Jeeves & Wooster: Tribute Story to P.G Wodehouse.

It is like so many things through my life with Jeeves! One is fast asleep enjoying the most fabulous dream about Tuppy stuffing his face with his favourite steak and kidney pie and then proceeding to turn into a pig, before being chased around the Drones by the lads, when you hear a slight cough enter into the sounds of your dream!

Pulling myself from my dream I opened one eye and caught a disapproving look back.

“Oh dash it Jeeves! What is it now?” Then I noted the stare, I had spilt my tea! The silly fat head that I am, I had managed to drop off to sleep again and in the process spilling my cuppa making the edges of the blanket wet.

I defended myself! “Well if you are going to fill my tea cup to the brim! How can I be responsible for such actions as spilling?”

“Indeed sir!” Was said in that cold way, as if I had hurt the fellow. Then as I watched him take the spilt object d'art as the French say, though I am not sure they spell it that way? I rubbed my upper lip to find the root cause of the coldness.

The upper lip as you see it, now possessed a small furry caterpillar as Jeeves had once called it. Yes I was asserting my authority by growing the bally thing. Dash it! And I mean to say dash it! The man cannot dictate my life style. I am a young man in my independent prime. Women loved the thing. And so do I! Jeeves had command over my suits, my socks, my handkerchiefs and other things, but he couldn't and wouldn't take my soul. My moustache is here to stay.

As I pulled back the covers and stood up, the man was still giving his master a look like a disapproving parent does after little Johnny had been caught playing in the dirt again and had come home all muddy, especially around the upper lip area.

I sighed, “Oh Jeeves. Are we going to argue over my upper lip again?”

“No, sir!” He replied in that rummy way of his which told a fellow that the man wasn't going to let this lie.

I felt like a General who was told by his superiors that the battle was going to be brief and victory was certain, only to find that his troops were out gunned and out numbered! And was now holding on just barely I may add to the ground they had won the day before!

“Okay Jeeves, have it your own way!”

“Sir?”

“You can sulk all you like; it will not make me change my mind,” I said defiantly then just waited for the slap little Johnny would have got for playing in that mud.

“Very good Sir!” Jeeves uttered again as he handed his master a robe.

Feeling still uncomfortable, I changed the subject. “So, what's on today? A bath first perhaps, oh and a shave. Then ready in time to go to the Drones and have a touch of dinner!” I smiled at the thought of Tuppy being a pig and in so doing failed to listen to Jeeves.

“What Jeeves?”

He frowned just a little before repeating his sentence “I fear that will all have to take place after...”

“After Jeeves?” I questioned while placing my hands upon my hips to show the man I was not amused at this presumption of his. Lord Chuffnel once told me that men servants had the habit of taking over and to show you are not amused by their presumptuousness, you place your hands upon your hips in a gesture of defiance! Meant to be a bit like a master wagging his finger at his dog who had just been caught trying to steal his slipper to chew on, or something like that.

“After you have seen your Aunt Dahlia Sir.”

“Aunt Dahlia?” I goggled at the man! My Aunt had left Uncle Tom at home with Anatole while she toddled off to France. “She's in France! What are you blithering at man?”

Jeeves came back with another raised eyebrow before answering yours truly with “is she sir? Unless I am very mistaken, Mrs Travers is presently in the lounge and is very desirous of your company to talk through something I believe to have happened in her life.” Then the man fixed me with a quizzical look and added “unless Sir, she is a wraith or phantom like Aunt...”

“Jeeves! Do not go there!” I protested, feeling a thousand creepy crawly insects marching up and down my spine with their spindly legs.

“I'm sorry Sir! I never meant to unnerve you by talking about phantoms.”

I gave him another frown. “No Jeeves. You fail to understand. Just don't mention aged ‘A' in this flat!”

“I am very sorry Sir! But Miss Dahlia is waiting and may I add, she is pacing up and down your new carpet in a frantic way as to suggest that if you do not come presently, she will endeavour to wear a hole in it!”

Just at this moment I heard my Aunt shout out, “Come on Jeeves! Get that lazy fat head up will you!”

I half smiled, or was it grimaced. “Best stop my aged Aunt from wearing out the new Axminster.”

Bracing oneself for the verbal explosion coming from her mouth, I placed my slippers on and took to the lounge where I greeted her in the usual Wooster fashion! “Hello, hello, hello! I say!”

