Wragg, did you just improvise that passage, or was it ready to go, Windar was in cahoots with you, and 'Res ipsa loqitur' was your cue?
In either case,
.
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All at Sea with Jeeves
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Wragg, did you just improvise that passage, or was it ready to go, Windar was in cahoots with you, and 'Res ipsa loqitur' was your cue?
In either case,
.
Wragg, did you just improvise that passage, or was it ready to go, Windar was in cahoots with you, and 'Res ipsa loqitur' was your cue?
In either case,
Is cahoots yet another term for his monocle?
You have to admit, Apostate, 'Res ipsa loqitur' was just asking for a spot of improvisation!Wragg, did you just improvise that passage, or was it ready to go, Windar was in cahoots with you, and 'Res ipsa loqitur' was your cue?
In either case,
Is cahoots yet another term for his monocle?
Well, to put it briefly;
Cahoot is used almost exclusively in the phrase "in cahoots," which means "in an alliance or partnership." In most contexts, it describes the conspiring activity of people up to no good. (There's also the rare idiom go cahoots, meaning "to enter into a partnership," as in "they went cahoots on a new restaurant.") "Cahoot" may derive from French cahute, meaning "cabin" or "hut," suggesting the notion of two or more people hidden away working together in secret. "Cahute" is believed to have been formed through the combination of two other words for cabins and huts, "cabane" and "hutte."
So the answer is no.
windar
Teller of Tales
THERE WAS NO COLLUSION!!!!
You have to admit, Apostate, 'Res ipsa loqitur' was just asking for a spot of improvisation!
I had to look it up. Serves me right for skipping law school.
In the spirit of laughing in order not to scream.
.
bobinder
ARTISAN
Well, I wonder if we have an up to date edition of maritime law on board?
I'm actually rather in favour of keel-hauling, but I'm not sure if it's on the statutes these days...
Do you think we can perform a keel-hauling at 20 knots, Mr. Phlebas? - we don't want to foul the screws...
Of course, it may have fallen into disuse, but perhaps it has never been repealed?
bobinder
ARTISAN
Oh, you mean I can only flog her if she's my wife?
Hmm, sounds a bit like domestic violence - I tend to think keel-hauling is the better option here.
Inform the galley, there will be barnacles on the menu for dinner...
As First Office I expect I will have a lead role to play in this important act of discipline, Captain.
Pleeeeeeeeease !
I even have my own whip!
Do you think we can perform a keel-hauling at 20 knots, Mr. Phlebas? - we don't want to foul the screws...
Of course, it may have fallen into disuse, but perhaps it has never been repealed?
I hope it has been repealed ... i’d rather not be pealed alive!
Inform the galley, there will be barnacles on the menu for dinner...
YEWWWWWW
Slow down, phleb. He said forty lashes ... it’s alright to take your time and make it last for Moore than 40 seconds .. a girl can only take so much, you know!
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
In a modern version of keelhauling, the victim is stripped naked, tied by the ankles and hung outboard upside down for a few minutes, at the stern, above the ship's propellors.
(according to RL testimonies, it seemed to have been used for hazing new seamen on merchant ships).
In a modern version of keelhauling, the victim is stripped naked, tied by the ankles and hung outboard upside down for a few minutes, at the stern, above the ship's propellors.
(according to RL testimonies, it seemed to have been used for hazing new seamen on merchant ships).
Loxuru, this post, and any corroborating pictures, would make a fine contribution over on WTF and Oddities.
6.
If there is one place that is worse for the stomach than a ship in the North Atlantic Ocean, that is a ship in the North Atlantic Ocean that is steering wildly to avoid an iceberg. And the worst place on that ship is up one of the masts. Neither brandy nor Seagrams has any effect whatsoever on the mal de mer. Professor Wragg has conducted careful experiments which put such considerations beyond reasonable doubt.
“Bugger me, that was close!” exclaimed Ted Parry. I think he meant the iceberg, but he might also have been referring to the fact that the contents of my stomach had just come mightily close to Aunt Eulalia’s hat, far below on the deck.
“Bertie! You reptile! How dare you! Come down here at once!”
Mr Tree, standing beside her, added his own thoughts. “Yes! You cowardly Limey! Come and face justice like a man!”
I knew about his “justice”, and I wanted no part of it. I looked at Jollyrei, who looked quite pale himself. “Quite a party down there,” I observed. “When do you think they’ll give up and go away?”
“Not any time soon,” replied Jollyrei. “Your man’s just joining the crowd.”
