S02 E04 – Great Expectations

The episode opens in the school office, where Liz and her mother are talking to Secretary Doris. Liz is supposed to be a new student now, even though she appeared as an extra in season 1. (I pay attention to these things so you don’t have to.) As Liz complains in a deep monotone about how her old school was better, and her haggard-looking mother scolds her, Steph runs in to make an announcement for the student council, and indirectly to remind us all that the student council is still a thing. She and Liz size each other up and exchange menacing looks, and Liz starts kvetching to her mother about how everyone at Degrassi is “a preppy”.

Yeah, except preppies wear sweater vests, and boat shoes, and polo shirts in bland neutrals, and that kind of stuff. Whereas Steph is wearing a red bustier, a blue miniskirt, and a big silver belt, with assorted red, white and blue accessories and terrifying amounts of blue eyeshadow, and overall she looks like it’s Halloween and she’s going as Sexed-up Wonder Woman. This outfit is many things, but preppy is not one of them.

As her mother lectures her about giving Degrassi a chance, we hear Mr Lawrence saying, “Don’t you ever pull a stunt like that again!” (His voice is so badly dubbed in that he sounds like he’s speaking over the PA as usual, which is pretty confusing to watch.) Joey is backing out of the principal’s office, apologising insincerely. Before he can leave, Doris calls him over, and says, “This is Liz O’Rourke. She’s joining your class. Maybe you could show her to Mr Raditch’s room?” Joey’s mouth says, “Yeah! Sure!”, but his expression says, “If by ‘Mr Raditch’s room’ you mean my pants.”

He bows elaborately to Liz, and busts out his old catchphrase: “Joey Jeremiah, chairman of the welcoming committee, at your service.” Steph rolls her eyes, but Liz seems kind of amused. As he leads her into the corridor, he tells her, “You’re talking to the number one cool guy here at Degrassi.” “Yeah?” Liz asks, in a voice that suggests she may actually believe him. Perhaps she is not the sharpest pencil in the box.

“Yeah!” he answers, looking understandably surprised that this line worked. “So, um, wanna go out?”

And thus the theme of the episode is established: Teenage Boys Are Horny. Apparently we need a TV show to teach us this.

After the opening credits, it’s another day, and everyone’s arriving at school. The Zit Remedy guys are complaining about how Simon’s a narbo because he’s quit their band to play soccer. So ends a plotline nobody cared about ever. As Liz shuffles angstily by, Joey asks the others what they think of her; Snake calls her weird, and Wheels calls her quiet. Her alleged weirdness is manifest in her short punk haircut and her two layered tank tops, à la Kate in the early seasons of Lost. This is extremely low-level weirdness. 1980s Canada is a tame, tame place.

Liz goes into the school building, giving Joey a sort of spacey smile on her way in, and when she’s gone he asks the other guys, “Do you think she does it? She looks like she does it.” Wow, wearing tank tops will really get you a reputation in Canada. Wheels, whose mullet is getting truly magnificent these days, briefly gets all sensible-feminist and asks what a girl who does it is supposed to look like, but Joey insists he’s heard “stuff” about Liz. Since he has no more details than that, we can only assume it’s Horny Boy wishful thinking.

When the others try to walk off, he calls them back, then asks, “Do you guys ever think about really having sex?” They take this poorly-phrased question in completely good faith, obviously consider lying, then admit that they think about it “a bit”. Joey says he thinks about it all the time, and the others are disgusted and brand him a sick, sex-crazed pervert.

I’m pretty sure that certain aspects of this conversation are not true to how 15-year-old boys actually behave.

Inside the building, Liz walks to the girls’ toilet while everybody stares at her because she is a tank-top-wearing hussy. Over the PA, Mr Lawrence announces that next week is Safety Week, for at least the third time since the show started.

In the library, Arthur is furtively reading an anatomy book, but tries to hide it when Yick appears. I get a horrible sinking feeling that whatever about next week, this week is going to be Profoundly Uncomfortable Teen Sexuality Week at Degrassi. Just like most weeks.

OMG YOU GUYS. Behind them on a bookshelf are not one but two copies of Damon King’s autobiography. A “celebrity” memoir written by a D-lister who picked up a 14-year-old student at the launch of said memoir has to be one of the all-time most inappropriate pieces of reading material ever found in a school library. This is right up there with… most of the other books in the Degrassi library.

Anyway, Yick asks Arthur why he’s acting weird lately, and Arthur immediately… well, I was going to say “spills”, but that’s a very unfortunate choice of word under the circumstances. He admits he’s worried about all the “really weird” dreams he’s been having lately, and that when he wakes up, he “leaks”. (Words cannot express how awkward I feel describing this scene.) Hilariously, Yick practically shouts, “Oh, you mean wet dreams!!!” earning them a death glare from Kathleen.

Arthur despondently mutters, “I think I’m turning into a sex maniac,” and if they ever made Degrassi merchandise, I hope that line got put on a T-shirt. Yick dives for Arthur’s anatomy book, and looks shocked by what he sees in it, even though he’s only looking at a drawing of a vertebra. Yick is a delicate flower.

Steph’s on her way to Bathroom of Skanky Transformations. Alex runs after her, and tells her that he’s been “thinking about the financial problems of the student council” and he wants to tell her some ideas he’s had. She nods politely, says that’s really nice, and immediately goes to hide in the bathroom because he’s not attractive. He stands outside the door and hangs his head.

Inside the bathroom, Steph finds Spike moping in front of the mirror, and asks what she’s doing. “Getting fat,” says Spike. What, like, right this minute? In a wholly uncharacteristic display of human decency, or maybe just because Spike’s wearing an extremely baggy T-shirt/waistcoat combo, Steph says she can’t see any change in her.

“I can,” Spike insists. “Being pregnant sure changes everything.” Got that, girls? Being pregnant will make you fat, and I guess change some other stuff, too, but mainly IT WILL MAKE YOU FAT.

As Steph changes into her Hideous Skankwear (blue bustier, pink miniskirt, and the communal diamante belt), Spike asks why she’s dressing like that again, and Steph says, “I’m going to make Simon notice me if it kills me.” Which it quite possibly will, if she insists on running around the frozen wastes of Canada half-naked like this.

Just then, there’s a flushing sound and Liz emerges from a cubicle. Spike gives her one of her trademark blank stares. and I really haven’t the remotest idea what she’s trying to express with it, but Steph gives her an impressively obnoxious smirk. Rather than just clocking her, Liz asks what she’s looking at, and Steph is all, “I love your hair. You must tell me who does it.” Kind of a bitchy thing to say when standing right next to Spike, who has the most insane hair of all time, but hey, it’s Steph. Bitchy is kind of her deal.

“Well at least I don’t get dressed in the washroom so Mom doesn’t know how I dress at school,” Liz dronemumbles, and flounces off. “Oh, good comeback!” Steph calls, but her sarcasm is undermined by the fact that it actually was a pretty good comeback.

“What a sleaze,” she says, because you can’t say “slut” on kids’ TV. “I bet she does it.” Then she turns around and remembers that she’s talking to Spike, whose defining characteristic is the fact that she once did it, and her face is literally like the :-O emoticon. “I mean, not like you! You made a mistake, right?” Steph rolls her eyes and turns to go.

Apparently not content with the hole she’s gotten herself into, Steph continues to dig: “I heard something happened where she used to live, to do with sex, and that’s why she moved here.”  OK, so theoretically this could be the same extremely vague rumour Joey’s talking about, but it could also be Mean Girl wishful thinking, which says that if you don’t have enough dirt on your enemies you can just make some up.

“Why do people who look different always have stories made up about them?” asks Spike. “I dunno,” says Steph cheerfully, “but I bet it’s true. If you ask me, she dresses very… provocative.” Spike just shakes her head and leaves.

OK, we need to talk about tank tops. If I may be blunt, Steph is showing about three times as much skin as Liz. If anyone in this school is dressing provocatively, and by extension allegedly “looks like she does it”, it is most assuredly Steph (who, lest we forget, previously attempted to do it). So what the hell is it about tank tops, and fairly modest ones by the standards of tank tops, that has everybody treating Liz so weirdly? Is Steph just meant to be the biggest hypocrite of all time, or were ill-fitting bustiers really more acceptable schoolwear than tank tops in those days? I do not understand 1980s Canada at all.

Later, in class, Mr Raditch is going on about some history project the kids have to do… in pairs. As everyone whoever  went to school (or watched TV shows about school) knows, pair work is just an excuse for awkward attempts at flirting. Right on cue, as Mr Raditch tells the class to choose their own partners, Joey gives Liz a “How you doin’?? face. Unfortunately, she can’t actually see it because he’s two rows behind her.

When the bell goes and everyone leaves, Liz is glacially slow at packing up to go, so Joey has a chance to catch her alone. He asks if she wants to be partners, and she says sure, and he seems completely astounded. Obviously she hasn’t heard much about him yet. They agree to meet after lunch in the resource centre, which I guess is Canadian for library. This would all seem like good light-hearted fun, except that the background music is all threatening, so you know it’ll all end in trauma and lesson-learning.

Out in the corridor, Steph and the twins are mumbling about some “plan” of hers. But they’re waylaid by Alex, who wants to talk to Steph about holding an art show to raise money. Steph is instantly pissed off, because Alex is still not attractive. Just then Simon approaches, and she fixes Alex with a terrifying stare and tells him to beat it. It wouldn’t be so scary, except for all the blue eyeshadow, which gives her a sort of panto witch vibe.

As Alex gets increasingly agitated about fundraising, Steph completely ignores him and throws all her textbooks in a pile at Simon’s feet, in the hope that he’ll pick them up. Alex immediately crouches down to get them, still talking about the student council, and Simon is just weirded out by the whole thing. After a minute of awkward staring, he shrugs and walks off.

