In imitation of Wodehouse - A Jeeves and Wooster story

It is said that imitation is the highest form of flattery. If so, I'm not above being obsequious towards certain individuals who are the gold standard. 

In defense of imitation, however, Voltaire says originality is but  'judicious imitation'.  I think and have found that forging the best helps to build mental muscle, as well as being simply good fun. So here is part of my effort, started years ago, to imitate Mr Wodehouse, one of the greatest writers using the English language. Lower your expectations and hopefully it might bring a smile or dare I hope a chuckle or two? 

Stephen Fry as Jeeves and Hugh Laurie as Bertie Wooster

I have a confession to make. An embarrassing confession that is potentially disadvantageous to my standing in society. However, true to the reputation of the Woosters, I do not easily change my mind once it’s made up. A mind like a one-way street, as someone or another rather eloquently put it some time or another. Something of the bulldog in us Woosters that no doubt helped mark out our place alongside William the Conqueror as he rowed across the channel and marched to the throne in 1066.

Anyway, as to the confession, it is simply this: I don’t know what I’ll do without Jeeves! My man, you know? The consummate gentleman’s gentleman?

It is rather embarrassing to admit that a fully-grown man is thusly dependent on his valet, rather like a babe to milk, but there it is! The man is without equal! He should have velvet railings put around him and children would be charged tuppence to see him and bask in his gentle, benevolent light of wisdom. I think the secret of his powers is fish – I’ve heard somewhere that eating fish on a regular basis augments one’s mental ability. In which case, Jeeves must down a few whale omelettes a week. He must take his hat at least two sizes larger than myself. His head bulges out at the back significantly.

What has brought on this sudden torrent of praises you ask? Well, it was thusly-wise. A few days ago Aunt Agatha popped around for tea. I don’t know if you know my Aunt Agatha, but she’s one of those Grand Dames with what they call ‘gravitas’ in bucket-loads. Standing about five-ten and armed with a voice that is like nails on the blackboard of my heart and a stare that can chill me to the soul. It doesn’t help that she knows all one’s childhood misdemeanours, like the time I tried to steal a copper’s helmet whilst the copper was still inside it and got fined five of the best for my troubles. All in good jest it was. After the boat race and all. The follies of youth and what not. But she’s always held it against me like the Original Sin.

Anyway, as I was saying, Aunt Agatha popped around for tea, and our conversation began amiably enough, making our way jovially through the weather, the traffic and the degradation of London society in general. After Jeeves brought the tea and cakes and what not, the point of our dialogue took a nasty turn.

‘Isn’t it about time you were married Bertie?’ she asked in a pointed fashion whilst peering over her tea-cup with a serpentine gaze. Her Highland terrier, McIntosh, who was sitting in her lap eating titbits, let out a sepulchral wail and legged it. The clever brute. I steeled myself, for I was expecting this eventuality sooner or later.

‘Oh no Aunt Agatha! I’m still young, much too young. Young for my age in fact. I still need to see the world whilst I can. To gain the experiences required for the making of a good husband. To steel my temperament and hone my percept and forge my patience in the rough seas of life. To be battered and bruised by life’s offerings and learn to smile in the face of defeat. To gain the savoir-faire of a man and shed the innocence of a mere boy and then I shall be deserving of the love of a good woman.’ I ended with what I hoped was a pensive, faraway look in my eyes. I realised that it wasn’t helpful that I was holding at that moment a well creamed muffin. Spoilt the dramatic effect somewhat.

‘What nonsense!’ Aunt Agatha snorted, dismissing my eloquent and well construed argument in one brutal nasal ejaculation. ‘It’s high time you settled down with a nice girl.’ Confound the woman!

‘But Aunt Agatha!’ I wailed.

‘You know, I think I’ve met just the girl for you Bertie. On the cruise I’ve just returned from.’ She continued.

Aunt Agatha has just recently returned from a cruise to the south of France. I was please about it as it kept her ever-watchful eyes away from good old Blighty for a few weeks. But it seemed that this very cruise is the source of my present predicament.

‘A sober, serious girl, just what you need to keep you on the straight and narrow.’ She sipped her tea contentedly.

‘But Aunt Agatha!’ I wailed again whilst the old lemon worked frantically for a riposte.

‘No buts Bertie. I’ve invited her to dinner on Wednesday at the Ritz. I hope you’ll be on your best behaviour.’ She locked me with her steely gaze. It has this effect on me, I tell you. I’m like a deer frozen in the headlight of an oncoming locomotive. My wits abandoned me like mice from a leaking ship. My mouth opened once or twice like a ventriloquist’s dummy, but no repartee was forthcoming.