My Aunt gave me a very deep frown and stopped abruptly, just short of starting a fire on my carpet as Jeeves had warned. “Be quiet Bertie! You sound like a blue bottle!”

A blue bottle as you most probably know is often the name given to our local policemen, though sounding like one I do not!

“I say? I say? I say!” I came back at her with.

“Now you sound like a comedian!” Then with her hunt voice that must have scared the living daylights out of the hounds, she gave me an ear full of, “Do be quiet and listen to your Aunt for once!”

I gave my dear Aunt my gob-smacked look only for her to tell me, “Stop gawping with that imbecile look and take a seat.”

It's funny! This may be my flat, my seat and my new carpet. Yet, when an Aunt instructs you to sit in a really business type way you make sure you take to a seat and stay there! It can only be described as like being back in junior school, when the head mistress bellows out at you to sit down, otherwise you will get six of the best!

“Jeeves, fetch some tea!” I asked the man while trying to gain a little control of my life at this time.

“Only sensible thing you have said all morning!”

“Oh good!” I said as I nudged further back into my seat and just hoping that my Aunt might stop and take a seat herself. But to my chagrin she started once more to pace the carpet.

“What am I to do?” She asked and I had the answer!

“Stop wearing out the bally carpet.”

“What?” I had those cold eyes upon me, the ones always fixed when the old Aunt ‘D' was in sore straights. “Blast your carpet! I have more problems than worrying about your carpet Bertie!”

“No you won't because I'll have a bigger hole in my carpet.” One mumbled under ones breath.

“Me ladies Boudoir!”

The Wooster brain shot into gear at the name. “Oh yes, the one you sold to the Trotters!”

“I haven't!”

“You haven't what?”

“I didn't.”

Was it just me? Or had the conversation taken a wrong turn and had taken on a confusing twist? Or was I dreaming again? I looked at the door just waiting for Tuppy to come in and turn into a pig and that this was not my flat but actually the Drones!

Sadly this was no dream “But, but, I saw you receive the cheque. I saw Uncle Tom dance a gig in relief of getting that magazine off your backs!”

“Well I bought it back! Call it what you want.”

A warm glow fell into the Wooster heart! “Out of high regard for the Trotters and of love and the duty to do what is right after salting the what not?”

“Tish pish Bertie! I miss the magazine! Like a long lost relative. And the price was half what Trotter paid for it!”

With the warm glow of the love light gone. I felt like a jilted moth who was going toward the glow of the oil lamp, only to find that the flame has just died and now he was left out in the cold of the night with nowhere to flutter to. Or some mushy stuff and nonsense like that!

“Your tea Sir!”

I looked at Jeeves and he gave me a pained look. Still brooding over the tash.

“I need something stronger than the big ‘T'!”

“Your usual Sir?” Then looking towards my Aunt he asked in that smooth way he has. “Would you still like the tea madam?”

“Yes Jeeves. Tea and sympathy!”

“Sympathy mom?” The man asked as he gracefully floated over with my Aunts tea.

“Sympathy Jeeves. I've brought Me Ladies Boudoir.”

“Indeed Mom. I heard you had reacquired the rights to the magazine from Mister Dickson, the gentleman's gentleman to mister Trotter. He kindly informed me that you purchased it for half the original selling price. The reduced price was down to Mrs Trotter who lost sales by publishing her strong views about how ladies should entertain royalty. This in turn upset the royal family who stopped subscribing and this led to the drastic fall of the publication.”

“Oh dear!” I replied while feeling amazed at my man's insight. Then I reminded myself that Jeeves knows all things. Must be the fish diet he keeps strictly too!

“Oh dear indeed! It is my duty to keep my child alive and raise it up from the grave like Lazarus.”

“Laza who?”

My Aunt goggled at me and felt compelled to address me this way. “Bertie, you are so dim!”

“Pardon me Sir! But if you remember your scriptural knowledge day at Eton. I'm sure you will recall Lazarus as being a close friend of Jesus Christ, God's son. Upon being informed that his friend Lazarus was dead he travelled to resurrect him back to life.”

“Have we sent him an invite to my party? It would be a great party trick what?” I joked, only to receive a scornful look off my aged ‘A'. At this point I buried my head and finished off my scotch and soda.

“I need to inject a few more fresh ideas.”

“Jeeves is full of ideas!” I rushed out like a steam train at full speed from a tunnel only to find there was no more track! My Aunt was in no mood for me to go blurting the obvious. Then again there was another look. Not knowing what it is I decided to bury my head in my drink, only to find out I had no more. I chose to flinch instead.