Steph grabs her books from Alex, and she and the twins walk away, turning to give him matching evil stares. “What did I do?” he whimpers. He failed to be attractive, is what.

Out on the steps, Yick and Arthur are eating bananas and talking about penises, and I refuse to believe this is a coincidence. Yick loudly insists that Arthur’s, um, issue is probably normal, and suggests asking Arthur’s dad for advice, but Arthur’s worried he’d think he was a pervert. Yick just shrugs at this, which probably doesn’t do much to ease Arthur’s paranoia.

A few feet away, Liz is looking tortured and eating yogurt, as one does. Spike comes over and tries to make nice, and Liz complains about how judgmental everyone at Degrassi is, then asks if Spike’s really pregnant. Lovely segue. Really smooth. “I’m never gonna get pregnant,” she volunteers. “NEVER.” Well, this is just about the most uncomfortable attempt at befriending ever, but Spike is apparently a glutton for punishment, so she stays to hear Liz whine some more about how popular she was at her old school and how much Degrassi sucks donkey balls. I’m paraphrasing slightly.

Meanwhile, a bunch of random other characters are throwing baseballs to each other, in a blatant attempt to appeal to US audiences. Wheels and Snake complain that Joey’s throwing the ball too fast, or something, and Joey for some reason theorises that his exciting ball-throwing techniques will convince Liz to have sex with him, because that’s what girls like. He then makes a very bad joke about threesomes. I mean, it’s not offensive or anything, it’s just shite.

Everyone laughs at him, and Snake teases him for being a virgin (in the campest voice ever, for some reason), which is pretty odd considering none of them have had, like, any action ever. Joey reacts by attempting to kill Snake with the baseball.

In Ms Avery’s classroom, Melanie is talking to an extremely small non-speaking extra. Well, not so much talking as bombarding her with statistics about menstrual cycle length that the writers clearly copy-pasted from the ‘80s version of Wikipedia, which I guess was just an encyclopaedia. “Melanie, where do you get this stuff?” asks Kathleen, who no doubt disapproves of menstrual cycles on principle.

Melanie looks blank and forgets her line for a second, then answers, “Doctor Sally, of course.” She explains that Doctor Sally has a radio phone-in for teens called “Talking Sax With Sally.”

Kathleen thinks it sounds disgusting, which seems like an extreme reaction to a show about saxophones, but it turns out that Melanie just talks really really Canadian, and the show is about sex. Unfortunately, Yick overhears and shows a little too much interest in the show, and the class instantly decides he has sexual problems. And thus starts a lifetime of psychological scarring for Yick.

In the resource centre, Liz is angsting that she can’t figure out who won the War of 1812. An all-too-common teen problem. Joey just gazes at her and says he really likes her hair. She gets all embarrassed, but he keeps on about he’s “dazzled” by her beauty, which bit of unintentional Twilight foreshadowing eventually gets an awkward, buck-toothed giggle out of her. Aaaaw yeah, he’s totally in there.

When the bell goes, Liz says that they haven’t got much of their project done, so they’d better meet up later and figure out who did win the War of 1812. They can’t meet at Joey’s house, because his grandparents are there and it’s “a total zoo” (Joey’s grandparents must be more exciting than most grandparents). Liz says they can go to her house, and that her mom won’t be there. Joey, with the depth of delusion that only a teenager with a crush can muster, immediately interprets this as “come over to my house and we can bone like it’s going out of fashion”.

He immediately goes to Snake and Wheels and tells them that Liz invited him over “to study”. Nobody considers the possibility that this might actually mean he’s invited over to study, minus the quotation marks. The guys do a Troy-and-Abed-and-Pierce-worthy three-way high-five.

Later, in the hallways, Yick badgers Arthur into calling Doctor Sally’s show that night, but neither of them wants to call from their houses in case their parents hear and decide they’re irredeemable sex monsters. I guess Yick’s parents would tend to be paranoid about that, considering their older son has a swamp sex robot fetish.

Meanwhile Steph has decided to just ask Simon out instead of playing insane mind games. Heather floats the possibility that he might say no because he actually likes Alexa, but Erika thinks this is far-fetched and ridiculous. There’s such a thing as being too supportive, Erika.

Just then, Simon conveniently appears. He is wearing leggings and a giant sweatshirt. Did guys actually wear leggings in the 80s, outside of exercise videos? It’s not a good look. Steph tries to ask him out, but Alex runs over in his sports uniform and cockblocks her yet again by telling him to go get changed for a soccer match that’s about to start. Aaaaugh, the uniform involves hot pants WHYYYY. Steph clops angrily away on her giant high heels, and the twins laugh hysterically, because their friend’s pain is so funny. Well, it is, I guess, but they’re still mean.

After school, Liz gives Joey her address, and he tells her he’ll be over later, then explains with a leer that he’s “got some stuff to do”. And by stuff, he means her. When he’s gone, she calls Spike over and they discuss him. Liz says she thinks he’s sort of funny and sort of nice, which is a pretty ringing endorsement since she hates everything else in the world. Spike, as usual, reacts by looking vaguely troubled.

Meanwhile, Joey runs over to Wheels and asks for the ill-fated condoms he bought for his date with Steph. Wheels reminds him that they used them all as water bombs, which strongly suggests that the guys aren’t really grown-up enough to use them for their actual purpose.

“D’you want to come buy some with me?” Joey asks. Wheels gapes and mumbles that he has to study, which is rapidly becoming his extremely dull catchphrase. He tries to go, but Joey runs after him and asks, “When you and Steph were almost gonna do it, were you a little nervous?” Wheels smiles with the world-weariness of a guy who almost got laid that one time, admits that he was “a lot nervous”, and suggests that maybe Joey shouldn’t do this.

“I’ve got to!” Joey insists. “I’m fourteen! I’m in the eighth grade! I haven’t even had a real date yet.” All solid reasons to keep it in your pants, but I guess he’s using Horny Boy logic again, whereby all facts are arguments in support of having sex.

“What if she doesn’t want to?” Wheels asks, for some reason deciding to be the lone, cranky voice of reason in this episode. “The way she dresses?” Joey responds. So, now tank tops not only mean that you do it, but specifically that you want to do it with Joey Jeremiah. He also points out that she laughs at his jokes, which admittedly you wouldn’t do just because they were funny, but still his evidence is pretty poor, which Wheels is harsh/sensible enough to point out. As he slopes off homewards, Joey yells, “Are you sure you can’t come buy some condoms?”, which is really not the sort of thing most people shout out in public.

Meanwhile, Liz arrives at her home, where everything is extremely messy because they just moved in, and extremely brown because it’s 1987. Her mom’s disembodied, weirdly dubbed voice asks how school was, and Liz monotones that it was boring and “this guy” is coming over later to work on a project.

Liz’s mom actually appears at this point, and she is dressed in some kind of weird red dirndl thing. I can only assume she works at some kind of Oktoberfest theme bar or something. She puts up a token protest against Liz having random boys over unchaperoned, then decides that it’s OK because at least she’s making friends. She would probably retract this if she knew that said friend is a Horny Boy in a crocheted fedora.

Well, I call that some pretty half-assed parenting. If Liz isn’t actually likely to have sex with randomers as soon as she’s left alone, her mum is making too much fuss about this. If she is likely to have sex with randomers etc., then her mum is making way too little fuss. But it’s either fuss-worthy or it isn’t; just making a small fuss and then being like “Oh well, at least you won’t spend the afternoon alone” is just kind of lousy.

Anyway, her mom leaves for the Swiss maid fetish bar or wherever, and Liz preens in the mirror, which takes very little time because she has minimal makeup and almost no hair.

Meanwhile, Joey’s out trying to buy condoms alone. He’s avoided the rookie mistake of buying them at Steph’s mother’s shop, and is in a big supermarket, trying to blend in, because 14-year-old boys do supermarket shops all the time. He’s doing that thing where you try to cover up your embarrassing purchase with lots of normal ones, such as toilet paper and toothpaste and crisps. As a former shop assistant, I can tell you that this never works, and just makes the staff laugh at you afterwards.

Meanwhile, there’s a special offer being announced over the PA system, and I swear hand on heart that this is what the woman says: “There’s a shiny toilet roll pencil, regularly $2.99, now on sale for only a dollar 99. Remember, it isn’t clean unless it’s shiny clean.”

I… I have no words. And I profoundly do not want to know what a “toilet roll pencil” is.

Having stocked up on assorted grocery items, Joey gets to the condom section. He’s perusing a box of Sheiks when some grandad in a lumberjack shirt looks at him in horror and disgust, so he flings the box into his trolley and then throws in a gigantic box of Tampax to look casual. He then realises this probably won’t help in the embarrassment stakes, and hastily shoves the Tampax back on a random shelf. Heh.

At the checkout, the guy is… I want to say scanning Joey’s purchases, only he isn’t, because I guess they didn’t scan stuff in those days? and I literally don’t know what verb to use instead. He’s [whatever they did before everything had barcodes] Joey’s purchases. Conservative Lumberjack Grandad is behind Joey in the queue, and he and his conservative polyester-clad wife are traumatised all over again by the condoms on the conveyor belt.

The checkout guy picks up the condoms and says they’re supposed to be on special offer. Joey starts panicking, but the guy calls someone over to check for him, and it’s the same woman who busted Lucy and Voula for shoplifting from Sparkly Scarves 'R Us. She seems to have had a sense of humour transplant since then, because she clearly finds Joey’s plight hilarious.

