If you ask my Aunt Agatha she will tell you – in fact, she is quite likely to tell you even if you don’t ask her – that I am a vapid and irreflective chump. Barely sentient, was the way she once described me: and I’m not saying that in a broad, general sense she isn’t right.
Mr Keeble stopped after making his announcement, and had to rattle his keys in his pocket in order to acquire the necessary courage to continue.
It seems rummy that water should be so much wetter when you go into it with your clothes on than when you’re just bathing, but take it from me that it is.
Planting his foot firmly on a golf-ball which the Hon. Freddie Threepwood, who had been practising putting in the corridor before retiring to bed, had left in his casual fashion just where the steps began, he took the entire staircase in one majestic, volplaning sweep. There were eleven stairs in all separating his landing from the landing below, and the only ones he hit were the third and tenth.
Right ho, Jeeves.
I knew what it felt like. I was once in love myself with a girl called Elizabeth Shoolbred, and the fact that she couldn’t stand me at any price will be recorded in my autobiography.
There was something about this girl that made the most bizarre happenings seem right and natural. Ever since he had met her his life had changed from an orderly succession of uninteresting days to a strange carnival of the unexpected, and use was accustoming him to it.
His was a simple mind, able to amuse itself with simple things.
My God, man!” I gargled. “The cravat! The gent’s neckwear! Why? For what reason?
By the way, one generally shakes hands in the smartest circles. Yours seem to be down there somewhere. Might I trouble you? Right. Got it? Thanks!
Jeeves,′ I said – and I am not ashamed to confess that there was a spot of chokiness in the voice – ’there is none like you, none.
Ukridge was the sort of man who asks you to dinner, borrows money from you to pay the bill, and winds up the evening by embroiling you in a fight with a cabman.
Are you the Bully, the Pride of the School, or the Boy who is Led Astray and takes to Drink in Chapter Sixteen?” “The last, for choice,” said Mike, “but I’ve only just arrived, so I don’t know.
This,’ said Psmith, ’is becoming more and more gratifying every moment. It seems to me that you and I were made for each other. I am your best friend’s best friend and we both have a taste for stealing other people’s jewellery. I cannot see how you can very well resist the conclusion that we are twin-souls.
In the spring, Jeeves, a livelier iris gleams upon the burnished dove.’ ‘So.
The only thing that prevented a father’s love from faltering was the fact that there was in his possession a photograph of himself at the same early age, in which he, too, looked like a homicidal fried egg. This proof that it was possible for a child, in spite of a rocky start, to turn eventually into a suave and polished boulevardier with finely chiselled features heartened him a good deal, causing him to hope for the best.
Dear old Bicky, though a stout fellow and absolutely unrivaled as an imitator of bull-terriers and cats, was in many ways one of the most pronounced fatheads that ever pulled on a suit of gent’s underwear.
Himself strongly in favour of sharing the wealth, it seemed to him that the last thing to place in the hands of an impressionable child was a little wee passbook, starting it off in life – as it infallibly must – with capitalistic ideas out of tune with the trend of modern enlightened thought. Slip a baby ten quid, he reasoned, and before you knew where you were you had got another Economic Royalist on your hands.
The whole wheeze in married life, he had come to learn, was to give the opposite number as few opportunities of saying ‘Oh, how could you?’ as possible.
England still firmly believes that wealth accrues to every resident of New York by some mysterious process not understandable of the Briton.