I bet a lot of you think that I am going to complain about mopey Mary (I get it, babe, your husband died but that doesn’t mean you get to be a bitch to Carson, the one person who probably adores you as much as Matthew). Or perhaps wonder why Julian Fellowes stuck us with Sybil-lite “wild girl” Rose (to quote Arrested Development: “her?”). No, my real beef with Downton this week is that they have Virginia Woolf make a blink-and-you-will-miss-her cameo and give her nothing to say. REALLY?! You make speechless one of the most brilliant writers/thinkers/conversationalists of the 20th century? Get thee to a library (or more likely, Amazon) and read A Room of One’s Own. Woolf is downright hilarious in that essay and instead of using her to talk to Edith about the plights of being a lady in the lady-hating early 1900s, all Virginia gets to do is have a prominent nose and look like she is having a decent time at the party.