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Downton. Muthaf—kin’. Abbey.

What time is it? Time for season two on PBS, bitches. GQ’s Devin Friedman gets you ready for the shit ‘bout to go down tomorrow night. The whole piece is here. Below, a taste of his write-up:

Why is Downton Abbey the realest show on TV? Is it because the Crawleys own Yorkshire like fox terriers own the Westminster dog show? Is it because of Ms. O’Brien, a lady’s maid so cold she could make ice crumpets in hell? Is it because in season one Thomas wanted to be Lord Grantham’s valet so bad he fucking framed Bates for stealing the wine? Is it because basically everyone on that show is gangsta? You think Mary Crawley isn’t gangsta? When cousin Matthew was like, I’ll marry you, and she’s like, I don’t know, maybe, I’m not even sure you’re in line to inherit the estate? Damn, Mary! I mean that bitch won’t even wear a hat twice. You see her in a velveteen cloche in episode one? Don’t plan on seeing that thing again. And let’s not even discuss the fact that she fucked a Turkish man to death. And what about Maggie Smith, a.k.a. the female Dumbledore from Harry Potter, a.k.a. the Dowager Countess of Grantham? You know how she gets about flowers, and how she went all bawse in season one during the village rose competition? Well, let’s just say it’s not long into season two that she comes into contact with some bulrushes she does not think belong in a Downton arrangement. Because if you thought season one was insane, wait until you see season two.