I looked down again, and, sure enough, Jeeves was just biffing up. Tree greeted him like a long lost friend. “Old Slave! What a surprise! What the hell are you doing on this old tub?”
“Pardon me, sir, but ‘Old Slave’ is an epithet I reserve for the Crux Forums, here I am just plain ‘Jeeves’, if you don’t mind.”
I goggled. ‘Old Slave’? Where on Earth had he come up with that? I didn’t treat him like an old slave. Did I?
“Sure!” smiled Tree, “’Jeeves’ it is. Well, Jeeves, what are you doing here?”
“At this precise moment, I am looking for Mr Wragg, sir. I am given to understand that he was last seen heading for the bow.”
“Indeed he was, Jeeves,” replied Aunt Eulalia. “He came here, and he is still here.”
Jeeves looked about, counting Wraggs, and coming up short by one. “Your Ladyship?”
Silently, Tree, Eulalia, and Deborah pointed upwards. Jeeves’ head tilted upwards, and he observed myself, Jollyrei, and Ted peering back down at him.
“Good afternoon, sir. Good afternoon, Your Lordship.” He greeted us as if we were simply seated in the flat in Berkeley Mansions. Nothing rattles Jeeves.
“What ho, Jeeves! This is Mr Parry, our new friend. Comes from Wales, don’t you know?”
“Indeed, sir? I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Mr Parry.”
Ted reciprocated the delight, and, with the introductions dealt with, Jeeves settled down to the agenda.
“Assured though I am of the delights of the view from the Crow’s Nest, sir, I wonder if you might find returning to deck level more congenial? You will appreciate, I’m sure, my difficulty, and that of His Lordship’s man, Smithies, in bringing supplies to your current location.”
“Good scheme, Jeeves, just one drawback.”
“Sir?”
“Those ladies. Armed and dangerous.”
“He’s right, Jeeves.” Aunt Eulalia had a steely glint in her eye. “I’m going to tan his hide!” She tapped the whip, menacingly, on her hand. I gulped.
Jeeves was just drawing breath to reply when the gathering at the foot of the mast was swelled still further by the arrival of the Captain, gripping Barb Moore by the upper arm. Behind trailed a highly athletic-looking Italian crewman who I’d previously heard addressed as L’Bogo. L’Bogo had a whip, and that looked even more fearsome than Aunt Eulalia’s.
Jollyrei, even though he’s only been to Mlle Messaline’s the same number of times that I have, considers himself to be something of an expert. “I say!” he said, “I’m dashed if that isn’t a cat o’nine tails!”
And there he sat, looking like some kind of a genius. I forbore to mention that, given that it clearly had nine strands, and that we were on a ship, even a dunce like me had worked that out!
The Captain and Barb were by no means alone. Phlebas had miraculously conjured up an actually able (if grumpy) seaman to steer the ship, and was tagging along happily. Loxuru, having seen the way things were going, had legged it on the double to report events to his guv’nor Mr Apostate, the Senior Steward. Apostate was at that moment heartily sick of trying to placate infuriated soup-stained diners, so he offered the whole restaurant a one-off opportunity to observe a proper old-fashioned flogging. An offer readily accepted by every last one of them. Led by Messrs Apostate and Loxuru, they all chattered excitedly about the forthcoming spectacle. How Mr Madiosi had heard about developments nobody knew, except that Madiosi seemed to know everything, but he'd left his hot running shaft to its own devices to join the merry throng.
This considerable congregation assembled around the for’ard mast. I worried that the old ship must be down by the bows, but none of the actual mariners seemed concerned, so I relaxed and observed proceedings.
“Stand back, everyone! Punishment time!” growled the Captain.
If there is one place that is worse for the stomach than a ship in the North Atlantic Ocean, that is a ship in the North Atlantic Ocean that is steering wildly to avoid an iceberg. And the worst place on that ship is up one of the masts. Neither brandy nor Seagrams has any effect whatsoever on the mal de mer. Professor Wragg has conducted careful experiments which put such considerations beyond reasonable doubt.
“Bugger me, that was close!” exclaimed Ted Parry. I think he meant the iceberg, but he might also have been referring to the fact that the contents of my stomach had just come mightily close to Aunt Eulalia’s hat, far below on the deck.
“Bertie! You reptile! How dare you! Come down here at once!”
Mr Tree, standing beside her, added his own thoughts. “Yes! You cowardly Limey! Come and face justice like a man!”
I knew about his “justice”, and I wanted no part of it. I looked at Jollyrei, who looked quite pale himself. “Quite a party down there,” I observed. “When do you think they’ll give up and go away?”
