In my idle moments - and you'd be surprised at how many of those I have - I have been known to spend my time developing a contingency plan for how I would cope if Grumpy died while I was still young-ish and in my prime (ish). Mostly this has involved running into the caring and comforting arms of Hugh Laurie.
My needs are simple.
But all my starry-eyed dreams were snatched from me when Channel Ten started showing advertisements for Mr Laurie's new show, 'House'. Not only does Hugh mangle his brand new American accent but he delivers a monologue on what an abrasive and yet intriguing character he is. Just so the stupid audience doesn't miss what this quirky new show is all about.
I've seen this ad - I sit through it aghast and yet compelled to keep watching - approximately 10,000 times now and the outcome is this: I am so over Hugh Laurie. Oh sure, I'll always have 'A Bit of Fry and Laurie' and 'Blackadder' and his guest spots on 'Spooks' to look back on. But the memories will be bitter sweet, knowing what he has become.
Farewell, Hugh. That nice Griff Rhys Jones looks like he'd be kind to a grieving young widow. I only hope he understands about the paper crafts.
8 comments:
Before we get to the Hugh Laurie vs Griff Rhys Jones dilemna, I want to know what you have planned to wear to the funeral.
No man understands paper craft!!!
It's so true, anonymous; no man does.
Deep sigh.
As for the funeral...something suitably sombre that hopefully throws into stark relief the tragedy of my situation, thus leading the congregation to whisper to each other, "But she's still so young - well, relatively - poor thing. I only hope she can move on from this and find someone else to love. It's what Grumpy would want. Particularly if that person was quite wealthy."
wouldn't Grumpy prefer it if you just found a wealthy sugar daddy on the side now, and shared the love (and loot) with him? I mean, as opposed to killing him off.
But in the event of a funeral, you really msut add a hat wiht a fascinator veil to the ensemble.
I think you *know* into whose arms I would throw myself, in my misery and angst, in the event of Bill's untimely demise.
The problem is that they're now both married, so my fantasies must also involve the unbelievably coincidental death of their spouses.
The only way I can do it is if we're all at dinner together, and Bill and the inconvenient, albeit ill-fated, spouse go for fish and chips in a thunder storm and have a car accident.
And, of course, the fire is going. And we have a rug.
And the kids are all being baby-sat somewhere else.
You see what I mean. It just becomes hard to suspend reality.
I'm kinda lookin' fwd to House. I actually thought he was American...I'll listen to the ad more closely next time :)
Elisa
Thanks to this blog...Hugh Laurie has become dinner party goss!....HB you invade my computer and now my dinner table... Talking about dinner tables HB....?
Quirkie - yes I do know of whom you speak. The devil is certainly in the details, isn't it? Or he?
Whatevs.
True Blue - every day I look at that dinner table and am filled - FILLED, I tell you - with guilt.
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