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Posts Tagged ‘Jeeves’

Napoleon, had he been around in our times, would have been amused upon discovering the high level of influence he exerts over the residents of Plumsville. Much like a spiritual sun which shines with equal benevolence on all, his leadership traits and planning skills provide inspiration to almost all the characters we come across in the narratives dished out by Plum. Even in defeat and disorderly retreat, he does not fail to provide succour to a tormented soul. His soft power extends to a wide variety of situations and continues to enthuse many amongst us.

When it comes to handling a difficult task, Napoleon provides the inspiration. With him around, failure is not an option. When irate nerve specialists have to be confronted, his skills in planning wars come in handy.

Members of the so-called sterner sex shudder at the prospect of being expected to carve out a Napoleonic career for themselves so as to earn the respect of the delicately nurtured in their lives. Overbearing sisters get labelled as persons who could dominate even the likes of Napoleon.

When a goofy plan is laid bare, it gets listened to with the same reverence with which Napoleon was heard by his humble adherents.  When impelled by a youthful and hypnotic Napoleon, one meekly accepts a course of action which one does not really approve of oneself.

A confident and resourceful person often commands the reluctant respect of a woman, much like Napoleon would. The latter’s trait of going for the enemy’s weak point comes in for praise. When it comes to imperious gestures, Napoleon even gets compared to Henry VIII.

Should one have suffered a crushing defeat in an enterprise, mere mention of what Napoleon suffered at Moscow soothes the soul.

Here are some quotes which demonstrate the power that Napoleon exerts in various narratives of Plum.

Napoleon inspires Bingo Little

If Bingo Little has to save his job at Wee Tots, he has to attend a luncheonEggsBeansAndCrumpets being hosted by Bella Mae. The challenge he faces in doing so is to convince Mrs. Bingo to celebrate their wedding anniversary by having a dinner together, instead of a lunch.

“And then, after he had been sitting for a goodish time with his head in his hands, exercising every cell in his brain to its utmost capacity, he received an inspiration and saw what Napoleon would have done. A moment later, he was on the telephone, with Mrs. Bingo’s silvery voice are-you-there-ing at the other end. 

“Hullo, darling,” he said. 

“Hullo, angel,” said Mrs. Bingo. 

“Hullo, precious,” said Bingo. 

“Hullo, sweetie-pie,” said Mrs. Bingo. 

“I say, moon of my delight,” said Bingo, “listen. A rather awkward thing has happened, and I should like your advice as to how to act for the best. There’s a most important litterateuse we are anxious to land for the old sheet, and the question has arisen of my taking her out to lunch to-day.” 

“Oh, Bingo!” 

“Now, my personal inclination is to tell her to go to blazes.” 

“Oh, no, you mustn’t do that.” 

“Yes, I think I will. ‘Nuts to you, litterateuse? I shall say.” 

“No, Bingo, please! Of course you must take her to lunch.” 

“But how about our binge?” 

“We can have dinner instead.”

 “Dinner?”

 “Yes.”

 Bingo allowed himself to be persuaded. “Now, that’s an idea,” he said. “There, I rather think, you’ve got something.”

 “Dinner will be just as good.””

[The Editor Regrets (Eggs, Beans and Crumpets)]

 

Napoleon sets the bar for a difficult task

Aunt Julia expects Ukridge to ingratiate himself with a tycoon of the jute industry and land a job, thereby doing something useful and ceasing to be what she calls a wastrel and an idler.

“‘Idler! I’ll trouble you! As if for a single day in my life, Corky, I have ever not buzzed about doing the work of ten men. Why, take the mere getting of that couple of quid from old Tuppy, for instance.

 ‘Simple as it sounds, I doubt if Napoleon could have done it. Tuppy, sterling fellow though he is, has his bad mornings. He comes down to the office and finds a sharp note from the President of Uruguay or someone on his desk, and it curdles the milk of human kindness within him. On these occasions he becomes so tight that he could carry an armful of eels up five flights of stairs and not drop one. And yet in less than a quarter of an hour I had got a couple of quid out of him.’

 ‘Oh, well, women say these things.”

 [Ukridge and the Old Stepper (Eggs, Beans and Crumpets)]

 

When failure is not an option

Reginald Mulliner is bucked up after his sterling performance at the villageAFewQuickOnes concert and is intent upon giving a piece of his mind to Sir Jasper Todd, the financier. He proceeds to Wissel Hall.

‘When Reginald reached the massive front door, the fact that repeated ringing of the bell produced no response suggested that the domestic staff had been given the night off to attend the concert. But he was convinced that the man he sought was somewhere inside, and as he had now thought of five more names to call him, bringing the total to eleven, he had no intention of being foiled by a closed front door. As Napoleon would have done in his place, he hunted around till he had found a ladder.

Bringing this back and propping it up against the balcony of one of the rooms on the first floor, he climbed up. He had now thought of a twelfth name, and it was the best of the lot.’

(A Few Quick Ones)

 

A singular absence of nerves of chilled steel

 A nerve specialist like Sir Roderick Glossop can hardly help taking a ratherThe Inimitable Jeeves 1st edition (1923) image courtesy of wikipedia warped view of humanity. It stands to reason that when Aunt Agatha plays a match-maker for his daughter Honoria, he wishes to check the Pumpkin Quotient of Bertie Wooster, the groom-to-be. Some cats in Bertie’s bedroom, a stolen hat and nerves of a weaker version of steel ensure that the fixture is scratched.

‘I say! This isn’t my hat!’

‘It is my hat!’ said Sir Roderick in about the coldest, nastiest voice I’d ever heard. ‘The hat which was stolen from me this morning as I drove in my car.’

 ‘But-’

 I suppose Napoleon or somebody like that would have been equal to the situation, but I’m bound to say it was too much for me. I just stood there goggling in a sort of coma, while the old boy lifted the hat off me and turned to Jeeves.

 ‘I should be glad, my man,’ he said, ‘if you would accompany me a few yards down the street. I wish to ask you some questions.’

 ‘Very good, sir.’

[Sir Roderick Comes to Lunch (The Inimitable Jeeves)]

 

The challenge of carving out a career

Eustace entices Bertie to visit Twing Hall, where, upon arrival, he runs into Cynthia.

‘Oh, hallo, old thing,’ I said.