“Not any time soon,” replied Jollyrei. “Your man’s just joining the crowd.”
I looked down again, and, sure enough, Jeeves was just biffing up. Tree greeted him like a long lost friend. “Old Slave! What a surprise! What the hell are you doing on this old tub?”
“Pardon me, sir, but ‘Old Slave’ is an epithet I reserve for the Crux Forums, here I am just plain ‘Jeeves’, if you don’t mind.”
I goggled. ‘Old Slave’? Where on Earth had he come up with that? I didn’t treat him like an old slave. Did I?
“Sure!” smiled Tree, “’Jeeves’ it is. Well, Jeeves, what are you doing here?”
“At this precise moment, I am looking for Mr Wragg, sir. I am given to understand that he was last seen heading for the bow.”
“Indeed he was, Jeeves,” replied Aunt Eulalia. “He came here, and he is still here.”
Jeeves looked about, counting Wraggs, and coming up short by one. “Your Ladyship?”
Silently, Tree, Eulalia, and Deborah pointed upwards. Jeeves’ head tilted upwards, and he observed myself, Jollyrei, and Ted peering back down at him.
“Good afternoon, sir. Good afternoon, Your Lordship.” He greeted us as if we were simply seated in the flat in Berkeley Mansions. Nothing rattles Jeeves.
“What ho, Jeeves! This is Mr Parry, our new friend. Comes from Wales, don’t you know?”
“Indeed, sir? I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Mr Parry.”
Ted reciprocated the delight, and, with the introductions dealt with, Jeeves settled down to the agenda.
“Assured though I am of the delights of the view from the Crow’s Nest, sir, I wonder if you might find returning to deck level more congenial? You will appreciate, I’m sure, my difficulty, and that of His Lordship’s man, Smithies, in bringing supplies to your current location.”
“Good scheme, Jeeves, just one drawback.”
“Sir?”
“Those ladies. Armed and dangerous.”
“He’s right, Jeeves.” Aunt Eulalia had a steely glint in her eye. “I’m going to tan his hide!” She tapped the whip, menacingly, on her hand. I gulped.
Jeeves was just drawing breath to reply when the gathering at the foot of the mast was swelled still further by the arrival of the Captain, gripping Barb Moore by the upper arm. Behind trailed a highly athletic-looking Italian crewman who I’d previously heard addressed as L’Bogo. L’Bogo had a whip, and that looked even more fearsome than Aunt Eulalia’s.
Jollyrei, even though he’s only been to Mlle Messaline’s the same number of times that I have, considers himself to be something of an expert. “I say!” he said, “I’m dashed if that isn’t a cat o’nine tails!”
And there he sat, looking like some kind of a genius. I forbore to mention that, given that it clearly had nine strands, and that we were on a ship, even a dunce like me had worked that out!
The Captain and Barb were by no means alone. Phlebas had miraculously conjured up an actually able (if grumpy) seaman to steer the ship, and was tagging along happily. Loxuru, having seen the way things were going, had legged it on the double to report events to his guv’nor Mr Apostate, the Senior Steward. Apostate was at that moment heartily sick of trying to placate infuriated soup-stained diners, so he offered the whole restaurant a one-off opportunity to observe a proper old-fashioned flogging. An offer readily accepted by every last one of them. Led by Messrs Apostate and Loxuru, they all chattered excitedly about the forthcoming spectacle. How Mr Madiosi had heard about developments nobody knew, except that Madiosi seemed to know everything, but he'd left his hot running shaft to its own devices to join the merry throng.
This considerable congregation assembled around the for’ard mast. I worried that the old ship must be down by the bows, but none of the actual mariners seemed concerned, so I relaxed and observed proceedings.
“Stand back, everyone! Punishment time!” growled the Captain.
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Hilarious!!!!
OMG !!! Flogged by an Italian! Woe is me!
Apostate doesn’t want to miss the fun, and apparently the diners agree
Me, a spectacle?
Oh Shit!
It's only 40 lashes, Barb. Quit complaining!!!Hilarious!!!!
OMG !!! Flogged by an Italian! Woe is me!
Apostate doesn’t want to miss the fun, and apparently the diners agree
Me, a spectacle?
Oh Shit!
windar
Teller of Tales
biffing up? I couldn't find that in any dictionary. What did Shaw say? "Britain and America, two nations divided by a common language".
At least someone in this story cares about great nautical traditions...
l'bogo
Venetian Mask
OMG !!! Flogged by an Italian! Woe is me!
Me, a spectacle?
Oh Shit!
Keep calm Barb, quiet, just to warm up your butt a little...