Reading Wodehouse for long continuous stretches results in the following. Beware, it is a very very long post.


A discreet cough announced the reappearance of Jeeves.

B.W.: “Pretty frightful looking coves those, eh Jeeves? They looked all broken over in tweeds and glasses. And sported hefty books. Not quite the fashion.”

J.:”Yes sir.”

I folded a meditative paper.

“From the society of P.G. Wodehouse. Pelham Grenville. Strange name. If my folks had named me that, I would have given them a pleasant knock or two over the head and run away from there as soon as possible. I wonder this P.G.W. did not try it.”

It is possible he may not have been at an age where he could carry out those activities, sir.

“Yes, his style may have been hampered by having to lie in the crib all day and have female relatives come and make clucking noises to him about what a sweet baby he was. I am told that pretty much takes the spine out of you. But I am sure he must have retaliated in what way he could, by screaming his lungs out and throwing his mash at the voices when they sternly told Pelham to be a good boy and eat it all up.”

“Possibly, sir.”

“Good for him. Pelham Grenville. Have you heard of this bird before, Jeeves?”

Yes sir.”

I was astounded. “You have? Is there anyone whom you have not heard of, Jeeves?”

“Yes sir, there are many. However, I cannot name them, on account of not knowing them.”

“You have a point there. So, who is this P.G.W.?”

Jeeves spoke extremely reverentially.

“The Supreme Creator, sir.”

Eyeing him carefully, for Jeeves doesn’t dabble in twaddle like that often, I was further shocked. The man had bowed his head a full inch and had half-closed his eyes.

“What did he do, apart from being supremely creative?”

“He Wrote, sir.”

“Wrote, eh? Something spiffy and useful, like ‘The Racecourse Manual’, or ‘Twelve different ways to avoid painful scenes with Aunts’? I could use one of those.”

With a pained look on his f. , he said “No sir.”

I was by now feeling out of my depth, for why Jeeves should feel pained by this bloke’s writing was beyond me.

“Oh, then more of handy stuff for the general masses? ‘Good Carpentry’ or ‘Effective Gardening’ I suppose.”

“Nothing of the sort, sir. He wrote sublime, humorous pieces. About pigs and golf, the English Gentry and Aunts, about young couples getting married inspite of formidable parental opposition, about the young man and his personal gentleman, being some of the topics he favoured, sir.”

I started seeing a bit of hazy light, like the Sun slowly rising on one of those cold and foggy November mornings.


“Sorry, sir?”

“Nothing Jeeves, nothing. I was merely wondering where the man could have seen golf-playing pigs. I have spotted a pig or two playing at mud-wrestling in the villages hereabouts, but I was not aware that they had such sporting blood in them to take up a game requiring much finesse and individual style. You say he even wrote about such pigs eh? But he must have been alright, if he had an aunt. There is no one like aunts, to keep one in check.”

Jeeves resumed at his various jobs about the room, which must constitute the 101 tasks required of a gentleman’s personal gentleman, and I started attacking the breakfast laid before me, when an idea struck me. It’s an unusual occurence for ideas of any shape to come and strike B. Wooster at 9 in the morning, when he is generally in no shape to receive them with the welcome which they  so deserve. Undoubtedly, this idea was the result of strange visitings from tweed-clad men and this stimulating conversation with Jeeves.

“Surely, you weren’t in his employ, Jeeves?”

Jeeves replied a little bashfully. I had never seen Jeeves being bashful. There is nothing about his solid English countenance to suggest that he had ever learnt at being bashful. However, I was discovering new things about Jeeves today.

“Yes sir, I was. He taught me all.”

The sun rose more fully now.

“Oh, you were, were you? And he taught you all things buttling. How to tie the perfect bow-tie, and a gentleman’s correct evening raiment, and how to empty the apartment of unwanted visitors, and how to solve your master’s problems and those of his friends, how to maintain the social niceties, and how to behave in a servants’ hall if you visit a large establishment, and how to open doors. And the art of handling aunts so they don’t explode, and ways to keep a pair of doves cooing. And undoubtedly, how to shimmer in and out of rooms without making the least noise.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“By Gad, and you left his employ to come buttle to me?”

This fact made me see Jeeves in a new light. I mean, while no slouch myself, I cannot begin to compete with Pelham on all the listed things, not to mention the fact that I have never even spotted a pig playing golf.

“No sir. And yes sir. He bade me to come work for you. And I could not disobey, sir.”

Sucking a pensive spoon, I replied “This is no light matter Jeeves. He practically brought you up. And you have been of endless help to me on countless occasions. Why, yes, that decides the matter. We must donate to his society, even if the members are ghastly looking men who wear offensive glasses and carry books as ornaments. Right. You can donate 20 bob to those men when they turn up in the evening.”

Jeeves looked very much as if about to sniff, and I can bet you anything that I have never heard or seen him betray anything like that before today.

“Thank you very much, sir.”

“Right ho, Jeeves. And now, we have wasted much time over societies and the art of buttling, which while no doubt very effective, are not going to contribute to my supper table. So now, rally round and bring me that well-tanned toast and some more of that excellent o.j.”

“Yes sir”


Reposted for the DP challenge.