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Like a deranged panda deprived of an unreachable bamboo leaf, Mrs. Hartridge spent her days jumping around the house in her usual raging mad fantasy of discovering yet another mark of impropriety to add to her ever growing list of pet peeves. A restless, parasitic presence, she would often be seen hiding behind a curtain alongside a corner of the window in her tiffany blue evening gown, preparing to greet the unsuspecting visitor with a shower of indefatigably pompous endearments. In a refined stir of timeless elegance, she would often accentuate the vowel sounds of her meticulously chosen words, in an air of august so far exaggerated it was virtually non-existent within the predilections of any known time. Whether it was enunciating the curve of inflexion in the bourgeois variation of ‘darling’, or dramatizing the rise and fall of the multisyllabic word ‘paraphernalia’, she would often torment her guests with such exciting stories, like the time her husband was blessed with the most extravagant and royal gift of gout. That is if they had not already been demented by her repeated use of the elevated ‘thee’ as a stately form of address.

The Opening Line

The Introduction of Sir Edward Hartridge

Mrs. Hartridge, a pretentious and pompous lady, uses a robot to fill up the gaps in her married life. Things seemed to go well, as she taught him all her ways and manners, with the duo eventually uniting against their overbearing arch-nemesis Cora. Yet amid all their days of bliss and perfection, something was not quite right – a piece of the puzzle was missing.