I’ve been bingeing on “Downtown Abbey” since I borrowed seasons 1-3 from my mother-in-law a few weeks ago (I’m on the final episode of season three). And then, tonight, my husband told me he had to introduce me to this “creepy” movie he’d watched as a child: The Witches. (The Witches is this weird, yes-very-creepy-for-children movie based on one of the few Roald Dahl books I guess I never read.)
So, we’re watching this bizarre movie, where bald and toe-less old women worship Angelica Huston after she pulls her face off and children who can’t act get turned into mice, and then the grandmother of one of the mice-slash-children takes him into the kitchen to poison the witches’ soup, and I jumped off the couch to pause and rewind because MR. CARSON! Dignified, decorous, polite, and proper Mr. Carson was certainly wandering the kitchen of this ridiculous movie, and THEN the mouse went up his PANTS and OHMIGOODNESS, MR. CARSON, PLEASE KEEP YOUR PANTS ON….(He did NOT keep his pants on.)
We were most distressingly treated to the sight of Mr. Carson not only dancing about and ripping his pants off, but also rolling around on the floor, clutching his *ahem* boxers in a most unseemly manner, screaming and whimpering by turns all the while. It was most certainly not becoming of “the house”.
I will never watch “Downton” the same way again.