This was easily the most entertaining episode of the season so far. Not because of heart-wrenching drama or beautifully acted scenes, but because Julian Fellowes has essentially turned the show into The Adventures Of Lady Mary Crawley, International Hair Model and Equestrienne. It can’t last for long as a direction for the show, but we can’t say we’re not enjoying it. And besides, there was so much story going on in and around that house that we’re a little surprised at how efficiently scripted the whole thing was.
Some highlights, as we remember them (Note: May not be entirely accurate dialogue):
Molesley: There’s a telegram for Lady Edith.
Mrs. Hughes: Oh, shit.
Mr. Carson: Oh, shit.
Robert: Oh, shit.
Cora: Oh, shit.
Mary: My hair. Is it alluring enough, do you think?
Bates: Let’s make a baby right here in the kitchen.
Anna: Stop, you silly murd- I mean – uh, mug. You silly mug.
Bates: We’ll have a son and name him after my father, Norman.
Robert: So, Gregson is dead.
Cora: Poor Edith. How did she ta-
Robert: She tore the drapes off the dining room windows in rage and screamed like a banshee in heat. She stabbed Isis with an oyster fork and gave Daisy a black eye before retreating to her charred ruin of a bedroom, where she’s been curled up on the floor, wailing softly to herself ever since.
Cora: Mmm. *goes back to reading mail*
Robert: I feel like a walk.
Thomas: Psst. Baxter. Wanna see something?
Baxter: Dear God in heaven, what have you been doing?
Thomas: Butt injections!
Dr. Clarkson: AND THERE’S NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT. Someday in the future, perhaps men who practice butt injections can serve in the military and adopt foreign babies, but for now, you should probably just quietly loathe yourself and plot schemes against people.
Anna: Stop going through my things. You don’t want to know the things I do to stay fresh.
Bates: You bought a lady thingy because you think I’m a murderer.
Anna: That doesn’t even make sense.
Bates: I’m not a murderer.
Anna: I know you didn’t kill your ex-wife.
Bates. Not her. The other murder.
Anna: I’m getting confused. Let me get my notes.
The Dowager Countess: Igor, I found your wife whoring herself out in Hong Kong.
Count Chocula: Clearly, she’s been spoiled for life. Dead to me. Let’s make love on my dirty bed like only octogenarians can.
The Dowager Countess: Oh, you.
Robert: I’m a whiny-ass titty-baby and I’m going to stay right here in this tiny little bed.
Cora: Fine, but you’ll be getting handjobs from chamber maids for the rest of your life if you don’t haul ass back to our bed, Mister.
Robert: On second thought…
Molesley: Daisy, I noticed you can read now. I can read too! Here’s one of my books.
Daisy: I’m not supposed to accept books from strangers.
Mrs. Patmore: You’ve been working with him for 15 years, ye daft bitch.
Mary: Everyone look at my hair!
Cora: Gosh, I wish I was young like you!
Robert: Your dead sister would be appalled.
Rose: Mary, have you met my Jew?
Atticus: I say –
*runs out of the room, her screams echoing off the walls*
Cora: Poor dear.
Mary: Back to me, please.
Cora: It’s so shiny!
Lord Sinderby: Hmmph. Nice to jew meet you all. Jew.
Robert: Yes, wonderful to meet jew.
Lady Sinderby: How lovely to see jew again, Rose.
Atticus: Mummy! Don’t I sound just like Prince William?
Lord Sinderby: Like a Jewish Prince William.
Mabel Lane Fox: I’d just as soon see a knife stuck out from between your shoulder blades, but I must say, I admire you for getting a haircut.
Mary: Like everything I do, it was to punish the men around me.
Mabel Lane Fox: You’re fucking awesome.
Mary: I know. Let’s ride.
Mrs: Drewe: You’re just gonna let this stroppy bitch take our daughter?
Farmer Drewe: Know your place, woman. She owns our asses.
Edith: I say, I know this must be terribly inconvenient for you, but you see I feel badly right now and I —
Mrs. Drewe: SHUT UP! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!!!!!
Edith: Right. I’m off, then. I’ll just be taking this with me.
Marigold: I think I’d rather grow up poor.
Tom: Edith is beside herself with grief and has run away.
Robert: What?!? Why, that’s —
Cora: Oh my God, what’s wrong with Isis?
Robert: ISIS! MY DARLING DOG! SOMEONE HELP HER!
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[Photo Credit: Courtesy of Nick Briggs/Carnival Film & Television Limited 2014 for MASTERPIECE]
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