Joey begs the man to just charge him the full price already, but the guy is just screwing with him at this point, and insists, “Come on, it won’t take a minute.” The conservative old-folks look ever more disapproving.

The shop lady comes back and trollfaces that the condoms are indeed marked down. Joey pays and leaves, stopping in the doorway to glower at his hilarious tormentors.

Meanwhile, back in the world’s ickiest subplot, Yick and Arthur are in a phone booth listening to Dr Sally on the radio. In a spectacular coincidence, she’s going on about how sex is a big decision that shouldn’t be rushed into. Arthur turns bright red at the phrase “sexual intercourse” and asks, “Can they say that on the radio?” Clearly, hip-hop had not yet arrived in Canada.

The guys argue over whether or not to call, and eventually Arthur gives in and dials. Dr Sally is now talking about how you can’t tell if a girl is “an easy lay” by the way she dresses, EVEN IF SHE’S A PUNK. I see what you did there, Degrassi writers. Because it was extremely unsubtle.

On a completely unrelated note, Joey arrives at Liz’s house and grins lecherously at it. Yes, even a house can be sexy when you’re a Horny Boy. Before ringing the bell, he opens the box of condoms and stashes one in his shirt pocket, because turning up for a homework session with just one condom is so much less skeevy. He leaves the bag of groceries out of view of the front door and rings the bell.

Liz lets him in and offers him a drink. He’s up for sex with someone he hardly knows, but is totally shocked by the idea of drinking alcohol. Luckily for his delicate sensibilities, she just means a soda.

Back in the phone box, the boys are on hold and Dr Sally is soothing somebody’s anxieties about losing their virginity. Arthur is still freaking out in case Melanie recognises his voice. Finally, they’re put through but Arthur is too scared to talk, so Yick grabs the phone, gabbles, “I’vegotafriendwho’stwelveyearsoldhegetsalotofwetdreamsisheapervert?” and hangs up.

The guys start to argue again, but they’re quickly distracted by Dr Sally announcing, in a relaxation-tape voice, that wet dreams are a normal symptom of puberty, “so tell your friend he’s not a pervert, he’s not an animal out of control…” Wait, what? Nobody suggested he was an animal out of control!

Anyway, Arthur doesn’t stop to think about what an odd, disturbing thing she just said, and when she says that wet dreams are “the body’s way of relieving sexual tension”, he and Yick high-five, which is pretty weird all round. I really don’t think guys usually high-five each other about their wet dreams.

At Liz’s house, she’s droning on about the War of 1812, which, in her considered assessment, was “totally dumb”. Eventually she notices that Joey is looking pallid and sweaty, and asks him what’s up. “Liz, do you wanna do it?” he asks. He sure doesn’t mess around. You’d think this was pretty unambiguous, but Liz is all, “Do what?” because this scene wasn’t quite awkward enough already.

“Sex!” says Joey. As ominous synth music plays, he pulls out the condom and sweet-talks the hell out of her: “I want it, you want it, let’s do it.” Liz looks completely disgusted, but Joey throws his last shred of dignity to the winds and actually starts begging. “Please,” he says. “I really want to.” Amazingly, this does not convince her.

Liz gets angry, but the actress who plays her is completely unable to emote, so she monotones at him about how she thought he was different and guys are perverts and she hates him, and she sounds like a robot. She emotionlessly throws him out of the house, and he actually stops to collect his bag of groceries before leaving. Well, I guess they can use the remaining condoms for more water bombs.

Liz sadly goes back in the living room and lies on the couch to ponder the perfidy of Horny Boys.

The camera slowly zooms in on her giant book about the War of 1812, with the discarded condom lying on top of it. I’m not sure what this shot is meant to communicate, except possibly that condoms, like the War of 1812, are totally dumb. Good to know, Degrassi writers!

Also, Liz should really get rid of that before her mother gets home from the Munich Putsch reenactment.

Next morning, the background music is back to being perky again, as it always is, regardless of whatever traumatic shit just went down. Liz is sadly walking to school, dressed in a baggy grey Lonsdale T-shirt and denim pedal-pushers, which I think is meant to indicate that she’s been scared into dressing more conformist, but for all I know maybe grey T-shirts had some scandalous cultural significance back then.

Wheels runs over to Joey and asks how yesterday went. Joey explains, in tones of disbelief, “She didn’t want to do anything.” Well, technically she wanted to work on her history project, but perhaps that doesn’t count. “Is she mad?” asks Wheels.

For some reason, a baby starts crying in the background at this point. No idea why.

Joey looks at Liz, who gives him a punk death glare, and he concludes that she is, in fact, mad. As the chirpy end credit music starts up, Joey moans, “Wheels, you know what’s the worst? I really like her.” The credits roll, and we freeze on his woebegone, unibrowed, pimply face.

OK, so, condoms. There have been three episodes so far where someone tried to have sex. When Wheels and Joey decided to be responsible and buy condoms, they got judged by the elderly and also failed to have any sex whatsoever. Shane didn’t bother with lame-ass things like contraception, and he totally got laid. (I mean, sure he got Spike pregnant and now their lives are sort of fucked up, and the sex apparently wasn’t very good, but I’m pretty sure it still counts as a win according to Horny Boy Logic.)

In conclusion: this show is messed up.

Dubious Lessons of the Week: Wet dreams are normal and should be discussed in detail with friends and local radio presenters. Vertebrae, on the other hand, are shocking. Contrary to apparently popular belief, just because a girl wears a tank top doesn’t mean she will automatically have sex with you. Even if you beg. The War of 1812 was totally dumb. Attempting to have safe sex will only lead to you being judged and embarrassed and, worst of all, sexually frustrated.

S01 E10 – Smokescreen

We start in the hallways at Degrassi, where Caitlin, Susie and an already enraged-looking Kathleen are trying to get people to sign a petition. They have a lot of handlettered posters around, because this is the '80s. "Clean up the environment!" the girls bleat futilely. Everyone ignores them. "I told you this was a stupid idea," growls Kathleen. That's basically her default response to everything.

In the background, we can see Yick and Arthur playing with a basketball down the hall. But then the camera cuts to them walking in the front door. The plague of teleporting schoolboys continues.

Just then, Rick comes in, and Kathleen perks up slightly as she spots a new target for her withering scorn. "Look what the cat dragged in," she smarms. In case you've just joined us: Rick is working-class, and Kathleen hates anyone working-class (also lesbians and, more generally, anyone who isn't Kathleen).

Rick walks straight up to the girls and asks to sign the petition. Caitlin and Susie are pretty astounded that a working-class hero like Rick apparently has a mild interest in the environment and isn't spending all his time unionising dock-workers. Rick and Caitlin exchange adorable awkward smiles before Rick shuffles off.

Susie immediately starts teasing Caitlin, although she admits that Rick is cute. Kathleen butts in to say, "He's also as dumb as a post! And the school criminal!" Hey, those rumours were never substantiated! And why doesn't he get any credit for his heroic distribution of liquorice to the masses? And why has everyone forgotten that the last time Susie teased Caitlin about Rick, it degenerated into a homophobic witch-hunt within minutes?

As Caitlin stares down the hallway at Rick's departing form, she gets an already-all-too-familiar gleam in her eye. "Maybe all he needs is a little help," she muses, as the opening credits start up. Caitlin's found another project; Lord help us all.

I mean, really! The last time she tried to manipulate Rick to suit her own ends, she failed horribly, and was in fact outdone by Joey, who won Rick's heart with some slashy banter and a shared love of scruffy denim jackets. Does she not know when to quit?

After the credits, we're in Ms Avery's class. The kids are taking turns giving speeches on their family history. Susie has pretty much pwned everyone else by giving a talk on black empowerment, then producing a NASA "emblem" that her astronaut uncle gave her. When she finishes, everyone applauds, although Kathleen, predictably, looks disapproving. It's Yick's turn to speak next week, and he looks extremely ill at the prospect.

The class ends, but when everyone's leaving, Ms Avery calls Rick back to ask why he didn't do some geography assignment. He just shrugs angstily in response. Ms Avery, raging lesbian that she is, puts her hand on his shoulder and reminds him that "repeating Grade Seven doesn't mean you have to repeat the same mistakes". Rick just rolls his eyes, and she says that if he doesn't straighten up and fly right, he'll have to repeat the year again. Caitlin watches this exchange from her desk, her eyes brimming with middle-class pity. Once Rick goes out into the corridor, he punches some lockers, because he's a guy, and that's how guys express their feelings when they're all messed up inside.

Arthur's at his locker, and calls Yick over to ask if they can go play basketball. Yick says he has to do research for the family history project, and Arthur (proving yet again that being a nerd does not mean you're smart) is sceptical that family history would involve research.

Yick complains that nobody is going to want to hear about his family: "Who wants to hear about being poor and living in a big house with a million relatives?" Arthur suggests talking about what happened before the Yus arrived in Canada, the land of opportunity, but Yick's determinedly pessimistic. "Who cares about refugees? I need something interesting, like Susie's badge. Otherwise I'll be boring." So our secondary issue of the week is: former refugees who think refugeeism is boring. Uh… if you say so?

On the PA, Mr Lawrence announces that the lunch special today is "Tuna Surprise", and the school dietician says it's excellent. Is "school dietician" Canadian for "canteen lady"?

Rick's in the bathroom, having a smoke. It's a spectacularly angsty, tortured smoke; I think he's been watching too many James Dean movies. He is also standing right in the open, not hiding in a cubicle, which is just asking for trouble. Shane comes in and immediately tells him, "Cigarettes'll kill you, man!" Rick gives a characteristically tortured-teenish response: "Yah, yah. What are you, my social worker?" This line has less of a rhetorical punch to it when you actually have a social worker, though. Also, Shane is quite easy to tell apart from Rick's social worker, as Shane doesn't have a sea anemone for a head.

