For Downton junkies…we bring you ‘Crabby Abbey’

Welcome to...'Crabby Abbey'?  Photo by Mike Searle

Who knew Lady Mary had so many skeletons in her closet? Welcome to...'Crabby Abbey.' Photo by Mike Searle

Maybe it was something in the eggnog. Or the endless re-runs, whipping excitement to a fever pitch for the Jan. 6 Season Three opener of Downton Abbey.

Whatever the reason, here at MorristownGreen.com we couldn’t help but wonder what Downton Abbey would look like if Monty Python or Mad magazine got hold of it.

Over the holidays, this is what oozed out.  Our spoof mirrors Season Two and only will make sense to D.A. addicts. Even then, we make no promises!

With apologies to PBS, Maggie Smith and Her Majesty the Queen, we bring you…Crabby Abbey.


***CRABBY ABBEY***

1. THE GROUNDS AT DOWNTON

PATRICK IS WRAPPED IN GAUZE BANDAGES FROM HEAD TO TOE, LIKE BORIS KARLOFF IN THE MUMMY.  AROUND HIS NECK IS A CIRCULAR LIFE-PRESERVER THAT SAYS TITANIC.  ON HIS ARMS ARE INFLATABLE FLOATIES.

PATRICK:  Lady Edith, don’t you remember me, Patrick?

EDITH: Patrick?

PATRICK:  Seriously, you don’t remember?  How we used to romp on the gargoyles together…  our first innocent experiments with opium behind the livery garage…

EDITH: (Incredulous) But…but… we thought you went down with the Titanic…

PATRICK: Yes, I did. But I washed ashore. I tried to sail home…on the Lusitania. At that point I had to enlist. And I’m afraid I am the worse for wear. My journey back to Downton has been long and perilous. There was the Andrea Doria. Then, the Poseidon adventure. And finally, the Costa Concordia–

EDITH: What?

PATRICK: But I’m getting ahead of myself…


2. THE FARM OF POOR WILLIAM’S DAD

DAISY: (Tremulous, Cockney accent) I can’t do it!

WILLIAM’S DAD: (Kindly brogue) Now, now, Daisy. This would have made poor William very happy.

DAISY: I can’t marry a dead man!

WILLIAM’S DAD:  Darling, he lived for this moment.

DAISY:  I don’t like dead people!

WILLIAM’S DAD: You were special to him. You will be his special girl forever.

DAISY: (Thinks about it)  I never was special to anyone….

WILLIAM’S DAD: That’s my Daisy!

DAISY: (Snaps to her senses) I don’t fancy zombie children!

MRS. PATMORE APPEARS, WITH OUIJA BOARD UNDER HER ARM.

MRS. PATMORE: Daisy, this board never lies. Poor William says he wants you to grant him his last wish. He made the ultimate sacrifice. Show some gratitude.

DAISY:  Ohhh, I don’t know…

WILLIAM’S DAD: Daisy, my son wanted you to have this. PRODUCES WEDDING RING FROM HIS POCKET. It was his mum’s.

DAISY:  (Views ring with mixture of awe and trepidation) It’s lovely, but I don’t think…

WILLIAM’S DAD: And this is the one his mum gave to me.  HANDS DAISY ANOTHER RING.

DAISY LOOKS QUEASY.

WILLIAM’S DAD: That cannon shell did a number on poor William.  The taxidermist is doing his best–

DAISY GASPS.

WILLIAM’S DAD: But in the meantime, you can make me proud by placing the ring on my son’s finger–

PULLS MANGLED HAND FROM A PICNIC BASKET.

CLOSEUP OF DAISY’S SPEECHLESS FACE


3. LORD GRANTHAM’S DRESSING ROOM.

BATES ADJUSTS THE EARL’S EPAULETS.

LORD GRANTHAM: So, Bates, I hear you are going to see the former Mrs. Bates.

BATES: Were that it was the late Mrs. Bates.

