British literature.
Dear BBC,
Is there any possible way in the world you could have made your production of Richard II any more fucking boring? I want those three hours of my life back, thanks.
The play is kind of stupid anyway.
HENRY IV: I, uh, just kind of want what's mine, considering you sort-of exiled me for no reason and then robbed my father's property once he died.
RICHARD II: NO! NO! You can have my land and my crown and my burden but not my tears! After I monologue for several pages and compare myself to Jesus the appropriate amount of times.
HENRY IV: Uhm, way more than I was going for, but cool I guess. Win?
Also; The Rape of the Lock has inspired me to write an essay entitled "Thalestris and Sir Plume: Who Really Wears the Pants." Honestly. It goes like this:
THALESTRIS: That asshat stole Belinda's virginity cut off her hair! She wants her virginity hair back! You manbitch boyfriend! Get my Belinda's virginity hair back!
SIR PLUME: 'k.
THALESTRIS: And buy me some ice cream while you're at it. I need to console myself because I'm dating and probably going to marry a miserable cretin like you.
SIR PLUME: ... 'k. *meanders over to the Baron who raped Belinda stole Belinda's hair* Yo, dude. You should like ... give Belinda's hair back because man, Thalestris won't put out for me if I don't and I really need the pussy -- I mean, a pox on thee thee poxy whore of poxyness and plauge.
BARON: You speak well. And by that I mean you sound like an idiot. No. Fucking. Way. Her virginity hair is mine, for I covet love her.
SIR PLUME: Oh. Okay.
THALESTRIS: That's it. This shit is on. Prepare for war. *goes all valkyrie, except with more fashion sense and better hair*
The second half of canto IV in a nutshell.
Is there any possible way in the world you could have made your production of Richard II any more fucking boring? I want those three hours of my life back, thanks.
The play is kind of stupid anyway.
HENRY IV: I, uh, just kind of want what's mine, considering you sort-of exiled me for no reason and then robbed my father's property once he died.
RICHARD II: NO! NO! You can have my land and my crown and my burden but not my tears! After I monologue for several pages and compare myself to Jesus the appropriate amount of times.
HENRY IV: Uhm, way more than I was going for, but cool I guess. Win?
Also; The Rape of the Lock has inspired me to write an essay entitled "Thalestris and Sir Plume: Who Really Wears the Pants." Honestly. It goes like this:
THALESTRIS: That asshat stole Belinda's virginity cut off her hair! She wants her virginity hair back! You manbitch boyfriend! Get my Belinda's virginity hair back!
SIR PLUME: 'k.
THALESTRIS: And buy me some ice cream while you're at it. I need to console myself because I'm dating and probably going to marry a miserable cretin like you.
SIR PLUME: ... 'k. *meanders over to the Baron who raped Belinda stole Belinda's hair* Yo, dude. You should like ... give Belinda's hair back because man, Thalestris won't put out for me if I don't and I really need the pussy -- I mean, a pox on thee thee poxy whore of poxyness and plauge.
BARON: You speak well. And by that I mean you sound like an idiot. No. Fucking. Way. Her virginity hair is mine, for I covet love her.
SIR PLUME: Oh. Okay.
THALESTRIS: That's it. This shit is on. Prepare for war. *goes all valkyrie, except with more fashion sense and better hair*
The second half of canto IV in a nutshell.