‘You’ll ensure that he’ll be on his best behaviour won’t you Jeeves?’ Asked aunt Agatha as Jeeves floated by to top up the tea.

‘I shall endeavour to please, madam.’ He replied with a courteous bow of his enormous head. The cheek of the man! In front of his young master and all! The developments are not at all satisfactory where Bertram is concerned.

‘Her name is Elizabeth Conner, an American. Her father, Mr Benedict Conner is a big man in the textile industry.’

‘An American? Can’t stand Americans I’m afraid. Too hearty!’

I must say that I was grasping at straws. Some of my best friends are Americans. Capital bunch! Amongst the finest stock that ever was. I was briefly engaged to a topping American girl once for 24 hours.

‘Nonsense!’ retorted the dragon in human form, ‘I know the company you keep, Bertie. Some of the loudest and most pointless excuses for sentient life. Now remember – dinner, Wednesday. Seven sharp.’ Having said this she got up, called to McIntosh with a bellow like the sound of a foghorn in the misty Alps, and biffed off.

My heart felt like lead.

‘My heart feels like lead Jeeves.’ I said, semi-collapsed on the s. as Jeeves materialised to clear the tea stuff.

‘Yes sir? If it is of any consolation, although I am not personally acquainted with Miss Conner, words on the grape vine suggest that she is a young lady possessing great personal charms.’

‘Dash it Jeeves! I don’t care if she is Lady Hamilton reborn! I don’t want to get married to the daughter of an American textile tycoon, or any other dashed female for that matter. Can’t you think of some way to get me out of this predicament?’

‘I’m afraid not sir.’ Jeeves said after a moment of deep contemplation, holding the teapot in his bosom. ‘Wednesday is only two days away and Mrs Gregson was most emphatic. Any excuses made now would be too transparent and convenient to give verisimilitude but would only have the effect of inducing feelings of antagonism from Mrs Gregson, who feels herself as performing a great service to you by the course of her actions. However, after having met with Miss Conner, reasons yet unforseen may present themselves to your advantage, by which the proposed matrimonial engagement may be terminated without causing embarrassment to either party. For example, if luck be on our side, perhaps Miss Conner would take an instant and unreasonable objection to your appearance or demeanour as to take the issue out of your hands.’

If there is one flaw in Jeeves, it’s that he sometimes gets carried away with his verbiage.

‘Do you mean to say, Jeeves, that this Ms Conner might take an instant dislike to me and biff off to America?’ I said after running it through my mind a couple of times.

‘We can but hope sir.’ Jeeves said with a hint of apology, ‘It is my experience that the first impression made by young American ladies experiencing the society of British gentlemen for the first time sometimes lead to their forming an erroneous and negative outlook with regards to the character of said gentlemen.’

‘Well, lets hope that will be the case Jeeves!’ Hope arose like the sun, its rays piercing through the fog of my despair. If the girl pulls out, then Aunt Agatha can’t blame me for the collapse of her well laid snare.

‘I know!’ I said as an idea struck me like a thunderbolt. ‘What if I’m especially uncivil and curt with her? Won’t that hasten her on her way across the Atlantic?’

‘Well sir…’ Jeeves clearly did not approve. And I can see the reason.

‘I know Jeeves, I know. I’m such the gentleman where the fairer sex is concerned that you are worried if I can pull it off.’ I admit that I am gallantry personified in the company of ladies. Opening doors, pulling out chairs and what not. Scratch but the surface of Bertram, they say, and you find underneath a knight of the round table.

‘No sir. My concern is that Mrs Gregson will be dining with us on Wednesday evening and that any subnormal behaviour from you will certainly inflame her suspicions.’

‘Oh yes.’ I deflated at the thought of spending the evening with Aunt Agatha and this Conner, with Aunt Agatha undoubtedly steering the conversation with the subtlety of an ocean liner in the direction of nuptial shores.

Jeeves coughed, like a polite sheep vying for the attention of its shepherd, ‘May I suggest, sir, that you also invite a companion for the dinner on Wednesday evening? I think it might prove more natural and balance the gender if you were to invite a friend, for example, Mr Little?’

‘Good idea Jeeves! Then at least I won’t be out numbered.’

Bingo Little has been a pal of mine since school. Not the brightest mind of our generation but a stout fellow nonetheless. It’ll be good to have him in the foxhole.

‘I’ll pop down to the Drones now and see if I can catch him there.’ Woosters are men of action. I popped my hat on and was on my way immediately. 

Part II