Great pals we’ve always been. In fact, there was a time when I had an idea I was in love with Cynthia. However, it blew over. A dashed pretty and lively and attractive girl, mind you, but full of ideals and all that. I may be wronging her, but I have an idea that she’s the sort of girl who would want a fellow to carve out a career and what not. I know I’ve heard her speak favourably of Napoleon. So what with one thing and another the jolly old frenzy sort of petered out, and now we’re just pals. I think she’s a topper, and she thinks me next door to a loony, so everything’s nice and matey.

[The Great Sermon Handicap (The Inimitable Jeeves)]

 

Someone who could dominate even Napoleon

“Precisely as stated Lady Constance was in the amber drawing-room, APelicanAtBlandingssipping sherry and looking as formidable and handsome as ever. 

All Lord Emsworth’s sisters were constructed on the lines of the severer type of Greek goddess, except Hermione, who looked like a cook, and Connie in particular was remarkable for aristocratic hauteur and forcefulness of eye. One felt immediately on seeing her that there stood the daughter of a hundred earls, just as when confronted with Lord Emsworth one had the impression that one had encountered the son of a hundred tramp cyclists. He was wearing at the moment patched flannel trousers, a ragged shirt, a shooting coat with holes in the elbows and bedroom slippers. These, of course, in addition to the apprehensive look always worn by him when entering this formidable woman’s presence. From childhood onward she had always dominated him, as she would have dominated Napoleon, Attila the Hun and an all-in wrestling champion.”

 (A Pelican at Blandings)

 

Plans which are listened to with reverence

When Dolly lays out her plans, these get listened to with reverence, thoughMoneyForNothing tinged with some doubt.

‘Don’t you worry, Soapy. I’ve got this thing well in hand. When we’ve gone, you jump to the ‘phone and get Chimp on the wire and tell him this guy and I are on our way over. Tell him I’m bringing the kayo drops and I’ll slip them to him as soon as I arrive. Tell him to be sure to have something to drink handy and to see that this bird gets a taste of it.’

‘I get you, pettie!’ Mr. Molloy’s manner was full of a sort of awe-struck reverence, like that of some humble adherent of Napoleon listening to his great leader outlining plans for a forthcoming campaign; but nevertheless it was tinged with doubt. He had always admired his wife’s broad, spacious outlook, but she was apt sometimes, he considered, in her fresh young enthusiasm, to overlook details.

(Money for Nothing)

 

Being impelled by a youthful hypnotic Napoleon

Plans to park Ogden somewhere safe get made all the time. Mr. PrettPiccadillyJim reluctantly agrees to fall in line with Ann’s fruity scheme, a scheme he himself does not approve of.

‘In the boyhood of nearly every man there is a single outstanding figure, someone youthful hypnotic Napoleon whose will was law and at whose bidding his better judgment curled up and died. In Mr. Pett’s life Ann’s father had filled this role. He had dominated Mr. Pett at an age when the mind is most malleable. And now—so true is it that though Time may blunt our boyish memories the traditions of boyhood live on in us and an emotional crisis will bring them to the surface as an explosion brings up the fish that lurk in the nethermost mud—it was as if he were facing the youthful Hammond Chester again and being irresistibly impelled to some course of which he entirely disapproved but which he knew that he was destined to undertake. He watched Ann as a trapped man might watch a ticking bomb, bracing himself for the explosion and knowing that he is helpless. She was Hammond Chester’s daughter, and she spoke to him with the voice of Hammond Chester. She was her father’s child and she was going to start something.’

(Piccadily Jim)

The reluctant respect that Napoleon commands

With his tall claims, Mr. Bulpitt earns the reluctant respect of Lady Abbott.

‘You and your science!’

‘All right, then, me and my science.’

There was hostility in Lady Abbott’s eyes, but also a certain reluctant respect, such as the Napoleon type always extorts from women.

‘Have you ever been beaten at this game, Sam?’

‘Once only,’ said Mr. Bulpitt, with modest pride.

(Summer Moonshine)

 

Going straight for the enemy’s weak point

Joe tells Jane that his stepmother has bought the entire rights to his successfulSummerMoonshine (1) play and plans to take it off stage so as to avoid getting sniggered at by her close friends for some inappropriate parts therein. He is therefore planning to leave for California. Jane realizes that the cold fury she felt against Joe could well have been a deeper affection. The character of his stepmother comes into focus.

“Jane was in no mood to share this detached, sportsmanlike attitude.

‘She’s a hellhound.’

‘But a Napoleonic one. Like Napoleon, she sees the enemy’s weak point and goes straight at it, crumpling him up and causing him to fly from the field in rout. You see me now about to fly from the field.’”

(Summer Moonshine)

When Napoleon competes with Henry VIII

When Princess Dwornitzchek discovers that her stepson is engaged to be married to a secretary, she loses no time in ticking off Sir Buckstone.

“The Princess Dwornitzchek turned to Sir Buckstone with a sweeping gesture.

‘So!’ she said.

There are very few men capable of remaining composed and tranquil when a woman is saying ‘So!’ at them, especially when a sweeping gesture accompanies the word. Napoleon could have done it, and Henry VIII, and probably Jenghiz Khan, but Sir Buckstone was not of their number. He collapsed abruptly into his chair, as if he had been struck by a thunderbolt.”

(Summer Moonshine)

Retreating in disorder

The search for the prized Lady in Blue has left Jerry feeling defeated. HePGW TheGirlInBlue confides in Jane who is ready to buzz off to London on some legal errand.

‘My New York lawyer has come over and wants to see me. He’s just telephoned. Something about my legacy, I suppose. I’ll be back this evening. But never mind that, I want to hear what happened. How did you get on?’

‘Not too well.’

‘I thought as much.’

It had not taken great perception to bring her to this conclusion. Even at a distance he would have struck her as being on the sombre side. To be obliged to retreat in disorder from a stricken battlefield always tends to lower the spirits. Napoleon, who had this experience at Moscow, made no secret of the fact that he did not enjoy it, and Jerry, going through the same sort of thing at Mellingham Hall, Mellingham-in-the-Vale, was definitely not at his perkiest.

(The Girl in Blue)

 

Squelching back from Moscow

A confrontation between Augustus and Rocket has led to the party falling intoPGW JeevesInTheOffing the lake at Brinkley Court.

