Never mind all these beautiful historical dramas I want a modern day sit com about the Romantic poets like

  • Byron, Shelley, and Keats are roommates.
  • Byron is constantly a dick and Keats is constantly like “fight me” and Shelley is constantly exasperated. 
  • “I swear to God, George, if you even think about fighting him-”
    “Well he asked me to.” 
    “He’s also five feet tall.” 
  • Felicia Hemans lives across the hall from them and everyone thinks she’s really sweet because she bakes a lot and dresses conservatively but she is constantly lowkey throwing shade at everyone. 
  • Byron hates her because she’s better than him at everything. 
  • Mary Wollstonecraft also lives in their building and owns a lot of t-shirts with feminist slogans on. 
  • Every time she bumps into Shelley in the hallway he asks whether her daughter is coming to visit any time soon. He is much less subtle about it than he thinks he is. 
  • Byron frequently gets into flame wars with people on the internet. 
  • “George it’s 3am why are you still awake?” 
    Someone was talking shit about Pope.”
    “Not again.” 
  • At this point, Keats and Shelley have a script they can run through every time they open the door to a crying person asking why Byron never called them back. 
  • A running joke in which there is a loud noise every time someone says Shelley’s middle name correctly. 
  • Another running joke in which Byron and his sister constantly get mistaken for a couple. 
Although barely out of adolescence…[Shelley] was, in 1813, an ardent radical and anti-monarchist. Physically, he was rather odd, tall and slim to the point of limpness, with a high-pitched effete voice; but what he lacked in physical bulk he more than made up for in charismatic intensity. Among the earliest witnesses to this intensity were his school fellows at Eton, where he was sent by his landowning father when he was twelve. Initially he was bullied for his refusal to ‘fag’ for older boys, but the bullies soon discovered that in spite of his feeble frame, Shelley was not a boy to succumb quietly to taunts. On the contrary, he could be terrifying when roused, and was quite capable of reciprocal acts of violence. He stabbed one tormentor’s hand with a fork, and others remembered him as an almost unearthly creature, with flashing eyes, wild hair, and deathly white cheeks.
—  young romantics - daisy hay
We – are we not formed, as notes of music are,
For one another, though dissimilar;
Such difference without discord, as can make
Those sweetest sounds, in which all spirits shake
As trembling leaves in a continuous air?
—  Percy Bysshe Shelley, from “Epipsychidion”