Category Archives: Downton Abbey

Bravehead

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Do I repeat myself? If it’s good enough for Julian Fellowes…

Tonight On Downton Abbey!

Lord Grantham while fisticuffing-it-up with oily art experts and shouting down Bolshy Miss Bunting, the school teacher, has left his right flank open. Or his left flank, or his some sort of (insert military term here).

Unbeknownst to those who don’t know, Mrs Hughes has gone altogether Braveheart. Late at night, Downton’s sensible housekeeper, along with Mr Norp the discount-wireless speaker salesman and McTavish The Hebridean Ram, climb the moors (really just a mound behind Fenwick’s Candied Leek factory) and get down on it with their painted-face selves.

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Mary’s Jubilee

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Yep, the moment you’ve all been waiting for, my Downton Abbey Preview, going up the day after.

Lady Edith, bereft from being told to bugger-off by the woman who is unknowingly raising her daughter has decided to find that chap who, in the second season, didn’t know who he was.

If you recall (he didn’t) this fellow was disfigured in The War and thought he might be related to the Crawley family but had lost his memory. (Because once a person’s face has been altered it is impossible to tell who they are. A person’s height, build, bearing, mannerisms, laugh that sounds like a retching possum or lime-flavored dried plantains allergy could not possibly help with this identification.)

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Fascist, Pigs.

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Could it really be the 5th Season of Downton Abbey?
Oh what larks, what larrikins hold in-store for us all?

Tonight on Downton Abbey

The post-pre-war years are proving quite the challenge for the Downton status quo.

Poor Lord Grantham. Not only does he have to be confronted with these piddling cast iron cufflinks, he is being turned out to stud in order to ensure the future of the aristocracy and to pay for the salamander abatement of the estate’s renowned Budgie Baths.
His third client is a Lady Chuppletibb, a fine and hopefully non-limb chewing woman.

Meanwhile the Grantham’s soft-brained cousin, Huberta, has become smitten with a new man, one Oswald Mosley. He’s dreamy, he’s dashing, he’s fascist and oh those sock pleats! His friends are a little clingy and straight armed but have brilliant posture and know where to find non-dented cans of imported mini-cabbage bundles.

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Attack of the Killer Frigidaire

FRIDGEI started writing these “Tonight on Downton Abbey” things last season and managed to forget to resume. I need to watch an episode for inspiration, perhaps.

I’m trying to crank out a mini-preview for Season 5 as I squeak. Meanwhile, in the style of PBS, here’s my first one from last year.
I’ll be back!

Tonight On Downton Abbey:

It’s Big Daddy Grantham’s Birthday Party. All the gentry are in various degrees of getting down with their Jazz Age selves as Rose’s Surprise! idea for the party was to go with the “Invite that Jazz Band With That Guy I Have a Crush On Who Can’t Sing” — theme.

Meanwhile in the courtyard, delivery men are wrestling the dreaded electric ice box over the cobblestones, while Mrs Patmore looks on in apron-pawing dismay. Oh dear, it’s nearly over the threshold when it falls backwards, landing on the evil valet who had just arrived. “Is he good and crushed?” asks Mrs Hughes? “Aye me darlin’, reckon he is at that, flat as that singing upstairs.” says delivery man No.1 — saving Mr Bates from having to murder said valet and being hanged for murder.

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