Blast that 'Anti-Pesto'!

To hell with Wallace, the crackpot and fool!

To the doghouse with that conniving Gromit!

And how could I forget those vermin, 'rabbits', what the appeal is behind those creatures, I will never cease my hatred for them.

All of them, taken advantage of, made into catalysts for my climatic succession.

I was so close.

But then, they became destroyers, reeling in my undoing like a fiery wildfire.

I was still so far.

And now I am.

Sitting like a penniless twit, upon this Yorkshire moor...

My beautiful black hair ruined, my hunting threads ripped and soiled, my face...

Oh I don't even want to look!

I cannot return to that parish, oh hell why would I ever want to return to see any of their sorry faces?

There was nothing remotely interesting or redeeming in that town. There never was.

Far less appealing than my own home, in Berkshire, the royal county!

Yes, that's where I belong.

Where I am not having to patronise the neighbours with my wonderful, imposing nature.

Where I am not needing to get my point across several times.

Where I do not have...

Oh! Why on earth is my lip quivering?

No Victor, stop it.

Stiff upper lip, as father used to say. Perhaps a stiff lower lip should be put into tow.

Oh I cannot help it.

I am human after all. The effects of losing can be utterly devastating.

And that is what I am getting.

But... my heart yearns.

Yes, it is true, I would never return to that damned parish and yes, I would never dare to return out of humiliation and deception.

However, there was always something about the place I secretly held a candle for.

I always ignored it in lieu of wooing Lady Tottington into marriage, for my own personal gain of money.

Or... did I?

Oh Victor, you idiot.

Do you not remember back when you met her?

The butterflies in the stomach?

The reeling feeling of joy?

No? You don't?

Of course, you utterly mistreated those feelings as desires for more wealth and privileges.

Money, money, money...

You knew there was something far more precious than blasted riches, beneath that fancy facade.

You knew it.

You honestly knew it.

Deep down, all you ever wanted... needed... was to win her heart.

What is this, a tear?

Oh why I am still holding up this inane 'macho' exterior?

There's simply no use having it here.

She will never take me back, even if I changed, her sweet heart would never accept me again.

Even if I threw off the obsession of hunting, overruling privileges and downright gentleman snark...

Walked back into the parish, to the manor...

Knocked upon the door and said, with all my heart's content:

I love you, Campanula.