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Sunday, 25 September 2005 22:07![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
usuallyhats
Vanky was spot on, Sayid's flashback episode was indeed Grim. But: Mira Furlan! Wow! Also loved the whole golf course sub plot. Hurley is ace.
Whinge whinge whinge. Why are there so many adverts during Lost? Before the credits? Seven minutes from the end? Come on. Please could someone make those 118 118 sponsors Lost things stop? Argh. And another thing, if you are going to show me adverts and they are not for Serenity, I shall get Cross. Yay, Channel 5 showed the Serenity trailer halfway through Stargate: Atlantis! Hurrah! Twelve days to go...
New Freeview channel! Season three of 24, AT LAST! Also repeats of other sky progs, here's hoping for Star Trek. I feel there is not enough Trek in my life at present.
Why yes, my life does revolve around tv, why do you ask? In reality news, job interview on Thursday, Ooo Er And Things.
Which Historical Lunatic Are You?
From the fecund loins of Rum and Monkey.
Sometime Marquis of Tichfield, Earl of Portland, Viscount Woodstock, Baron of Cirencester, co-heir to the Barony of Ogle and renowned as the finest judge of horseflesh in England, you took the tradition of aristocratic eccentricity to unprecedented heights. Having inherited the stately home of Welbeck Abbey, you proceeded to construct miles of underground tunnels and a ballroom, in pink, beneath it. The ballroom was complete except for one small detail. It had no floor. Despite this vast home, you lived exclusively in a suite of five rooms, each one also pink.
Having been turned down by your opera singer objet d'amour, Adelaide Kemble, in your youth, you suffered a broken heart and never married. This did not stop you from caring deeply about the wellbeing of your servants. Occasionally you would even help them muck out the stables. However, you did not neglect discipline, forcing disobedient underlings to skate themselves to exhaustion on your subterranean skating rink. Servants were given strict instructions regarding conduct: if they met you in a corridor, they were to ignore your existence while you froze to the spot until they were out of sight; and a chicken was to be kept roasting at all times in case you felt like sneaking into the kitchen for a snack.
You became ever more eccentric with age. You built another tunnel, this time to the railway station, through which you would ride your carriage. When you reached the station your carriage, with you inside, would be hoisted up onto the train in its entirety.
Upon your death, your multitude of titles passed to your cousin, who was obliged to delve into your curious domain to find your body once the servants had reported your absence. Entering your private rooms, he found that, aside from a commode in the centre of your bedroom, the only objects in the whole suite were hundreds of hatboxes, each containing a single brown wig.
Whinge whinge whinge. Why are there so many adverts during Lost? Before the credits? Seven minutes from the end? Come on. Please could someone make those 118 118 sponsors Lost things stop? Argh. And another thing, if you are going to show me adverts and they are not for Serenity, I shall get Cross. Yay, Channel 5 showed the Serenity trailer halfway through Stargate: Atlantis! Hurrah! Twelve days to go...
New Freeview channel! Season three of 24, AT LAST! Also repeats of other sky progs, here's hoping for Star Trek. I feel there is not enough Trek in my life at present.
Why yes, my life does revolve around tv, why do you ask? In reality news, job interview on Thursday, Ooo Er And Things.
Which Historical Lunatic Are You?
From the fecund loins of Rum and Monkey.
Sometime Marquis of Tichfield, Earl of Portland, Viscount Woodstock, Baron of Cirencester, co-heir to the Barony of Ogle and renowned as the finest judge of horseflesh in England, you took the tradition of aristocratic eccentricity to unprecedented heights. Having inherited the stately home of Welbeck Abbey, you proceeded to construct miles of underground tunnels and a ballroom, in pink, beneath it. The ballroom was complete except for one small detail. It had no floor. Despite this vast home, you lived exclusively in a suite of five rooms, each one also pink.
Having been turned down by your opera singer objet d'amour, Adelaide Kemble, in your youth, you suffered a broken heart and never married. This did not stop you from caring deeply about the wellbeing of your servants. Occasionally you would even help them muck out the stables. However, you did not neglect discipline, forcing disobedient underlings to skate themselves to exhaustion on your subterranean skating rink. Servants were given strict instructions regarding conduct: if they met you in a corridor, they were to ignore your existence while you froze to the spot until they were out of sight; and a chicken was to be kept roasting at all times in case you felt like sneaking into the kitchen for a snack.
You became ever more eccentric with age. You built another tunnel, this time to the railway station, through which you would ride your carriage. When you reached the station your carriage, with you inside, would be hoisted up onto the train in its entirety.
Upon your death, your multitude of titles passed to your cousin, who was obliged to delve into your curious domain to find your body once the servants had reported your absence. Entering your private rooms, he found that, aside from a commode in the centre of your bedroom, the only objects in the whole suite were hundreds of hatboxes, each containing a single brown wig.