Last week I sadly missed episode two of the second season of Weeds, and was reduced to twiddling my thumbs and starring off into space, wondering what had befallen Nancy Botwin during the half an hour’s action I had been denied. In preparation of last night’s exploits, I merrily flicked through my TV guide and was pleased to see that it was to be a double-bill. I was somewhat less than thrilled upon finding out that the published time of 10pm was re-scheduled to a yawn-inducing 11.35p.m.

Further investigations on the Radio Times website have confirmed my suspicions that Sky One are treating Weeds atrociously and are happy to relegate it to any shabby late-night slot on a Sunday. Today the times read 11pm and 11.30pm this Sunday and 10pm the Sunday after that. Why no consistency and routine for Weeds fans and why are they racing through it by doubling up episodes? If they were going to be so ashamed of it in their schedules, why buy it in the first place? With my teeth slowly stopping their angry grinding, we look at what happened in last night’s double-bill.

Nancy had previously found out that her Drug Enforcement Agency boyfriend Peter knew of her drug-peddling. Panic? Not just yet as sweetie Peter revealed that he had known since after their very first meeting. It hadn’t deterred him then and wasn’t about to do so now and gradually Nancy began to accept his story. However, fearful that he could still arrest her at any moment should things go bad, the couple found the perfect way to secure against him ever being able to testify against her: by getting married. This was all terribly hush-hush, with the ceremony performed in Vegas by a fantastically bad Elvis impersonator and without being shared with anybody else in Nancy’s life.

Brother-in-law Andy saw less action with his date from rabbinical school, who revealed she liked him in a platonic sense but did not find him manly enough to get her blood racing. Eldest son Silas managed to patch up his relationship with Megan and the two of them sweatily humped their way through packet after packet of Trojan condoms. In a rare moment of solitude, Silas pierced one such condom and voila Megan was soon peeing on a stick. Silas proudly proclaimed to mum Nancy that his girlfriend was pregnant and that they had decided to keep the baby.

Silas wasn’t the only Botwin brother with his hormones in a tailspin with bowl-haired cutie Shane experiencing his own growing pains. It was discovered that the plumbing problems affecting the entire house were the result of him having flushed socks, dirty after he had masturbated into them, down the toilets. Ick and double ick! Nancy tried to sit her youngest down for a chat to explain how best to manage these desires, but having struggled she asked Andy to have a word. His speech, presented here, was frigging hilarious.

Andy (to Shane):
“All right, listen closely, I’m not gonna beat around the bush. HAHAHAHAHA! Your little body’s changing, and it’s all good, believe me. Problem now is every time we jerk the gherkin, we end up with a lot of unwanted, sticky white stuff everywhere, right? Right. So, first order of business: no more socks. They’re expensive… gumming up the works, plumbing-wise. Now you might be thinking to yourself, ‘But Uncle Andy, what do I do with all that pearl jam if I can’t spew it into Mr. Sock?’ Glad you asked. You can have a lovely time tuggin’ the tiger in the shower each morning. That eliminates the need for a goo glove. But the day is long, masturbation’s fun… so unless we wanna take four or five showers every day, we’re gonna need some other options here. So let’s start with the basics. Tissues: perfectly acceptable backstop for all that Creamy Italian. They can be rough and dry on such soft, sensitive skin, not to mention they can stick to your d**khead like a f**kin’ Band-Aid. Ouch. From there we move on to more lubricated flak-catchers. Specifically bananas. Step one, peel the banana. Step two, slip the peel over your Randy Johnson and start pitching. Now for extra credit, warm up the peel in the microwave – not too hot… serious yowza. Also olive oil, moisturiser, honey, spit, butter, hair conditioner and Vaseline can all be used for lube. In my opinion the best lube… is lube. So save your allowance, invest in some soon. All right, moving on… when you tug your Thomas on the toilet shoot right into the bowl. In bed, soft t-shirt, perhaps a downy hand towel of your very own that you don’t mind tossing after tossing. There’s no such thing as polishing the Raised Sceptre of Love too much. It reduces stress, it enhances immune function… also, practice makes perfect. So work on your control now while you’re a solo artist, you’ll be playing some long, happy duets in the future. All right, class dismissed.”

Away from the family, Nancy and Conrad found a suitable grow-house and set about kitting it up as appropriate. A rival druggie turned up on their doorstep with threats of violence if they didn’t reconsider trading on his turf, but Nancy dismissed his bullish order. Confident in her special relationship with a DEA officer, Nancy knew that she didn’t need to be so easily intimidated, much to the surprise of Conrad.

After being found to have slept with Dean’s wife Celia, Conrad allowed the recently unemployed husband one punch to get even. Initially hesitant, Conrad soon tapped into his anger and surprised the Casanova with an unexpected right-hook.

Celia’s campaign for city counsel wasn’t faring very well on finding many residents loyal to Doug, prompting her to enlist Nancy in her bid for local dominance. Having marched her daughter Isabelle to expensive keep-fit class, Celia found herself coerced into participating only to “break her vagina.” Isabelle was approached by a model recruitment agency officer, believing she had just the right look to help sell out-size clothes for children. Disgusted, Celia refused telling Isabelle she could be a model once she’d gotten an eating disorder, leaving her to “go home and ice her beaver.” Her words, I hasten to add, not mine. Never mine.