Internet adaptation by Andrew Davies.
Did we find it a dutiful and refined interpretation?
Were we to take it to the ball, we would coyly view it from behind our fans with a yearning that it would ask us to dance so that later it could come to our room and ravish us with its special members club.
What drew our eye to its full and voluptuous breasts?
It was late, and Miss Thecustard.tv was about to retire to bed after she had concluded a letter about the handsome Mr Northanger Abbey On ITV1 when she was roused by a knock at the door. Who could be calling on her at this late hour? The flirtatious Isabella (Carey Mulligan) who captivated us all with a performance brimming over with charisma and ebullience? Or Eleanor Tilney (Catherine Walker) a stunning role of sad introversion? Or perhaps the heroine of the story Catherine Morland (the enchanting Felicity Jones)?
But no. The tapping was of a firmer variety altogether, so it was most likely her nocturnal visitor was a gentleman. Her mind began to race; which elegant fellow stood behind the door? Could it be the marvellously charming JJ Feild as the dashingly repressed Henry Tilney? William Beck as the subtle scoundrel John Thorpe? Or maybe it was the stony-faced ogre General Tilney (Liam Cunningham)? It was none of them but the dashing Mr Northanger Abbey on ITV1 himself stripped to the waist for no good reason other than to pull in an extra two million female viewers hoping he will pointlessly jump in a lake. Miss Thecustard.tv viewed him with enraptured eyes – his perfect six-pack advertising break was unobtrusive and barely interrupted the flow of his sleek beguiling narrative torso. His arms, meanwhile, were slim yet strong; strong enough to tear the gown from a blushing virgin to reveal her cherry-red modesty.
The next morning, Miss Thecustard.tv was woken by a beaming Catherine Morland. She sat captivated as Catherine told her about her vivid nightmares such as when her stagecoach was assailed by two immoral brigands. In her descriptions, she captured flawlessly the breathtaking atmosphere of gothic foreboding, which was furthermore cunningly accentuated by the imposing edifice of Northanger Abbey itself; full of eternally black corridors and the promise of cobwebbed rooms hiding dark secrets.
“What shall I do today?” mused Miss Thecustard.tv, she resolved to take inspiration from Catherine. In Northanger Abbey, Catherine was royally pulled in opposite directions by the attentions of Henry and John whom she speedily comprehended had taken a fancy to her and was prepared to not play fairly in his engaging pursuit. Henry’s ploy was far more agreeable, but she almost dispelled his love after she made a rash accusation against his father.
“I’ll go to Bath!” thought Miss Thecustard.tv, and once she had arrived it was exactly as she had pictured in her mind. Gentlemen acting in a respectable manner strode along each corner while women gaggled and giggled in little groups outside dressmakers’ as the large and handsome horse drawn carriages coursed along the streets like sperm fired from a gentleman’s fleshy cannon, hurtling along in their sole mission to seduce a young lady with their sticky finger-lickin’ charm.
What made us quite, quite ill with ill-mannered etiquette?
Miss Thecustard.tv piqued herself upon returning home after an evening in Bath. She was having two odd, recurring dreams. In those dreams, a young girl was sent to live with a rich family and in both stories ended up in the arms of a man of the cloth. Peculiarly, for no reason she could fathom it provoked her to keenly recall the similarity of Mr Northanger Abbey On ITV1 to another suitor she had encountered a week previously called Mr Mansfield Park On ITV1.
Miss Thecustard.tv initially was spellbound by the mysteries of Northanger Abbey, the residence of Mr Northanger Abbey On ITV1, and imagined she could never tire of her surroundings. Sadly, she overstayed her welcome and soon came to miss the coquettish joys of Isabella and pined for the verbal jousting of John and Henry as they scrapped like wild dogs in their sensuous quest to be the first to ravish Catherine with all the bestial passion and degradation of Jeremy Clarkson licking the exhaust pipe of a Ferrari clean as a whistle with his salivating tongue while savagely caressing its gearstick.