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Richard Armitage Anonymous

1000 replies

Fettle · 30/10/2010 22:15

Over here ladies!

OP posts:
Theresaholeinyourmind · 30/10/2010 23:10

Ooh, Flowers, that is an even better way to end the day. Oh swoon, swoon and swoon again.
All I can say is

<strong>STUPID GIRL!!!!</strong>
MrsLucasNorth · 30/10/2010 23:14

He can lead me into trouble anytime!

ASmallBunchofFlowers · 30/10/2010 23:17

Thank you, theresaholeinyourmind. I am hoping soon to offer either the riot scene or the hands trembling over teacups. DH just asked why I was thumbing feverishly through North and South and I mumbled something about taking part in an online discussion. Was I being too economical with the truth? I couldn't bear to think that I couldn't live up to Mr Thornton's standards of probity and rectitude.

Anyway, night night all.

MaudOHara · 30/10/2010 23:36

Found you Smile

MrsLucasNorth · 31/10/2010 13:01

Afternoon - have a stinking cold - anyone fancy using their vivid imagination to cheer me up by concocting a tale of RA in attentive Dr mode Grin

Theresaholeinyourmind · 31/10/2010 13:18

Well, that was a night to remember. Among many other delights, it was the night the universe came to an end and exploded into a stellar cloud of mini-verses.

And also the night Flowers committed lese majeste by referring to our liege lord's estimable nether quarters as ''his botty'

And then redeemed herself by giving us the best bedtime story ever.

Two questions about that.
1)Where do you think Mrs Gaskell got her inspiration for the John Thornton character? Time travelling in her dreams maybe? And did the Reverend Gaskell suddenly start getting lucky when she was writing it? ''My dear, I think you forget yourself''

  1. It was pretty strong stuff for the 1850's, was it not? I have visions of some stout paterfamilias harrumping into his mutton chop whiskers and thinking this isn't the sort of thing he wants his womenfolk and servants too read. After all just think of the bills for broken china...
Theresaholeinyourmind · 31/10/2010 13:21

Her: Oh doctor, I'm in trouble.
Him: Well, goodness gracious me.
Her: For every time a certain man
Is standing next to me.
Him: Mmm?
Her: A flush comes to my face
And my pulse begins to race,
It goes boom boody-boom boody-boom boody-boom
Boody-boom boody-boom boody-boom-boom-boom,
Him: Oh!
Her: Boom boody-boom boody-boom boody-boom
Him: Well, goodness gracious me.

Theresaholeinyourmind · 31/10/2010 13:24

Her: Oh doctor, touch my fingers.
Him: Well, goodness gracious me.
Her: You may be very clever
But however, can't you see,
My heart beats much too much
At a certain tender touch,
It goes boom boody-boom boody-boom boody-boom
Boody-boom boody-boom boody-boom-boom-boom,
Him: I like it!
Her: Boom boody-boom boody-boom boody-boom
Him: Well, goodness gracious me.

ASmallBunchofFlowers · 31/10/2010 13:34

Oh dear. I am not, repeat not, going to ask how else I should have referred to that area of Guy's corporeal being. Some of you ladies are quite lewd enough already. Blush

Mrs LN - I think I have just the prescription for you, from the pen of Mrs Gaskell herself. Go and recline wanly on the sofa now.

A sharp pebble flew by her, grazing forehead and cheek, and drawing a blinding sheet of light before her eyes. She lay like one dead on Mr. Thornton's shoulder. Then he unfolded his arms, and held her encircled in one for an instant:

'You do well!' said he. 'You come to oust the innocent stranger you fallyou hundredson one man; and when a woman comes before you, to ask you for your own sakes to be reasonable creatures, your cowardly wrath falls upon her! You do well!' They were silent while he spoke. They were watching, open-eyed and open-mouthed, the thread of dark-red blood which wakened them up from their trance of passion. Those nearest the gate stole out ashamed; there was a movement through all the crowd--a retreating movement. Only one voice cried out:

'Th' stone were meant for thee; but thou wert sheltered behind a woman!'

