We here at your Super Funshine Watch With Mothers have a bit of a soft spot for Herr Maximillian Branning. Yes he’s a rotten shit who’s slept with his son’s wife, intimidated his daughter’s boyfriend, tried to strangle his dearly beloved, been run over by his nearest and dearest and slammed his old man up against a wall, and yes he’ll turn on the waterworks if he thinks it’ll get him back in his wife Tanya’s knickers or stop his brother from shooting his head off, but Gawd bless ‘im, we wouldn’t have it any other way. Max brings a ray of shitshine into the dank and unhappy corners of Albert Square … and we applaud him from the very bowels of our telly-addled eyes for that.
Arriving in 2006, Max wasted no time heralding the dawn of a bright new ‘Stenders era when he physically threatened his dear old dad, Jim. Before the attack, Jim had been the jovial old buffer we knew ‘n’ loved; boozing down the Vic with his partner-in-crime, Patrick, collecting his pots for his beer money, sizing up to the problem of consumating his marriage to an elderly woman … good old Jim.
But what’s this?
As revealed by Max, loveable old Jim had a past. Curmudgeonly cove Jim had once buried his young son alive six feet under in a coffin after a drunken bender out with the boys … as you do.
Suddenly, thanks to an angry bald ginger man, Jim had a past. He wasn’t the lovely old fella we’d grown to know and love, but was in fact a pissed-up tyrant from the olden days with a penchant for premature burial. Who’d have thunk it?
And so the Reign of the Brannings began. Soon Max’s MILFtastic wife Tanya arrived with his two kids in tow (one of whom is The Most Annoying Child EastEnders Has Ever Had©). Viewers could put aside their gripes about the bi-annual five-a-side pub football storyline and concentrate on lapping up the misadventures of the most interesting clan to hit the Square since the Watts collectively got stabbed, fucked off back to America, did whatever Vicky did and died for a second time after being hit over the head with an ornamental cast-iron dog.
THWACK!
What times we’ve had since the arrival of Max. Before him and his brood showed up, we had to put up with that miserable old bag Pauline’s boring relationship with the voice of Mr. Benn; we had to suffer Kat and Alfie’s never-ending on / off relationship; we had that outbreak of deeply disturbing old love that made you sick to your damned stomach and we had to put up and shut up with the undignified way the bastard writers killed off both Paul and the late, lamented Barry Evans.
But now? Now we’ve got Max – a womanizing, hard-drinking, fag-smoking, insurance-selling, crocodile tear-shedding shitbag who’ll sell his own mother into slavery for a bit of skirt. No matter whether he’s banging away at the saucy young spouse of his own son, being buried alive by his cuckolded wife and her psychotically unfortunate beau, hiding the family silver up his brother’s girlfriend’s unmentionables or plotting to frame that very same jug-eared caveman brother for a crime he didn’t commit, Albert Square has never been a more interesting place thanks to the arrival and subsequent underhanded deeds of this well-written and masterfully-acted character.
Long may you live, Max Branning, you big bastard, you! Long may you inexplicably carry on keeping hold of both your driving license and your job regardless of the fact you put away double-whiskeys daily down at your local pub! Long may you continue punching way above your weight with a bevy of ladies you wouldn’t have thought you’d have stood a rat’s chance in hell with! And long may you worm your way back into your family’s affections regardless of who you’ve fucked (or fucked over) this week!
And please, writers of EastEnders, let’s not let him slip into the role of a comatose family man now he’s back with his wife. We wouldn’t, after all, have Max any other way than the devious, scheming shithouse we’ve grown to love.
75 Comments
When he cries, he looks like a baby rolled in copper filings.
Max is the best character Stenders has ever had – FACT.
I love Max. I think the actor is really, really good. He can work with 180 degree turns in the character and make it all seem completely believable. I love the way he can breeze up to someone and say something innocuous like “Owrite Tan” but at the same time see into their soul.