‘Reaching the mainland some moments later and squelching back to the house, accompanied by Bobbie, like a couple of Napoleons squelching back from Moscow, we encountered Aunt Dahlia, who, wearing that hat of hers that looks like one of those baskets you carry fish in, was messing about in the herbaceous border by the tennis lawn. She gaped at us dumbly for perhaps five seconds, then uttered an ejaculation, far from suitable to mixed company, which she had no doubt picked up from fellow-Nimrods in her hunting days.’

(Jeeves in the Offing)

 

The Napoleonic Code and the Wooster Code

Napoleon, born on the 15th of August, 1769, was a great military and political reader. His lasting legal achievement, the Napoleonic Code, is said to have influenced the legal systems of more than 70 nations around the world. According to British historian Andrew Roberts, “concepts such as meritocracy, equality before the law, property rights, religious toleration, modern secular education, sound finances, and so on—were championed, consolidated, codified and geographically extended by Napoleon. To them he added a rational and efficient local administration, an end to rural banditry, the encouragement of science and the arts, the abolition of feudalism and the greatest codification of laws since the fall of the Roman Empire.”

Some of these are rather close to the key values we find covered in the Code of the Woosters. As discussed elsewhere in a series of posts, the C of the W is not only about standing by one’s pals through thick and thin. It is also about equality before, and respect for, the law. It is about one being a Preux Chevalier. The spirit of Noblesse Oblige. The capacity to tame a hippopotamus like Roderick Spode by teamwork. Of having a bulldog spirit. Of refusing to be a doormat. Of being aware of one’s Pumpkin Quotient. Of attempting a pitiless analysis of one’s own actions.

The only aspect of the Wooster Code which would have possibly met with Napoleon’s stern disapproval would be that of upholding the feudal spirit. Being the proponent of a democratic outlook on life, he might have taken a dim view of aunts endeavouring to influence the cause of justice by offering to trade-off their favourite chefs so as to avoid the prospect of their nephews serving thirty days without the option.

Of ‘Napoleon Complex’ and the contempt for intellectuals

Napoleon’s sense of humour is said to have been so limited that he demandedNapoleon that all court painters refrain from putting a smile on any of his portraits.  As luck would have it, other than Roderick Spode, there are not many characters in Plum’s works that could be said to suffer from a ‘Napoleon Complex.’

Quite a few of the delicately nurtured fail in their attempts to raise the Bertie Wooster’s level of intellect by making him read such profound works as ‘Types of Ethical Theory’. Bertie has this innate tendency of avoiding intellectual pursuits of any kind. It is quite likely that Napoleon, had he ever run into him, would have heartily approved of this trait of his. The great strategist is reported to have once said that “You don’t reason with intellectuals; you shoot them.

A French honour for Plum?!

Given his poor sense of humour, it would have surely surprised someone like Napoleon to hear from one of his humble adherents about the kind of influence he exercises upon the goings-on in Plumsville.

Discovering the manner in which his sterling qualities of head and heart have been showcased by Wodehouse in his numerous works, Napoleon might have even considered making our beloved Master Wordsmith an honorary Knight in the French Legion Of Honour!

(Related post: https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2014/11/16/de-codifying-the-code-of-the-woosters)

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In a world that is inhabited by Bertie Wooster, Jeeves, Aunt Agatha, Bingo Little, 23-odd cats and many other sterling characters, can laughter ever fade away?!

Allow me the pleasure of sharing yet another juicy piece from the stable of Plumtopia.

Honoria Plum's avatarPlumtopia

The Inimitable Jeeves 1st edition (1923) image courtesy of wikipedia The Inimitable Jeeves 1st edition (1923) image courtesy of wikipedia

I’m not much of a ladies’ man, but on this particular morning it seemed to me that what I really wanted was some charming girl to buzz up and ask me to save her from assassins or something. So that it was a bit of an anti-climax when I merely ran into young Bingo Little, looking perfectly foul in a crimson satin tie decorated with horseshoes.

The Inimitable Jeeves was one of the first Wodehouse books I ever read, and one I often  recommend  to new readers. It has been included in several serious lists of ‘classic books you must read’, but don’t let that put you off – it’s terrific! The Inimitable Jeeves is a great introduction to Wodehouse’s best known characters, Bertie Wooster and his valet (or gentleman’s gentleman) Jeeves. Although it’s not the first Jeeves story –…

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Netizens who have made the cardinal error of following me on any social network could be forgiven for imagining me as a dashing speaker, blogger and author.

Not a Jeeves in the realm of Management

Snapshots, videos and blog posts would inevitably depict me as a managementPGW MuchObligedJeeves expert dishing out sage advice with an impish sparkle in the eyes, often misconstrued as indicating supreme intelligence. Seasoned observers would notice a receding hairline and imagine me to be an intellectual cove. Perhaps a head bulging out at the back, much like that of Jeeves, would lead many amongst my followers to conclude that I would have minted millions by this time, squeezing the last penny out of some Bertie-like super rich but mentally negligible bosses I would have assisted in a long career.

Well, nothing could be further from the truth. Those who wish to dig deeper into the subject of who I am would be startled to find that the responsibility of depicting yours truly in such a flattering manner falls squarely on the illusory sophistication and the veneer of respectability a lesser mortal gets imbued with, when behind the façade of social media.Panjab_University

An error of judgement

Fondly known as ‘AKB’ to my friends and colleagues, I am a management graduate of what I would prefer to describe as the pre-Jurassic period of management education. Delhi University is to be squarely blamed for dishing out a post-graduate degree to me in Physics, way back in 1974. The University Business School at Panjab University, Chandigarh, also appears to have made a singular error of judgement in awarding me a MBA degree in 1976.

Professors who had the misfortune of educating me came in several sizes and shapes. The brilliant ones could never come to terms with the singular absence of common sense in my thought processes. The mediocre ones had no other option but to feel frustrated at not being able to detain me at any level of my educational ladder. The poor ones were so indifferent that I often landed up studying the subject myself, thereby gaining more interest in those subjects.

An expert at Mismanagement

If an expert in the field of management were to put my escapades under the microscope of academic rigour, she could be condoned for recommending my appointment as a Dean of a School of Mismanagement at an Ivy League institute of international repute.Tata logo

The fact remains that several top corporates in India and abroad have had to bear with my unique style of mismanagement for over thirty-five years. The ones which have suffered in particular are such companies as Tata International, Hidesign, and HCL.

My entrepreneurial endeavours in the realm of market research and HR have left many of my had-been-clients shaken but not stirred. A benevolent client once rued how happy his company had been if I had done my own market research better and if only they had not availed of my (dis)services.

