Made In Chelsea 14.8: Alik is shamed, Harry Baron is defamed, and ladies DO NOT LOVE Creepy James

Before we begin this week's episode of Made In ChelseaMade In Chelsea, we need to talk about Alik. It doesn’t seem like that long ago was a cheery, benevolent figure - an entirely pleasant combination of Brian Blessed and Vinny, the fictional cartoon dog that briefly replaces Brian Griffin in Family Guy. Then, when he turned up in London last week, New Alik was a different hybrid - Robert De Niro in Raging Bull crossed with an actual bull. The angry energy emanating from him was opaque, and fetid as a hangover fart. If you were watching MIC for the very first time, you could be forgiven for thinking that Ryan had killed everyone Alik cared about and put a curse on him which meant that every step Alik took felt like stepping on an upturned plug. I have a gloomy theory that this might be Trump Era Alik, and this might be the crazed behaviour of a man living in New York during a Republican administration.

This theory is proven further when Sam takes Alik out for a beer and tells him to stop being a total dick. ‘I’M A DICK! I’M PROUD OF BEING A DICK!’ screams Alik. Agony aunt supreme, Heather Havrilesky, once advised a self improvement addict to ‘lean into the worst version of yourself’ and I was right with her, but I suspect that was not a suitable column for Alik. ‘I’m confident in my 29 year old body. And my manliness. and my berrr-ain,’ he shouts. It’s as if he started reading a manual on the plane about how to be a human being, but got bored after page 12 and found a load of Danny Dyer films on the entertainment system.

Victoria and Mark Francis are planning a birthday party for Toff - let’s hope they can wait until she’s back from Australia! Oddly, Mark has been sent a parrot, which makes me worry that he’s demanded some sort of bespoke Birchbox style subscription package from London Zoo. He says the kindest and most compassionate thing he has ever been known to utter. ‘It occasionally smells a little, but I suppose it’s not his fault.’ He then undoes all of his good work by saying ‘I won’t have a buffet until I’m dead.’ I mean, and I think about this a lot, one of my greatest fears is that my funeral buffet will be really excellent, and I won’t be around to partake. I am thinking about making a will, just so `I can put in a clause about my coffin having a pork pie funnel. The parrot has inspired Mark to throw a party with a stinky bird theme…sorry, a Birds of Paradise theme.

Nasty little Sam Prince had got a nasty little friend, James, who speaks like he’s a minor cast member in Cruel Intentions 11, with his talk of ‘high end girls’ and his creepy sneer. Ladies Loathe Creepy James. Although worryingly, Frankie might be in the market. Her pal Habbs is new to the show and newly single, and they’re planning a big night out. I suspect that they think they want to go to the club for a wild and sexy time, but they really just want to hang out in a place where they don’t feel obliged to wear enormous coats indoors. Harry’s lapels are so big that you could build a new branch of DSTRKY on them.

Alik gets Victoria on side, while doing a mysterious, clunky Dick Van Dyke impression - in fact he makes Dick sound like Ralph Fiennes in The English Patient. ‘Call it what it is. Strength versus weakness, confidence versus insecurity!’ blusters Alik. Erm, Dumbell versus Bellend? Proof of Alik’s stupidity is evidenced by the fact that he plans to permanently move to the UK on January 1. A bank holiday? No trains? Taxis charging double time? Nowhere open to buy milk so that you can have a cup of tea while you start the humping of boxes? Idiot.

In the club, poor Sam Prince and James show up wearing the same poor quality shirts, with half of the buttons fallen off. How embarrassing for them. They have tried and failed to distract everyone from this by putting on approximately a thousand necklaces. I guess Elizabeth Duke had some big reductions for Black Friday. James tries it on with Frankie, telling her she’s ‘the creme de la creme!’ Don’t do it, Frankie! He probably has an entire bathroom cabinet filled with ‘sensual oils’! And it’s at his Mum’s house!

Louise and Biscuits have an odd dinner at his, in which Biscuits tells Louise that she needs to establish some sort of civility with Alik for the sake of the group, and Louise doesn’t tell Biscuits that he needs to buy some proper dining chairs, becuase they both have their chins on the table; Toff upsets Mark Francis by daring to ask how the party planning is going, and mentioning sausages on sticks. Liv suggests Mytton might like to hook up with Habbs, and Mytton accuses Frankie of being desperate for thinking of asking James on a date. Usually, we’d say that it is Frankie’s feminist right to ask anyone she likes for a date, but I sort of agree. She could do better than James by getting romantically involved with Harry’s enormous jacket.

James, proving my point every time he opens his mouth, interrupts a drinks meeting with Harry and Sam T to tell Harry that Sam Prince said rude things about him. ‘I’m a mate of Sam’s,’ he says, pulling up a chair while Sam splutters ‘I’M SAM.’ ‘I’m too old to care about stuff like that,’ sniffs Harry. It is odd that the men of Chelsea are suddenly so excited about being in their late twenties, and while I’m here, how is Alik 29, and not well into middle age?

Alik tries to have it out with Louise, on a chilly bench. Why can’t they settle their differences in a cosy bar? They would be much less cross with each other if they could have wine and chips. They sort of make it up, after Louise has told him he smells like her Dad, hopefully closing their romantic chapter forever and not reopening it in a strange and upsetting way. It’s time for Toff’s party and I am already in a bad mood with Sam Prince who is doing his version of posh dressing and has turned up looking like a a semi professional magician booked to cover a cancellation on a cross channel ferry.

Frankie comes over to see James, who pervily remarks on how her red dress ‘shows off [her] figure’ and suggests that they go running together. ‘Gym gear can be pretty forward. It’s like wearing a bikini on a first date,’ he adds. If you listen carefully you can hear his trousers crackle and crust over. Finally, James mooches towards Harry who has one last, tedious scrap with Sam Prince. Six months ago, if you’d asked me to bet my life savings against ever becoming an enthusiastic supporter of Harry Baron, I would have laughed and whatsapped you my bank sort code. Now I feel foolish, and I feel especially foolish because I’ve been made a fool of by someone who wasn’t old enough to drink during the last Royal Wedding.

Hero of the week

This goes out to the parrot, the only living being to have knowingly elicited kindness and understanding from Mark Francis.

Villain of the week

James the perv, who is less human man and more semi walking around in Turnbull and Asser hand me downs. Do your shirt up and take your hands out of your trousers.

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This article originally appeared on The Debrief.