Unfortunately, Rick's tangled with the wrong guy: Shane has a massive bee in his bonnet about smoking, as previously foreshadowed by his collection of anti-smoking T-shirts. Now, while using the urinal, he rattles off a list of reasons why smoking is totally bad for you, man. Why oh why must so many conversations on this show take place while a teenage boy is peeing? And why is Shane so up on the dangers and grossness of smoking when, as we are soon to learn, he is so very careless about other health issues?

Rick says that the only advice he wants is how to get Caitlin to like him. Shane calls Caitlin "a browner", which I presume is Canadian for "brown-noser". "Yeah, so?" asks Rick, who apparently can't be bothered to dispute that. Shane suggests sitting beside her in class. "She sits in the front!" says Rick. "No way I'm gonna sit in the front." Come on, Rick. Faint heart never won meddly lady.

Shane then says Rick could join the Environmental Action Committee that Caitlin's on, so they'd have something to talk about. Rick decides this is a pretty good idea, even though joining the Environmental Action Committee sounds even nerdier than sitting in the front (I say this as someone who frequently sat in the front and tried to start an environmental club at the age of eight). "Just don't light up in the club room," says Shane, but Rick's outta there before Shane can start lecturing him again.

Cut to the Environmental Action Committee meeting, which is taking place in what looks like a large store cupboard. Kathleen, who is the president, is calling the meeting to order, and even the way she does that smacks of bossy-cowism. Also she is wearing a handmade badge that reads "EAC PREZ", lest anyone momentarily forget who's boss, and sitting in front of a big poster of Tina Turner for some reason, which I think makes Tina Turner the only actual famous person to be in any way connected with this show. Just then, Rick opens the door and walks in. Everyone, even Caitlin, looks anxious, as if he might have been sent in by Big Industry to break some heads.

"What are you doing here?" asks Kathleen, with a look of utter, utter loathing. A standard Kathleen-face, in other words. "I want to join," says Rick (Caitlin looks perturbed again). "What do you know about the environment?" asks Kathleen. Sycophantic giggles from nameless club members.

"I live in it," says Rick, which is a perfectly valid answer, but everyone laughs at him. Even Caitlin. Although she then hastily looks concerned again, and points out that he did sign their petition. "And besides, we need all the help we can get, right?" she adds, which is a rather feeble recommendation. We're so desperate, we'll take anyone! Susie backs her up, and then so do the other club members. Kathleen reluctantly says that he can join, and he sits down next to Caitlin. Cue awkward glances.

The club secretary, some girl called Trish who we haven't seen before, then stands up and announces the first item on their agenda: a new name. Several people exclaim, "Yeah, that's what we need!" Kathleen insists that their current name is fine, Susie says they need something shorter and catchier, and Trish suggests the totally lame "Pollution Busters".

"People, please!" cries Kathleen. "This is a serious committee! I still like the old name, and not just because I thought of it, either." She'll make a fine dictator one day. Rick looks like he disapproves of the whole discussion; clearly he'd been hoping the club would discuss something more exciting, like eco-terrorism.

At lunchtime, Susie, Caitlin, Kathleen, Rick, and Trish are conveniently leaving the building together. Susie muses that the meeting went really well, but they should have talked about the petition more. "Has anybody signed it?" asks Trish. Nobody has the heart to tell her that Rick's is the only name on it so far. While Rick is over at the bike racks, Kathleen asks Caitlin, "What's the big idea letting Rick join the committee?" In case we'd forgotten everything anyone has said about Rick all season, Trish reminds everybody, "He's got an awfully bad reputation…"

Kathleen smugly announces that "I heard even his father disowned him!" Let's all just take a minute to bask in the breathtaking bitchiness of that statement, considering what actually happened between Rick and his father. I get a bit light-headed thinking about it.

"Where do you get these amazing stories?" asks Susie, sounding extra-sceptical in an attempt to cover up the fact that she completely fell for Kathleen's wild tales of lesbianism just four episodes ago. "He flunked," says Kathleen, "we know that's true. And remember all those bruises he used to have? I heard he got them from fights." I'm pretty sure at this point the character of Kathleen is actually just a metaphor for small-minded suburban repressiveness. It's a very effective one.

As if this discussion wasn't annoying enough already, Caitlin pipes up, "It's not his fault he's poor and disadvantaged!" Aw jeez, I mean, it's true, but did she have to say it like that? "What?" asks Kathleen, who obviously feels the poor have only themselves to blame.

Caitlin elaborates, becoming more and more patronising as she goes on: "I mean, so he gets bad marks in school, and people say he's dumb and stuff. But maybe that's because people don't give him a chance. We should give him a chance!"

"Sounds like a really stupid idea to me," says Kathleen. Yeah, giving people a chance is for losers! I have a feeling Kathleen will move to New York when she grows up, dye her hair black, and change her name to Margo Magee.

"Well I'm going to give him a chance," says Caitlin with painful sincerity. Kathleen just turns around in disgust and walks off. I almost admire her wholehearted commitment to being as horrible as possible at all times.

Meanwhile, Yick's walking around downtown. How long is the lunch break at this school, anyway? We see him pass a shop selling random Asiany ornaments, then run back to look in the window and stare at a cheapass vase. "That it!" he exclaims to nobody in particular. He runs into the shop, and because this show's budget won't cover a scene of him buying the vase, we just see a man's hand reach into the window display and take it away.

After lunch, we see Yick proudly showing the vase to Arthur. "It's been in my family for thousands of years," he claims. "It's very valuable. I forgot we had it." Um, yeah, valuable heirlooms are the most forgettable kind! "Your parents let you bring it to school?" asks Arthur, sounding impressed rather than suspicious. Again: nerd ≠ smart. "Um… they don't really know about it," says Yick, which is the one thing in his story that's true.

Arthur asks what dynasty the vase is. "Ming," says Yick, "or Manchu. I don't know. Both maybe!" Arthur says his father knows an antique dealer and they should get the vase appraised. "Maybe later," says Yick. "Anyway, the class will be impressed, right?" Only if they're as gullible as Arthur.

Mr Lawrence is on the PA again: "Would anyone who had the Tuna Surprise at lunch please see Nurse Silver before going home?" I hope they fired the school dietician.

Rick is heading downstairs when Caitlin calls him back. She tells him she's making an announcement tomorrow aboot the petition, and asks if he wants to help. "It's a great opportunity to get involved," she tells him, which is a fairly smooth come-on, but then she unfortunately keeps talking: "Don't worry, I'll do the writing and stuff." Burn.

Rick's down with being patronised, though, so they agree to go to her house and do some nonspecific announcement-related stuff.

After school, Yick and Arthur are cleaning up Ms Avery's classroom and making plans to play basketball afterwards. Yick sticks his bag (which contains the vase) precariously on the edge of Ms Avery's desk and goes off to leave some books back at the library. I can see where this is going! Because I'm smarter than Yick. Which admittedly isn't saying much.

Ms Avery has a "Quote of the Day" sign above the blackboard, which today reads "Honesty is the best policy." This is not one of the show's classier attempts at foreshadowing. Anyway, it's Arthur's job to change the sign, but because he failed in his efforts to become taller by stalking Snake, he's not tall enough to reach it. He is, however, stupid enough to jump up and down in front of the sign three times before realising that won't help.

Looking around for something to stand on, he wisely rejects Ms Avery's incredibly rickety swivel chair, and then, his quota of wise behaviour for the day already exceeded, yanks on her desk. Yick's bag, of course, falls off, and lands on the ground with a noise that sounds more like keys being rattled than a vase being smashed, but whatever. Just to make it extra clear what's happened, he opens the bag and pulls out a piece of smashed vase. I think the vase is smashed, you guys.

Meanwhile, as some badass synth electric guitar music plays in the background (as is usually the case during Rick scenes), Rick and Caitlin are standing outside a factory which is giving off lots of smoke. "The paper says there's all sorts of toxins coming from that factory," she expositions, then adds, "Oh… toxins are poisons." She sure knows how to show a guy a patronising time.

Rick tells a tale of working-class woe about how when he lived with his bad dad, they were near a factory, and they couldn't open their windows because the air smelled so bad. "That's awful," says Caitlin. "You should have gotten an air purifier." Ah, there's nothing like unhelpful advice that comes several months too late. Rick just points out that his dad, being working-class and all, couldn't afford one. Caitlin is horribly embarrassed.

Back at school, Yick's in the corridors, bouncing his basketball and pretending to be a sports commentator. I'm pretty sure this is just filler. When he comes back into the classroom, he sees that Arthur has scrawled on the board, "Yick – took vase to antique dealer." "Oh no," says Yick. The hijinks, they are ensuing.

Meanwhile, at Caitlin's house, the class-based awkwardness is ongoing. Rick pokes at the stereo before looking around and announcing, "Your parents must be rich." Caitlin says they're not, since they're teachers. Rick has some sort of emotional response to the fact that her parents are teachers, but due to the bad acting here I'm not sure if he's impressed or disgusted. Caitlin then admits that her mother is a vice-principal, and cheerfully continues to dig by asking Rick what his parents do. He explains that he doesn't get on with his dad (which is one way of putting it), so he lives with his brother, the godlike Frank, who's a bartender. "What about your mom?" asks Caitlin.

"She left," says Rick, only due to his accent it sounds much more like "she laughed", which makes no sense, either in the context of this conversation or in view of the fact that she was married to Rick's Bad Dad, which I'm guessing wasn't really a laugh a minute.

