Something to get you through next Sunday night.
(Page 3 of 3)
Margaret (hesitantly): Well, then, it’s probably time I told you all. I am pregnant.
Lord Brideshead: I suspected as much. I’m not a bit surprised. You’ll be disinherited, of course, and banished from the house at once. Please get your things and go!
Julia: Ooh, goody! Then I shall inherit Margaret’s share of the family fortune.
Lord Brideshead: I’m afraid there is no more fortune. I was at my club yesterday and learned from our solicitor, Sir Humphrey, that our estate is bankrupt.
Julia: But I was counting on marrying the Earl of Marmalade. I do so adore Earls!
Lady Brideshead: He’s two notches beneath our social class, my child. If you marry him, the Brideshead name shall be tarnished forever and the scandal would ruin us.
Lord Brideshead: I fear we’re ruined already, my dear.
Margaret: It serves you both right. You’re all an insufferable lot of snobs!
Lord Brideshead: I had better tell Manfred that there will only be three for lunch now that Margaret has been banished from the Brideshead manor.
Margaret: You mean I can’t even stay for lunch and bid farewell to the downstairs staff that raised me from an infant? (stamps her foot) How frightfully beastly!
Lord Brideshead: I’m afraid not, my dear. You must leave at once, and you too Julia.
Julia (weeping): Maybe I acted too hastily, papa. I’ll renounce the Earl of Marmalade and cancel my engagement if only I can stay for lunch.
Lady Brideshead: Very well, child. Do as you please. This is all so tiresome.
Margaret: After thinking it over, I’ve decided that I won’t have the baby, after all, but I will have lunch. I’m dreadfully sorry to have caused such confusion.
Lord Brideshead: So that will now be two or three for lunch? Oh, dear, I fear Mrs. Ramekin will be beside herself. This means she will have to reset the table.
Lady Brideshead: I’m really quite exhausted by all of these changes of plans before lunch. Kindly make up your mind, girls. The future of the Brideshead name may depend upon it! (theme music swells and scene fades).
(Laura Linney: Next week on Upstairs/Downton Revisited: Lord Brideshead: “Good God, Manfred — my cufflinks are nowhere to be found and the king is due here for dinner in 15 minutes!”…”I’ve looked everywhere, m’lord. I fear they’ve gone missing!”)
A man of faith in a godless age is hitting Americans where it hurts.
Mr. and Mrs. American Spectator Reader, let P.J. O’Rourke talk sense to your kids.
In Britain, defending your property can get you life.
The debacle of this president’s administration is both a cause and a symptom of the decline of American values. Unless Congress impeaches him, that decline will go on unchecked. An eminent jurist surveys the damage and assesses the chances for the recovery of our culture.
It won’t take long for conservatives to scratch this presidential wannabe off their 2008 scorecard.
The American Christmas, like the songs that celebrate it, makes room for everybody under the rainbow. Is that why so many people seem to be hostile to it?
Was the President done in by the economy, or by the politics of the economy?