Barry's Beef

Mitchell is the rock of Eastenders. Mitchell is Eastenders. Eastenders is best when Mitchell is giving someone a slap, threatening to give someone a slap or flushing Ian Beale's head down the toilet. Even Ben, the fruit of Mitchell's satanic loins, got in on the act a few months back by punching Freddy the baby when Freddy accidentally pulled off his hearing aid. You mess with a Mitchell and you get a slap. No questions asked and no quarter given. Right and wrong doesn't come into it. Remember when Billy entered Eastenders? I do. He was physically abusing and bullying his nephew Jamie (since run-over by Mahhh-tin). Now he's some daft sap (albeit with a hot Mrs).
The Mitchells are a clan alright, united by tough love and gangster values. You put one of them in the hospital, they'll put one of yours into the morgue.
So why, why oh why is Mitchell relegated to the role of subdued barman and best-man to Billy? Reduced to wearing a kilt? A bloody skirt? They are the Mitchell fahhhmily of the East End, not the McMitchell clan of Nicey, Nicey, Huggy town.
So Billy and Honey are having a surprise wedding. How many more times are they going to try to get wed? And Jack is trying to get it on with Peggy. Again. Come on Jack Carry on Camping was decades ago. Oh and what a surprise Honey's water breaks. What a surprise. And the kid is going to have some health problem. Surprise, surprise. This is all so predictable.
It's about time Mitchell whacked someone. And in the absence of some more equally matched, that someone should be Pauline Fowler leading up to her Christmas departure. How's about Mitchell murdering Pauline? Now that would be entertainment.