Clearly deciding that this whole "conversation" thing isn't going too well, Caitlin decides to start work on the announcement. "People everywhere need to be concerned with the problem of pollution," she drones. Rick, sounding terribly disappointed in her, says she sounds like a teacher. She looks pissed off and says nothing.

I'm temporarily distracted by the incredibly ugly '60s-style "sculpture" on the kitchen table; basically someone took a metal bar, twisted it out of shape, then convinced Caitlin's parents to pay money for it. And now they're advertising their idiocy by leaving this thing out where people can see it.

Anyway, Rick's rambling on about how all announcements sound the same, and they need something different to get people's attention. He turns to look at the cassette player, which is blaring out some weirdly bleak '80s electro-pop, then smiles. "I got an idea."

Next morning, Rick and Caitlin march into Doris Bell's office; Rick's carrying a ghetto blaster. Caitlin announces, in her usual morose tones, that they want to make an announcement on behalf of the Environmental Action Committee. Doris cheerfully hands over the microphone, and sits down to stare at what I think is a blank piece of paper, but quickly turns around in amazement when Rick starts playing some awful rap backing music.

And then Caitlin raps. About the environment.

There's a montage of all the other kids listening appreciatively to this atrocity (and even boogieing in some cases). The whole scene is one of the most cringeworthy things in the history of television; I can hardly bear to watch it. I certainly can't bear to watch it more than once, which is why I'm not reproducing the lyrics here.

Um, so somehow the rap has motivated everyone to sign the petition, and there's a second, needlessly protracted, montage of everyone signing, then signing some more. Kathleen, by the way, is predictably disgusted by the whole affair, and for once I'm with her.

The following day, Yick is at his locker when he spots Arthur. Arthur tries to run off, but Yick follows him, asking for his vase back. He then runs into the boys' bathroom, and finds Arthur's feet sticking out from under a cubicle door. Arthur is pretty bad at hiding, like he is at most things.

Yick asks again for his vase back, but Arthur says it's still being appraised and the antique dealer is nearly finished with it. "He says it's really interesting. He says he's never seen one quite like it." Yick looks perturbed, but eventually gets Arthur to promise he'll have it back by Friday.

The sound throughout this scene was dubbed in really badly, by the way, so that half the dialogue sounded all echoey and detached, like a voiceover flashback. It's really distracting.

Back in the club store-cupboard, Kathleen calls another meeting to order. Where did she get a gavel? Trish stands up and announces the first item on the agenda: a new name. Rick rolls his eyes, and Caitlin complains that they always talk about that, and what about the petition? "What about the petition?" Kathleen sneers.

Susie points out that they've got almost 200 signatures and they should take the petition to the factory, but Kathleen shoots her down: "Nobody's going to pay attention to a petition from a bunch of kids!" Rick gets all riled up, and asks, "How would you know, brainbox?" Caitlin, who's clearly decided she's his handler, tries to calm him down by saying he and Susie and herself will take it to the factory the next day. Rick refuses to be shushed: "It's called action! Doing something, ya know?" Oooh, working-class guys tell it like it is! Kathleen gives her default response: "Well, I say it's a stupid idea!" There's much glaring. Caitlin looks troubled, as is her wont.

That night, Arthur's at home listening to the radio. It's very dark. It's definitely night. He glumly empties the smashed vase onto his desk and picks up a bottle of glue. This will go well.

Cut to… earlier that afternoon. What the hell? Caitlin's sitting at her kitchen table with Susie. The sun is shining in the window. It's definitely daytime. "What do you think of Rick?" she asks. Susie reckons he's nice. "I think it's too bad people don't give him a break, though," says Caitlin. "Cause he's acting OK, don't you think? He was rude to Kathleen, but who could blame him?" It's a little too obvious that she's keeping score.

Susie snaps at this, and tells Caitlin to stop treating Rick like he's her experiment. Caitlin tries to deny it, but Susie insists she is. "Why don't you just admit you like him? There's nothing wrong with that, you know." Caitlin's fridge seems to have a bunch of Calvin and Hobbes cartoons stuck on the front. Wow, first Tina Turner and now this? It's like somebody who worked on this episode was actually vaguely aware of contemporary pop culture! Outrageous!

(Moreover, someone in the Ryan household has a sense of humour? Doubly outrageous!)

Caitlin insists that Rick isn't her type (if she's not careful, she'll start another round of lesbian rumours). "I'm just helping him, that's all," she lies like a lying thing. Susie doesn't believe her. Then they throw a paper towel at each other in an attempt to look light-hearted and playful.

Meanwhile, in the middle of the night (clearly they're making a brave stab at experimenting with non-linear narrative), Arthur's still trying to glue the vase together. It looks like crap. I mean, more so than before it got smashed. He gives up.

The following afternoon (I'm just guessing; really, who the hell knows at this point?), Caitlin and Susie and Rick are on their way to the factory. He is so cool and/or reckless and/or keen to get to the factory that he is mildly careless while attempting to cross the road; Caitlin puts her hand on his shoulder and shepherds him across. "Gritty" music plays (synth electric guitar AGAIN) while the kids gaze up at the factory. It is very big, as is usually the way with factories.

"Maybe we should just mail the petition," Caitlin meebles. Rick looks at her in disgust and stomps towards the factory. "Come on!" he yells when the girls are hesitant. Clearly he is keen to stick it to the man. Because he is working-class.

Also, I can't get over the boxiness of all the cars in the factory car park. Why did anyone ever think that was a good look?

Later, Rick and the girls are sitting in the factory's reception area. They're all wildly overacting in order to communicate that they've been there for a long time: lots of eye-rolling and watch-checking and ceiling-staring. Dial it down a bit, kids!

Some generically soulless office guy, who looks like David Miliband in giant novelty glasses, comes in and apologises for keeping them waiting. Thus rendering the elaborate "waiting" scene completely redundant.

Caitlin, who's wearing a truly horrible pink jumper that I think was handmade by a first-time knitter, tells the guy, "We're from Degrassi Junior High and we'd like your factories to stop polluting." Um… yeah, that sounds like a specific, achievable goal. Rick looks thoroughly unimpressed. The office guy smarms that they test their emissions regularly, and they're all within "the applicable Ministry guidelines".

Susie pipes up, "But the newspaper said that your tests were fake and that – " but the guy just talks over her: "Newspapers love good stories, but nothing has ever really been proven!" He doesn't quite finish with "Mwahahaha!", but it's heavily implied.

It's time for Rick to unleash his working-class rage on this guy. "Proof? This place stinks!" The guy insists that they've had no complaints. Rick stands up and shouts, "This is a complaint!" Tragically, he doesn't follow this up with a punch to the face, because that would have been really cool.

Caitlin looks mortified and tries yet again to shush Rick, but the men are talking now. "Are you the boss here?" Rick asks. The office guy stands up (towering over Rick, who might want to wait for puberty to really kick in before he starts his career as an agitator) and smirks, "The president's in a very important meeting right now, but if you'll kindly leave me your petition, I'll be sure that she gets it." Wait, the head of this evil corporation is a woman? Wow, we've really achieved equality with men now!

Rick says they'll wait, and sits down with his legs wide apart in an effort to appear manly and threatening. But again, he's about five foot tall, and fourteen years old, so the guy is not particularly threatened. "Thanks for dropping by!" he chirps. "It's really a pleasure to see young people like yourselves taking such an interest in the community." And off he goes, presumably to torture small woodland animals. Caitlin and Susie look politely befuddled, while Rick looks one minor annoyance away from turning into the Incredible Hulk.

As the gritty music blares again, the kids walk away from the factory. "You didn't have to be so rude," Caitlin admonishes Rick. "He was the one who was rude!" Rick retorts.

"He is going to show it to the president," says Caitlin, and hopefully by "it" she means the petition. Rick cannot believe how gullible she is. "Why not?" asks Caitlin. "He seemed honest." "And very friendly," adds Susie. "Gimme a break!" exclaims Rick. "He doesn't care what we think! What a jerk!" And then he storms off.

"At least we tried!" Caitlin calls out. "Big deal!" Rick yells. And then he kicks a can that was lying on the ground, because he is just that angry. Go Rick! Working-class guys tell it like it is! The gritty music plays once more, as Caitlin watches Rick and reflects on the apparent failure of her latest project.

Seriously, though, those girls are really stupid.

A little later, Kathleen and Melanie are coming out of the De Grassi Grocery just as Rick walks by, lighting a cigarette. "Stupid factory," he mutters to himself. Kathleen watches him smoking for a minute, then looks smugly delighted.

It's the next day, and Kathleen is calling yet another meeting to order. Wow, these kids really like holding meetings. Trish starts up with the agenda, and the committee name is the first item on the list, as always. Yawn. Kathleen butts in and says that they have something more important to talk about: whether Rick should be on the committee any more. "What?" says Caitlin, full of righteous indignation. She can turn it on and off like a switch.

"I saw him smoking a cigarette," explains Kathleen. "Really?" says everyone. Considering how bad Rick is at hiding his habit, I don't know why everyone is so surprised. "Isn't it kind of hypocritical to be a smoker and on the Environmental Action Committee?" asks Kathleen. Look, I hate smoking, but her argument doesn't make any damn sense.

Caitlin is looking at Rick like she just heard he's been engaging in trade with apartheid South Africa. "Rick?" she asks in horror. "So I had a smoke! So what?" Rick protests. "I wasn't hurting anyone." "That's what he thinks," says a random voice. Caitlin sinks back into her seat, looking utterly crushed.

