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?

We are not singing anything from the Sound of Music.

I shall hurl myself down the church steps at the mere suggestion...

Well. Mr Rochester has requested Somewhere in My Youth or Childhood. Always brings a tear.

But then he also wanted to dance around the summerhouse singing I Am Sixteen on and off the benches and I had to veto that on grounds of his vision and the likelihood of a wedding in plaster.

I am wearing a gown with a fitted bodice, corseted waist and full skirt (over many hoops and petticoats obv) It is made of organdy, tulle, lace, gauze, silk, linen and cashmere and has a 45 ft train that plays a merry tune when it glides over any bumps (most likely Madame D passed out after some wine is taken)

My hair is being held in place by white butterflies which flutter at just the right speed to keep it all just so.

I am rather envious of tethers neck ruff as I think it rather fetching. I may fashion one to keep me sturdy as I am taken up the aisle.

Gibbon! What a truly splendid gown! We must take care lest our trains become entangled. Perhaps the froggy pair could lift them for us?

eez it possible that one of the , er, lovely brides could explain 'oo is zeez other 'froggy'?

I believe the Princessa became one at some point (so hard to keep track). Anyway, she is now.

Put your pastries away, Madame. No on is interested in such stale delicacies, we have fresh, undreamt of confectionary beneath our wedding finery.

Oh! The butterflies! What an exquisite touch! I do hope the lovebirds don't take t them.

Just crept back in to apologise for crap unfunny jokes last night, all made in a drunken stupor spirit of fun, dont'cha know.

And now I find I'm to be married in a polyandrous orgy.

Well, I'm your man!

(With apologies to L. Cohen.)

(Steps manfully up to the task, though moustache it is a-drooping.)

(Eyes Mimi wistfully.)

Lady Hully! Here I am! Take me - I'm yours.

(Wonders when the orgy will commence.)

Oh captain Darcy...! Sadly your chocolate eclair left leetle to the imagination. One wonders if you are able to fulfill your 'usbandly duties?

Oh! Count Slobadovavich! A shot of your finest vodka, you say? Mais oui!

But, wait, who is zeez 'andsome doctor 'oo as appeared?

Mimi, tis you! Have some tea and oranges. But where are the jazz police (first they have to take Manhatten, obviously)?

I think they are stuck in the snow at The Tower of Song....

But Captain, enough of zeez flirting with truly magnificent demoiselles! Your fate awaits you!

'ow could you resist?

How can I turn down this harridan
bird on the wire delightful young lady?

(Resigned to my duty now.)

Lady Hully, you look lovely!

(Psst, Mimi! See you in the orangerie after the service, what?)

Oh Oh Oh!

Oh! Help us help us! Rogue terrorists of an indeterminate Mediterranean hue have broken in to these halls and reaked savage machine gun riot and then left just as abruptly leaving corpses.

Oh goodness how sad! Tis the bodies of Captain Darcy and the French Fancy.

That'll teach the treacherous batards.

On with the revels!

(With dying breath)

Lady Hully - my one true love (delirious now, obviously)!

Now that I am forever to be sundered from your muscly loving arms, the scales have fallen from my eyes and I indeed see that French Fancy for the beauty jade she is!

Before I go, my love, I can offer you only one thing - it is but a token of my deep (though well-hidden up till now) affection - the secret coordinates of where my treasure is buried. The treasure that I want you to have! The golden casket containing all my ducats, the fruits of a life of raiding the Spanish Main/discovering Eldorado/finding Kit Williams's golden hare/doing all kinds of anachronistic things.

These secret coordinates are - -

(breath finally gives out)

Never mind that, I can tell you where his 'treasure' is buried...

So I can't even be a bridesmaid?

Madame Hully, I am not sure that tangerine is quite your colour.

Helas! ou est mon conte?

Zut! what eez zeez golden key I see before me?

I am also with child

Why do you all think I had so much material used to make my dress? Alas now my love is no more! And the love of dear Hully and Tethers too!

That french harlot has much to pay for... no doubt the rogue terrorists are connected to her (and were for most of last night I'll wager) she will pay

Is everyone save me pregnant by that treacherous and fiendish Captain? Oh me! Oh my!

Then we must take honest and urgent measures. Dead or not he must marry you both. We shall not make bastards of your womb fruits. Get him up, Rampant, hoist him to his feet and we shall use this adrenaline shot left by an unknown to whisk him through the ceremony.

Tether! Gibbon! Wrest the key from her foul French hand and the vellum too.> Oh! She attacks me

Has -ahem- rigor mortis set in yet?

what tragedy has befallen these assembled persons?

I have been in yonder chapel for these scant hours and now return, cleansed of mind and true of heart to claim my dearest Hully.
Yet all around are traces of abandoned celebration and congigal festivities [euuww!]. Rampant beau fall slain and many wailing women swoon, all seemingly round with child ( in an astonishing short period of time?)..
What has occured in this place and where ist mine hearts desire....?

waits for all to become clear...

What an end of season cliff hanger.

HAVE NONE OF YOU HEARD OF CONTRACEPTION?

Vive La Revolution!

Death to the aristos!

arrghhhh...

Pray show me mercy Madame.

Smite me not with thy weapon. I am but a poor virgin maid....