At the end of an extraordinarily eventful week, Albert Square’s ongoing nightmare got worse when psycho Steven Beale sensationally returned in all his lack of glory.

Incredibly, after a prolonged absence, he had the same head. Okay, he’s the fourth version of Ian’s deranged stepson. But at least he seems to have settled down to the face he was sporting when he left eight years ago. Consistency at last.

In other astonishing news, Lauren Branning hasn’t changed either. Nor has Christian Clarke. Three old favourites back on the EastEnders scene… and not a new look between them. Amazing. Is this a first?

If the very variable Peter Beale resurfaces, surely he’ll be a different model. There have been six already. It must be time for mark seven.

Anyway, a lukewarm welcome to uneven Steven. He’s the frightening fruitcake who tried to smother Pat Butcher (RIP) with a pillow and shot Jane through the stomach, leaving her unable to bear children.

When Mr Looney Tunes hightailed it to New Zealand, Ian told him that if he ever disgraced the killing fields of Walford again, he’d murder him. There may be trouble ahead.

Of course, homicide is a popular hobby among the Cockney rabble. Horror kid Bobby Beale offed Lucy and did his level best to do for his step-mum Jane too. By smashing her lights out with a hockey stick.

But deep down batterer Bob’s a nice boy. So much so he made a get well soon card for the loving woman he came so close to exterminating. “I’m really sorry,” he said. That’s all right then.

Not surprisingly, while Jane remains on the critical list in hospital, dysfunctional family man Ian faces difficult questions about his parenting skills. Which, after raising two fully fledged maniacs, appear to be non-existent.

“Don’t you come anywhere near us!” stormed Jane’s furious mother Linda as the world’s worst father hung his head in shame. “It’s not all your fault,” lied Cathy.

Sick of disaster dad Ian’s offspring gravely wounding his sister, Christian sighed: “Steven, now Bobby, there’s a recurring theme here.” He had a point.

Talking of crazy people, moronic mule Roxy Mitchell staggered home with a stomach full of cocaine. Her inspirational attempts to evacuate her bowels delivered high drama of the lowest calibre.

When the barmy blonde finally succeeded in jettisoning her smuggled cargo, she immediately announced that she was turning over a new leaf so she had flushed ten grand’s worth of narcotics straight down the loo. Smart move.

Then it transpired she’d done nothing of the sort. She was pretending she’d done the decent thing in a bid to persuade Jack that she’s fit to look after their daughter Amy.

Naturally, Jack’s having none of it. “You’ll never change,” he snarled. Why not? Everyone else does. If only, physically.

Now super-criminal Roxy is teaming up with convicted sex offender Jay to sell the drugs. The dream team. What could possibly go wrong? Er… everything.

Meanwhile, more uplifting action as Sharon and surly Shirley revisited the scene of Peggy’s ghost-assisted suicide and grieving Phil fell into the depths of despair. Light relief.

As her unhappy husband sobbed unconvincingly (he’s a great drunk but a lousy weeper) Sharon told him: “She’s gone, Phil. She’s gone. And she’s not coming back.”

Don’t count on it. That’s what they said about Dirty Den. And Nick Cotton. And Cathy. And Claudette. In weird and un-wonderful Walford death is just a passing phase.