So, I have recently taken Twitter off my phone, because I decided it was bad for my mental health to wake up and then get thrown immediately into the FLAMES of whatever terrible thing is newly happening in the world (or even just the general outrage about the dumb hot take du jour). Which means that when I wake up and I want to see if, say, Prince Louis’s official christening photos have arrived and need to be written about, or if I can snooze a bit, I zip over to Instagram. Which is why this is the first thing I saw this morning, after my own ceiling:
I read it three times before I realized that yes, they’re actually making a Downton movie. I have notes, concerns, and questions — like, this movie seems like the ideal place to kill off the Dowager Countess, who is currently like 121 years old, and I CAN’T GO THROUGH THAT RIGHT NOW — but mostly I just hope and pray that the film turns out to be a caper revolving around the question of the Crawleys’ missing Gutenberg Bible, and whether or not their Boot Room is technically doomed. Or that Julian Fellowes finally embraces the fact that he’s been writing a soap opera this entire time and reveals that COUSIN MATTHEW ISN’T ACTUALLY DEAD. The force of the car accident that allegedly killed him just, uh, propelled him into the Downton well, and he’s been, er, living with the mole people down there this whole time. The body they found was that of a handsome and well-dressed drifter who wandered over to examine the wreckage of the car and….um….when the car exploded (it exploded, did they not mention that?), he was killed and everyone assumed he was Cousin Matthew and didn’t even think to look in the well. There! I figured that out for you, Julian. CUE LOVE TRIANGLE. Now I’m excited!
