#throws my hat on the floor in a very british manner

[sophiethewitch1]

Apparently after X many months of suicidal ideation you're supposed to actually make an attempt on your life but I am world's greatest loser and despite the fact that i think about wanting to die all the time my mum told me I'm not allowed to and so I haven't tried again. And that's why I have autism

[themultifandomgal]

His Queen Pt16

The usual group and I have been shipped to the British museum where Ahk's parents are said to be. We're hopping they will be able to help us. Originally it was only meant to be, Ahk and I but the others felt we needed help with this task. We have just woken up from our sleep and hear a knock. Ahk opens up the door reviling Larry and Nicky

"How we doing?" Larry asks

"All clear" I respond

"All right, let's go"

"Larry, the others felt, perhaps, we could use some help"

"The others?"

"Our friends" I smile at Larry

"Lawrence, I couldn't sit idly by. Our very survival is at stake" Teddy pops out a crate

"All right. Hey, Teddy. Good. Good man to have in a crisis" the Atills pops up "Attila. Okay, a little muscle" the Sacagawea

"Hi, Larry" she sheepishly says

"That is a deceptively large box" I nod in agreement

"Obviously, we came along, too. You know you'd be lost without us, Gigantor" Jed and Octavius show up in Attilas hat. Then Dexter comes out

"Are you serious? and the monkey. All right, basically everyone"

"Dada" Laaa yells

"Oh no, no. No possible benefit whatsoever"

"He really wanted to come" I shrug. Laa looks at Nicky confused

"Yeah, this is my son... my actual son, Nicky. Nicky, this is Laaa"

"He's just tracking me"

"So, Lawrence what's the plan of attack" Teddy asks

"We need to get to the Egyptian wing, find Ahk's father... and hopefully get the tablet fixed. All of us" Laaa starts to eat the packing peanuts "Laaa, that's not for eating. That's not food. Don't... You know what? I got a job for you. Come on, come on. Come on" Laaa and Larry walk over to a door "I want you to stay here and watch this door, okay? Make sure nobody comes in or out. Okay? Good. You're gonna be a guard, just like me. All right. No. Come here. Stay here... and put your hands on the door. Good, stay. Stay! Good. That's right. You stay here. Stay here. Stay. Right. No. Stay. Stay. Stay. Look there. Good. Stay. No. Good. Stay. No. Stay. Stay! Don't... Don't move. Don't move. No. Good. Okay" Larry finally comes back over to us "okay, listen up, guys. This place is waking up for the first time... and we have no idea what's out there, so stay together, all right" we begin walking down a hallway that's dark.

We then walk into a room full of statues, some missing limbs and crawling on the floor

"What kind of haunted hootenanny is this, boys?" Jed whispers

"We're all finding this super creepy, right" Nicky now states

"They're just a little freaked out"

"First time we came alive it took some getting used to" Teddy speaks

"Hey, there. Just heading to Egypt. Come on. This way" we walk down another dark hallway. I take Ahk's free hand in mine and he squeezes it in a comforting manner "hear that?"

"Hear what?" Nicky frowns as a dinosaur walks in front of us

"That"

"We'll just be down here if anyone needs us" Jed whispers

"We're not scared. It's just more comfortable" Oct now whispers and they slide into Attila's hat

"Lawrence... I think it's safe to say that we're in a bit of trouble"

I know how to handle this guy. You mind?" Larry takes a horn from a hog that hung on the wall

"Dad, what are you doing?"

"How do you think I tamed your pal Rexy. Hi, there. I bet you're not so mean, are you? I bet you're not so mean. No, you're just a little puppy, right? your just a little puppy who wants to play. You want to play? want to play fetch? yeah? you want to play with this bone? yeah. Here you go. Go fetch. Go fetch" Larry throws the bone and at first the dinosaur chances it, but it then snaps in half

"Lawrence?" Teddy says

"Yeah?"

"May I suggest a different plan? run!" Teddy yells as the dinosaur raws. We run into a room

"Close it, close it!" Teddy tells us the close the door

"Okay. I think we're... get back!" the dinosaur breaks down the door "everybody, get back! all right. You don't want to fetch. Fetch on this" Larry hits it with a stick which does nothing, but out from the shadows comes a shiny man

"Need some help? move" the man fights the dinosaur who swishes it's tail and Attila gets knocked down

"Attila, you okay?"