LORD GRANTHAM: Just take care to guard your temper.

BATES: Yes, my Lord.

LORD GRANTHAM: It’s important to remain composed.

BATES: Agreed, sir.

LORD GRANTHAM: Do you know if Thomas has replenished our store of rat poison?

BATES: I will have to check, my Lord.

LORD GRANTHAM: This uniform reminds me of our days in the Boer War. Remember those days, Bates?

BATES: Of course, my Lord.

LORD GRANTHAM: My God, that strychnine was potent stuff, wasn’t it?

BATES: Stopped that rhino dead in its tracks.

LORD GRANTHAM: What a time that was… The other day I was recalling my youth at Oxbridge. High times, indeed. The world was new. We were always trying new things. I remember my initiation to the Hemlock Society. How clever we were!

BATES: Quite, my Lord. ADJUSTS LORD GRANTHAM’S UNIFORM. If I may say so, you look ready to lead the charge once more.

LORD GRANTHAM: Thank you, Bates.

BATES: Will that be all, sir?

LORD GRANTHAM: Yes, Bates.  Good luck with your appointment.


4. THE GRAND DINNER TABLE

A DISTINGUISHED GUEST IS VISITING THE FAMILY.

LORD GRANTHAM: Welcome to Downton Abbey, Major General Pomfret. It is a great honor to have a genuine war hero at our table.

MAJOR GENERAL POMFRET: The honor is mine, Lord Grantham.

A TOAST IS PROPOSED.  THE GENERAL’S GAZE CATCHES LADY MARY, WHO RETURNS THE GAZE AND SMILES.

HOURS LATER…

CUT TO DIMLY LIT HALLWAY.  MARY’S SISTERS AND SOME OF THE HELP, ALL WEARING NIGHTGOWNS, TIPTOE FROM MARY’S ROOM, LUGGING THE COLD BODY OF THE GENERAL, WHO IS CLAD IN UNION JACK BOXER SHORTS AND A PERMANENT SMILE.


5. LAVINIA’S LAST MOMENTS

THE FAMILY GATHERS ROUND THE DEATHBED OF DEAR, SWEET LAVINIA. MATTHEW SITS BESIDE HER.

LAVINIA: (Faintly) Matthew…my darling…I want you to be… happy.

FROM THE BACK OF THE ROOM, MARY, DRESSED IN BLACK AND HOLDING BALLOONS EMBLAZONED WITH HEARTS PROCLAIMING “MATTHEW,” MAKES A START FOR HIM. CORA, MARY’S MOTHER, GRABS HER.

MATTHEW: My dear, sweet Lavinia…you know I cannot be happy without you.

MARY RAISES HER HAND AND IS ABOUT TO BLURT SOMETHING WHEN GRANNY CLASPS A GLOVED HAND ACROSS MARY’S MOUTH.

DR. CLARKSON ENTERS.

DR. CLARKSON: It’s time for another bleeding. We’re going to need some more leeches.

ISOBEL (MATTHEW’S MOTHER): Nurse Sybil, go at once to Dublin and fetch some!

LADY SYBIL:  Branson can drive me!

LORD GRANTHAM: Sybil!!

SYBIL BOUNDS FROM THE ROOM BEFORE HER FATHER CAN UTTER A SENTENCE.

LAVINIA: (whispers) I mean it, my beloved Matthew… the thought of you unhappy… would kill me!

FROM THE BACK OF THE ROOM, MARY EMBRACES HERSELF, AS IF HOLDING MATTHEW, AND STARTS SMOOCHING THE AIR, HOPING TO CATCH LAVINIA’S ATTENTION.  LAVINIA AND MATTHEW ARE OBLIVIOUS.

DR. CLARKSON FEELS LAVINIA’S PULSE; A CEILING CAMERA LOOKS DOWN UPON HER, SPRAWLED ACROSS THE HUGE BED IN AN ANGELIC POSE.

