I hate water polo.
I never thought I'd say this, but I wish I were in Arles locked and rotting in my room like every other holiday. If I have to go to one more estate in Wiltshire, Burghdorf, Chennai or fucking Timbuktu and hear that pretty boy say, 'It's not much, but it's home!' like it was actually fucking funny the first time he said it, I will gut something and strangle him with its intestines. I think it's a rather befitting death since they're both full of shite, but my father didn't see the humour in my quip and put me under restrictions again.
But, oh, that's not the worst part! The whole point of this Tour de Fuckface is for Narcissa, my dear sister-in-law, to properly evaluate pretty boy as a marriage prospect by seeing how nauseatingly wealthy he is. A brother-in-law is hardly close enough a relation to have to take part in this nonsense. Let them get married and have as many effeminate children as their hearts desire! It's their concern, not mine. Why am I here? Other than being pretty boy's reluctant water polo partner, there is no reason for me being here. I don't see Rodolphus here! All he did was shake pretty boy's hand in Arles, and that was that! I have to go all across the continent to these ridiculously large homes with house elves who don't pack and unpack my luggage the way I specifically requested umpteenths of times.
I swear I am at my wit's AND 'TIS SOME VISITOR TAPPING AT MY CHAMBER DOOR. Oh, goodie! He's politely invited me to play a rousing game of water polo! Oh, what a thoughtful gesture of my host! I must graciously accept the invitation and mention how splendid our last game was and jest lightly about how I'm going to pummel him this time around! Ha ha ha! When will it ever end?
But, oh, that's not the worst part! The whole point of this Tour de Fuckface is for Narcissa, my dear sister-in-law, to properly evaluate pretty boy as a marriage prospect by seeing how nauseatingly wealthy he is. A brother-in-law is hardly close enough a relation to have to take part in this nonsense. Let them get married and have as many effeminate children as their hearts desire! It's their concern, not mine. Why am I here? Other than being pretty boy's reluctant water polo partner, there is no reason for me being here. I don't see Rodolphus here! All he did was shake pretty boy's hand in Arles, and that was that! I have to go all across the continent to these ridiculously large homes with house elves who don't pack and unpack my luggage the way I specifically requested umpteenths of times.
I swear I am at my wit's AND 'TIS SOME VISITOR TAPPING AT MY CHAMBER DOOR. Oh, goodie! He's politely invited me to play a rousing game of water polo! Oh, what a thoughtful gesture of my host! I must graciously accept the invitation and mention how splendid our last game was and jest lightly about how I'm going to pummel him this time around! Ha ha ha! When will it ever end?