AIBU to be annoyed when I make a really good point on a thread

[SerenityNowAKABleh]

and then it's ignored, and either I have to repeat it, or then someone else comes and makes exactly the same point and everyone goes "oh yes, that's quite clever" "what a good and inciteful point" and so on. Maybe I should just type in caps?
So, AIBU?

Heathcliff sounds like fun. I quite fancy a float about on the moors myself.

Hark! The doorbell chimes, I must away to my duties, keep watch on Mr Rochester!

Does anyone want to see my bush?

Mr Rochester! I must apologise for my undue tarrying. I have been out wassailing for yule but return laden with holly to decorate these barren halls.

Princessa - I fear you are being lured in to join our number. Don't be shy. Would you like to borrow some white arm length gloves? Mr Rochester is always glad to dally with a personage of the royal line.

tether - I fear you have been remiss and neglectful. Pray how do you explain your undue absence? And as for that Pag. Well, she is quite the non grata.

And we don't talk about Lydia.

Lydia? Noooooooooooo!!!

Dear sweet furry Lydia, Oh how I MISS THEE!

PrincessFiorimonde - do feel free to stay, it would be a joy to have thee but I prithee, no more mention of Lydia

Do calm down, Gibbon dear. Mr Rochester has had a bad night, the sedatives have had an ill-effect on his frail constitution.

Oh poor dear Mr Rochester! and poor you! if his body had you up all night, I imagine you are spent this morning. Have some sweet tea and rest a while Hully darling.

I fear the spirts are in turmoil and their japes may take a sinister turn.

I have sent for the garlic. I believe it has a prophylactic effect on spirits as well as the fanged ones. I plan to twine the garlic mongst the holly because I fear you may be right - I too sense malevolence in the offing.

I shall take a tissane and nibble lightly on a posset to bank up my flagging energies. Thank you dear Gibbon.

Good idea Hully dear, do sit and nibble a while. Do you have any needlework to occupy yourself? Alas 'tis the wrong time of year for pressing flowers, for nothing can while away the hours in such a delightful fashion!

I thought I might glance through my album of lace samples to while away the morning. Mr Rochester seems calmer now.

Soon I must away to my lesson, I hope that the spirits will stay quiescent.

Glad things are calmer, do stay alert though darling Hully, these can be dark times.

woooooooooo

[glides into the room clutching Lydia and Gerald to my ghostly breast whilst looking exhausted after a night of hauting Mr Rochester]

[glides out of the room]

Dark times indeed when I have have found a message hidden in my embonpoint (or do I mean my needlepoint?)

It says: 'Look for L-- under the patio'.

Mr Rochester, for example, is a twat.

Princessa! How could you? Mr Rochester has BN (blind needs). How can you compare him to Lady Privates? You must chide yourself severely and think about what being a lady AND a princess really means. Does that sort of behaviour behove your lineage? I think not.

I must away to my lessons, the carriage is outside and the postillion grows restive. I shall rely on Miss Minty and darling Gibbon to keep a strict eye on you.

Sadly Miss Minty will be away shortly hauting at a very boring meeting I call on Gibbon to keep an eye.

Pah to your white gloves and your offers to haunt. As an aristo, I can tell you most privately that Mr Rochester is my second cousin twice removed (to the attic).

[soft haunting singing]

..Greensleeves your my hearts desire oh where oh where is Greensleeves and pag as well ........

[drifts through the hall looking like a Toast model]

Oh Hully the thread died. I can feel its spirit joining me ..........

'Toast' - the ghost? What awful images does that conjure?

What the dickens has befallen the ballroom? I have been engaged upon matters of most pressing business for but a few hours and I find Gibbon has deserted her post, and not finished her needlework, Miss Minty trying to draw the thread through to the other side, and Princessa lacking all necessary courtesy and respect.

I shall rouse Mr Rochester from his opiate slumbers and we shall rally. And dance again. Summon the orchestra.

I'm still here... sort of.