TV review: Scriptwriters take outrageous licence

Cheryl's fantasy world was full of banal detail and silliness. Photo / Supplied

I've heard a few tales of post-natal yips, but nothing near as wonky as Cheryl West's meltdown in last week's episode of Outrageous Fortune, where she delivered a dead boy and, unnerved by Wayne's accusatory glare, fled the hospital, nicked a car and drove to a beach where she hooked up with former hubby, Wolf.

For a deranged fantasy, for that is what it turned out to be, it was full of banal details, like Wolf preferring bacardi over rum, a trip to a bar to play pool and dance, badly, to Th'Dudes, and breaking into a dairy to satisfy Cheryl's cravings for a Trumpet.

Cue, predictably, ye olde Rachel Hunter Trumpet poster.

Cheryl and Wolf nearly did it on top of the freezer before being, thank God, interrupted by the dairy owner, who recognised them from way back when the West family shoplifted their way through the stock.

The cast of Cheryl's flashback/meltdown even included a park ranger, a character who spoke and looked like a Kiwi caricature, complete with beige knee socks and (yawn) beige mindset. Finally, the storyline came full circle to Cheryl and Wolf's first baby, also born dead, after they'd first got together so many years ago, whose ashes they had scattered at the very same beach, accosted by the very same ranger.

Fade to black Wolf, and Cheryl was left alone with her sorrow while the viewer could be forgiven for thinking they'd just been fed an outrageous dose of badly acted, badly written codswallop.

As Cheryl, Robyn Malcolm could only work with the material she'd been given, but it wasn't one of her finest hours. The dialogue between her and Wolf was empty (well, it would be, because he wasn't really there), with him telling her she was a stroppy woman as she sucked away at the fags and gazed at the horizon.

With her emotional range dialled right up to more is more, the West matriarch's credibility sucked as much as the receding tide while the scenes with the young Cheryl and Wolf were pure sentiment and silliness.

Thank goodness for Grandad back at home who drew his skinny frame to full height and told Wayne he'd be happy to break his bail conditions and accompany him to the funeral home to pick up the coffin.

That episode made me fear the OF writers were losing the plot, but last night's penultimate show in this series was more surefooted.

The arrival of wastrel Eric as the Messenger of Death in Grandad's dreams, then the arrival of Eric himself after three years in the wilderness of Palmerston North, galvanised Grandad to write his will and appoint Loretta as executor. "She wants to kill him?" puzzled Pascalle.

Last night wound up a few "issues": the whereabouts of Cherie's "dead" husband Garth; the "weird spatial issues" between Nicky and Cherie; Pascalle's true love; and the benefactor of Grandad's vintage porn collection. Grandad insisted on having a party with cheerios and sausage rolls. There may be a few cheerios in next week's finale as well.