"It's the principle!" says Kathleen. "We can't have a polluter on an anti-pollution committee! Rick has to go." At this, Rick jumps up, all full of rage again. "What a bunk of jerks!" he yells, although last time I checked, Kathleen was just one jerk. "Call yourself action committee? What action? All you ever do is talk! Who needs this garbage?" As opposed to some other, more needed, garbage. Trish dutifully writes down what he's saying; never let it be said that she is not a devoted club secretary. Rick storms out, thumping all the lockers out in the corridor, because he's just! That! Angry!

Back in the club room, Kathleen tells Caitlin to face the fact that she made a mistake and can't be perfect all the time. Then they go back to debating the club's name. Caitlin, yet again, looks tormented, and there's more gritty music.

Afterwards, everyone's heading out for lunch, and they pass Rick in the corridor. Kathleen turns up her nose, and Susie gives him that awkward smile people give you when they want to tell you, as politely as possible, to fuck off and never bother them again. Last of all is Caitlin. "What a bunch of do-gooders, eh?" says Rick. Caitlin tells him to get away from her. "You made me look dumb! I stood up for you! They said you were stupid and I said you weren't! But they were right. And after I tried to help you and everything!" Ouch.

"Help me?" asks Rick. "What am I, your project or something? Anyways, I helped you! I thought up the announcements, I went to the factory, I made you go in. So I'm not rich like you, so I don't do too good in school – that doesn't make me a charity case." Caitlin listens with growing horror, and by the end is so beaten down that she doesn't even think to tell Rick that he doesn't do too well in school, not "too good".

On his way out the door, Rick turns to deliver the death blow: he only joined the committee because he liked Caitlin, not because he wanted help. The theme tune plays, very slowly, so you know it's a very sad moment. You've screwed up badly, Caitlin. And you only get one chance with Rick Monroe.

Oh hey, the subplot! Yick's rummaging through a pile of locker crap, as usual. Arthur appears, and reluctantly shuffles over to talk to him. Yick demands his vase, and Arthur tentatively shows him the crappily glued wreckage. Yick gets mad because he won't have anything to show when he talks to the class. "Just tell them how you and your family got here," says Arthur. "It's a great story, and it really happened!" Yick storms off, to inappropriately perky music.

By the next scene, however, he's completely come around to the idea somehow. He gives his speech to the other kids about how his family were at sea for more than a month, dodging pirates and so on, and how he doesn't have anything to show because they couldn't bring anything with them. Everyone's all moved, and applauds him, and Susie's NASA emblem has been well and truly one-upped, and Ms Avery even puts her hand on his shoulder.

But Rick doesn't care, because he's got problems of his own. He angsts off downstairs, watched by Kathleen and Caitlin (who's wearing a headband again; headbands will soon become as much a part of her character as meddling and middle-class guilt). "Our community just wasn't appropriate for someone like Rick," says Kathleen, then announces she's thought of a new name: "The Degrassi Junior High Anti-Pollution and Pro-Environmental Action Committee". Caitlin turns around and calls Kathleen a jerk. I'm pretty sure the script then called for her to storm off down the stairs, but instead she just kind of meanders slowly down, pausing here and there for a glance around, and the scene trails off. Nice.

Back in the classroom, everyone's just about finished fangirling Yick. Once the others are gone, Arthur comes over and hands him some money, and promises to give him his pocket money forever, then get a job and give him his salary until the vase is paid for. Yick hesitates, then gives Arthur the money back, and admits that he bought the vase and "it's not a family hair-loom or anything". I can't tell if that's a deliberate joke or if nobody bothered to tell the poor kid how to pronounce "heirloom".

Anyway, they yell at each other for lying, then smile and go off to be stupid somewhere else, where I don't have to watch them.

After school, Caitlin comes over to Rick at the bike racks. He asks her what she wants, and she apologises for being spectacularly patronising, then tells him that smoking is really stupid. Plus ça change. Rick just gives his standard brush-off response: "Yah, yah." So… I guess he'll just keep smoking, then.

After a pause, Caitlin also admits that he was right about the evil factory guy not listening to them, then angsts about how she wishes there was something they could do. Rick suggests telling the paper about what happened, in order to stir up some publicity. Which just might work, if there's a reeeeeally slow news day any time soon.

Caitlin grabs Rick and gives him a platonic kiss, so far from his mouth that it's practically on the back of his head. "You're brilliant!" she exclaims. Rick looks theatrically around, and then shushes her. "I have a reputation," he says. Awww.

And yet again, the closing credits play over an unbelievably unflattering still of one of the Degrassi kids. Sadly, it seems smoking has already ravaged Rick's teeth. Shane would be delighted.

Dubious lessons of the week: Class-based rage and abuse-based trauma are best channelled into low-level environmental activism. Smoking is totally bad for you, had you heard? Horrible childhood experiences of persecution and displacement make really good anecdotes afterwards, so there's always that.

S01 E08 – Nothing to Fear

Morning. L.D. comes out of her house, eating a scone the size of a man's heart. She goes into a large garage, i.e. the kind where you take your car to be fixed, not the kind you have at your house. Nonsensical country music is playing on the radio – I've tried to decipher the lyrics, but all I can make out is "Your lips roasting at sunset, and bigger out what, you know what you gets it, you know what you got." Perhaps this is some obscure Canadian dialect, because it makes no damn sense in standard English.

Over at one end of the garage, L.D.'s dad and his garage minion are doing car stuff to a car, while L.D.'s dad smokes, which seems like a fire hazard to me, but what do I know? Also, this actor is a very unconvincing smoker. The garage minion tells "Mr. D" to look at what L.D.'s eating, and Mr. D mutters "marshmallows on toast" in a tone of deepest loathing. Which, again, makes no sense because, as I mentioned, she's in fact eating a gigantic scone.

L.D. comes over to say goodbye, and her dad asks if she's finished cleaning the kitchen yet. When she looks shamefaced, he says she has to do it right after school. Without opening her mouth properly, she mumble-lisps that he "promised I could fix Mr. Jeremiah's transmission". Her dad sexists irritably at her: "It's time you stopped monkeying around out here! You're thirteen years old! You're supposed to be turning into a lady! Now go, or you'll be late for school!" His voice has a ridiculous echo; I'm pretty sure his lines were actually dubbed in with a recording made in a giant underground cavern.

L.D. rolls her eyes and leaves, but before she's out of earshot, he shouts at her to get rid of her shocking, manly baseball cap: "You think your mother would let you wear a cap like that?" L.D. mutters "Drop dead" as she cycles away. And I think somebody is going to get an extra-large serving of irony any minute now.

(For those who are reading this without being overly familiar with the show: L.D. always wears a baseball cap. It's kind of her thing. She also wears check flannel shirts, even though she does not listen to grunge. That's how we know she's a tomboy. We've never actually seen her do anything tomboyish.)

As he tries to resume doing non-specific car stuff, Mr. D. suddenly grunts in distress, and clutches his left armpit. Yes, it's annoying when you suddenly realise you forgot to put on deodorant, but there's no need to over-react. Mr. D. sits on the floor, looking irate, and his garage minion runs off to call a doctor. This episode's themes of contentious tomboyism and parental heart attacks firmly established, it's time for the opening credits.

In school, Ms Avery (rocking a blue shoulder-padded power dress, yet another diamante belt, and career-woman neck scarf, with – in a brief departure from her usual left-wingitude – a giant hairdo reminiscent of Sarah Palin) is outlining some dumbass make-work project in which the kids have to split up into groups and map sections of the neighbourhood. Spike, L.D. and Voula are in a group together, and it seems they'll be mapping the area around a hospital. "I hate hospitals – they give me the creeps," says L.D., an utterance that will be in no way relevant to other events in this episode.

The project's due in on Friday, and L.D. doesn't think they can get it done on time, but Voula, young Stakhanovite that she is, says it'll be ok if they start today and work hard and so on. L.D., of course, has to clean the kitchen this afternoon, but the others say they can meet her afterwards. She complains that her dad was ok before her brothers moved out, but "now it's nag, nag, nag, like I'm supposed to be a little princess or something". Yeah, because princesses get nagged a lot? I guess? Also, given what happens in this episode and the complete absence of L.D.'s alleged brothers throughout, I stand by my theory that they don't exist. They are simply a delusion she's developed as an embodiment of the patriarchal forces that daily threaten to destroy her.

Voula mentions that her dad is pretty strict, but we all know that doesn't really count, because he's ethnic (and a former dictator) and it's expected of him. But we have a right to expect better of non-immigrant parents! L.D. continues to complain about how her dad won't let her do car stuff any more, and she's supposed to be a lady all of a sudden, and sometimes she wishes he'd get out of her life IRONY ALERT.

Meanwhile, Caitlin and Melanie are chatting about someone Melanie likes, and it is in fact Snake the Man-god, who's standing right behind them. Melanie, not even a little bit embarrassed by this, turns around and says a very grinny hello, and he says hello back, and it's all very awkward and cute.

And if you thought we were actually going to have a non-Yick-and-Arthur-related subplot for once, I have bad news for you. They're with Susie in the library, and she's berating them in her usual emotionless monotone: "'We'll be careful,' you said. 'We know how to take care of him,' you said." "Susie, be reasonable!" whines Arthur. "Reasonable? You want me to be reasonable?" snaps Susie, who for some reason seems to think that being reasonable is entirely beyond her abilities – which is actually true, at least when there's a supposed lesbian around.

Melanie comes in, sits down next to a large terrarium, and asks what's going on. "These guys left the top open. Amadeus is gone," says Susie. Melanie stares at the terrarium and explains to herself, and us, that Amadeus is "the snake", and was there seriously no less clumsy way for the writers to explain this situation to us? As Susie continues to rant at the boys, Melanie rambles to herself about how "Amadeus is loose in the school… slithering… slinking… waiting to crawl up somebody's leg… " Susie tells the boys to look for Amadeus, and they proceed to wander around the library calling his name. They truly are stupid: everybody knows the only person who can help them now is Barry White.

