Teased by his steaming drunk mates that he’s a mummy’s boy and under his wife’s thumb – a fair enough observation – he declares: ‘I’ve got my Sonia. She’s the most brilliant fing that’s ever ’appened to me. An’ I’d never do anyfing to make ’er doubt me, or be ashamed of me… That’s right, I love ’er.’
So much so that he staggers off home with a stray waitress and, reverting to the Fowler we all know and hate, he sleeps with her.
But if Martin and Sonia are what passes for a good marriage in Walford, then Sam should think again about walking down the aisle with Andy on September 16.
Minty has agreed to be the official usher. And, if the wedding is as loud and violent as Andy’s attempt to get hitched to Kat, he’ll be needed.
Because someone will have to shout out: ‘Can we ’ave a bit of ’ush in ’ere?’ Ouch!
ALSO
l As Dot goes into hospital, Jim frets that death may part them. He uncharacteristically tries to contact God and his prayers seem to be answered. There’s a lock-in at the Vic and free booze while he waits to see how Dot’s op goes. So it isn’t all bad news for him, then…
Fowler Play
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