Mrs Beaten is Judging You

I, Mrs Emmaline Elizabeth Beatrice Beaten found myself shipwrecked upon the shores of Hopeless Maine some six months ago. It is a cold and wretched place, sorely in want of even the most basic things in life. The island has not a single manufacturer of doilies or tablecloths. The natives are coarse and vulgar, with no sense of etiquette or good manners. Even those who claim to form the social hierarchy show a distinct lack of breeding.

Now that I am recovered from the shock of my arrival in this place, I see that I have a moral duty to perform. I must raise these people up from their sordid condition. I must instil in them a sense of right and wrong, and a clear understanding of how this applies to matters of personal toilet and the correct way to send out invitations. Although I am by nature a humble, and modest woman, it is clear to me that I have been called and must cast aside my reserve in order to lead these hapless islanders into the light.

(Every Sunday, Mrs Beaten will be sharing her annoyance, while awkwardly betraying her own poor manners and lack of common sense, sometimes through the medium of little sketches.)

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