Soupy soupy soupy soupy twist
It's over. Boffle is over. Never again will I be able to see Stephen's fantastic finger quotations surrounding those most melifluous of words, "A Bit of Fry and Laurie", with eager, untainted eyes. No, the only joy I can ever glean is through re-watching, and desperate prayers that the magic might yet re-manifest itself upon my brow, that I might fall in love with Hugh and Stephen all over again, as though for the very first time.
Alas, all things, whether good or ill, must come to an end. It just happens to be unfortunate that ABoFaL is one of the more spectacular programs I've ever seen, and now it too has passed.
So long, my buttercups! I wonder, will I ever love again? I mean, I can certainly watch again, and I can even dig up all those bit projects here and there that you two did from the 90s and onwards, and I can sit down and read through all your assorted novels and autobiographies and poetry compendiums and whatnot, but will I ever love again?
Probably.
But for now, I am content to sit back with a relaxed smile, calling forth fond memories of your fourth-wall-breaking and vox-popping and grinning, secure in the knowledge that what I have experienced will not soon leave, and that if it ever does, it leaves me a more delicious, humpable, and, well, altogether more gorgeous person than I was before.
Ah, I do apologize. Seeing Hugh and Stephen rather makes me wax verbose of an evening. Or a midnight hour, as it should happen to be. Can't say as I mind, though - it's a bit fun once you get into the swing of things.
Alas, all things, whether good or ill, must come to an end. It just happens to be unfortunate that ABoFaL is one of the more spectacular programs I've ever seen, and now it too has passed.
So long, my buttercups! I wonder, will I ever love again? I mean, I can certainly watch again, and I can even dig up all those bit projects here and there that you two did from the 90s and onwards, and I can sit down and read through all your assorted novels and autobiographies and poetry compendiums and whatnot, but will I ever love again?
Probably.
But for now, I am content to sit back with a relaxed smile, calling forth fond memories of your fourth-wall-breaking and vox-popping and grinning, secure in the knowledge that what I have experienced will not soon leave, and that if it ever does, it leaves me a more delicious, humpable, and, well, altogether more gorgeous person than I was before.
Ah, I do apologize. Seeing Hugh and Stephen rather makes me wax verbose of an evening. Or a midnight hour, as it should happen to be. Can't say as I mind, though - it's a bit fun once you get into the swing of things.