LAST WEEK'S EASTIES IN 1.5 MINUTES
HOUSE OF DOLESCUM
Mickney: I can't decide which is the bigger loser out of GADawn and Juley, so we're going to have a competition and the winner gets a partnership in the new Toy stall
GAD: I'm going to use the wonder of technology to print lots of flyers. Like nobody has thought of that before
Juley: I'm going to stick a sandwich board on Wellard.
Keef: Oooh...that word on GAD's flyers doesn't look right.
GAD: How would you know? You're illiterate
Mickney: So are you. It's a miracle! You're fired
Keef: Awww...give 'er the job. She'll only sulk.
Mickney: Oh alright then

Babs: You're a Mitchell. I'm a Mitchell. They're not Mitchells. Give us the Vic, good people!

TB: Billy, even though you're a bit of a fool, and you're under your psycho auntie's thumb, I'm promoting you to bar manager. Don't fuck up.
Billy: Cor, thanks boss. Who's buying the Vic, by the way.
TB: Not telling. I've got to go out now, but don't go thinking about letting Babs down here to go through my files.
Enter Babs
Babs: Oh goody. Now he's gone, I'll take a look at his files.
Billy: Errr...
LATER
TB: Billy, what was that I said about not fucking up? How is letting your crazy auntie in to go through my files not a fuck up?
Billy: errr
TB:You're fired.

Babs: You owe me a favour, TB, especially after you took a fall so that Pa Mitchell could take your place as East London Middleweight Champion of 1965.
TB: Ummm...how does that work again?
Babs: When Pa Mitchell failed at boxing, you turned him into a heavy and somehow that's when he started hitting me and the boys. Two generations of brutalised battiness and petty gangsterism, and my daughter is a complete headcase too. That's all down to you, that is.
TB: Eh?
Babs: That's nothing. Give me a few minutes and I'll make you personally responsible for the Millennium Dome, and Thatcher.
TB: I'm still not telling.
Babs shakes her tiny fist and goes home to shout at Billy again
Pat: Oh, give it a rest and get shaking those margaritas, Wiggy.

Meanwhile, back at the Vic
Denman: She killed ODen, you know. And guess what? You're next, mate.
Lee: No I'm not. She loves me...
Denman: She loved my dad too. Before he knocked up my girlfriend and tried to split me and my sisterwife up.
Lee: Butt out Mr Local Pub for Local People
Shazza: Leave Ladyden alone.
Denman: Oh, alright then (glowers prettily)
Babs storms up to the bar, dodgy bloke in tow.
Babs: Oi! Bennet! No! Here's the bloke you left for dead all those years ago after he put too many candles on your birthday cake. Do you want such a man to own this pub, good folk of Walford?
Bloke: Errr...yes that's right. I was brutally beaten and left for dead by somebody who was working for Tony here.
Pub regulars: Well, we've had a manic alcoholic, a dead philanderer who liked 'em young and scared; a crazy arsonist ex para, his potato-headed brother and now we've got a psycho with a poodle perm. A full-on ex-gangster and Friend of The Krays (they was good boys really...) sounds a bit tame for us.

Close up on Davetta, who has wandered in out of the plot cupboard and heard everything.

Babs: Ooops
Davetta: My dad is Tony Soprano? Cool! I mean....oh god, how could you do this? I have no father!!
TB: Grrr! I'll get you Babs, and your little dog too...

Other lowlights:

Fool finds a wartime rations film which features Young Ethel 2.0. Ethel can't recognise herself and has and existential crisis.

GADawn explains that her community breast enlargement was a vital element of her regaining her self-esteem, something that glamourpusses like Poline and Dot wouldn't understand.

Poline and Straight Pike get closer, move apart, then bond with Ian and PJane over lunch. This is not as unsavoury as it sounds, but Ian Beale is the one person living who thinks that roast beef and yorkshires is a suitable lunch for a Friday.