DR. CLARKSON: I’m afraid we’re losing her…

FROM ABOVE, WE SEE MARY BOLT FOR MATTHEW…ONLY TO BE TACKLED BY CORA, GRANNY AND EDITH.


6. ANNA VISITS BATES IN PRISON

ANNA IS TEARFUL. BATES AWAITS EXECUTION FOR THE MURDER OF HIS WIFE.

ANNA: (Trembling with sadness) Master Bates, I shall always love you.

BATES: Please, call me John.

ANNA:  I would marry you a thousand times.

BATES: I don’t deserve you… CLASPS ANNA’S HAND

GUARD: (Sternly) No touching!

BATES: Good God man, you know where I am heading. Just one kiss to take with me…

GUARD ROLLS HIS EYES AND LOOKS AWAY.  ANNA AND BATES KISS.  CAMERA CUTS TO THEIR FEET. AT HIGH SPEED, THEIR CLOTHES FALL ABOUT THEIR ANKLES. GIGGLING GIVES WAY TO MOANING. CUT TO CLOSEUP OF GUARD…HIS EYES ARE WIDE AS SAUCERS. ANNA AND BATES EXPLODE IN SHOUTS OF ECSTASY.

CUT BACK TO ANNA AND BATES, SITTING WITH PRISON TABLE BETWEEN THEM. THEY ARE COMPOSED AND FULLY CLOTHED, ANNA’S HAT PERCHED SMARTLY ATOP HER HEAD, JUST AS WHEN SHE ARRIVED.

ANNA: We will get you off, Master Bates.

BATES: (Deadpan expression.)  It’s John. Please.

ANNA: Do you know how much I love you?

BATES: Would you love me even if…I were guilty?

ANNA: Of course, my dear Master Bates!

BATES: Even if I… bludgeoned the old battlewagon with a trenching shovel?

ANNA: It would take more than that to sway my heart!

BATES: And if I boiled her bloody brains, then served them as Christmas pudding?

ANNA: Don’t be silly, my love. T’would be nothing to me.

BATES: Suppose…I were to consume her giblets without properly cooking them?

ANNA: What will it take to convince you that my love is true?

BATES: And if I were consuming her entrails while wearing her frilly garments?

ANNA: Master Bates, I will stand by your side, come what may.

BATES: Even if I were to serve this nasty stew to his Lordship and Lady for the Feast of St. Stephen…on the servants’ china?

CLOSEUP OF ANNA, SUDDENLY CONFLICTED…


7. DRAWING ROOM AT DOWNTON

LADY EDITH ENTERS, INTERRUPTS CONVERSATION BETWEEN LADY VIOLET (GRANNY) AND LORD GRANTHAM (PAPA).

EDITH: Excuse me, Granny and Papa.  Have either of you seen Patrick?  He seems to have disappeared.

VIOLET: Rather appropriate, for a ghost.

LORD GRANTHAM: I’m afraid not, my dear. My solicitor is still trying to corroborate his story.

CUT TO DARK, QUIET HALLWAY, AND SLIPPERED FEET, DRAGGING SOMEONE FROM MARY’S ROOM.  A LONG BANDAGE TRAILS ALONG THE CARPET.


8. LAVINIA’S GRAVE SITE

CLOSEUPS OF MATTHEW, HIS MOTHER ISOBEL CRAWLEY, AND LADY MARY. IT’S GREY AND DRIZZLY AND THEY HOLD UMBRELLAS.

MATTHEW: (Vacant, tormented) Lavinia was such a gentle, precious creature. I did not deserve her.

MARY: So true.

ISOBEL CRAWLEY: Such a loving and delicate person. She never caused anyone the slightest worry.

MARY: (To Matthew) We must never allow ourselves another moment of happiness.

MATTHEW: It is the only way to honor her memory.

THEY SAY A PRAYER, AND GO THEIR SEPARATE WAYS. THE CAMERA FOLLOWS MATTHEW AND HIS MOTHER.