You’re right – I’m glad we’re not alone in this. He’s the sort of actor who brings humanity to what could be a very shallow role. Like Paul Truman, David Wickes and Tricky Dicky before him.
The latter is set to return, so I hear.
I also love the spats between Jack and Max when they transform before your eyes into actual 10 year olds.
My missus gets annoyed that I keep getting their names the wrong way round, like I’m their Nan.
They’re bringing Tricky Dicky back?
According to LBC this weekend. The first actor to piss off to Corrie then be allowed back.
The Manc swine.
How’s he going to explain that money he stole from Walford Town Council? I very much doubt Ian’ll let that slide, what with Dicky pretending to tup Cindy to wind him up.
IN THE ‘90S.
Christ – I have to hand it to your memory on that. All I remember is he was a bastard.
Having learnt NOTHING for the first sixteen years of my life other than drink = fun and girls = more fun, there’s still plenty of room in my noggin to house billions of trivial EastEnders facts, Swineshead.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u8tAh4DpnlI
I don’t think the actors in Stenders get nearly enough praise. The bloke who played Tony was terrific. Tanya’s great, and so is Mrs Beale. And Denise is fabulous – I believe everything she says and does (even the hastily inserted and rather creaky topical reference to Michael Jackson they gave her and Patrick a couple of weeks back).
I love these actors so much I don’t *want* to know their real names. And I try to forget that I know the real names of Auntie Peggy, Ronnie, Zainab and, um, Pottery Teacher.
Where’s DINLT? We need to jump about and cheer some kind of sporting victory that we’re not allowed to discuss.
As far as I’m concerned, Paul Trueman WAS real. I hope Andy Hunter’s burning in hell for ordering his murther, the cockshank.
*goes off to write hate-mail to Tony for what he done to Whitney*
Fourstar – Cricket ceased to be interesting when we stopped playing it with the heads of Indian mutineers for balls and their legs for bats. Which was 1857, if memory serves.
Is Nasty Nick still in it?
Ooooh, he was a creep that one
Piqued – No.
FS, were you playing crick… that game, in London Fields saturday? You see, some men were and I thought to myself, I wonder if one of those men is Fourstar of WWM’s blog?
NC, where’s he gone now?
Piqued – No idea. He ran off after his latest attempt to poison Dot ended in a hostage situation in Ian’s burning cafe. No doubt he’ll return with another ingenious scheme to top his mother (poisoning her) in about two years time.
Why are all soap gingers arseholes? This arsehole, his arsehole son, Fizz in Corrie and Chesney, the secret ex-wife in Emmerdale = arseholes.
And why are there no gingers in Hollyoaks?
Dave – It’s because ginger males are either arseholes or violent dwarves (the Scotch, Irish, Welsh, etc.) in real life. Ginger fillies, on the other hand, are fiery temptresses or scheming maniacs.
You arsehole.
piqued – No, not me. I was watching the test match all weekend in my new shed.
And where’s your blog disappeared off to, by the way?
ARSEHOLE!
Here! Did you know that the bloke who played Charlie Cotton in ‘Stenders was married to a woman called Anne Walford?
Wooooooooooooo!
My blogging days are over. It’s time for some new blogging blood to type inanities until they get bored of it. It’s the natural order of things.
All male gingers should be left out overnight at birth. They only end up looking and sounding like Chris Evans.
Lady gingers, however, are delicious, much like a succulent summer strawberry, like the lovely Maria out of Holby City.
Ugly ginger birds, like ugly lesbians, don’t really exist.
I quite like the ginger look of those two blokes on Sarah Silverman and the guy on Mythbusters. That’s where I’m headed.
I’d like to say I don;t fancy the men but as a ginger will adopt their image. Yeah?
WHAT?
Why has it gone quiet? All I said is I want to grow a big ginger beard and wear 80s rock T-Shirts with big, thick and round glasses.
I like them Mythbusters fellas. I watched one of their old ones on Discovery the other day, and they were trying to see how many bananas blah blah blah …
Can’t be arsed.
