If you haven’t yet watched the finale of Downton’s Season 3, then stop reading now…or I will ruin your life.
…If you have already seen it: Julian Fellows ruined our lives, and this is the part where we grieve together.
First of all, Marty kept it secret for a whole week.
…I’d gotten her the season for her Birthday, which she dutifully ate up, then drew blood on a continual basis by biting her tongue about what happens. She was supposed to have brought the discs to our Friday Girl’s Night, but had forgotten them at home, so we both stewed, then got over it, then went to see a film which made us forget everything but awesome stuff.
…Regardless of how amazing Maggie Smith is, this still meant that I was gonna have to wait until at least Monday to see what the rest of the world was already going to know, by late Sunday. No cable, means streaming ability only, (thank you Masterpiece), and work, plus rehearsal meant it was gonna have to wait until late.
…And it did.
…And then I got really pissed.
…And used some choice words that apparently Dame Smith finds particularly appealing in her own personal lexicon.
…But before all that, I needed to follow through on a promise. A blood oath with Marty that I would hook in, as soon as the episode began, and IM her my immediate responses she would have been able to SEE, had she remembered to bring the damn discs last Friday. Which (because of the interactive way I tend to watch television anyway), became a mass flood in stream-of-consciousness updates yelled at both her, and the TV screen.
I include it here as follows:
**
Me Text: And Downton begins…
Marty: Ooooohhhh my Jesus!! Do you know what happens already?
Me Text: Nope. Surprised it’s a year later, automatically.
Me to TV: Ooo. Alternate intro. Mixin’ it up, kids…!
Marty: She’s pregnant!!!!
Me Text: Yup. 
The end spoiler last week showed it though.
Me to TV: Well, they can’t kill off Mary, so it won’t be that. But something not right is gonna happen with the baby. Obviously. To freak everyone out about it. Bet it comes way early or something…
Me Text: It’s gonna be a Preemie…just know it.
Me to TV: Wait. Maid-chick-what? Nope. Bitch, step down!
Me Text: Crap. Branson and a maid. Crap.
Marty: I know. You see her and you are like, LAY OFF BITCH.
Me to TV: Dude, don’t be an idiot stereotype. Stay AWAY from the Help! Know your place!!
Me to TV: Meanwhile…A castle. With actual turrets…!
Me Text: Hello Scotland. Yes, please.
Me to TV: Party times! Boss is out!! Lets bust out of here everyone, and add some color into our wardrobes!!!
Me to TV: Shit. Everyone is gonna be gone from the house. Something’s gonna happen to the house…!
Me Text: If the house burns to the ground or something while at the fair, I’m gonna lose it.
Me to TV: Oh. Wait. Wait. Mrs. Crawley’s gettin’ all hit ooooon….
Me Text: Ahhh…Matthew’s Mama and the Doc. Bomb-chicka-bow-wow.
Marty: I know. Right?!?!
Me to TV: Oh dear lord in heaven. TWO Mrs. O’Briens. Save us all…
Me to TV: God. Mary, whhhhy must you allllways be suuuuuch a biiiiiitch.
Me Text: Mary is suuuuuuch a bitch.
(My stream freezes as Downstairs are collected looking out the window at a twitterpated Mrs. Patmore. I cuss. I doodle with the computer. I reboot and reset.)
Me Text: My stream just died. Trying to start over and skip to the same part. Fuck.
Marty: Nnnnnnooooooooo that’s not cool!!!! What part are you at?
Me to TV: Fucking computer and it’s fucking…oh…there. Ok. That works-ish I guess.
Me Text: Got it goin’ but had to go back a bit. Bates and Anna and the smoking peppermint.
Me to TV: I love you Bates’ so much…why haven’t you made babies yet?
Me to TV: …And back to the “borrowed” Jane Eyre plot point of the dude with the crazy wife no one knows about…
Me Text: Poor Edith and her shitty men. YOU’RE ALREADY MARRIED, JAGHOLE!
Marty: I know, but not really. I mean he shouldn’t have to suffer with an insane wife for forever. I mean, she doesn’t even know who he is.
Me Text: He shouldn’t. But she deserves better. Wow. This is like the “everyone hooking up with everyone else” episode…
Me to TV: (Totally cracking up and repeating:) Daisy: Mrs. Patmore? Why not? She’s a woman, ain’t she? Thomas: Only “technically”…
Me to TV: Establishing shot to die by. Lookit that! Lookit it!!
Me Text: Scotland is ridiculous. I want to go to there.
Marty: Yes it is!!!! And we will go there!!
Me to TV: Ohhhh! Shut up, shut up…romancing by a hot Doc…and she has like no idea what is ahead…but I do!
Me Text: A date! With the Doc!!
Marty: Holler!!!
Me to TV: OMG. Anna. Why are you so freakin’ adorable? Lookit her. Learning to reel. How fucking cute is she??
Me Text: I love Anna 
(Computer stream freezes and jerks. And starts. And freezes again. And then goes. Kinda.)
Me Text: Dammit. Keeps freezing the stream…
Me to TV: Oh shit! Thomas is getting the living crap beat out of him!! Dude, Mason MOVE YOUR ASS!! Go get someone you freakin’ idiot!
(Stream freezes again.)
Me to TV: STOP IT!!! YOU’RE RUINING EVERYTHING!! WORK, GODDAMN YOU…!!!