ISOBEL CRAWLEY:  I do not want to hear that sweet girl’s name again…Loretta…Laverne…

MATTHEW:  Lavinia.

ISOBEL CRAWLEY: Yes, that’s it. Don’t ever speak it again.

MATTHEW: (Irritated) Mother–

ISOBEL CRAWLEY: Mary still loves you.

MATTHEW: How can that be?  She is marrying Carlisle.

ISOBEL CRAWLEY: Matthew, it’s a plain as the nose on your face.

ZOOM TO DISTANT END OF PATH, WHERE MARY HOPES–WITHOUT LUCK–THAT MATTHEW WILL LOOK HER WAY. SHE IS CLAD IN FISHNET STOCKINGS, STILETTO HEELS AND HOT PINK BUSTIER, WITH A STRATEGICALLY EMBROIDERED MESSAGE: BE HAPPY, MATTHEW!


9. DRAWING ROOM AT DOWNTON

THE ROOM IS FULL OF DISFIGURED SOLDIERS, CASUALTIES OF THE GREAT WAR.

LADY EDITH PLAYS THE PIANO, AND LADY MARY SINGS: IF I WERE THE ONLY GIRL IN THE WORLD, AND YOU WERE THE ONLY BOY…

MARY’S SWEET VOICE SPEAKS TO THE SOLDIERS’ HEARTS.  TEARS TRICKLE FROM THEIR EYE PATCHES.

MRS. HUGHES AND CARSON EXCHANGE WORRIED GLANCES.


10. LIVING ROOM AT DOWNTON

NURSE SYBIL SURVEYS A SEA OF EMPTY HOSPITAL BEDS AND TURNS TO HER SISTER, LADY EDITH, THE FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE OF THIS MAKESHIFT WARD.

SYBIL: Where are all the soldiers?

EDITH: I was going to ask you.

CARSON LIMPS BY, CLUTCHING HIS ACHING LOWER BACK.

EDITH: You don’t think….?

FLASHBACK TO DARK HALLWAY,  OUTSIDE LADY MARY’S BOUDOIR. THE STAFF, IN NIGHTGOWNS, STRUGGLE TO HAUL AWAY WHEELBARROW PILED HIGH WITH DEAD, SMILING SOLDIERS.


11. LIVING ROOM AT DOWNTON

MATTHEW HEARS A DISTURBANCE AND ENTERS TO FIND LADY MARY QUARRELING WITH SIR RICHARD CARLISLE, HER UNCTUOUS FIANCE.

CARLISLE: (To Matthew) Can I never be rid of you?

MATTHEW: What seems to be the trouble here, old chap?

CARLISLE: I was just telling Mary about something Lavinia said.

MATTHEW: I know. She wants me to be happy.

CARLISLE: No. This was before that.

MATTHEW: What?

CARLISLE: Yes. She saw you and Mary doing the hokey-pokey under the mistletoe.

MATTHEW: My word…

CARLISLE:  She said she knew you didn’t love her.

MATTHEW: Liar, liar, pants on fire!

CARLISLE: I may be many things…

MATTHEW: A scoundrel.

CARLISLE: Yes.

MATTHEW: A scalliwag.

CARLISLE: Perhaps.

MATTHEW:  A bottom-feeder.

CARLISLE: You flatter me.

MATTHEW: A pusillanimous pile of plebeian—

CARLISLE: …but I am not a liar.  And do you know what else she said?

MATTHEW: (Daring him, hatred swelling in his eyes) What?

CARLISLE: Your mother wears Army boots.

MATTHEW: Fiend!

MATTHEW COLD-COCKS CARLISLE AND KNOCKS HIM TO THE FLOOR.  IN A FLASH, CARLISLE POPS UP WITH BOXING GLOVES AND PEPPERS MATTHEW’S FACE WITH BRISK ONE-TWOS.

