“So, Mister Smith, I had presumed that you were one of the Bedforshire Allen-Smiths –a most respectable family, indeed. But Lady Mary tells us that you are, in fact, an entertainer of some sort. Is this true?”

“Right as a raindrop, Mrs. Dowager. I even have my own television show.”

“A television show? Goodness gracious me. How vulgar. You’re not possibly related to that actress ‘Smith’ –What was her name? Martha … Mandy … Maggie? I forget. Actors are all such insufferable creatures, I can’t be bothered remembering much about them.”

Yes, actors are a rather irritating breed. Did you know that many of them are also notorious drunks? But I’m not an actor, Ma’am. I’m a renowned gardener, an interior design wizard, and a connoisseur of the world’s finest shampoos and conditioners, as you may have noticed.”

“Why, I’ve never heard such ridiculousness in all my days. What on earth are you doing here at Downton, young man?”

“Getting ready to bring home the trophy in the annual Rose-Growing Competition, Ma’am.”

“Young man, I established that competition myself, and I will have you know that my Floribundas have won first-prize every year for the past 45 years!”

“Yes, well, that may be true, but with all due respect, Ma’am, my Amber Flushes are about to hand you your ass on a silver platter.”

[gasp!]By the lecherous loins of Kemal Pemuk, he did NOT just say that to my Granny.

“Oh, Mr. Allen Peasmith or whatever your name is, I’m afraid you don’t know with whom you are dealing. If you think you can simply waft into Downton like some overgrown, blow-dried Huckleberry Hound and steal my thunder, you are sorely mistaken.”

“In cases like this, Mrs. Dowager, I prefer to let my precious blossoms do the talking. So whaddaya say? Shall we wage this battle from the garden?”

“From the garden it shall be, Mr. Smith. But rest assured — by this time tomorrow I shall have your guts for my bootlaces. Carson, send round for my car. I have work to do.”

[ gulp! ]

“Oh, Mr. Bates, it’s dreadful! The old lady is really going to kill that kind American man with the impossibly fluffy hair. Only someone truly sinister and wretched to-the-core might have the depraved sense of treachery required to stop her. Any ideas?”

“What are you two daft birds looking at me for? You think I know anything about roses? Not bloody likely.”