(The stream freezes one last time, jiggles, pops and goes on seamlessly once more.)
Me to TV: And about fucking time! Now. Where were we. Oh. Yeah. Mason just standing there like an asshat while Thomas bleeds all over the place for him.
Me to TV: Oh…Carson and baby Sybil…how gross-cute is thaaaaaat?
Marty: Ahhhh you’re killing me. What part are you at?
Me to TV: Damn. Forgot Marty…
Me Text: Butler and the baby. Thomas just beat up. Anna about to show her stuff, I bet.
Marty: Carson and the baby is the fucking cutest thing ever.
Me Text: OMG. So cute 
Me to TV: And Mrs. Hughes. I love them. They need to follow THAT love story line. It was TOTALLY there during the cancer scare and then just dropped off to nothing immediately.(Laughing and repeating) Mrs. Hughes: Lovely to see you cherish the wee bairn. Carson: No need to get all sentimental about it…
Me to TV: Men. In. Kilts. Thank you God. And Julian Fellows…
Me to TV: Who’d have thunk there could be someone to try and out-O’Brien, O’Brien?! It’s like evil, squared!
Me Text: Shit. That’s a good slug of whiskey.
Me to TV: Shit. I want a good slug of whiskey…
Me to TV: Oh, here it comes!
Me Text: Anna 
Me to TV: Lookit him look at her…lookit that faaaace. Ohhh…and how he says that thing about…Go! Go and make babies you two!! I demand it!!
Me to TV: …And the part where Mrs. Patmore doesn’t get, at all, that she is being “used.” Stupid women…
Me Text: Alfred’s gonna be the new cook I bet. Geeze they are packing this episode FULL.
Marty: They have so much to cover. But I love that Mrs. Patmore is like, “Of course a man can cook!!”
Me to TV: What are you doing? Who do you think you are you little…Back it uuuup! Back! It! Up!
Me Text: GET AWAY FROM BRANSON U SLUT!
Marty: I KNOW!!!! HE’S SYBIL’S AND ALWAYS WILL BE.
Me Text: I know!!! Oh. Contractions!
Me to TV: … And so it begins. What new hell have you in store for us now, Downton Abbey…?
Me to TV: Meanwhile, of course. Have to “replace” the spirited dead daughter with another person who wants to be just like her, only is annoying, cuz she ISN’T her.
Me Text: I don’t want Rose at Downton. Dammit.
Me to TV: Oh. Mrs. Hughes. Can I keep you? I love that woman. So much. She’s just the best of everything that is good. Listen to her Branson, she knows what’s what.
Me Text: Mrs. Hughes…such a good woman.
Marty: I love her so much. She’s so smart and observant.
Me to TV: Shut up! I’m not crying just cuz he is…and she’s all there and comforting him and…shut up!
Me Text: I know. Baby Born!
Me to TV: Well. That was anti-climatic. Which just means some NEW kind of awful will be taking place. It won’t be Branson now…so is it the house? Is it one of the 11 romances flying through the air? Is it something at the Scottish castle? If something happens to Anna or Bates, I’m gonna kill myself… DAMMIT, Downton, you EXHAUST ME!
Me to TV: Dear Matthew, WHY do you INSIST on seeing “good” in that bitch wife of yours? She’s awful.
Me to TV: (Repeating with a scoff) Mary: I wish everyone else could see me the way you do, and not the way Edith and other people do… THEN STOP BEING A BITCH, MARY. IT’S KINDA REALLY EASY!
Me to TV: Driving. Driving fast. Oh shit…
Me Text:–Driving fast. Shit. No. Shit.
(Aaaaaan the whole Downton world implodes. With it’s eyes wide open, lying in a ditch. I actually, physically, stand up.)
Me to TV: FUCK! YOU! JULIAN! FELLOWS!!!!
Me Text: FUCK YOU, JULIAN FELLOWS!!!!
Marty: Bad. Bad. Bad.
Me to TV: Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME??!?!?!
Marty: (Like she could hear me.) RIGHT?!??! IT’S NOT OKAY!
Me Text: FUCK. YOU.
Me to TV: …I can’t even…SERIOUSLY??!?!
Me Text: Fuck! Yoooooooou!!!
(Inward sob.)
Marty: Apparently we have to say that to Matthew. He didn’t renew his contract cause he wanted to move on so they had to kill him. BUT IT’S STILL NOT OKAY.
Me Text: Fuck them all!!!
Marty: Fuuuuuuuucccckk it. How could he do that to us?!?!?
Me to TV: Stupid Actors, and their stupid careers!!!
Me Text: I am a Hulk of anger!!!! SMASH!!!!
Marty: Rrrrraaaahhhh!!!
(I sulk on the couch and yell at the credits rolling on the TV.)
Marty: You got so happy didn’t you. So fucking happy and then they took your heart and ripped it out.
Me Text: Those bastards.
Marty: And we have 10 fucking months until the next one.
Me Text: Fuck. Fuck. Just. Fuck.
***
…Which soon after ended our correspondence because I felt I needed to go to bed…being almost midnight-thirty.
…But then, I was too wound up to sleep (of course.) So instead, stayed up til 2 a.m. watching every. freakin. piece. of. supplemental. Downton. materials. I. could. find.
…Until I finally, finally fell asleep.
…And that’s the way it went down. In real-time.
The end.
~D