They are playing the most irritating rock song on Radio 1 at the moment. Paramore or some shit. AAAARRRGHH!
Panama by Van Halen?
No, Paramore is the band name. It’s everything that’s wrong with rock and rock clubs these days. You can’t go to a rock club without seeing cliquey little scrotums with haircuts sat in corners like they’re at a school disco. Paramore is the reason why!
Does one of them sport a beret and butch mustache?
Bananarama?
I suspect a lot of ginger men lurk around here, and were fearing for their bottoms.
I’m spending the afternoon building an effigy of Lord George Gordon, which I will be burning tonight, should anyone want to throw a proddy on the fire.
Paramore, eh. Their lead singer flirts with gingerism. And is a chick.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VEGYgcRFKmc
Paramore? Paraless, more like!
K out of KKKKK
That sounds like that skaterboy song dave
That’s what passes for rock nowadays, is it?
HELLO!
i am practicing my new life by working at home and listening to WWM podcasts at the same time.
also today i think i accidentally made an offer on renting my own flat. i will be poor.
HELLO!
It’s either that crap or horrific ‘deathcore’ that’s sung by ‘cyber goths’.
I don’t know when that meeting happened but I blame Nu Metal and Bebo.
Breeks – I don’t get that. You’ve made an offer to rent a flat you already own? Will you, the landlord, be paying a letting agent a monthly fee to rent it to you, the tenant?
IS THAT WHY YOU’LL BE POOR?
no, i’ve offered to take on renting a flat i don’t own but ON MY OWN so i shall be horrifyingly responsible for all t’bills.
Breeks – Ye Gods! You mean … like everybody else has to? Like an adult?
Christ almighty!
yeah. shit, eh.
My heart goes out to you, Breeks.
*pulls out heart, sends it out to Breeks*
I’ve never tried living on my own. But then, despite the effects of the linear nature of time, i’m not really an adult.
*receives bloody parcel*
awwww.
s’anks.
(i only feel sick because i’ll be paying about 3 times a month what i pay now. vom.).
Actually, that wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had …
*falls down dead*
just grow another nappers. g’arn.
All hail Max Branning, insurance salesman who never sells any insurance. Or works. Ever.
morning. Bree, why are you doing that? Why don’t you move in with your bloke and leech money off him? That’s what they’re there for innit?
*looks back sadly on track record of relationships*
We’re not that stupid!
*sees advert for car with bikini blonde on bonnet*
*buys car*
Hello.
*farts in triumph*
Morning!
Yes, hello Clarry
I feel all self employed, sitting here in my pajamas, playing poker…
I am still without the internets AND Tv this morning and am writing this from a cafe. Looking unlikely that there’ll be a post this morning, so do chat among yourselves. As I’ve been offline since 3pm yesterday thanks to Virgin Media, I doubt I’ll ever get back on…
Watching Eastenders last night, i was struck by the fact that Tania, though rather hot, has a very big face.
*breaks glass on emergency post*
A big hot face?
It’s enormous. Like some medieval shield.
I’ve just been looking at how many Michael Jackson songs he wrote himself. Not many….
Elvis didn’t write many of his own songs. You don’t really hear Jackson referred to as a singer/songwriter… he was a performer, see?
Ahhh poor Swines. That is like a fate worse than death – no TV OR internetz. Seriously, I’m not sure I’d manage long.
Written in deadly serious none sar-car-stick font.
I had just heard someone on the radio mention that he had written “Ben”. I was just having a look.
Apparently that song’s about a mouse MJ befriended when he was wee.
That’s what got me looking http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ben_(song)
Donny Osmond? Good grief…
SH – still no interwebs?! You can come round and use mine if you want, I’m only reading a book about Denis Neilsen and drinking tea.
IT’S FIXED.
But thanks. I might come over anyway and tax all your FAGS.
yep, that would only be fair.
It’s amazing having the internet back, I can procrastinate at high speeds again.
I am off to Argos to buy a paddling pool. I am going to sit in it and drink gin this afternoon.
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