A number of start-ups have seen me in the stellar role of a promoter-director. Records would show that many of these sank without a trace. I was blessed with a flair for visualizing lofty goals. I always attempted flawless planning and backed it up with miserable execution. My lack of attention to detail often left my customers exasperated.

From delegation to abdication

While in a career, I always followed the policy of focusing on the peripheralHIDESIGN_LOGO_withouttag targets, whereas my team members took care of the Key Result Areas. With me, the art of delegation often evolved into sheer abdication. Needless to say, companies were often happy to see me packing my bags and leaving.

My travels have taken me far and wide, but those who know me well are still not too sure if I have yet understood the work culture and ethics of different countries and continents.

I do believe I attract people with my positive vibrations, but I have played no role in the recent confirmation of the existence of gravitational waves by physicists. I might sound like a global manager, but have not been successful in cross-cultural validation of any of the management theories and concepts.

The perils of those who receive my services

Having hung my boots in the corporate world, I am now working with some NGOs in the field of Management and Spirituality. One can only wish these outfits well.

I am aware that I happen to be an active blogger whose tardy progress in the blogosphere is being watched with little interest by any of my occasional followers.

Yes, I am passionate about movies. Many movie directors are delighted at not having been approached by me with any script of a likely blockbuster. This way, their careers are not likely to go bust any time soon.

Of ‘Wodehousitis’ and ‘Professoritis’

I am happy to be suffering from “Wodehousitis” and “Professoritis” and do notHCL logo seek any cure for these ailments. A scholastic attitude and a habit of “keeping my saw sharpened” have made several University departments and educational institutes invite me for sporadic guest lectures, only to repent later.

CEO World in Portugal has recently made the mistake of making me an Editor-in-Chief of their blog site. Vida Economica of Portugal has even gone ahead and taken the risk of publishing a book of mine in Portuguese.

The corporate world heaves a sigh of relief to discover that my activities are now mostly confined to delivering inane talks at leading management institutes and unleashing pseudo-scholarly books and articles on the unsuspecting public. This ensures that they remain free to run their businesses the way they like, whereas I spend the rest of my days on this planet in a high-spirited state of bliss, doing what I love to do – reading, writing, listening to music, visiting exotic locales and generally pottering about in Norway, Switzerland and India.

The Association of Ineffective and Morose Managers

If ever your luck were to run out and you were to step out of your virtual world and get to meet me in person, and also have the misfortune of spending some time with me, I would not be surprised to receive a frantic call the very next day, pleading with me to immediately assume the position of the President of the Association of Ineffective and Morose Managers.

Wish you all a goofy April Fools’ Day!

(Related Post: https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2018/07/16/an-interaction-with-some-rotarians-at-pondicherry)

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Denizens of Plumsville are well aware of the unique traits of their guardians of peace. While tracking down criminals, they spare no effort. It is their upright and proper conduct which upholds the might of the Law. They are invariably meticulous in their approach. When it comes to enforcing the rule of law, it does not matter to them whether the criminal is a human or a canine being. CodeOfTheWoosters

Generally, what they lack in height is more than compensated by their rotundity. A stern gaze and an authoritative demeanor is their hallmark. Their ‘Ho!’s, ‘Ha!’s and snorts often carry a sinister ring, making an ordinary citizen shuffle his feet and feel diffident. To the bold and the beautiful amongst the citizenry, their shining helmets provide an allure which is often irresistible. Unless they have evidence to the contrary, they show due respect to the delicately nurtured.

The rozzers in the service of the Crown are not expected to resolve the kind of crimes which might make the Scotland Yard sit up and take notice. When pitted against the inimitable Jeeves, the hapless rozzers have a slim chance of cracking a case. Even if they happen to do so, their paths are strewn with Justices of Peace who have ideas of their own.

Despite facing such odds as belligerent Justices of Peace, getting their helmets pinched, getting thrown into ditches by ferocious members of the canine species, and getting coshed by people of superior intellect, they persevere. They continue to regale us with their exploits. Their integrity is indeed praiseworthy. Come rain or sunshine, they perform their duties with utmost dedication. When on duty, ham sandwiches do not distract them. Derby is not of much interest to them. Public display of affection embarrasses them. Unauthorized use of a bicycle provided for by the Crown is construed as an insult to Her Majesty, the Queen.

However, beneath their tough exterior beats a soft heart which PGW MatingSeasonis as romantic as that of any lesser mortal. Their romantic methods may vary. Some, when under the influence of a spiritual transformation, could end up planting burning kisses on the upturned faces of their beloveds in the presence of several others. Others may try to hold out threats of a violent nature to those they believe to be snakes in the grass, anxious to win over the affections of their beloveds. Even though Cupid’s arrows sway them somewhat at times, they try their best to maintain a mechanical impersonality, discharging their obligations with a malleable steely resolve.

Here are some romantic liaisons of the guardians of peace we come across in Plumsville.

*          Public display of affection

In The Mating Season, we get introduced to constable Ernest Dobbs who is a sleepless guardian of the peace at King’s Deverill. His face looks as if it has been carved out of some hard kind of wood by a sculptor who had studied at a correspondence school and had never progressed beyond lesson three. In the discharge of his duties he does not hesitate to arrest dogs like Sam Goldwyn who lose no opportunity of sniping at him and are a menace to society in general.

Just before he can catch Gussie Fink-Nottle who has set Sam free from custody, Jeeves coshes him, making him feel as if he has been struck by a thunderbolt. This somehow changes his spiritual outlook on life. When he comes calling later at Deverill Hall on an unpleasant errand – to arrest Gussie who is impersonating as Bertie – he first asks Rev. Sidney Pirbright if he can start singing in the village choir. In turn this leads to the romantic rift between him and the beautiful parlour maid Queenie getting healed. A kissing scene follows, and the cop is quick to apologize for his naked display of emotion. He then proceeds to decline a sandwich or two, because he believes that when a policeman is on an unpleasant errand, he is expected to lay off the vitamins.JoyInTheMorning

Esmond Haddock, the Justice of Peace, points out the slender evidence he has against the alleged accused. He allows himself to be dismissed without a stain on his character. Once off duty, he promptly proceeds to the kitchen, so as to resume his romantic parley with Queenie.

