the smarter parts in South West London, you’re so used to saucy bedroom behaviour that if you don’t let your dog out you seriously risk accidentally getting off with it in the night.
Biscuits decides to play a weird version of Truth or Dare with Nas, where he gets to ask her searching questions when he shoots hoops. This is hampered by the fact that Biscuits isn’t good at basketball. (Nas is very good.) In the spirit of truth telling, he shares the story about sharing his bed. Nas isn’t cross enough to dump him, but she’s properly pissed off with Jess - so much so that she almost loses her balance at surfboard yoga.
Jess brings Noah The Model Decoy Boyfriend to golf, where he wipes the floor with Biscuits, even though Biscuits was ‘the first sports scholar for 50 years’ - presumably beating off stiff competition from Jennings and Derbyshire, the Famous Five and Just William. Mytton is hanging out with them, purely to derive some satisfaction from the fact that, for once, he’s not the morally repugnant toad. Jess defends herself. ‘I could hardly sleep in JP’s bed!’ But you’re the kind of friendship group that shares beds, Jess! You’re like Charlie Bucket’s grandparents, only the soup is kale and you’re not impoverished, you’re on a juice fast! Mytton ignores her and keeps asking enormously inappropriate questions about the nature and volume of bedtime touching. Presumably he needs to get in the mood before having an orgy with the holes on the golf course.
Binky complains to Mark Francis that she doesn’t know what JP is doing but she isn’t having any sex. JP complains because Alik is going to make him play flag football. (Incidentally Olivia thinks flag football is a made up game, and she spends her leisure time frolicking in caves.) Toff takes to it like a duck to a l’orange, and Mark Francis is visibly horrified. ‘It’s quite…awful,’ murmurs Olivia, who seems a bit taken aback to realise that Mark is so anti joy.
The real action happens off the pitch when Jess apologises to Nas, who lets rip. ‘It’s just jokes about him and me being together,’ protests Jess, who is less funny than my oft rejected crossover film proposal Dapper Laughs Gets Mrs Brown And Her Boys Proper Moist. When Nas mentions that Jess has previous, her sweet facade melts away like spring snow revealing a patch of sad, scratchy grey grass. ‘That’s malicious, and don’t pretend you didn’t know that it wouldn’t piss me off.’ Nas maintains her dignity. ‘Your past isn’t a good past.’ I am totally stealing this line if I ever meet Donald Trump. Biscuits rolls up, drapes his arm around Jess and Nas lets him have it. Crumbs. I’m not saying they deserve each other, any more than a BMW driver deserves to hit a lamppost after deliberately splashing a pedestrian. But who can fight the schadenfreude?! Not I!
Hero of the week
Let’s give it to Nas, who told Biscuits what she was prepared to put up with, what wasn’t cool, and then ditched him when he didn’t meet her terms. Let’s hope that this is the end of all nonsense and she doesn’t follow him back to London or anything mad like that. (Personally I’d like to see her hook up with Noah. Is that mean?)
Villain of the week
It’s jointly awarded to Jess and Jamie Biscuits, who are the whiniest, most self absorbed shits in LA by quite some margin, which is one hell of an achievement. They’re like Burton and Taylor, if Burton and Taylor were not humans but mops, and someone had stuck paper plates on the mops and drawn on faces. May they both become allergic to kale.
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Meet The New Cast Members Of Made In Chelsea LA
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MIC LA 2: Gabriella Returns, Naz Learns (Of Biscuits' Romantic History) And Josh Deserves Third Degree Burns
Follow Daisy on Twitter @NotRollerGirl
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