I know, you’re already super busy with Scandal and Revenge and all the other one-word, vice-y titled shows: “Stay tuned for a brand new Misdeed followed by Gluttony only on ABCNBC.”
I watch a lot of TV, and right now, only one program can sate my hunger for female-driven drama and fabulous haute couture.
DOWNTON. FUCKING. ABBEY.
Now one might ask me, “Social Assassin, you’re a heterosexual(y) male, shouldn’t you be gearing up to watch the Super Bowl or something?” To that person I say, “The only Super Bowl I care about is the tastefully appointed tureen of creamy watercress soup presented before Lady Mary!!” Then that person slowly backs away from me and ponders where my Dad went wrong…
Downton Abbey has everything you need in a drama: backstabbing, deceit, and giant, feathered hats. Plus, it’s on PBS, so it’s educational enough to justify your lie to others that you read books!
Here are a few fav features of the foppish fantasy that is Downton Abbey:
The Dowager Countess
The original Betch. One woman with the sassiness of ten black secretaries. She may resemble a chicken, but her cattiness is unparalleled. The only physical labor she’s ever done is rolling her eyes. Your grandma lives in Boca, Downton’s grandma lives in the nightmares of the common folk. Whenever your First World Problems are getting you down, remember the wise words of Lady Violet:
Uh oh, Thomas spied on Edna talking with Branson about their love affair! There hasn’t been this much excitement since Thomas overheard Mr. Bates conversing with Anna about his dislike for Lord Grantham, which was nothing compared to the time Thomas discovered Daisy discussing her desire to become a proper cook with a stalk of celery!
Okay, so 85% of Downton’s conflicts arise from Thomas standing in a doorway and listening to things.
The other 15% stem from hastily drawn documents! My word! The point is, no matter how mundane the catalyst, we as the audience always seem to be drawn into the drama. I can watch 15 middle schoolers get eaten alive by zombies on The Walking Dead and not bat an eye. Lady Edith invites Sir Anthony Strallan to play croquet and my world is turned upside-fucking-down.
We all want a Downstairs; a dedicated staff of basement-dwelling servants who cater to our every whim and whose only source of entertainment is discussing the minutiae of our social lives ‘round the dining room table:
“I say, have you all heard that Lady Jenna is being courted by a one Lord Greenberg of Great Neck upon the Tinder? I shan’t assume she is DTF!”
“Heavens no, now ready the Lululemons, Lady Jenna has expressed a desire to go spinning on the morrow!”
My doorman Juan simply does not compare.
We don't want to spoil too much, but Lady “the fugly sister” Edith had to wait until this season, when both her sisters underwent a shit ton of despair to say the LEAST, for people, especially her sisters, to finally stop making fun of her. Literally she is the ass of every joke and it's just as funny to us as it is to Lady Mary. I mean, bitch got left at the alter by a gimp. Everytime she speaks everyone sort of looks at eachother and thinks to themselves, ugh why are you here again? And now she’s trying to marry this guy who is already married but I’m sure that will go down as smoothly as her nose.
He looks like the red Angry Bird. That is all.
Do you also have a penchant for evening gowns and a rigid caste system? Share your Downton love in the comments section!