*          When a change in career plans leads to restoration of romantic ties

Joy in the Morning has Stilton Cheesewright playing the vigilant guardian of the peace. He is not one of our eight-hour slumberers. He is always up and doing, working while others sleep. He believes that Bertie is out to outmaneuver him when it comes to winning the affections of the star male-reformer Florence Craye.

Bertie is accused of pinching his uniform so as to be able to participate in a fancy dress ball. Uncle Percy, the Justice of Peace, needs Bertie’s support in standing up to his formidable spouse (Aunt Agatha, who else!) to provide an alibi for him to have spent a night away from his living quarters at Steeple Bumpleigh. Jeeves lays the blame instead at the doorstep of Master Edwin who has a motive in Bertie taking the rap.

Uncle Percy refuses to sign the warrant against Bertie. In fact, he goes a step further in ticking off the cop. He laments a deplorable spirit creeping into the Force – that of forgetting their sacred obligations and bringing up wild and irresponsible accusations in a selfish desire to secure promotion.

This revolting exhibition of fraud and skullduggery makes Stilton decide to resign from the Force, thereby restoring the romantic relations between him and Florence. As a result, Bertie yet again escapes the prospect of a saunter down the aisle and returns to the metropolis a free bird. Stilton goes on to pursue a career in politics.

*          The perils of dabbling one’s feet in a stream

We get introduced to constable Ernest Simms in The Girl inPGW TheGirlInBlue Blue. His is a 16-stone personality, calculated to strike terror into the hearts of evildoers. He is tasked with maintaining law and peace at Mellingham-in-the-Vale.

Relations between Ernest and Chippendale, who works as a butler to Crispin but in reality is a broker’s man, are not cordial. Latter’s endeavours at Goose and Gander, the local pub, at initiating games of chance are held to be illegal by the former. Moreover, Chippendale imparts riding lessons to Marlene Hibbs, a local lass, on a bicycle which happens to be the property of the Crown. The matter gets promptly reported to Crispin:

‘I went into the post office, leaving my bicycle propped up outside, and despatched my telegram, and when I came out…’

Here Ernest Simms paused and seemed to choke, as if, man of chilled steel  though he was, his feelings had become too much for him.

‘And when I came out,’ he repeated, conquering his momentary malaise, ‘there was that butler giving young Marlene Hibbs a bicycle lesson on my bicycle.’ This time Crispin felt obliged to comment, and it is a matter for regret that his critique should have been so inadequate.    ‘He shouldn’t have done that,’ he said.    ‘You’re right he shouldn’t,’ Ernest Simms agreed, speaking with the asperity of a man whose finest sensibilities have been outraged, ‘and so I told him. I told him that bicycle was Crown property and when he gave girls rides on it, he was deliberately insulting Her Majesty the Queen. I said if I caught him doing such a thing once again, I’d have him locked up so quick it would jar his back teeth.’    ‘That should have impressed him.’    ‘It didn’t. He talked about being fed up with police persecution. And he uttered threats.’    ‘Threats?’    ‘Yes, sir, threats. He said he’d get even with me. He said he’d make me wish I’d never been born.’    ‘I don’t like that.’    ‘Nobody would like it, sir, particularly with that Marlene Hibbs standing by and laughing fit to split.’ ‘Tut.’    ‘You may well say ‘Tut”, sir. Not to mention making allusions to the Gestapo and calling me the fuzz, which is an expression she must have picked up at the cinema.’    ‘Monstrous,’ said Crispin, ‘monstrous.’ But what can I do?’    ‘Dismiss him from your service, sir. He is a disruptive element.’

Chippendale eventually blackmails Crispin into agreeing to push the constable into a brook while he is dabbling his hot feet after the day’s duty. Crispin’s spirit fails and Barney Clayborne, the alleged kleptomaniac, does it for him. Providence has it that she is fashioned on more substantial lines!

Barney, as she returned from the scene of her waterside activities, was filled with the glow which comes from work well done. If, mingled with a pardonable self-satisfaction, there was a pang of womanly pity for the victim of those activities, it was only slight, for a man, she reasoned, who joins the police force must be aware that he is going to get new experiences and that these cannot all be agreeable. And, after all, a wet constable can soon be converted into a dry constable. Time the great healer, she felt, would see to it that Officer Simms would ere long be himself again. It only needed some brisk work with bath towels.

The constable does make a charge against Chippendale but is outmaneuvered by him and Crispin. Crispin’s property blues soon get resolved and Chippendale leaves the scene after being handed a pink slip.

Nothing more is heard of the romance between the constable and the young one. One can only hope that it blossomed in the times to come.

*          The ugly policeman faces an unworthy foe

Edward Plimmer, an ugly, red-faced cop with big feet and aPGW Man with two left feet broken nose, is deputed to keep the King’s peace over few blocks of mansions on Battersea Park Road. Within two weeks of his deputation, he falls in love with Ellen Brown, a cook at one of the mansions. The fact that she is in love with Alf Brooks – the local milkman – converts him into a blue-clad volcano. This is how his agony gets captured:

“The unfairness of Fate was souring him. A man suspects trouble in his affairs of the heart from soldiers and sailors, and to be cut out by even a postman is to fall before a worthy foe; but milkmen – no! Only grocers’ assistants and telegraph boys were intended by Providence to fear milkmen.”

Being in charge of an area where the residents assault nothing but pianos, and steal nothing but ideas, closes all avenues of promotion for a young and ambitious constable. The spell of calmness and intellectualism gets broken on the day the cook is falsely accused of stealing some money and a brooch. The earnest officer of the law aims at a machine-like impersonality and escorts his beloved to the police station. A rendezvous of hers with Alf Brooks comes unstuck and the milkman, noticing that Ellen had been pinched, walks away with unseeing eyes, much like a complete stranger.

The constable offers to let Ellen go free, saying he would explain the matter at the station. Ellen, feeling jilted by the milkman, realizes that the constable is offering something which would not only get him dismissed from the Force but also probably earn him a sentence. Her questioning ends up making the constable to profess his love for her. The offer to her to walk away free gets repeated, but Ellen is made of sterner stuff.

What is thirty days, if, when she comes out, she finds a pal waiting for her to say “Hallo”?! (The Romance of an ugly policeman: The Man with Two Left Feet).