MATTHEW SOMERSAULTS THROUGH THE AIR IN SLOW-MOTION, LIKE A NINJA WARIOR, SWINGING FROM A CHANDELIER TO DELIVER A KARATE KICK TO CARLISLE’S HEAD.  LAMPS CRASH.

FROM BEHIND A CHAIR, CARLISLE SPRINGS UP AND HURLS A SERIES OF KNIVES THAT NARROWLY MISS THEIR MARK. MATTHEW SHOOTS BACK WITH A BOW AND ARROW; IT SHATTERS AN URN LABELED GRAMPS, SPILLING ASHES ON THE MANTEL.

CARLISLE COMES AT MATTHEW WITH A CHAINSAW; MATTHEW JUMPS AT THE LAST INSTANT AND CARLISLE SAWS THE SOFA IN TWO.

MATTHEW PRODUCES A HAND-GRENADE, PULLS THE PIN WITH HIS TEETH, AND LOBS THE EXPLOSIVE AT CARLISLE. IT LANDS IN A FISHBOWL, BLASTING GOLDFISH EVERYWHERE.

CARLISLE ANSWERS WITH A MACHINE GUN. MATTHEW DANCES AROUND THE BULLETS, WHICH SHRED A REMBRANDT PAINTING. MATTHEW COCKS A BAZOOKA ON HIS SHOULDER AND TAKES AIM, WHEN LORD GRANTHAM ENTERS…

LORD GRANTHAM: (Authoritatively)  Stop this at once!  (To Carlisle) Sir Richard, you will be taking the Last Train to Clarksville.

CARLISLE:  (Hissing through three missing teeth, with a tomahawk protruding from his skull) You are so smooth. Your kind are used to having everything your own way. It’s all been handed to you. I am a self-made man who has made his fortune the old-fashioned way…by stealing it!

LADY VIOLET ENTERS; SEES MARY QUAKING AMIDST THE WRECKAGE.

LADY VIOLET: My goodness, what’s happened here?

CARLISLE: Lady Violet, I’m afraid we won’t be seeing each other again.

LADY VIOLET: Do you promise?

CARLISLE PRIES THE TOMAHAWK FROM HIS SKULL AND STORMS OFF.

MATTHEW, TATTERED AND BLOODY, RETRIEVES HIS EAR FROM THE FLOOR AND STICKS IT BACK ON HIS HEAD.

MATTHEW: Sorry about Gramps’ urn, Granny.

LADY VIOLET: Oh, don’t worry. That dusty old thing was giving me asthma.


12. THE KITCHEN AT DOWNTON

LORD GRANTHAM MAKES AN UNANNOUNCED APPEARANCE. THE STAFF SNAPS TO NERVOUS ATTENTION.

CARSON: Yes, my Lord?

LORD GRANTHAM: There is news. I have an important announcement to make at 11 a.m. I shall expect everyone to be in the living room.

THE LIVING ROOM.

CAMERA STUDIES THE CIRCLE, SLOWLY PANNING ACROSS FACES OF FAMILY MEMBERS AND THE HELP. SEVERAL CHAMBER MAIDS AND BUTLERS APPEAR HAGGARD AND STOOPED; SOME CLUTCH THEIR BACKS AND FIGHT TO STIFLE YAWNS. THEY HAVE NOT SLEPT MUCH LATELY.

LORD GRANTHAM: I have called you here to deliver terribly troubling news.

A HUSH FALLS OVER THE ROOM. ALL EYES ARE ON LORD GRANTHAM.

LORD GRANTHAM: Isis has gone missing.

MURMERS ERUPT; STAFF MEMBERS EXCHANGE HORRIFIED GLANCES ABOUT THE DOG’S FATE…THEN FIX THEIR GAZE ON LADY MARY.

MARY LOOKS AT CARSON…GIVES A WAN SMILE…AND A COULDN’T-HELP-MYSELF! SHRUG.


13. CARLISLE DEPARTS DOWNTON

LADY MARY STOPS CARLISLE AS HE IS LEAVING DOWNTON ABBEY FOR THE LAST TIME.

