Miss Verity is well aware that she shouldn’t dignify this by commenting on it. More than enough people have commented already, heaven knows.
But it’s difficult to be online at all without tripping over all the latest from Mr. Stephen Fry, and his latest latest–a series of inane comments about women, and then a petulant flounce from Twitter–is all over her various friends-lists and feeds.
Like many people, Miss Verity will be forever fond of Mr. Fry for his portrayal of Jeeves. She loves Jeeves so very much that she feels a kind of gratitude that anyone was able to play him well enough that she could enjoy the performance, instead of weeping bitterly because he wasn’t enough like book-Jeeves.
Also, she loves plummy accents and stunning vocabularies, and Mr. Fry has been blessed with both.
But increasingly his public utterances have come to resemble some dreadful attack of oral flatulence more so than rational human speech, although at least if it were gastro-intestinal distress from which the man was suffering the rest of polite society would have the decency to pretend not to notice, instead of endlessly retweeting it.
For his sake as much as hers, she devoutly wishes someone would take the gentleman aside and somehow convince him of the virtue of not sharing every silly thought and hurt feeling that seize him. It should have been done when he was about six, but since it evidently wasn’t, she hopes it’s done soon.