*          The lure of a meeting in the gardens

In the climax scene of Thank You, Jeeves, Sergeant Voules PGW ThankYouJeevesventures to arrest Sir Roderick for trying to break into Bertie’s garage, and it is crucial to obtain the nerve specialist’s testimony that Mr. Stoker’s uncle, from whom he is supposed to inherit some fifty million dollars, is of a sound mind. If he is imprisoned, his testimony shall not carry much weight. That would mean Mr. Stoker not being able to buy Chuffnell Hall, thereby endangering the romance between Lord Chuffnell and Pauline Stoker.

Jeeves suggests that Bertie switch places with Sir Roderick, as he could hardly be charged with breaking into his own garage. Apparently, the sergeant is in love with a parlour maid and can be readily persuaded to leave his place of vigilance for a piping hot breakfast to be brought for him in the bushes at some distance. This would facilitate the switch.

The plan succeeds; Chuffy’s financial problems are resolved when Stoker agrees to buy the Hall from him; he and Pauline are to be wed; and Jeeves, who has a policy of never working in the household of a married gentleman, returns to Bertie’s employ.

The officers of law are tough guardians of peace. But this is not to say that they lack a tender heart beneath their tough exterior. In fact, we find heart-warming evidence that the members of the delicately nurtured tribe do impart a great degree of malleability to their otherwise steely resolve. A public display of emotions comes naturally. A change in career plans gets considered. It hurts to be called a fuzz and a Gestapo by the party of the other part. Offers of letting an alleged criminal hop off get made, even if these involve dismissal and likely imprisonment. When invited to a rendezvous with the beloved, they are apt to lower their guard and facilitate an exchange of prisoners in potting sheds.

Their superiors might look askance at such instances of dereliction of duty. Disciplinary action may get initiated. But when it comes to a performance evaluation at the hands of Saint Valentine, they deserve to be ranked rather high.

(Related Post: https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2014/03/02/the-hapless-rozzers-in-plumsville)

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The winter Sunday was in its latter half. With a light fog enveloping Asker in Norway, the fading daylight was falling on a little garden which the recent spate of snowfall had converted into a quaint little skating rink. Some children were honing their skating skills under the watchful but indulgent eyes of their parents. The air was fresh with a whiff of ozone, imbued with a chilly sharpness so very characteristic of Nordic winters.

From Facebook to Face-to-Face

In a cosy corner of Egon, an artistically done up restaurant near the Asker train station, a meeting of some members of the Drones Club was in progress. An Egg, a Bean and a Crumpet could be seen happily chatting with each other.

Introductions and exchange of pleasantries had got over. The conversation had already covered such wide-ranging topics as genealogy, the open-ended social milieu of Norway, the economic challenges being faced owing to the dip in oil fortunes and the state-of-art infrastructure of the country. Concern had been expressed about the global challenge of maintaining harmony and peace in these troubled times. The relevance of the Code of the Woosters to usher in a phase of sustainable peace had been discussed.

A dash of patriotism

Norway National DayThe Egg and the Bean spoke of the National Day of Norway, which is celebrated with much gaiety and fervour on the 17th of May every year. The Constitution of Norway was signed on this day in the year 1814. The constitution declared Norway to be an independent kingdom in an attempt to avoid being ceded to Sweden after Denmark–Norway’s devastating defeat in the Napoleonic Wars. All residents come out in their respective national dresses and participate in a parade. The King and the Queen are an integral part of the proceedings.

The Crumpet shared the details of the Indian Republic Day which honours the date on which the Constitution of India came into force on 26 January 1950. The military might of the country is on full display in a parade which marches down an important thoroughfare of the capital city New Delhi. So is the social diversity which gets covered in several colourful tableaux which form a part of the parade. Indian Republic Day

The Egg and the Bean touched upon their exploits in the Norwegian military in their younger days. The Crumpet was delighted to know that the delicately nurtured had equal opportunity to join those of the so-called sterner sex in guarding the national frontiers of Norway. The Egg and the Bean were also happy to be informed that the Indian armed forces follow a similar policy.

The Drones who sought Leave of Absence

The audience would surely be wondering by now as to why there were only three members present and where the other members were. Well, a Whisky and Soda had already explained that he would be on the road attending to a critical chore which was essential to keep his body and soul together. A Pieface could not join in because he was confined to bed and was trying to nurse a viral infection with one of Jeeves’ pick-me-ups.

A Gin and Tonic had not responded, apparently because she was busy somewhere on the slopes of Galdhopiggen, tending to some injury of Pauline Stoker’s suffered by her during a skiing adventure. A Couch Potato had also not responded to the overtures, possibly owing to a lack of expertise in throwing darts, should a competition got organized.

Aurora_Borealis_and_Australis_PosterAn intellectual cove, who is one of the forty odd literarily gifted persons having had the distinction of translating Plum’s work into the Norwegian language, was discovered just after the meeting. He was said to be busy enjoying the mesmerizing display of Northern Lights somewhere in the Arctic Circle. The loss was entirely that of the members assembled.

Thus, only the Egg, the Bean and the Crumpet had trooped in.

The joy and the pall of gloom

At one stage, the emotions of the three members assembled had almost overpowered them. These called for a ready outlet. They wanted to stand up and announce that a common passion had brought together persons from two countries – Norway and India – which are as different as chalk and cheese. But the ambience of the place restrained them. They wanted to stand on the sturdy table in front of them and sing ‘Sonny Boy’ in unison. But they could not do so because customers would complain. They wanted to shout three cheers in a boisterous fashion, but couldn’t do so. The management would have looked askance and perhaps called in some rozzers eager to augment their incomes on a Sunday evening.

The pall of gloom which such severe restrictions cast on them did not last too long. Miss Postlethwaite, the efficient barmaid, soon popped up. The quiet simplicity of her costume and the devout manner in which she pulled the wine-handle brought in the requisite cheer. Soon, the pot-boy appeared with a steaming hot creamy fish soup which appeared to be coming straight from the stables of Anatole. Nose bags were duly put on and a free-flowing conversation followed.

Of Plummy affairs

The Egg brought up the innumerable qualities of Jeeves, expressing his ardent wish he could get hold of one such gentleman’s gentleman. The Bean admired the woolly headedness of Lord Emsworth and wondered if he did not possess similar qualities. The Crumpet spoke reverentially of the personality traits of independent women like Joan Valentine and Sally. The goofiness of Madeline Bassett got an honourable mention. So did the romantic nature of Mrs. Spottsworth. The Eastern connections of Captain Biggar-Biggar and his own Code of Conduct were fondly recalled.

