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All at Sea with Jeeves

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Wragg

Chronicler of Crux
Staff member
1.

I awoke at my customary early hour, around ten am, slightly alarmed to discover that the bed was tipping gently from side to side. It must have been a good night at the Drones Club last night.

I smiled, then frowned, as I failed utterly to recall having been in the Drones Club. It must have been a very good night in the Drones Club last night. Getting up was going to require professional assistance.

“Jeeves!” I called, weakly. I needn’t have bothered, the man had a sixth sense for knowing when I was awake. I opened an eye experimentally, and there he was, fully equipped with a steaming hot cup of tea. I searched the tray for any sign of his potent morning after restorative, but I searched in vain.

“Jeeves? Where’s your magic potion?”

“Sir?”

“I need some of your ‘morning after’ jollop, Jeeves. The room is swaying.”

“The room is swaying, sir, due to the effects of the North Atlantic. We are at sea, sir.”

I was about to tell him not to be a dratted fool when I remembered. We really were at sea. This was not my bedroom in Berkeley Mansions but it was a cabin aboard the SS Cruxton Abbey, en route from Southampton to New York.

“Ah, yes. Aunt Eulalia.”

“Indeed so, sir.”

“And the Dowager Countess Deborah of High Groaning.”

“Absolutely, sir.”

“Spike Sharp and the Crux Chronicle.”

“It was most unfortunate, sir, that he happened to be outside Madame Messaline’s at the precise moment that Lord Jollyrei and yourself emerged.”

I sipped some tea, moodily. “Lurking with his camera like that. The man’s a bounder, Jeeves.”

“Indeed he is, sir.”

“A cad.”

“Very true, sir.”

“He should be horsewhipped.”

“Such a course of action would be inadvisable, sir. It could only lead to further adverse publicity for Lord Jollyrei and yourself.”

“Meanwhile, Aunt Eulalia is disinheriting me.” While not wishing any ill to the aged relative, she had quite a pile in the Northern Forest, and one does mathematics when contemplating the future. But she had not been best pleased to see her nephew on the front page of the Crux Chronicle, and now I feared that the mathematics of the future for Wragg, B. might well involve sitting in the street with a hat and a scruffy dog.

“I fear so, sir.”

“And the Dowager’s done the same to poor Jolly.”

“I am given to understand that her Ladyship has indeed embarked upon such a course of action, sir.”

“I don’t suppose….?”

“No, sir. I am afraid not. Lord Jollyrei has asked if you will join him for lunch in the restaurant, sir. I have laid out your morning suit.” And with that, he departed.

I had feared as much. The man was in a huff. Jollyrei and I had hatched up a plan to take flight across the Atlantic, endeavouring to put a healthy stretch of ocean between my Aunt and his mother, who were both extremely anxious to have heart to heart conversations with us about that blasted Crux Chronicle article. We were equally anxious to avoid such interviews, and George Windar had extended an open invitation for us to visit him in America. No time like the present, what? The only problem was that Jeeves had had his heart set on a trip to the South of France, a scheme which I had shelved indefinitely in preference to old Windar’s hospitality. As a result, he was being distinctly frosty, and was steadfastly refusing to come up with a scheme to put me back into Aunt Eulalia’s good books.

I sighed, my only hope being that absence would make Aunt Eulalia’s heart grow fonder. A very faint hope, I knew only too well that Aunt Eulalia was apt to bear a grudge for a long time.

At sea, there are not even newspapers to while away the morning hours, so I entertained myself with a second-rate whodunit until it was time to go and meet Jollyrei.​
 
The only problem was that Jeeves had had his heart set on a trip to the South of France, a scheme which I had shelved indefinitely in preference to old Windar’s hospitality.

I’d have chosen the south of France. So much more pleasant there!

Off to a great start here. This is going to be fun. I can’t wait for episode 2!
 
I’d have chosen the south of France. So much more pleasant there!

Off to a great start here. This is going to be fun. I can’t wait for episode 2!

Anywhere is much moore pleasant with Barb.
It often ends unpleasantly for Barb I've noticed though!
 
Tutte ar mare, tutte ar mare,
A mostra' le chiappe chiare,
Tutte ar mare, tutte ar mare.
co' li pesci,
in mezzo all'onne,
noi s'annamo a diverti'.
(ritornello romanesco)


All at sea, all at sea,
To show the pale asses,
All at sea, all at sea.
with the fish,
in the middle of the waves,
we went to have fun.
(Roman refrain)



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George Windar had extended an open invitation for us to visit him in America.
I did? Why would I do something like that?:confused::doh::eek:

The man’s a bounder, Jeeves.”