"Here hold this" the man gives Larry a sword that's heavy. The man hits the dinosaur and it runs off

"That was actually very cool" Nicky looks in amazement

"Sir Lancelot, at your service" the man takes his hat off

"Thank you. That was amazing"

"Theodore Roosevelt... President of the United States of America" Lancelot and Teddy shake hands

"I have no idea what that means"

"I'm Larry, and this is my son, Nick"

"You have a noble face, Nick"

"Thanks" Nicky says confused. I look at Ahk confused and he shrugs

"Thanks for the help"

"Now, you... You remind me of a man I once knew at Camelot"

"Really? one of the Knights of the Round Table?"

"No, Erik"

"Erik?"

"Our fool. He was the funniest fool I ever met. He was so good, he didn't even have to do anything. He could just walk into a room and you'd laugh. You have what he had. The gift. You could be a fool"

"I don't know about that"

"Oh, come on, of course you could! we get you one of those hats with the funny little dangly bells"

"Dangly bells?" Lancelot starts to laugh and imitates what he believes Larry just sounded like

"Larry, the tablet"

"Yeah so we've got to get going, so..." but before we can leave Lancelot looks off into the distance

"Camelot. Someday, I shall return to its mighty towers... to King Arthur... and Queen Guinevere. Sweet... beauteous Guinevere. But I'm sworn not to until I have completed my quest. I must find the Holy Grail"

"The what?" I frown

"Well, good luck with that. And thanks for the help again. We got to get to Egypt, so we'll see you"

"I will lead you"

"No, it's okay"

"Halt, Dangly Bells. There is strange magic in the air, and dangerous beasts are afoot. It is the duty of a true knight... to protect and care for those in need. We're off"

"I guess he's coming with us" Larry says looking back at me and Ahk

"Larry" Attila tells us that Jed and Octavius have fallen somewhere while we were running and now we don't know where they are.

Next

Previous

[downtonabbeyrevisited]

Series One - Episode Seven

One thing that seasoned Downton viewers will know is that either the plot moves so fast that you get whiplash moving from point to point and have to perform a fair amount of mental gymnastics to recall single lines that were (canonically speaking) made months and sometimes years ago, or it’s so slow that you think you’ve slipped into a coma and are having a strange dream about the coming of electricity. This instalment is a whopping 65 minutes long and  defiantly falls into the former category of episode. Don’t be fooled by the slow start of dusting chandeliers, every single plot point that King Julian has ever thought of is about to be covered in rapid succession whilst the July 1914 stamped ominously at the bottom of the screen indicates that the shit is about to get real. The main topic of conversation in Downton Village is apparently the murder of the Austrian Arch-duke. Who knew that rural Yorkshire with its still broadly illiterate population during this time period was so switched on to international relations? 

William’s mother has (predictably) died and Anna has made an armband which is utterly indistinguishable from his livery in her honour. Another soul unable to appreciate this is Mrs Patmore who is now so blind that it has been brought to the attention of those who dwell upstairs. Mrs Patmore is summoned to the library where she collapses into the nearest available chair after chewing off Robert’s ear and he arranges to send her up to London. I doubt this was quite the reaction he was expecting but there we go. In Beryl’s absence, Mrs Bird comes to hold the fort and test Daisy’s loyalties to provide a bit of light relief in what is, when you think about it, quite a grim episode. 

Despite being slow on the uptake, Daisy soon gets into the swing of launching the Downton scullery equivalent of chemical warfare whilst Mrs Bird makes disparaging comments about the kitchen and staff. But Daisy soon falls foul of a bit of bait and switch and only succeeds in almost giving Thomas’ colon a thorough clean out. 

Whilst Mrs Patmore sits in Moorfields reeling at the fact that cataracts can’t be removed by whatever the 1914 equivalent of homeopathy is, Anna is determined to get to the bottom of why Bates was in prison. Thomas and O’Brien’s written confirmation of Bates’ previous misdeeds have only served to light a fire under her and with a confidence to which I can only aspire, she marches into Greenwich. Or is it Chelsea? My knowledge of barracks isn’t what it used to be despite the fact that I am typing this a stones throw away from one now. My superiors are weeping somewhere. In true British Army fashion, a man with an impressive hat brings out a massive book which he never refers to for any information that he could not hold in his head. He then gives out Mrs Bates Senior’s address 104 years before GDPR kicks in. 