LADY MARY: I didn’t want us to part on angry terms.

CARLISLE: (Wearing eye patch; bandages protrude from beneath his top hat; he sneers:) Angry terms?  We are beyond all that, Lady Mary.  I am a hard man. A very, very hard man. Exceedingly hard. You would have learned that if you loved me as much as I loved you.

LADY MARY: I suppose one might think I used you like a pack of chewing gum. It has been rather hard prying you off.

CARLISLE:  You have broken your word. And now all bets are off, Mary. Like an apothecary of justice, I feel no compunctions about grinding you all to analgesic powder with my pestle of truth!

LADY MARY: I guess I deserved as much. Papa is going to send me to Albania to ride out the storm.

CARLISLE: You had better book an extra ticket. This will be hitting newsstands in an hour.

PULLS NEWSPAPER FROM HIS LONG WINTER COAT AND HANDS IT TO MARY.  AGHAST, SHE MOUTHS THE HEADLINE:

LADY MARY: ‘No… Shrinking…Violet!’   My God, Sir Richard…where did you get these pictures of…Granny?

CUT TO KITCHEN. MRS. O’BRIEN AND THOMAS SHARE A HIGH-FIVE.


14. OUTSIDE THE DOWNTON ENTRANCE.  

EARLY EVENING. SNOWFLAKES FALL GENTLY.  LADY MARY AND MATTHEW–HIS ARM IN A SLING, HIS EAR HELD IN PLACE BY A BANDAGE–LOOK LOVINGLY INTO EACH OTHER’S EYES.

LADY MARY: (Making playful small-talk) Your ear seems to be much better.

MATTHEW: (Smiles)  Yes, I suppose I have a stronger constitution than one might have imagined. Ever since my severed spine grew back in Season Two.

MARY GROWS SERIOUS. SHE APPEARS UNEASY, VULNERABLE.

LADY MARY: Oh, Matthew. Can you ever forgive me?

MATTHEW: No, Mary.

LADY MARY: (Crestfallen) Well, I guess there’s nothing more to –

MATTHEW: You don’t need my forgiveness.

LADY MARY:  (Perks up) I don’t?

MATTHEW: You’ve lived your life and I’ve lived–

LADY MARY: Not for the Turkish gentleman?

MATTHEW: No, of course not–

LADY MARY: Or the Major General?

MATTHEW: Honestly, I don’t–

LADY MARY:  And what about Patrick?

MATTHEW: Patrick?!

LADY MARY:  And the Seventh Cavalry?

CAMERA TILTS UPWARDS.  EVERY WINDOW OF DOWNTON ABBEY IS FILLED WITH STAFF MEMBERS.

DAISY IS THERE, WITH THE REMAINS OF POOR WILLIAM PROPPED BESIDE HER.

OTHER WINDOWS REVEAL CARSON AND MRS. HUGHES, AND ANNA AND MRS. PATMORE, FURIOUSLY SLIDING THE POINTER ON HER OUIJA BOARD. SOME STAFFERS WAVE PLACARDS: ‘DON’T DO IT, MATTHEW!’ AND ‘RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!’

MATTHEW: Mary, what I’m trying to say is–

LADY MARY: And Isis?  Do you forgive me for Isis?

MATTHEW COCKS AN EYEBROW.  Crikey…

LADY MARY: And can you forgive me for infecting dear, sweet Lavinia?

MATTHEW: Lavinia???

LADY MARY: Just joshing!

MARY’S FINGERS ARE CROSSED BEHIND HER BACK. IN THE KITCHEN, MRS. O’BRIEN AND THOMAS PUFF STOGEYS AND CLINK CHAMPAGNE GLASSES.

MATTHEW: (Staying on-point) Mary, can we be serious for a moment? If you’ll just let me finish. What I’m trying to say is, the past is behind us. It’s time to look to the future. Together. Lavinia would want us to be happy.