You said it, pal!:D
so I entertained myself with a second-rate whodunit
Something about crucifixions in abandoned factories in the Bronx, no doubt.:p No, wait, that one would need a couple of steps up to be second-rate:rolleyes:

Anywhere is much moore pleasant with Barb.
It often ends unpleasantly for Barb I've noticed though!
Good, God, Moore isn't going to be in this one, is she?:eek::eek::eek:
 
I did? Why would I do something like that?:confused::doh::eek:



You said it, pal!:D

Something about crucifixions in abandoned factories in the Bronx, no doubt.:p No, wait, that one would need a couple of steps up to be second-rate:rolleyes:


Good, God, Moore isn't going to be in this one, is she?:eek::eek::eek:

And any moment now, the demerits come flooding in!!!
 
Because you're a decent sort of cove

A cove? I don't know what language youse guys speak over there, but here in Noo Yawk that's a small bay in the ocean:confused:

I may need to make you a glossary, Wragg. When you go up to your hotel room, you'll use an elevator, not a lift. If the car is acting up, you'll open the hood, not the bonnet. Those things you order with your hamburger are fries, not chips, unless they come in a bag. And that game with the bat and ball-it's baseball not cricket. Oh, and if you knock up your girlfriend, that doesn't just mean you went to visit her, it means a little bundle of joy 9 months later...

Depends on demerits.... ;)
She's already given a bunch.
 
I may need to make you a glossary, Wragg. When you go up to your hotel room, you'll use an elevator, not a lift. If the car is acting up, you'll open the hood, not the bonnet. Those things you order with your hamburger are fries, not chips, unless they come in a bag. And that game with the bat and ball-it's baseball not cricket. Oh, and if you knock up your girlfriend, that doesn't just mean you went to visit her, it means a little bundle of joy 9 months later...

That thing you walk on next to the carriageway is a 'pavement', not a sidewalk, and I'll have a biscuit, not a cookie, please, while you are repairing (not fixing) your car in the car park rather than the parking lot! ;)
 
“It was most unfortunate, sir, that he happened to be outside Madame Messaline’s at the precise moment that Lord Jollyrei and yourself emerged.”
Good of George to roll out the old welcome thing. I say, Bertie, I'm dashed if I recall exactly what that blasted Sharpie said we did. Fill a chap in, would you? One hates for the dear Mater to be in such a state. Still, New York, eh? Windy can get us tickets to the theatre!
 
Oh, sure, I can find you "Hamilton" tickets. "Springsteen on Broadway"? No problemo. I can walk across the East River, too :rolleyes:
Remind me again who the female lead is in those. :cool::D

Look, I can't help but feel like I might be partly to blame for this sitch, but I'm sure Jeeves will have things well in hand. We are at sea, after all; bound to be all sorts of fish about to spark those massive braincells, what? :)
 
I say, Bertie, I'm dashed if I recall exactly what that blasted Sharpie said we did. Fill a chap in, would you?

Ah yes. Mlle Messalines. Allow me to quote from a previous installment:


Well, Jeeves, I’ll be blowed!” I was a bit peeved. “All this fuss about Pp being a cad, and in the end he’s only taking them out to a French restaurant! You can say what you like about the French, they’ve more than made up for Napoleon by their genius in the kitchen! Aunt Dahlia’s chef, Anatole, French as French can be, and I have never tasted cooking like it! It is worth any trial or tribulation to arrange yourself around the outside of his cooking, short perhaps of giving a prizegiving speech*!” I leaned towards Blaire, “Just one word of advice, old girl, steer clear of les old escargots! Snails, don’t you know?”

Jeeves was patiently waiting to get a word in edgeways. “’Madamoiselle Messaline’s’ is not a French restaurant, sir. I fear I am unable to properly describe it in the present company.”

“Oh go on, Jeeves!” Jollyrei was intrigued, “Do have a pop at it!”

Jeeves didn’t often look uncomfortable, but he did now. “It is situated in Wardour Street, sir, just off Shaftesbury Avenue.”

“I didn’t ask where it is, I asked what it is!”

“I was attempting to convey, sir, that the club is situated in Soho. Soho is a most disreputable district of London, sir, not at all suited to ladies such as Miss Fitzpatrick and Miss Twistleton.”
 
That thing you walk on next to the carriageway is a 'pavement', not a sidewalk, and I'll have a biscuit, not a cookie, please, while you are repairing (not fixing) your car in the car park rather than the parking lot! ;)

oh, and guys don’t shag women over here. There are other words for that ;)
 
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