Skins Review: Sweaty, Sweaty, Skin

Come on guys you know the Skins drill by now: Bristol, rich kids, drugs, drama, overwrought emotional turmoil, and sweat… buckets and buckets of filthy sweat dripping from practically every pore of every person.

And this week's Skins hasn't left us asking specific questions about it, rather, more of a pondering on an overarching issue. Basically, have you noticed that the entire world and all its inhabitants are based in Bristol? No matter how unlikely it is to find Moroccan drug lords and Russian gangsters in Bristol, there they all are.

We've been to Bristol, and multicultural it ain't.

This week, while you were giving yourself a pedicure, you missed Nick attempting to find shed loads of cash for some rather disconcerting Russian men. He was tasked with this by his brother who definitely couldn't go to The British Embassy to get himself a passport to travel back home and wreck some more lives, nope.

During all this Nick decided to instead go to a 40-hour rave spend £35 on a bottle of champers of which he would only drink one glass before copping off with some ugly girl, shagging the ugly girl and somehow spending about £600 in the process.

And you're about up to speed we reckon. How dull.

Nick won the award for Best Worst Brother Of The Year by successfully leaving his sibling stranded in Morocco, losing two grand, and stealing his girlfriend… but since he's now never going to see him again, it doesn't really matter does it? We vote for the episode where they hold a fake funeral for him and all get high on crystal meth. When we say, "All," we don't mean every single one of the characters because, at this point, the others have been demoted to the extra's salary.

Next week looks set to continue this seasons 'couple' theme by focusing on the side splittingly funny/heartbreakingly vomit inducing relationship (if you can call screaming at each other occasionally a relationship – which we do), between Minnie and Alo.

When we started reviewing Skins, we thought it would be funny, but week by week we are demoralised by the lack of cohesion between this and any facet of real life. Even the bedrooms have been hand-picked from Hipster Billionaires-R-Us as Nick perfectly demonstrated last night in his bed with the awesomely cool boom-box headboard; no wonder he's bedding all the women, even Frankie humped him when she saw that mother.

Christ it's bad.

We're going to go into our cold mediocre Ikea made bed and shiver ourselves to sleep dreaming neon dreams of cocaine hills and we suggest you just end it all now before you become this.