So it turns out that Paul Robinson is not the only one suffering from selective amnesia: Rebecca had also carefully forgotten a previous encumbent in her bed. So Elle and Oliver are not related after all and can return to doing horizontal rhumba pronto.
I am not sure whether to be disappointed or elated by this news. The accidental incest storyline is after all a classic of the soap genre and we coud all have spent an enjoyable few weeks being appalled as Elle and Oliver try and fail to suppress their taboo attraction for one another. Just like back in 1991.
On the other hand I will confess to being actually surprised by this development. Surprised! Trying to think about when a soap opera has surprised me in the past... trying... trying harder... failing. Soap operas do not surprise. They set up storylines so obvious that a two year old with a basic knowledge of narrative gleaned from reading Spot books could figure them out, and then spend weeks dragging them out until the one day you have a dentist appointment and miss an episode, and then resolve them. Even a sudden soap death tends to be signposted by the deathee's storylines being carefully finished just before they decide to take that moonlit walk along the beach with a storm brewing. (In case you are wondering why I am then such an avid watcher of soaps, it's because I find my real life a bit too unpredictable and I like the reassurance that in one area of my life unresolved sexual tension will *always* lead to a kiss.)
In conclusion, I have to say that the Neighbours screenwriters, in wimping out of the brother-sister-forbidden-love storyline, have actually done something far more daring instead. Kudos!
(I have chosen to illustrate this blog post with a picture of Jane Hall as Neighbours newcomer Rebecca. This is what I am going to look like in ten years time so I may as well get used to it. And no, she's not my long-lost mum. Or is she...?)
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