That afternoon, L.D. cycles back into the garage, where she's met by her dad's minion. He brings her up to speed in the least sensitive way ever: "Your dad's in the hospital… it's his heart, or something." Yeah, thanks for that, garage minion. Anyway, he gives L.D. a list of stuff her dad asked her to bring to the hospital for him, and in another show of diplomacy, observes that Mr. D was "grumpy as ever" and says that his health problems are all his own fault. He then struts off. Considering he doesn't actually seem to be trying to be an asshole, he's doing a remarkably good job of it.

Outside the school, Voula and Spike sit despondently on the steps. Voula's donned a gigantic, tourist-issue Aran sweater over her Russian peasant ensemble. Why wear one kind of lumpish Eurasian traditional outfit when you could can two at a time? "I bet L.D. won't show," says Spike. "I did a science project with her last year, remember? I ended up doing all the work." Voula points out that L.D. had the flu, but Spike darkly replies, "She's always got excuses."

Speaking of which, L.D. is at home, packing her dad's stuff. All the products in the bathroom are weirdly unlabelled, perhaps to compensate for the blatant product placement of three episodes ago. Also, her dad has apparently requested she bring him a huge pile of dishtowels.

As she puts some framed photos into a bag for him, she comes to a photo of a woman (presumably Mrs. D) with a baby (presumably the young L). And the show goes to a whole new level of manipulativeness, as we hear in voiceover Young L.D. asking her dad, "Why did they take Mummy to a hospital?" Flashback Voicover Mr. D explains that her mom's not feeling well, and she's gone to hospital so she can feel better, and he promises that her mom will be home soon. LIES.

Voula and Spike are still waiting, and eventually decide to phone L.D. Which, hilariously, actually entails getting up and going into the school to find a phone. Ugh, the old days! Also, why are Spike's tapered trousers always like an inch too short? For someone with such "outrageous" punk hair, her middle-aged spinster clothes are really incongruous.

In the garage, Mr. D's minion answers the phone (a rotary phone, with a real bell inside. Crazy) and gives the receiver to L.D. Voula nasally asks where she is, which is in fact a spectacularly stupid question considering they phoned her, on a landline. L.D. says she forgot to meet the others and offers no explanation, and pretty much hangs up on them. "I told you she's always got excuses," bitches Spike.

"Ready to come to the hospital?" asks the garage minion. L.D. looks terrified and says she's going to stay at home, since she still hasn't cleaned up the kitchen. Minion claims her dad would rather see her than a clean kitchen, but L.D. doesn't dignify this assertion with an answer, and says she'll visit him tomorrow if he's not out by then. Eventually, the garage minion gives in and heads off on his motorbike, and L.D. locks up the garage. Which, in place of a real shopfront, has yet another of those damn handlettered bubble-writing posters in the front window. Aaargh, the '80s!

Next morning, Arthur and Yick are in Doris Bell's office, making an announcement over the PA about the missing snake. As Arthur witters about how there's no need to worry, because Amadeus is "friendly, for a snake, and not at all poisonous", we see Melanie clump into school in a pair of tight jeans, which have been tucked into a huge pair of boots (I think they're ice skates with the skatey bit removed) and then heavily masking-taped around the ankles. She anxiously checks her locker for snakes, and in the background we see Joey grab Snake and yell, "I got the snake!" Well, at least we got that inevitable joke out of the way quickly.

In an unnecessary bit of exposition, Alex asks Melanie what's the deal with her boots, and she explains that it's an anti-snake precaution. Alex smirks and walks off. Melanie then says hello to Snake, who answers, "Nice boots, Melanie." But, you know, not meanly enough to disrupt the cuteness of their hamfisted flirting.

Later, in the gym, the girls are warming up. L.D. comes over to Voula and Spike and, lest we briefly forget that she is a tomboy, declares, "Thank goodness for gym, eh? Only place in the whole school that's comfortable!" Spike snarks at her about not turning up yesterday. Voula (who's not wearing her glasses, and would actually be quite pretty if not for her enormous eyebrows) says that there's lots more to do, and L.D. should come along today.

L.D. says she can't, and Spike totally loses it: "You think it's fair that we have to do all the work? Why don't you help for a change?" Eventually, L.D. does the sensible thing and actually explains that her dad's in the hospital. Suitably mortified, Spike and Voula apologise and say she doesn't have to help with the project. L.D. looks tormented. The background music is incongruously cheery.

After school, Snake and Wheels are chatting about the snake. "I heard it's in the girls' washroom," says Wheels. "So stay out of there, ok?" "Yeah, all right," says Snake, like he totally would hang around in there under normal circumstances, but if there's a snake in there he'd better stay away for a day or two.

L.D.'s heading home too, and everyone is sending their best wishes to her dad. Which is something I think most young teenagers would be waaaay too embarrassed to do. Joey, of all people, comes up to her and gently says, "Tell him Joey said to stay cool," without even asking if she'd be a doll and hurry up with his dad's transmission. As L.D. cycles off, we hear Steph and Lucy talking about how the snake is in the boys' washroom. Hilarity!

At home, L.D. goes into the garage, where her dad's minion is under a car, you guessed it, doing car stuff. She nervously goes up to him, carrying some flowers wrapped in cellophane. He's glad that she's evidently going to visit Mr. D, "but don't let him talk you into getting him more cigarettes – he tried that on me". Mr. D clearly does not learn.

L.D. sits down on the garage floor, a manly act which her father would almost certainly disapprove of, and asks the garage minion how long he's had his own apartment, and what it's like living alone. Minion says it's pretty rad most of the time, there's nobody telling him what to do, but sometimes he gets so lonely he has to put the TV on the kitchen table "so I won't have to eat alone". There's a nice little snapshot of bleak urban alienation for you, folks.

But, on the other hand, at least garage minion is not a tragic orphan: his parents live around the corner and he can go there for dinner whenever he wants. L.D. looks crushed, reckoning that if her dad dies and she is thus tragically orphaned, she probably won't be able to depend on Mom Minion for some home-cooked meals. You could always go live with your brothers, L.D. Oh wait.

Eventually, Minion realises the point of this conversation, and tries to reassure L.D. that her dad isn't dying, but she's not really convinced. She's also horrified to learn that Minion can't go to the hospital with her, because "Mr. Jeremiah's screaming for his car back". Wow, Mr. Jeremiah is in fact less classy than Joey. That takes some doing. Also, Minion is brandishing a lightbulb in his hand and somehow making it light up, which is a nifty trick. Looking distinctly ill, L.D. sets off for the hospital.

Next we see her outside the hospital, with some ominous bass strumming in the background. She shuffles into the building, and I think she's meant to look scared but she really just looks disgusted by all the sick people. Again, and with some extra echo effects, we hear Flashback Voicover L.D. asking her dad why Mummy's gone to the hospital, and Flashback Voiceover Mr. D saying that Mummy will be fine and hospital is where people go to get well. LIES. Oh yeah, just in case you hadn't noticed, L.D. has hospital-related trauma issues. There are also some super-creepy surrealist whooshing sounds in the background, yet again adding a vaguely Lynchian feel to proceedings.

Eventually, L.D. panics and gives the bunch of flowers to a receptionist, asking for them to be sent up to her dad ("Mr. Delacorte"). The receptionist is another inexplicably English dame, like the bra lady from a few episodes back, and what is it with this show and its weird old English women? L.D. scuttles out of the hospital, nearly wrenching the too-slow automatic doors open with her bare hands, another act of masculinity which her father would disapprove of. Commercial break.

Some time later, L.D. is standing across the road from the hospital. She goes into a phone booth and, in a scene that is surely stretched out unnecessarily, slooowly phones her dad. As they talk, we see him sitting in his hospital bed, from the neck down only, interspersed with shots of the stuff on his bedside table. It makes the scene creepy and mysterious for no reason. Was the actor briefly unavailable or something, so they filled in with some randomer and hoped we wouldn't notice? Because… it's pretty noticeable.

Anyway, L.D. asks her dad how he is, and he says he'll be fine (the camera pans over the framed photo of the late Mrs. D, to remind us of his track record as a LIAR in these matters) but he needs some more tests. When he asks why L.D. didn't call up to see him, she tells him that she had to go work on the mapping project, and her friends are waiting for her right now. Hm, seems like being a LIAR is a family trait.

Anyway, they say goodbye, and as a parting shot, Mr. D. asks, "How's that kitchen? You cleaned it yet? I don't want to get home and find it a mess." Patriarchal brute. We finally see his face at the very end, looking sad and lonely, and I still have no idea what the hell was going on with this scene.

Next morning, in school. Yick, Arthur and Susie are sneaking down into the school basement, with a big cardboard box, and I get an unpleasant sense that some wackiness is imminent. The kids bicker over whether the snake is likely to be in the basement: Arthur says yes, because snakes are cold-blooded so Amadeus is probably keeping warm in the boiler room, while Yick says no, because he doesn't understand what "cold-blooded" means. The cardboard box has some leaves taped to the corners, and crude drawings of grass, snakes, and mice on the sides. How old are these kids, seriously? Susie's worried that the snake might have gone off and got run over, but Arthur says they're sure to catch him with this spiffy cardboard box trap, which Yick is baiting with lunch meat. Because snakes love lunch meat!

Mmm, lunch meat.

So yeah. The kids sneak into the boiler room, and it seems kind of lax on the part of the school authorities to not, I don't know, lock the door? And by "lax" I mean "criminally negligent".