Mr. Thornton quivered with rage. The blood-flowing had made Margaret conscious--dimly, vaguely conscious. He placed her gently on the door-step, her head leaning against the frame.
'Can you rest there?' he asked. But without waiting for her answer, he went slowly down the steps right into the middle of the crowd. 'Now kill me, if it is your brutal will. There is no woman to shield me here. You may beat me to deathyou will never move me from what I have determined uponnot you!' He stood amongst them, with his arms folded, in precisely the same attitude as he had been in on the steps.

But the retrograde movement towards the gate had begun?as unreasoningly, perhaps as blindly, as the simultaneous anger. Or, perhaps, the idea of the approach of the soldiers, and the sight of that pale, upturned face, with closed eyes, still and sad as marble, though the tears welled out of the long entanglement of eyelashes and dropped down; and, heavier, slower plash than even tears, came the drip of blood from her wound. Even the most desperateBoucher himselfdrew back, faltered away, scowled, and finally went off, muttering curses on the master, who stood in his unchanging attitude, looking after their retreat with defiant eyes. The moment that retreat had changed into a flight (as it was sure from its very character to do), he darted up the steps to Margaret. She tried to rise without his help.

'It is nothing,' she said, with a sickly smile. 'The skin is grazed, and I was stunned at the moment. Oh, I am so thankful they are gone!' And she cried without restraint.

He could not sympathise with her. His anger had not abated; it was rather rising the more as his sense of immediate danger was passing away. The distant clank of the soldiers was heard just five minutes too late to make this vanished mob feel the power of authority and order. He hoped they would see the troops, and be quelled by the thought of their narrow escape. While these thoughts crossed his mind, Margaret clung to the doorpost to steady herself: but a film came over her eyeshe was only just in time to catch her. 'Mothermother!' cried he; 'Come down--they are gone, and Miss Hale is hurt!' He bore her into the dining-room, and laid her on the sofa there; laid her down softly, and looking on her pure white face, the sense of what she was to him came upon him so keenly that he spoke it out in his pain:

'Oh, my Margaretmy Margaret! no one can tell what you are to me! Deadcold as you lie there, you are the only woman I ever loved! Oh, Margaret--Margaret!' Inarticulately as he spoke, kneeling by her, and rather moaning than saying the words, he started up, ashamed of himself, as his mother came in. She saw nothing, but her son a little paler, a little sterner than usual.

'Miss Hale is hurt, mother. A stone has grazed her temple. She has lost a good deal of blood, I'm afraid.'

'She looks very seriously hurt,--I could almost fancy her dead,' said Mrs. Thornton, a good deal alarmed.

'It is only a fainting-fit. She has spoken to me since.' But all the blood in his body seemed to rush inwards to his heart as he spoke, and he absolutely trembled.

'Go and call Jane,--she can find me the things I want; and do you go to your Irish people, who are crying and shouting as if they were mad with fright.' He went. He went away as if weights were tied to every limb that bore him from her.

In fact, I seem now to have a raging temperature myself. Budge up on the sofa and perhaps Mr Thornton will bring us a cup of hot chocolate.

Fettle · 31/10/2010 13:35

Afternoon all - twas quite a frenetic evening last night!! Me especially panicking that it was all going to come to an end and I'm not sure I could cope without this thread at the moment!!!

Got to go and live some more real life now at a fancy dress party - something tells me they'll be no-one dressed as Guy of Gisborne round here, but I can live in hope!!![wistful/wishful]

I'm a scientist at heart and never did understand heavy high brow english literature, but if you keep feeding me it in small doses like that, I may well become a convert!!!

In fact, the one book I actually remembering reading and enjoying was The Hobbit!![hhmm]. Even as a child many many years ago, I obviously knew The Hobbit was going to be an important part of my life....!

Best go, but I'd much rather stay here with you and youtube!!! Looking forward to the Spooks repeat this evening......!

OP posts:
Fettle · 31/10/2010 13:36

But pass me some rubbish and I'll pop it in the bin on my way out!Grin

OP posts:
ASmallBunchofFlowers · 31/10/2010 13:41

Hmm. Halloween parties. He'd make a very fetching Vampyre, wouldn't he? The jet black hair against the pale skin. And after all, he is already a spook.

