Those who know me well know that I am totally obsessed with Hercule Poirot, the greatest detective in literature (sorry, Sherlock). I just adore the little man! I own all his stories and I’m currently working on building my DVD collection as well (David Suchet is a God!!). If I could invent a time machine I would first use it to go back and bribe Agatha Christie to write 500 more stories for him. I say bribe because story has it that she found Poirot “insufferable“, and a “detestable, bombastic, tiresome, ego-centric little creep“. He was all these things, yes, but I love him!!! Truthfully the man was a freak: he kept a bank balance of 444 pounds, 4 shillings, and 4 pence, ate 2 eggs at a time which had to be the exact same size, he manscaped his moustache religiously, went coucou at the sight of a speck of dust, and was comically immodest (to which I say: Bravo, mon ami! – he had the little grey cells to back that up). Insufferable or not, Papa Poirot became the only fictional character in history to be honored with an obituary on the front of The New York Times (again, sorry Sherlock)!
I’m a big reader but I have to admit that the other classics never did much for me. I know, terrible. But I tried. I tried the Russians, the French, the Romanian, the English, the American, etc. and they just bore me. That’s not to take anything away from them – amazing writing, just not entertaining enough for me. For me classic English murder mysteries always did the trick. And they continue to float my boat every day. I’m constantly watching murder mystery series on Netflix; and I mean constantly! And they’re all British, and sinister, and I make my boyfriend watch them with me in exchange of a nice cooked meal. 10 months into our relationship I am happy to report that he has genuinely found love for Hercule which to me means that I finally kissed the right frog. Just yesterday he announced he will be hosting a Murder Mystery party for us next month. Omigod, I’m so excited I can barely suppress my squeaking! He’s doing the whole thing, from writing a script, to engaging a narrator and an accomplice to act as the murderer. We’ll be Sir Immanuel and Lady Anda and the dinner will be hosted at our Southern California highrise condo also known as The Manor for the purpose of this dinner. The details are being kept secret by Sir Immanuel so not much to share at this time but will come back in a month or so with pictures and juicy details.
So to honor my beloved Papa Poirot I am going to attempt to bring to life one of his female companions. I was thinking of Miss Lemon but he describes her as Unbelievably ugly and incredibly efficient so that’s a no no. Any suggestions? I’m willing to expand outside the Poirot series – just don’t suggest I do Miss Marple, she was 100 years old!