A meeting with Ma Bates confirms that it was Vera who stole the regimental silver rather than John but he took the fall, apparently feeling that he had ruined her life. However I can’t be the only person who is still a little unclear as to why he did go to prison for Vera as there doesn’t seem to be much evidence that he had ruined her life unless I’ve missed something, which is entirely possible. Anna returns to Downton and appeals to Robert to keep Bates on. Because he is a useful character for pivoting plot points around, Robert agrees, and our favourite self-sabotaging valet lives to survive another series. 

Considerably less eager to stay at Downton is Thomas who has a right old time of it this episode, roaring through all of his typical behaviours: smoking in archways, leaving tables with entire plates of food in-front of him to go and perch on a crate and plot with O’Brien, stealing from Carson in an inept manner, having at least two other characters discuss just how awful he is and finally take shots at William. Except this time, they aren’t snide remarks. These are actual shots involving pre-German sniper mangled fists. Having volunteered for the Army medical corps with Dr Clarkson, Thomas is riding high on his way out the door and makes inappropriate marks about a combination of dead mothers and babies. William takes him on and the two roll around a bit on a table then the floor. Carson calls for a halt but doesn’t actually intervene: its up to the Irish Radical to bring about peace. Some irony there one feels. 

But perhaps Carson’s inaction is connected to the emotional upheaval that of course comes with owning a telephone. I should know; mine has been on ‘Do Not Disturb’ for at least a year now. Presumably seeing the phone as an affront to his skills as a butler, there are a fair number amount of him looking perplexed at the new arrival. But with a bit of practice under his belt, he is ready to reluctantly shuffle into the twentieth century. Oh I do love him. 

The coming of the telephone is good news for Gwen through who manages to bag herself an interview out of its installation in the Abbey. However she neglects to say that she was a housemaid on her application form. The manager of the company scoffs at this upon learning she works at Downton “you thought that would put me off!”. Well yes, because less then twenty minutes ago you were bemoaning the fact that you couldn’t find any secretaries with experience which is what you needed. King Julian is now struggling to maintain continuity within an episode never mind between. Lord. 

After 18 years, and presumably a lot of hormonal shifting, Cora is pregnant. Robert sounds incredulous and frankly, we all are. Robert doesn’t understand what’s been done differently to bring about this major shift in plot, but Cora brings him to an abrupt halt before he can pick along any further down that particular line of enquiry and an entire nation, nay the world, exhales. However Foetus C’s appearance on the scene coincides with the departure of Simmons and through a convoluted chain of events, their fates are inextricably linked. O’Brein overhears that a new lady’s maid is required and immediately jumps head first into the wrong end of the stick. But to be fair to her, Violet and Cora seem to only talk about their quest when either Thomas or O’Brien are in earshot which is asking for trouble really. But that does not excuse O’Brien committing infanticide by proxy via the medium of Imperial Leather. With a bar of poor quality soap that breaks alarmingly easily and an off-screen yelp, it’s all over and another massive plot point that has a whole lifecycle within less than an episode. 

Although Foetus C didn’t hang around long, he made quite the impact and along with the influence of Aunt Rosamund manages to unsettle the romance that Matthew and Mary have been carefully cultivating since Episode One. St James Park provides a backdrop for Rosamund, following the tradition of all Aunts worldwide, to winkle out the truth about their nieces and nephew’s love lives. As they glide through London, and pass two men sat on a bench trying to divert the apocalypse, Rosamund plants the seeds of doubt that will eventually blossom into a full blown crisis in about thirty minutes time with the mere suggestion that Mary might have to live in a cottage. 

With the prospect of another male heir on the horizon, Matthew considers moving back to Manchester but not before he can have the first of two emotionally charged conversations under a tree. Matthew witters on about ‘prospects’ whilst Mary looks increasingly desperate. That tree and the accompanying bench have seen an awful lot of drama: people have sobbed under it, plotted beside it and stared artfully into the middle distance beneath its shadow and its only series one. 

