My theory is that after the Great Depression hits, Downton Abbey will inevitably burn to the ground when someone tells the Earl that if you burn piles of money in the drawing room, little money eggs will hatch from the ashes like dragons. Bates and Anna flee across the Atlantic after the fire reveals a dozen strategically buried bodies of various lady’s maids who only appeared for an episode at a time. Their flight is premature since the only forensic specialist at hand is Doctor Clarkson, so the deaths are attributed to suicide, and their burial blamed on the Earl’s dog.
Anna and Bates open the hotel that they have long dreamed of, a little bed and breakfast where they can raise their brood. Murderous Mistah Bates, fueled with a hatred for women, passes his tainted genes onto a son before his heart gives out. A son named Norman.
Oh, and here are the first six minutes of A&E’s “Bates Motel”, the prequel starring Vera Farmiga as the once and future rocking chair corpse.
Do you think they’re taking the Freudian route? I don’t know, might be too early to say.