I love Fenella Woolgar

I love her. At first, when one looks at her, she's the epitome of British horsiness. Box-cut frame, long teeth, and a pinched smile. Then one notices that she has the most piercing blue eyes, ever, and a nasal winnowing British sneer of a bray that makes me melt.

So here's to you, Fenella Woolgar, with your weird name, and your long nose, and your domino teeth, and your platinum hair and your ice-blue eyes. Whether you're playing a snooty British tuxedo-wearing coke-addicted alcoholic too-rich-for-her-own-good Lesbian in 1939 England, or whether you're playing a snooty British abortion recommending Socialite in 1950s London, I salute you. You steal the show in every movie you're in, and drive one to look you up on Google at 1:12 in the morning, when one has to be at work at 9:30 the next day (ON A SATURDAY) to write some emergency complaints and motions for injunctive relief and replevin.

Fenella Woolgar. Ta-ra Fffin-eela. Snifter'v braandy n'a pinch've waksie-upsie dasie? Smashing. Simply chuffed that you've popped rowu'nd. Cheers. I daresay you cut quite th' figga in those riding jodphurs...