Ladies and Gentlemen, Eastenders (BBC One, Thursday, 12 February, 7.30pm) has just had a nervous breakdown. I like to call these moments ‘A Bouncer’s Dream Moment’. These are soap events that defy all logic. A moment when soap operas take a turn for the weird out of the blue, leaving everyone wondering just what the frig happened then? Yep, away from the yelling across The Square and general half-light weeping, the writers of the show decided to send two characters off in pursuit of the surreal. Hev and Shirl went off in search of the brush of stardom, via a yoghurt pot lid and a male prostitute. Someone went and put something wrong in the water of Walford.

Related: Was Frank Butcher’s farewell the weirdest episode of Eastenders ever?

I thought Frank Butcher’s funeral was the weirdest Eastenders could get. It featured the line “Cheese, ham, tuna! And don’t forget the chocolate biscuits! Swiss roll! Jam!” in tribute to Frank. The best way to remember Frank is via what he liked to stuff into his mouth. So, when Hev departs the soap, we’ll recall her fondness for George Michael.

For some reason, Hev and Shirl’ found themselves scaling a wall of George’s London pad, hiding under the window and recounting the entire tracklisting of his first debut album. Seriously. In full. Frequent nods to dog poo (honestly), gave the impression that George Michael constantly lives amongst the stuff… and in this sea of shit, Hev’, George Michael Fan Numero Uno, as displayed by some weird George Michael antennae, went off rummaging around his bins for a piece of the great man.

So with that, legs kicking in the air with her snout buried in the rubbish, Hev appeared with a yoghurt pot lid, holding it aloft like some reeking trophy. More references to dog shit and back to the pub they went.

Now, all this faecal matter, trash and tracklisting, saw Hev deciding that this was a sign. All this meant she was going to finally get a man. One who liked penicillin, excrement and homosexual Greek men presumably. Of course, Shirl’, being the good friend that she is, decided the best way for her pal to get laid was to buy her a male prostitute, who we’ve yet to see.

Jeezis.

Quite why we were subjected to all this George Michael stalking is beyond me. It prompted the notion in mind that maybe, just maybe, I’d missed a competition to write for Eastenders or something and, unfortunately for the show, it was won by a crazed Wham fan, who decided to direct all traffic to George Michael’s fictional pile in London. It wasn’t so much a fun storyline but rather, a cry for help from a complete mentalist. Either way, last night’s show left me bewildered and, in soaps, that doesn’t happen too often.