But even when it’s clear that Matthew’s inheritance is not in danger, he returns to the tree with Mary to assert the fact that he is leaving Downton for reasons that I can’t entirely fathom but are mainly based around the fact that he doesn’t want to be socially engineered and that he can’t be sure of anything. Wearing the world’s most pointless gloves, Mary covers her face and weeps in what is fast becoming a signature move. The ‘tree’ scenes between her and Matthew have been a real chance for both actors to get their teeth into a bit of decent uninterrupted dialogue. I have loved Michelle Dockery since she stole my twelve year old heart as Susan in Hogfather and she has not failed me yet. 

Carson comes to comforts Mary under the ’tree of emotional conflict’ and in one shot we have captured the charm of Downton. Ahh. Now, back onto the nonsense. 

The garden party is suddenly upon us and with it, the tying up of as many loose ends as possible just incase the series isn’t renewed. Hold onto your hats folks! Mrs Patmore returns in a cracking pair of sunglasses, Clarkson gives Thomas his papers who then promptly resigns, William and Daisy reconcile, Mrs Hughes warns Branson off Sybil whilst Sir Anthony pegs it out of Downton before Edith is allowed any measure of happiness, O’Brein attends to Cora’s every need and then learns that she was never in the firing line anyway, Branson plucks up the courage to answer a telephone, Gwen gets the job and proceeds to hug Branson and Sybil hug in a manner that you would think would be enough to cause a scandal, we learn of Ma Bates’ approval of Anna but Bates is still a stubborn idiot , Mr Moseley wants to crack on with Anna and if you squint a bit Downton Abbey briefly looks like The Villa. Oh and WW1 breaks out.  

Romantic declaration of the moment 

“I’d say he’s keen. Very keen indeed” Well then TeLl HeR JohN! Anna and Bates must be up there for slow-burn romance of the millennia and for my money is a better love story than Mary and Matthew but that could just be my gritty scots and northern heritage rooting for the little guy. 

Expressive eyebrow of the week 

Robert won last episode but nevertheless his face during the menopause chat with the accompanying “please” wins this one. THIS is why Fleabag Season 2 Episode 3 had to happen. 

Wait, what? 

“Is there anything worse than losing one’s maid” Erm…maybe the oncoming death of 17 million people with 11.5% of the British Army told by the upper echelons of society to walk slowly towards the guns? 

“Oy” is Mrs Patmore Jewish? 

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to sit in your presence my lord” That is a surprising amount of respect from someone who only two episodes fed him a chicken that had both been on the floor and nibbled by a cat…. 

“Try not to miss me, it will be good practice” Bates is a lovely man but ultimately he is a masochistic twat. 

“First electricity, now telephones. Sometimes I feel as if I were living in a H.G. Wells novel” Julian really does reserve his best for Maggie. 

“I’m not much good at building my life on shifting sands”  Calm down, Matthew. 

“He had a right to know how his countryman died, in the arms of a slut” Calm down, Edith. 

[auskultu]

The Who Ready To Hit You With New Ideas

Keith Altham, New Musical Express, 28 October 1967

AFTER six weeks with “the last Schmaltz” it is good to find the Who back in the charts with a new single, ‘I Can See For Miles’, in their old “knockabout” style. It is also good to have Pete Townshend back for interviews, employing his brain like a well-oiled lawn mower that clacks around and around, spitting out ideas and attitudes as it churns up the Scene.

Is there a new approach from the group, perhaps, following their successful American tour and the beginning of what almost unbelievably is their first British tour tomorrow (Saturday) with Traffic?

“Yer, what we’re gonna do is hit ‘em wiv it,” monotoned Pete, in his voice for swinging morons. “Punch ‘em in the stomach, kick ‘em on the floor and sock it to ‘em!”

But our story really begins (for those who like to sit comfortably) in the Who’s London offices, where I met manager Kit Lambert, who shook hands in a detached manner and wandered away to take a phone call from agent Danny Betesh.

Mistake Twenty-five minutes later he returned to ask his secretary whether Keith Altham was meeting him here or at a restaurant. Noticing me asleep in one corner, he immediately realised the mistake and banged a fist against his forehead. I was greatly mollified to learn that he recently failed to recognise his own mother as they passed in the street.

We ate an excellent lunch, at which I was under the impression that Pete might appear. “No, rather my fault,” admitted Kit. “I forgot to tell him. However, we’ll go down to the recording studio in Kingsway and provoke them there.” It was 2.45 when we arrived at the studio, but no one else had arrived as yet.

