Episode 970-979

EKP: Um, yeah. We thought what with Roman in Munich and Deniz holed up in his monkey cage with his sentient pizza friends (AND YOU TOOK MARC AWAY, YOU BITCH), we might take a few days off. That okay with you?

Show: Sure thing. You'll just miss some whacky Axel illness stuff, more of that MaJe that you claim to be done with, and a bit of TomKat skating.

EKP: Yeah, we can live without that.

Show: Oh, did we mention that Christof directs it, and he's heaped extra helpings of fairydust over the whole thing?

EKP: O RLY?

Show: Also, that he makes every single character sparkle?

EKP: Hmmmm...

Show: Not that you're shallow or anything, but Simone and Lena in nighties? Aliciabelle in a bikini? Oliver chasing Marian across the playground and pulling his pigtails?

EKP: *whimpers*

Show: Yeah, you're still my bitches.

PS: Do Not Fret, incurable Axel lovers... the good doctor is not actually going to kick the bucket. It's an elaborate scheme concocted by Greasy Max (with Simone's okay) to make him believe he is fatally ill (Max slipped him drugs to give him symptoms, and the doctors are bought) and presumably wrestle the well-used company shares out of his grasp. Sadly they forgot to Cc Jenny on the "scheme of the month" memo, as usual.

Flo: Roman misses you.
Deniz: Roman Who?
Marian: You look like shit.
Deniz: I'm fine.
Constanze: How are you, BB?
Deniz: I'M FINE.
Patrick: You ARE fine.
Deniz: Yeah, except, maybe not.
Pillow: Oh, Süßer. C'mere.
Deniz: *crumblecakes*
EKP: Please forgive this temporary lapse in our sincere appreciation of pacing and general gleeful enjoyment of misery, but ROMAN OMG GET YOUR ARSE BACK HERE AND FIX THIS :C :C :C

PS: Oh, fancy that! It's been 200 episodes since the utter bliss of 772! Let's celebrate with a sizable dollop of distilled, utter pain and an excruciatingly relevant woobie montage (TM). Oh Show, why do we love you so, when you're such a mean cunt?

Deniz: Wheeeeeee. I'm awesome, look at me walk. Life rocks. I'm in a fabulous mood. Anyone up for a swim?
Marian: No, dear, that's ok. I'm too busy squabbling over the groceries with your other father.
Deniz: Oh, kk. Weren't you dating some chick?
Marian: Yeah, about that. She's a lying bitch who will never change and we're breaking up.
Oliver: I think I saw a soap like that once.
Marian: I told you not to watch those, Schatz, they warp your brain.
Oliver: Yes, love, you're right, love, please don't yell at me like you did with her, love.
Marian: Anyway, son, have fun! So glad you're feeling better! Your oozy happiness is not at all suspicious.
Florian: Oh for fuck's sake.

P.S. Hey, where's our heartbreaking flashback to 773 and the lake in more blissful times? Or even to AFFE boat in 770? Don't tell us you're going soft, Christof!

In which Deniz is stumped by the logistics of packing an entire bed into a box of woe and burning it, and a fairy crumples and dies with every second of exquisite, soul-tearing agony.

In other news: Thus endeth MaJe. 300 episodes ago, something unexpected, fresh and lovely started with the Steinkamp heiress dragging a befuddled Öztürk Sr. into her whacky DIY abduction plot (not to be confused with the very real Anton Coretti Goes Nuts, Hits A Woman Over the Head and Ties Her Up In A Forest Cabin plot), and an unplanned kiss attack while rolling around in moss and animosity kicked off one of the most intriguing pairings in AWZ's history. We tilted our heads and went "huh, this could be good."

And it was, oh was it ever. There was drama and heartbreak of the highest calibre. When everyone else washed their hands of Jenny and pelted her with abuse and contempt, Marian was there to observe and understand and lend a helping hand, without coddling or passing judgement. When no one else would give her the time of day or bother to try and understand where she was coming from, Marian gave her a place to stay, an open ear, and most importantly, a sense of self-worth. And Jennifer Steinkamp changed, not for ulterior gain or profit or even love; for herself.

This pairing was different. Like all the non-OTPs that Show's more or less lucked into, it was real and enchanting. The sparks were sizzling, the whacky dream sequences made of witty crack and pure comedic gold, the quiet moments of mutual insight lovely and deeply moving. When outside influences started to interfere, we suffered and gnawed our fingers bloody and wibbled for our star-crossed lovers. When they broke up, thinking it couldn't work, yet inexorably were pulled back together, we cried and cheered and hoped that next time would be different.

And then it all went to pot. We're not sure when and where. Pick a place between the third break-up and the twenty-seventh, any place. The fact is that no matter how compelling a pairing or how much chemistry they have, it can't hold up if the only plot they get is an endless loop of betrayal and half-arsed redemption. What's worse, when the message you (deliberately or not) inject into a love story is that it's perfectly acceptable for a guy to give the woman he loves emotionally manipulative ultimatums and crush her spirit by making her believe she is the only one who must change and that she should curb and trim and throttle every last scrap of personality that made her the strong woman he professes to love, while the guy himself morphs into a judgemental macho arse and all the other characters applaud him for it... then YOU ARE DOING IT WRONG.

All of which leads us to... we're done. We're throwing our bills out into the street and declaring it over. We reserve the right to come back later, looking sheepish and mumbling "forget what we said, we need to cover this." But unless something really changes (that something NOT being Jenny!), we're done. Dear MaJe: You shone once. We'll remember the good times. Dear writers: Remember when we told you how loved this pairing was and how chuffed you were? Congratulations, guys, you officially botched it.

When alcohol, drugs, and attempts at random shags aren't enough distraction from your broken heart, try arson! Especially if you can easily get away with it because 500 episodes ago, your father set the flat on fire, so obviously you are now EVEN. Oh Öztürk men, you are dear.

Also, Deniz? Not sure what makes your cunning drug-concealing moves less stealthy: the incessant fidgeting, the shifty eyes, or the blatant money-counting. All combined and topped off by you TAKING OUT THE COKE AND SHAKING IT ABOUT, though? Kind of a giveaway, love.

Roman returns from Munich, begs for Deniz's forgiveness, and they reconcile with schmoopy kisses and a tumble on the red couch.

Yeah, don't know what Show you're watching, but it ain't AWZ. Why dish out a tidy resolution when you can have Deniz's two dads reenacting a painful scene he probably overheard too often growing up, propitious text messages and crushed hopes, and the most cracktastic fantasy since Marian bloodied Axel's nose on the playground.