Lessons of good health espoused by Ashe Marson came in for general praise. Several escapades of Bingo Little and Rosie M. Banks which contribute to the cause of matrimonial harmony were mentioned. The paramount importance of women having their afternoon cup of tea was analysed threadbare. The fact that not many details were available concerning the parents of Bertie Wooster came up for discussion.PGW HughLaurie-BertieWooster

An action movie on Master’s works?

Over coffee, the Egg and the Bean mentioned the authors whose work they read. The Crumpet lamented his being at the terminal stage of Wodehousitis, making him incapable of devouring anything else. The general opinion of the group was that if reading Wodehouse is escapism, then all forms of literature and fine arts could also get labelled likewise.

Movies with a Wodehousian sense of humour came up for discussion. The members present wondered if ever an action movie could be based on the works of the Master. It was doubted if any movie moghul would consider sliding down pipes to escape the fury of an aunt interesting enough. Or, for that matter, either the case of a minister facing an angry swan while perched on a roof in the midst of heavy rains, or the burning down of country cottages by conscientious boy scouts.

Spreading the virus of Wodehousitis

Norway Drones Club Jan 2016The Bean raised the sartorial standard of the meeting by wearing a Drone Club tie which is no longer in circulation. The Egg and the Crumpet are now in the market looking for benevolent souls who might like to donate theirs!

While the deliberations were on, darkness had stealthily enveloped the surroundings. Decorative lights put up by merchants hoping to clear their shelves by offering hefty January Sale discounts were imparting a soft glow to the snow on the streets. It was time to get back to the real world.

The meeting ended with much back-slapping. Hopes were expressed that more such meetings would get planned in future, thereby spreading the virus of Wodehousitis far and wide.

Notes:

  • The intellectual cove who could not be invited: Prof Johan I Borgos. He can be reached at http://www.borgos.nndata.no/Wodehouse.htm
  • The members who attended the meeting: Morten Arnesen, Jo Ingebrigt Spalder and Ashok Bhatia.
  • Should Jeeves come across this narrative, the members shall have no objection to its contents getting entered in the dreaded book maintained by the Junior Ganymede Club. Prior intimation would, however, be necessary.
  • The members deliberately chose not to pass any adverse comments about the several aunts which populate Plumsville. This ensures that Anatole’s services can be sought for future meetings of this nature.

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The quiet evening saw the silver rays of moonshine descending upon Blandings Castle. The soft and silvery glow dimly lit up its ivied walls, its rolling parks, its gardens and its outhouses. The frenzied revelries of Christmas were another month away. Peace prevailed. Tranquillity ruled.

Blandings castle-enIn the cozy smoking room of Blandings Castle, two persons could be sighted. In the big chair nearest to the door, one could see the Earl of Emsworth, His Excellency the President of the Republic of Plumsville. He had a cigar in his mouth and a weak highball at his side. His fuzzy brain was softly whispering in his ears that life could not get any better. His son, Hon. Freddie, was happily busy in America, executing his marketing plans for Donaldson’s Dog-Joy Biscuits. Lady Constance Keeble was off to some South American countries on a charity drive for a few more weeks. He was his own boss.

Since he had assumed charge as a titular head of Plumsville, the only interruptions to his leisurely strolls through the gardens came in the form of visiting dignitaries. Earlier in the day, a Japanese delegation had called upon him. They had come to invite him to visit their country. He vaguely remembered that they had hoped that a technical collaboration could come about between the two nations – something to do with the need for their citizens to learn to laugh more and worry less.

Next to him sat a young man whose eyes, glittering through rimless spectacles, were concentrated on the dimly lit screen of a tablet PC. Rupert Baxter, the President’s invaluable secretary, was in the habit of relaxing his busy brain by answering some inane mails received from the President’s fans all over the world. More often than not, these pertained to either requests for an appointment for taking a selfie with the Empress, or enquiries regarding some children wanting to attend the upcoming Carnival.

The President sat and smoked, and sipped and smoked again, at peace with all the world. His mind was as nearly blank as that of a child who, while being forced to sit in the classroom, finds the idle swaying of plants just outside the window more alluring. The hand that was not holding the cigar was at rest in his trousers pocket. The fingers of it fumbled idly with a fairly large-sized object which appeared to be a folded letter of some kind.

In due course of time, it dawned upon the President’s mind that this large-sized letter was not familiar. A part of his mind mildly protested. What was the use of having a so-called efficient secretary if a letter were to be found in his trouser pockets? He yielded to a growing curiosity and drew it out. He examined it. It appeared to be an official invitation of some kind. A detailed letter, with an insignia depicting three lions embossed on the top. It touched no chord in him. He looked at it with amiable distaste.

“Now how in the world did that get there?” he said.

Rupert Baxter looked up from his tablet PC.

“Hon’ble President?”

“I have found this curious looking letter in my pocket, Baxter. I was wondering how it got there.”

He handed the thing to his secretary. Rupert Baxter gasped.

“So, here it is!” he cried. “Superb!”

Lord Emsworth looked at him inquiringly.

“It is the invitation from India, sir. Just today morning, I was wondering where it was. Because we have to respond to it quickly. A true honour, and yet another feather in your cap!”

“Is it? But is the event not already over, Baxter?”

“No, Mr President. It is around eight weeks away.”

“Eight weeks away, you say? But she just one the prize once again, right?”

“What are you referring to, Mr President?”

“Well…er…did you not mention an invitation for the Empress to participate in an upcoming international event? She has just been through one and her nerves are just beginning to relax after the ordeal.”

“I beg your pardon, Mr President. Perhaps you refer to our national pride, the Empress. I was instead alluding to the call received by us some time back from the Prime Minister’s Office in India. They had said that they would consider it a great honour for you to be the Chief Guest at their next Republic Day Parade. You had conveyed your positive inclination to do so over telephone, if you would remember. They had then sent this official invitation.”

Lord Emsworth shook his head. “I do not remember this, Baxter. India, you say? Is it not the country of snake charmers and elephants? What will I do there?”

“Mr President, India is a fast upcoming country. You have the world’s greatest fan following there. Many of Plumsville’s products have huge potential there. Our Royal Academy of Goofy Technologies would be delighted to have access to that market. Every year, on January 26, they celebrate their Republic Day. It is their custom to invite a Head of State as a Chief Guest at the Parade. This time, they have invited you. It is a great honour.”