“When should they be here?” I asked “Forty-five minutes ago,” said Kit, resignedly.

Roger Daltrey was first to arrive, wearing yellow sweater, with a large silver cross round his neck on a chain—and trousers as well, of course, as it was a cold day.

Roger said: “The kids in America are very much more together than in Britain. They have something to rebel against. No one wants to be killed at nineteen fighting in Vietnam.

“We’re more a stage group than a recording group…when we play intricate things on stage we explain them…don’t write what I said about Graham Nash…our fans are broad-minded—they have to be!”

John Entwistle arrived with Keith Moon and John said: “Shall we tell him about those school kids who mobbed us in the Blue Boar cafe on the M1 and began stuffing baked beans and tomatoes from our plates into their pockets as souvenirs? All those meletrons aren’t good for your health.” He also did an impression of David McWilliams by holding his nose and singing ‘Days of Pearly Spencer’!

Hurricane Keith said to me: “Where’s yer sixpence for yer cup of tea?” Then hurricane Townshend arrived, rumbling about how he thought it was 3.30 p.m. they were due to start and picked up a packet of sandwiches. “Pig food,” he yelled and threw them back into a carton. Pete likes throwing sandwiches. “See this?” He indicated a suitcase full of tapes. “That’s the Who’s dustbin!” Eventually the storm subsided and he sat in a swivel chair, swinging from left to right as he talked about the new single.

“We were making records for record reviewers before,” said Pete. “They were too flimsy, to poignant, too prissy. They were factory-made. We’ve gone backwards in order to go forward.

“The further forward you move, the more you confuse the fans. We wanted to do something that would be unexpected. Something that would demand something of the public. ‘I Can See For Miles’ was the answer.”

Then, being Pete Townshend, he neatly injected into his lengthy explanation: “And besides which, we had nothing else suitable to release at the time!” As an established group, the Who have a hard core of supporters and they might find the tour with the groups like the Tremeloes and the Herd confusing. “We’ve tried this semi-intellectual approach,” smiled Pete. “We did it at the first house of the Saville concert last Sunday and died a death, because we were following an overwhelming act like the Vanilla Fudge. We were like a cream tea!

“Kit was so worried he tried to way-lay all the journalists in a pub over the road so they would only see the end of the show, but we put things right in the second house. We did a Brian Poole routine—Roger split his trousers, Keith wore a Jester’s hat and knocked his drums about and I kept falling over. They loved it.

“I’ll tell you who is going to be big next year. Groups not afraid to make concessions and mock the whole process. The Bonzo Dogs, for instance, and Dave Dee, because he is not frightened of being commercial!

“In the old days an ‘Emily Scruggs’ used to come into a recording studio, bleat into a megaphone and there it was for ‘posterior.’ Now we get all hang up on six track systems, multi-recording devices and electronic side effects. Electronic music is infinite in variety and eventually you’ll lose yourself and everyone else experimenting with it.

“On our next LP, The Who Sell Out, we’ve got a number called ‘Rael’ which should have been the next single. It’s all about ‘overspill’ when the world population becomes so great in years ahead that everyone is assigned to their one square foot of earth.

“We played it on stage in Manchester and Scotland and everyone just looked at us with their mouths open—the complication was too much. “I don’t want to lose personal contact with people. We want to do longer personal appearance spots, for example.

Identity “I’d rather do longer to give the audience time to identify with the group and get involved with the music. We’re deliberately overrunning our appearances at present.

“It’s like reading a Kingsley Amis novel and wanting to meet the author after you’ve read the book. You meet him, say ‘Hello dear’ and that’s the end of the involvement.”

And so the mowing machine clacked on with blades awhirling: “Stevie Winwood has a legion of fans; it’s inhuman for him to lock himself away like that in the country and detach himself…I’ve heard all I want to of the Beatles’ last LP; now it’s a memory…people aren’t jiving in the listening boxes in record shops any more like we did to a Cliff Richard ‘newie’…’Paper Sun’ wasn’t a hit record, it was a best seller…’Lily’ and ‘Happy Jack’ had simple tunes people could remember.”

“Something you could hum over a lathe,” chipped in Mr. Moon.

When last seen Mr. Townshend was leaping up and down the corridor of the Kingsway studios shouting, “I’m beautiful, I’m beautiful,” and Mr. Lambert was almost visibly counting up studio fees.