By Michelle Lerner

Oh, what dizzying heights have been reached in television history! This week on FOOTBALLERS WIVES, I was offended on behalf of Indians, cancer patients, lesbians and the color pink. That’s a lot of plot!

Amber finally lost her last screw, after Bruno burnt down her “meditation room”/shrine to Conrad. The dynamic between her and Bruno was nice and tense as he tried his best to parry every one of her insane thrusts. First, she bought him a beautiful straight razor — you know, so he can get a closer shave — all while trying to get him to take a bath. It’s like the story of the Revolutionary Marat and the assassin, Charlotte Corday, only without all the French people.

Bruno takes a clever tact by insisting on doing the opposite of what Amber says. She offers him wine, probably poisoned; he intelligently opts for a beer. The showdown occurs over a lovely curry, into which Amber has dumped insecticide; he tries to get her to eat it. She is the worst poisoner of all time. Only dose the dish of your intended victim, not your own, you silly woman. Jeez. She obviously hasn’t seen THE PRINCESS BRIDE, or read “I, Claudius.”

So, Bruno lives, and kicks Amber out. This where she probably ticked off anyone who is actually a Hindu. She dresses in her best crazy costume, and takes off to Shannon’s pink-themed party. Invoking Kali, the Hindu goddess of death, Amber paints her eyes like Cleopatra (and I have no idea what that has to do with Kali) and chants a bit. Then, she points a shotgun at Bruno’s head.

Thank God Lucy is there to save the day. But, there are victims. Amber gets a gun butt to the head, and it seems as though Roger, just an innocent bystander in all this, might be blind. Not good for his coaching career, I should think.

Where was I? Oh right! Lesbians and cancer patients. I haven’t covered them yet. So Trisha, Callum’s crazy mother, tells Shannon she’s going to cut her — “muff to tit.” Yes, she actually said that. Realizing she is losing her son to the be-pinked Shannon, Trisha decides to play nice. Or, so it seems thus far. She has Shannon over for a bit of tea, as they do in England, and tells her that she has cancer and only a year to live. Shannon is horrified, and like the good heart she is, wants to do anything she can to help. But here’s the thing: I’m not sure that Trisha really has cancer. I suspect (and it’s just a feeling) that she is lying! Shocking, I know. And then Trisha gets really drunk at Shannon’s pink party and calls Liberty a lesbian.

Which is OK, because, we all know that our favorite fake supermodel is, actually, a lesbian. Or, at least bisexual. And now all of England knows too. How’s that, you ask? I am happy to tell you.

Liberty and Olenska, oops, I mean Urzula, offend a hotel waiter at lunch at a swank hotel. Offending waiters is a well-known aphrodisiac, so without even eating, they decided to get a room. The waiter calls a paparazzo, and the next day, BAM! Front-page news. Just before Tre gets the picture via fax machine (what is this, 1998?) Liberty agrees to marry him, at long last. And, of course he swallows that hook like an eager little fish. Anyone can fake anything in the digital world, right? But, if Liberty is so proud and strong, shouldn’t she just be what she is, and come right out? I guess that will have to wait.

At the very end of the episode, some blond lady with a tiny urn got onto a flight from Paris. I have a feeling she’s coming around to stir the pot a bit, now that Amber is at Bedlam. Oh, I can’t wait for next week!