“I have an idea on how to reach the masses of cultured readers out there. I will have a section on art.”

“Art?”

“Yes paintings. I have decided to employ a man cultured in the fine arts. A Monsieur Renée. Have you heard of him?”

“No.”

“I wasn't asking you my boy. I was asking your manservant.”

Now Jeeves preferred to be called a Gentleman's gentleman, or valet. A manservant is used for different jobs and my man was visibly shaken and shuddered at the use of the word. Still! Another shock to the system can only toughen a man up, I only hope it doesn't toughen him up so much that he decides to leave.

“Yes mom. Monsieur Renee is a world-renowned professor of the arts. He has chaired sessions at all the major universities of the world. He often gives thesis on how the painter reached the conclusion of his picture and how each brush stroke tells us about the emotional situations the artist was going through at the time. Also how we should all feel about painting a masterpiece.”

“And feel we shall!”

Jeeves went on indulging my Aunt. “He is of a very persuasive character. One who would be well received if a magazine could acquire such an astute man as he.”

There was one word bothering old Bertram. “We?”

“Yes we!” This was the bit I hated! “He is set to come to England today. I have arranged an interview with him. I have made an arrangement with the owner of Exton Manor to view a rare painting. The owner Sir Reginald Hastings will only let the professor view it.”

“What is so special about this painting?”

“Jeeves, you tell him!” My Aunt waved an offish hand at the man and one could see the cogs whirling in his mind as it found the information for Wooster's ears only.

“A very rare painting entitled ‘Flowers in the Rain' sir.”

“Doesn't sound very rare to me? I can go to Hyde Park and watch a load of flowers getting wet in the rain!” They both ignored my rather rash joke and Jeeves carried on.

“The painting was painted by a Russian artist by the name of Andorran. Though this name was just his pen name. No one except the state police knows who he really was.”

“Why would they know it?”

“Because sir, they shot him for trying to start a revolution.”

“Oh I see! How many paintings did this Ander chappie paint?”

“About one hundred and seventy three!”

I looked at my Aunt and then at Jeeves. Was I missing a point or two here? “Surely they must have loads of his work bounding around the art galleries, sure I've seen one here in London!”

“No!”

This ‘no' was like the way she must have told off her hounds when out on the hunt. It would have made me jump back if I wasn't already pressed firmly into my chair!

“Unfortunately sir, all the other one hundred and seventy two were destroyed by the Russian government.”

“Only this one survives? Well I say!”

“That is why this is very important! We need the professor to view the painting and pay him for his valid opinion. We get the scoop of the decade and Me Ladies Boudoir's sales go sky high!”

“Why do you need me to go down there?”

“To be ambassador for my magazine and to make sure the old prof signs on our dotted line.”

“Who else's dotted thingy would the prof want to sign for anyway?”

“Sir Watkin Bassett's.”

“Not that curse of a Basset!” I said feeling coldness towards that name. He didn't like me and I certainly didn't like the man for fining me a large sum of money for borrowing a blue bottle's helmet on boat race night. Yet another question came rising to the surface like bubbles in a lemonade bottle!

“Why would Sir Watkin want to sign the Professor?”

“Because he is writing a book about art with that Lord Sidcup. The professor may sign for Watkin, if he offers our man more money and a page dedicated to the man in his blasted book!”

“Why can't you be the ambassador?”

My dear Aunt said it so sweetly along with flashing those eyes at me before hitting me like a hammer with the obvious. “I have to go home and comfort my husband after he receives the news about my purchase. I need Anatole at his best, cooking Tom's favourite. In that way he may forgive me.”

“Oh I see.” Then after reeling from the logic hammer, I proceeded to put my foot down!

“Sorry aged ‘D'! I am not going to play the old ‘A'. I plan to have a quiet rest away from all the stresses of family life.”

“You will at Exton Manor!”

She gave me a look much like a cat does when it wants to be made a fuss of and is desperately trying to make you submit by using its feline looks. Those looks are not going to work on old Bertram!

“Sorry! I plan to stay clear of this dreadful plan and as far away as possible from Exton Manor!”

She gave Jeeves a look as she gently walked over and placed one cup upon the silver tray.

“See if you cannot persuade your master Jeeves!”

“I shall see what I can think of mom!” He said in passing me on the way to letting my Aunt out.