Up in the corridor, Melanie's still wearing her taped-up giant boots (and carrying her stylish Speedo gym bag, by the way). While she stows her stuff in her locker, Mr. Lawrence makes an announcement on the PA: "Please be aware that there is only one serpentine creature at large. Rumours of a dozen missing tarantulas are utterly without foundation." Yeah, sure, that's what they all say, until people start turning up dead.

Meanwhile, Alex and a couple of extras are hiding behind her opened locker door, and they sneak a very fake-looking plastic snake over the top of it. Melanie doesn't notice until it's at her eye level, then catches sight of it and shrieks, "SNAKE!" Snake thinks she's calling him, just to make things more embarrassing, and the other guys run away, laughing hysterically at her. Until they're spotted by Mr. Raditch, who seemingly dishes out the Stinkeye to anyone who seems too exuberant, just in case.

Melanie, seemingly pushed over the edge by this prank, just hides her face in shame and beats her head gently against her locker, not noticing that Snake is walking off with an affectionate smile. Mr Raditch stares at Melanie in total bafflement. Apparently the mechanics of adolescent embarrassment are beyond his ken.

In the classroom, Voula is carrying an envelope on which she's written "Flower MONEY", and also drawn a flower for the benefit of her stupider classmates. People are putting money in the envelope. Money with which to buy flowers. It seems the kids of Degrassi are pretty upset about Mr. D being sick; Spike helpfully reminds everyone that he sponsored their softball team last year (I dunno, sport sounds pretty unladylike to me) and even Steph is 100% in favour of sending him flowers. And truly Mr. D's plight has brought everyone together, because Voula even lets Steph express her opinion without launching a savage, painfully clumsy verbal attack on her.

Voula and Spike, obviously still feeling guilty about their previous judgeathon, say they'll take the flowers to the hospital at lunchtime. Surely they should make some handlettered posters too?

When L.D. comes in, everyone shuts up about the flower plan, and Voula asks how her dad is. L.D. cagily says that he's still in the hospital, and Voula, in a rare show of dumbassedness, asks her, "How do his eyes look? My grandmother says you can tell a person's health by looking in their eyes." Oh, ethnic people and their crazy ideas! L.D. mumbles that his eyes look the same as always, she guesses. Just then, Ms Avery creates a diversion by telling everyone that their mapping projects are going great. She delivers light shoulder-pats all round. Lesbian!

At lunchtime, we see Voula and Spike emerge from the hospital gift shop with a bunch of yellow chrysanthemums that might actually be one of the ill-fated bouquets from last episode. I would not put it past this show. They meander around the hospital and eventually find Mr. D's room. Spike, in the grand style of punk kids everywhere, has Tipp-exed some band names on her schoolbag: I can make out "The Cult" and "The Furs". I'm not sure if I'm disappointed or grudgingly impressed to learn that both bands actually exist.

Mr. D is morosely hunched over a ghastly hospital meal, framed photo of the late Mrs. D positioned prominently on his nightstand. He's a bit surprised to see Voula and Spike, but is touchingly pleased by the flowers. The girls explain that L.D. doesn't know they're there, and Spike says they wanted her to see the flowers next time she visits. "Next time?" says Mr. D sadly. "She hasn't been here yet. …But I understand she's got a big mapping project that's keeping her real busy." Yeah, I always use that excuse when I'm avoiding someone. Works every time.

The girls stare at him in horror, because Mr. D is putting on a brave face but it's pretty clear how depressed he is by this (admittedly very depressing) situation. He asks them to tell L.D. that he's going to be okay. They continue to stare.

Back at school, Arthur and Yick sneak back into the boiler room. They're wildly excited to see the trap has been sprung. Arthur bends down to investigate. "Oh no," he groans. "Dead?" asks Yick. "Rubber," says Arthur, holding up the toy snake from earlier Actually, much as I hate to admit it, that was kind of a funny prank by the other guys.

Voula and Spike are awkwardly saying their goodbyes to Mr. D. Out in the corridor, they share a long, intense stare that could be meant to express anything from terror to lust to "Seriously, WTF is up with L.D.?" I'm going with the latter. Spike declares that L.D. is "acting weeeeird".

Speaking of which, we next see L.D. huddled in the dark, sitting on the floor of the gym under a sadly ironic motivational poster. The effect is kind of weird. Voula comes in and says they've been looking everywhere for L.D., who says nothing in response. Voula explains that she's been to the hospital, and L.D. asks, "How do his eyes look?" She may or may not be trying to sound witheringly sarcastic, I'm not sure, but Voula doesn't understand sarcasm in others anyway, and just says that his eyes, and the rest of him, look fine. L.D. is not particularly comforted.

Out in the corridors, everyone's bustling around. Mr. Lawrence is on the PA again, reassuring everyone that "any cafeteria menus featuring Shepherd's Python or Corn on the Cobra are merely the product of a warped sense of humour". Wow, they're faking menus now? I kind of admire these kids' dedication.

Voula has refused to butt out, and is sitting on the floor beside L.D. "How come you don't go visit him?" she asks. L.D. mumbles a Tragic Backstory in Bullet Points: "When my mom got sick, she went into the hospital. Everyone said she was gonna be okay. I went to visit her. Then she died."

Voula has some truly revelatory words of wisdom: "Just because you go to the hospital doesn't mean you die." YOU DON'T SAY, VOULA. She starts droning on about getting her tonsils out last year, but L.D. interrupts her to say that her dad really doesn't want her there anyway. "He doesn't like me. I'm not at all like he wants me to be. He always yells at me. I always do stuff wrong." Voula remarks that he sounds like a normal dad to her, you know, except for the fact that L.D.'s dad strangely doesn't spend most of his time planning proletarian revolutions. "He needs you," she insists. "You're all he's got left." There's an overlong silence; I think one of the girls forgot her lines.

Closeup on L.D.'s legs in a pair of horrible tight tapered jeans, walking unsteadily into the hospital. Yet again, we hear the same voiceover flashback, as she makes her way through the corridors, confusingly mingled with the announcements on the hospital PA. Did they just page "Doctor Chlamydia"? This show is twisted.

Back in the school library, Arthur and Yick are looking under the couch cushions. In marches Susie. "Haven't you guys found Amadeus yet?" she asks, in possibly her most dead-voiced line delivery yet. Arthur insists that they're doing everything they can.

As the three bicker inanely (Yick suggesting that they should "do a dog" for their next class project, which… ew), Melanie walks in, cautiously scanning the area for snakes. She hears a squeaking sound and gasps. Over in the corner, Snake looks up from the huge glitter-covered dolls' house he's playing with. Look, I don't write this show, OK? He's 15. It makes no sense. Melanie realises that the noise is coming from a gym bag someone left on the table. She looks down, and sees Amadeus in the bag, flicking his tongue and making this weird squeaking noise. Do snakes do that?

Melanie opens her mouth to scream, but Snake's staring at her, and she doesn't want to look stupid in front of him, so she just nervously asks Susie to come over. Susie, overjoyed, picks up the snake and puts him around Arthur's neck (can you fashion a live snake into a noose?). "He's not slimy," Melanie realises. "He's kind of cute!"

Just then, Alex and his unspeaking henchmen come in. When he sees the snake, he panics, and his nostrils go even more enormous than usual. "Keep that thing away from me!" he tells Arthur, then runs out of the room. The others mock his weakness. "Honestly," says Melanie, "some people are afraid of the silliest things." Oh, the hilarity!

L.D. is still stumbling around the hospital, trying to find her way while being barged into by nurses wheeling dying people on trolleys. It's not a calming experience. And we get a new voiceover flashback! It's hugely long and bonusly traumatic: first Voiceover Flashback L.D. (who it turns out is actually named Lorraine) has gone into her mother's hospital room, and been freaked out by all the machines.

Next, she gets upset because her mother's been in hospital so long. Then, her dad's trying to comfort her/fob her off, when a doctor asks to speak to him in private. As Modern-Day L.D. gets to the door of her dad's room, Flashback Dad explains that Mummy won't be coming home. And right on cue, we see that Modern-Day Dad's hospital room has been vacated. Ouch.

L.D., horrified, goes into the room and reverentially takes off her baseball cap. Sad electric guitar music plays as she sits on the bed. And her plight is pretty heartbreaking, and we've all learned a valuable lesson about making the most of our time with the people we love, because they won't be around forever… *sniff*

Oh no, wait! It was just an incredibly manipulative trick from the writers. L.D.'s dad chirpily walks into the room, dressed and carrying an overnight bag. "You're alive!" exclaims L.D. "Of course I'm alive!" says her dad. "It's gonna take more than a little angina to stop me!" "Angina?" asks L.D., looking confused but not nearly as weirded out as most people are the first time they hear that word.

Mr. D says it's nothing serious, and he needs to take better care of himself, and they stare meaningfully at each other for a while before turning to go. L.D. chatters about how "from now on I'll be just like you want", but her dad interrupts her to say that she left her Baseball Cap of Manliness on the bed. He places it on her head in a symbolic gesture, and they walk happily down the corridor, and I swear someone called "Dr Mojo" is being paged on the PA, which is really distracting.

"If you think hospitals are scary," says Mr. D, "you should try being the father of a teenage daughter!" Which is a lovely thing for a father to say to his kid. "Don't worry," says L.D., "you'll get over it!" And off they go, friends at last. At least until he gets home and sees the state of the kitchen.

Dubious lessons of the week: If your parent has a heart attack, it's your fault for wishing it on them. Voiceover flashbacks are less dramatically effective the more you use them. Hospitals do not necessarily equal instant death. If you bait a trap with lunch meat, all you'll catch are teenage boys.