Ranking the eye-gougingly awkward arguments in last night’s Made In Chelsea

Which was the most intense? And who the fuck is Mimi?

Things are hotting up in Chelsea. Who knows, maybe it's something in the water on the King's Road.

If you caught last night's MIC, you'll know there are plenty of fights to choose from. But who came out on top in one of the most intense episodes of the show to date?

Sit down, grab a delicious healthy juice and let us deconstruct the three most nail-bitingly ferocious arguments from last night's episode.

Let's get ready to rumble.


If a conversation ever begins with the words "Is there anything that you feel I need to know?", alarm bells should ring immediately.

Alas, poor Sam Thompson seems adamant he’s done nothing wrong. But wait, who’s this?

No seriously, who is this? We’re really struggling to differentiate all the blondes nowadays.

Still, with all the verve and volume of a man who’s been told by his producer to yell the name of the new character for confused audience members, Sam informs us it’s DAISY ROBBINS.

Daisy is here because she distinctly remembers Sam saying, as a "passing comment,” that they “should bang.” Sam, on the other hand, is baffled.

Even though he 100 per cent definitely said it.

Tiff is angry because Sam and Daisy have slept together before, despite Sam’s protests that it happened 10 years ago.

“I don’t care if it happened 8,000 years ago!” Tiff responds, clearly not caring that contraceptive methods didn't exist during the Paleolithic–Neolithic overlap.

In a last-bid attempt to save his relationship, Sam dismisses the whole thing as “banter” (it wasn't) and says: “Every boy does this!” (they don't).

With his defense dismantled, Sam does the gentlemanly thing: shouts “nope” three or four times, declares “I’m out,” says goodbye in an American accent and leaves the restaurant.

The winner?

To be fair to him, it’s probably Sam. It’s definitely not these two.


Louise, Steph and Alex Mytton are having a normal, friendly conversation about a night out while Frankenstein’s Monster lurks ominously on the sidelines.

Trying to act like a normal, functioning human being, Ryan Libbey interjects once by loudly grunting BAD INFLUENCES into Mytton and Steph’s petrified faces.

He then turns on Mytton, who apparently made a “rogue comment” about wanting to sleep with Louise.

Despite the fact that every drama in this show could be avoided if the guys just stopped asking random women to shag them, Mytton sticks to his guns and acts well and truly nonplussed.

Although fair enough. You wouldn’t want to be on Ryan's bad side, would you?

Ryan, who is 80 feet tall and was hewn from solid marble by the Ancient Greeks, tells Mytton he isn’t going to go “toe-to-toe” on this.

“Please don’t,” Mytton cowers.

Everyone is terrified. They sip their drinks in devastated silence.

The winner?

On a moral level, probably Mytton.

On a purely physical level, he looks like he’s shit himself while Ryan seems to be contemplating whether to grind his bones to make his protein bread.


After a definitely-not-foreshadowing “we’ve never had an argument!” conversation with Fred earlier in the episode, Liv is on the warpath against the Canadian girl who is trying to steal her boyfriend.

When asked if she fancies Fred, Mimi proceeds to dig herself into an enormous hole by talking and talking and talking about how they liked each other’s Instagram photos and haha flirted a bit when she should really just learn to put the fucking snow shovel down.

“I have a flirty personality!”, she explains, and drops the bombshell that Fred had called her cute and asked her "where she’d been hiding."

Liv, who is imbued with the destructive dark power of a thousand exploding suns, pulls this face.

Oh, and here’s Fred! Turn back now, Fred, in the name of all that is good and holy.

As the shit well and truly hits the fan, Mimi tries to politely leave. Liv bats her down with a curt “stand there, please” so obviously she stays awkwardly rooted to the spot because politeness is the Canadian way.

“I’m a flirty person, she’s a flirty person,” Fred bumbles, as Liv seethes and seethes as if she’s about to eviscerate them both.

Still, she remains endearingly posh, telling him he’ll be single if he wants to fuck “every Tom, Dick and Harry” he comes into contact with.

The winner?

Well it's not Fred, is it?

"That's just my rhetoric," the flaxen-haired neanderthal moans, scratching his big old head in a way that makes Ryan Libbey look like Jean-Paul Sartre.

Give up now, Fred. It won't end well for you.