Theresaholeinyourmind · 31/10/2010 13:43
ASmallBunchofFlowers · 31/10/2010 13:57

Well really, theresaholeinyourmind. How louche. My medic friends might refer to it/them as the gluteus maximus (which could be the name for the centurion character mentioned earlier, peut etre?)

There should never be any guilt attached to reading the classics of English literature. Especially when they are written by a woman. It is our duty as women and feminists. But you should perhaps invest in a safety lamp. Mr Thornton has reminded us all of the dangers of fire.

Theresaholeinyourmind · 31/10/2010 14:06

Hmm, Flowers, re the Vampyre, some of the shots of him in the early season 7 Spooks make him look deliciously undead.

Hsve no fear, I am aware of my duties as a Modern Woman. I was just fantasising myself into the shoes of a Margaret-like young lady of the era, and wondering about all the quivering. Papa would be furious

And okay I'll admit to louche. RA, look what you made me do.

MrsLucasNorth · 31/10/2010 15:24

Thank you Dr Smallflowers!

On the gluteus maximus front I must admit that when watching N &S I kept recalling a couple of Pauline Quirke's phrases from her Birds of a Feather days...

"That bloke's got a bum like 2 hard-boiled eggs in a handkerchief!" and...

"Oooh, I could drink his bathwater!"

Grin...clearly Mr Thornton is the best medicine!

ASmallBunchofFlowers · 31/10/2010 15:25

As it is Halloween

"I am here to do your bidding, Master. I am your slave, and you will reward me, for I shall be faithful. I have worshipped you long and afar off. Now that you are near, I await your commands, and you will not pass me by, will you, dear Master, in your distribution of good things?"

MissBeehiving · 31/10/2010 15:29

Just marking my place on the lovely new thread. I am however dissappointed to note that we're under "Sleb Twaddle" when obviously this is not an accurate reflection of the deep and meaningful relationship we each have with RA. Nor the erudite level of our examination of his acting performances. Wink

ASmallBunchofFlowers · 31/10/2010 15:31

Oh, cross posts with MrsLN.

Again, I must be missing something, because when watching N&S my attention was caught by Mr Thornton's manly demeanour, chiselled features and the lock of black hair falling over his furrowed but manly brow - and the rather pleasing length of limb as he strides about the place - but I hadn't registered his glutes.

ASmallBunchofFlowers · 31/10/2010 15:34

MissBeehiving - I have no relationship at all with Mr Armitage. However, I have a profound spiritual connection with Mr Thornton. Hiding out in Sleb Twaddle is just a ruse.

Swoon swoon swoon.

MissBeehiving · 31/10/2010 15:37

lol@ Small

Theresaholeinyourmind · 31/10/2010 15:48

Thats what I love about Flowers.Always so delicate and refined. Constantly saving us from our baser selves

Bathwater Grin Nice one Mrs LN. One hopes prior backscrubbing is involved

There are some interesting debates on MN today. Stephen Fry 's twitter that women don't like sex
And the charms of guyliner.
I'm having a sitting-on-hands moment

ASmallBunchofFlowers · 31/10/2010 16:08

Surely, theresaholeinyourmind, you could have offered an example of successful application of guyliner?

As I understand Mr Fry's tweets (ie not very much) he's saying that the article from which his comments were lifted was (a) meant to be humorous and (b) misquoted anyway. And I'm really not delicate or refined. I am just very old and so will let you saucy minxes harbour your naughty thoughts about Guy and Lucas while I look forward to a cup of tea and ratafia biscuit with Mr Thornton.

Theresaholeinyourmind · 31/10/2010 16:18

''while I look forward to a cup of tea and ratafia biscuit with Mr Thornton.''

All the time making polite conversation to the tinkle of your teaspoons, of course. Yeah, yeah. Strictly no quivering or bosom-heaving, we are watching you.

Watch yourself when the cravat comes off.

ASmallBunchofFlowers · 31/10/2010 16:23

I was thinking we might, once we had become better acquainted, have a game of canasta. If things get very lively, he might have to push back that lock of black hair from his manly brow. Or I could help him.

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