LADY MARY: Don’t take me down this path again unless you’re sure…

MATTHEW: I have never been so sure of anything.

LADY MARY: Then you must ask me properly.  On one knee and all that.

MATTHEW SMILES AND, WINCING–HE STILL IS PRETTY BEAT UP FROM HIS ADVENTURE WITH CARLISLE–LOWERS HIMSELF TO ONE KNEE.

MATTHEW: Lady Mary Crawley, will you do your cousin the honor of marrying him?

LADY MARY: Yes!

THEY KISS AND EMBRACE ENTHUSIASTICALLY.

LADY MARY: Well, almost…

MATTHEW: What?

LADY MARY: I always wanted a brass band.

MATTHEW:  A brass band?

BRASS BAND PLAYS.

LADY MARY: …and there should be eight lords a’leaping…

MATTHEW DOES A DOUBLE-TAKE.


15. DRAWING ROOM OUTSIDE CORA’S BEDROOM

DR. CLARKSON EMERGES, WITH NEWS FOR LORD GRANTHAM.

DR. CLARKSON: I have some good news for you, Lord Grantham. Nature has given you a second chance.

LORD GRANTHAM: A second chance?  What do you mean?

DR. CLARKSON: For an heir.

CARSON, STANDING NEARBY, ARCHES AN EYEBROW.

LORD GRANTHAM: But… that’s impossible.

DR. CLARKSON: Evidently not.

LORD GRANTHAM: For the last 26 episodes, the only relations I have had were with the housekeepers. And that’s been nothing more than a little sheepish necking. Innocent schoolboy stuff.

DR. CLARKSON: Are you quite sure?

LORD GRANTHAM: All right, perhaps some spooning. But nothing more!

NINE MONTHS LATER….

A BABY’S CRY IS HEARD FROM CORA’S ROOM.  DR. CLARKSON AND SYBIL EMERGE WITH BUNDLED INFANT.

SYBIL: You had better sit down, Papa.

DR. CLARKSON: Meet the future Earl of Grantham…

THEY PULL BACK THE SWADDLING CLOTHES.  CLOSEUP OF LORD GRANTHAM’S ASHEN FACE.

LORD GRANTHAM: (Gasps) Good God!

CLOSEUP OF BABY. THE INFANT LOOKS VAGUELY…TURKISH.


16. OUTSIDE THE ENTRANCE TO DOWNTON

THE SEASONS HAVE CHANGED. IT IS WARM AND SUNNY, WITH LOVELY FLOWERS IN BLOOM, AND MAGNIFICENT FIELDS OF GREEN.

LADY MARY AND MATTHEW ARE STANDING WHERE WE LEFT THEM. MATTHEW LOOKS EXHAUSTED, WITH A STUBBLY BEARD AND DARK CIRCLES BENEATH HIS EYES.

THE BRASS BAND IS SPRAWLED BEHIND HIM. A SHINY SPORTS CAR IS WRAPPED IN A BOW.  EIGHT LORDS ARE LEAPING. TURTLE DOVES CIRCLE OVERHEAD.

LADY MARY: …and I wanted one of those airplanes, with a banner for all to see…

SOUND OF ROARING ENGINE. WILL YOU MARRY ME? UNFURLS ACROSS THE SKY, TOWED BY WWI SOPWITH CAMEL.

THE PILOT IS BRANSON, THE REBEL CHAUFFEUR, WEARING LEATHER FLYING CAP AND GOGGLES. A BIG POT OF STINKY COW PIE STEW IS PERCHED ON HIS LAP, READY TO BE DUMPED ONTO HIS TARGET BELOW…

AND THEY LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER…



Comments

  1. Fran Wood says:

    Your “Downton Abbey” parody is absolutely hilarious. I laughed out loud all through it, and had tears running down my face by the time I finished.

    I am printing it out to put in my “D.A.” scrapbook.

  2. Kevin Coughlin says:

    Thanks, Fran!

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