Hello, present-day radio listeners and future moviegoers. I address you today on matters of grave seriousness, which you could tell if you were here looking at me because my colors have been slightly desaturated.

The first thing I have to tell you is that I no longer stammer. That was a lifelong problem for me until someone taught me how to speak without stammering, at least when I speak in short bursts. I’m not 100% sure, but I think that person was this older man with the big nose who’s looking at me somberly right now. I think we worked on that problem together over the course of at least an hour of screen time, and it sure sounds like we mostly solved it. I don’t think that he and I hooked up…not that there would be anything wrong with that.

Next, I believe I need to inform you that we are going to war. I think that war is World War II. I’m a little fuzzy on that, but anyway, you’d better start rationing your food and saving your rubber. Hopefully this will be the last World War we’ll all fight together for a while; my dream is that by the 21st century, all wars will be local. Stay strong. [dignified royal fist pump]

Okay. Finally, I’d like to address the fact that I’m well aware almost every one of you would like to have your way with me alone in a four-corner bed in one of my Tudor estates. In part, I know, that’s simply because of my British accent, and even Brits can’t resist a hot British accent. It’s also pretty hot that I’m king, but I don’t fool myself that in the heat of passion, many of you won’t cry, “Oh, Darcy! Darcy!” I’m fine with that, and I’ll meet you down at the Goat & Gravy Pub right about…now. God save the Queen!

Is there a queen right now? Hell if I know.

– Jay Gabler