“Well Jeeves! You see the Wooster metal is there, asserted and unmovable!” I addressed him as he came back in.

“Very good sir!” He said this in a way that sounded to me like he didn't believe I would stick to my guns over this. I was sure I could do so and nothing was going to change my mind!

“Pardon me sir.”

“Yes Jeeves!”

“I almost forgot. When I was showing Mrs Travers out I was handed a telegram.”

“Well, place the tray down will you and read me the gram.”

Jeeves unfolded the paper and read from it.

“It is from your Aunt Agatha sir. Would you like me to summarise?”

“Summarise away!” I said as one now wished he had another scotch and soda in one's hands.

“She is coming to visit you this afternoon, and is bringing with her a lady that she believes will be the perfect match for you. The young lady is intelligent, lively and has all the qualities you are lacking. Please prepare tea for our arrival at three.”

I was already springing into action and reaching for the cupboard door when I felt Jeeves step into the room and ask, “Shall I prepare for Mrs Gregson's arrival sir?”

“No you bally well won't! What time is the next train north?”

“One heading towards the midlands will be at one thirty five.”

“The time now?”

“Eight minutes to twelve sir.”

“Right! Send a telegram to Aunt Dahlia informing her that we are on our way! Oh, and run me a quick bath, oh and prepare me a suit, oh and...”

“Pack Sir?”

“Yes, yes pack!”

Instead of running around like a headless chicken like other mortal men, Jeeves would float around the room in almost slow motion and before I knew it I was on the train heading towards Exton Manor. I had made up my mind that I still didn't want to be the big ‘A'. But it was better than facing the aged ‘A' and finding oneself subjected to another hot blooded female who only wanted to dominate me and hunt me down for sport!

When Jeeves and I arrived at this small station, I sent him off to hail a taxi. The station itself was quiet, apart from a dark-haired young elegant looking lady. She had vacated the same carriage as us and I watched her as she managed to find a porter to place her luggage upon a trolley and head out of the entrance and in so doing having to pass me. I gave her a flash of the old Wooster blues and said hello and she in turn flashed her dark browns and said the same.

“Ah Jeeves! Did you find a taxi?”

“No Sir, a lady was in need of the vehicle I had acquired. Feeling that her circumstances were greater than ours, I allowed her to have the taxi with your compliments.”

“Oh.” I said before running along the lines of the young woman, “Did you see that dark-haired maiden pass through the archway?”

“Yes, I noticed her ambience shine radiantly as the young lady passed my eye.”

“Ur, yes. So a fine woman then?” I questioned the man knowing Jeeves to never give a straight answer.

“Very elegant lady sir! One who is well spoken and gentile in the finest of qualities if I may be permitted to add?”

“Add away Jeeves!” Feeling as if our relationship had now taken a turn for the better I now asked, “How are we going to get to the manor?”

“I have acquired the services of a local farmer who has kindly offered you a ride in his lorry Sir.”

“Oh rather! What fun! I have never travelled in one of these. Unless you class sitting on the top deck of a bus with Bingo, just looking for love in a young filly's eyes.”

“No Mr Wooster sir, I haven't. Though I am kindly informed that the ride is somewhat similar.”

“Oh, hated busses. No where to put your feet. Though Bingo viewed this as a bonus, said it was an excellent opportunity to brush feet with the opposite sex! I did often wonder at the man Jeeves? Until he married Rosie M Banks.”

Jeeves frowned as he pondered over the divulging of info I had given his large brain and his mouth followed, “Yes Sir. That would amount an act of disturbing behaviour. I am very surprised that he was not arrested?”

“Oh he nearly bally well was when he picked the wrong type of girl. I intervened only to be coshed round the head with the lady's handbag. Saw stars for a while and missed my stop!” Then rubbing my head recalling where the offending item hit old Bertram I told my man straight, “That was the very last time I took a bus!”

“Very disturbing Sir.” Jeeves replied as he made way and watched the porter like a hawk as he picked up our luggage and used his handy trolley to move it on its way.

As I got out the other side of the arch I was accosted by a small looking fellow with a gammy leg.

“Telegram for Mr Wooster!”

I raised my hand and he came on over to place the letter into my hands. “I wonder who knows we are here?”

“I would suggest Sir that the answer can only come to light by opening it up and reading the contents.”

I didn't need the man to state the obvious! So I chose to do something different. “I shall read it when we get to our destination!” And chose to march towards the lorry which was not as one had expected.