CHAOS theorists claim the flap of a butterfly's wings in New York can cause an earthquake in China.

I reckon this butterfly effect' can be applied to Albert Square. Stick with me on this one.

In EastEnders, every action has an effect. Every decision a consequence.

One of the golden rules of the Square, as demonstrated last night, is that there's only so much happiness to go round.

For every time Billy and Honey skip across the square singing themes from the musicals, Pat sinks her claws deeper into poor Patrick.

Which brings me nicely to my point what on earth has happened to Pat?

OK, we all know she's got a chequered past and has been known to get up to some stomach-churning antics involving Frank Butcher and a revolving dickie bow.

But who knew there was a sex monster lurking beneath the gaudy blouses and chandelier earrings?

One minute she's whimsically reading magazine articles on being too old for sex, the next minute she's propositioning Patrick she'll do his tax returns if he fulfils her needs.

By the end of the episode she'd gone the whole hog and transformed into the female equivalent of Hugh Hefner.

Clad in a sleazy satin wrap, puffing on a cigarette. "Alright tiger. Ready for round two?" she breathed to a frankly terrified-looking Patrick, still wearing his hat under the covers.

They say sex sells, but in this case I'd happily pay double the licence fee if they promise to keep Pat under wraps.