“Baxter, I fail to understand this. Is India not a poor country? Why would they be interested in inviting someone from Plumsville? We are not a super power. Nor do we have oil reserves at our command. I believe all countries deal with each other only so they might enjoy better energy security. From the view-point of religious dogmas, you know that we are neutral. I fail to understand this invitation.”

“Mr. President, Plumsville is unique in the sense that it is undeniably rich in good, clean, non-vindictive humour. Its denizens are experts at solving complex problems using some simple but out-of-the-box schemes which might sound somewhat goofy to lesser mortals of the world. We have erudite butlers, absent-minded earls and youngsters who spend their time pleasing the delicately nurtured in their lives by pinching policemen’s helmets, stealing cats and performing convoluted acts of petty larceny. When it comes to chivalry, they set a gold standard. Even married members of the males of the species go to extra lengths to ensure that the dove of peace keeps hovering above their home and hearth. They could be faulted for risking three months’ allowance on a sporting adventure, but they make prompt amends. They ensure that their wives never fail to get their afternoon cup of tea. Our divorce rates are insignificant. Our kids are a happy lot, pampered as they are by their doting parents.”

A vague memory stirred the fuzzy brain of Lord Emsworth.

“Baxter, you forget that we recently heard some reports about kids burning down cottages and misbehaving with guest speakers by simply giggling and staring at the poor souls. Er…, I forget the names, but you would surely remember the delegation of school principals which made a presentation on the Goofiness Rankings of their wards recently?”

“Sir, kids will be kids. Some allowance will need to be made for their rogue behaviour. Our own family is no exception to this.”

Lord Emsworth shuddered. He frowned. He looked sharply at his secretary.

“Baxter, I thought you were recounting to me the unique things that Plumsville offers to humanity in general?”

“My apologies for the digression, Mr. President. Our citizens are indeed unique. Their codes of conduct are centred round helping their pals, come what may. They bow to the merest whims and fancies of their tyrannical aunts. Compared to the better known countries, we have abundant supplies of the milk of human kindness. Our crime rate is zero and is a matter of envy amongst the so-called super powers. Our denizens are free from an affliction known as depression. No one commits a suicide. Many research institutes the world over are keen to get to the depth of these unique traits of our supremely contented and joyful citizens. Even our relatively poorer citizens go about their lives smilingly. It is widely known that if not actually disgruntled, they are far from being gruntled. We are the only country on our planet which has no boundaries. People need no passports and visas to visit us. All they need is a sense of humour.”

“That does make some sense. Yet, what leaves me baffled is the keen attention the Indians shower on us. Does this not sound a bit puzzling to you, Baxter?”

“In a way, it is. Only around ten percent of their population is familiar with the Queen’s language. But they have a large population, next only to that of China. You may know that for a better part of two centuries, Indians were ruled by the dispensable siblings of the British nobility. Perhaps they still carry a feeling of awe and respect for us. Perhaps the idea of acquiring a linguistic skill and being on an equal footing with their erstwhile ruler appeals to them. I believe that by keeping a keen eye on the escapades of our citizenry, at a conscious level, they are temporarily relieved of the pain of their poverty, misery and lack of quality infrastructure and civic services. At a subconscious level, I suspect this is their style of fighting the ghosts of imperialism while fuelling their own sense of nationalism. Whatever the reason, they appear to be dead serious about deepening their engagement with our unique Republic.”

“Bless my soul!” Lord Emsworth beamed. “Your analysis is extremely interesting, Baxter. I recall having heard that they had unrest in India because its inhabitants used to eat only an occasional handful of rice.”

“But they had a great leader who put them on the path of civil disobedience.”

A distant memory came back to Lord Emsworth’s foggy brain.

“Yes, was Mahatma Gandhi not his name? I am told he was a person of strict dietary habits and never sat down to a good juicy steak. Had he done so, and then followed it up with roly-poly pudding and a spot of Stilton, world history would perhaps have been different.”

“I am not qualified enough to comment upon this, Mr President.”

Rashtrapati Bahavan“Baxter, one has heard so much of the princely states of India. I wonder if I could get to meet any of the princes or kings, if I do decide to make the trip.”

“The princes and kings are long since gone. They do have rich businessmen, politicians and landowners who rule the roost. You will surely get to meet quite a few of them. In fact, you would be enjoying the hospitality of the President of India. His palace is said to be having 340 rooms. It also has an excellent garden boasting of many exotic flowers. You would surely relish a saunter down the famous Mughal Gardens.”

Lord Emsworth blossomed like a watered flower.

“Flowers?! That does sound very interesting. Wonder if they would have Damasks and Agryshires there?”

“I doubt if their tropical climate is favourable to such flowers. But I have been told that they have a great variety of flowers there. Especially, roses. Even orchids.”

“One has also heard so much of the hospitality of Indians. How exceedingly kind of them to have thought of us, Baxter. By the way, would you have an idea as to what my engagements there would be like?”

“They have a military parade where you shall be the Chief Guest. Then there would be a couple of meetings. The President of India would host a banquet in the evening. Two days after the main parade, they also have a great ceremony – ‘Beating the Retreat’. I believe you would not be expected to attend the same.”

“Military parade, you say, Baxter?”, Lord Emsworth squirmed in his seat.

“Besides military hardware and soldiers walking in perfect tandem, they also have cultural tableaux, Mr. President. I understand that they are planning an extensive coverage of iconic Plumsville locations and characters this year.”

“I cannot imagine what they would have planned. Would you have a clue, Baxter?”

“Yes, Mr President. The leading one would be that of the Empress of Blandings. Then there would be ones depicting the Senior Conservative Club and the Drones Club. A model of our Prime Minister Mr Rupert Psmith, shown working in a bank, would be there. This would make people appreciate his humble origins and also enthuse them to open bank accounts. This might assist the Government there to fulfil its goals of financial inclusion. Scenes from the life of our Minister of Milk of Human Kindness, Mr Bertie Wooster, would be recreated. These would demonstrate the premium we place on chivalry. These would be designed to promote the cause of gender equity. Some youth might even follow his example and decide to remain bachelors. The Government of India believes this would help them in population control.”

“This does sound ingenious, Baxter. One would feel happy at having helped others to achieve their goals. What else would they be covering?”

“Yes. Our Minister of International Affairs, Mr Reginald Jeeves, would feature in one of the tableaux. The Bingeese – I allude to Mr Bingo Little and his wife Mrs Rosie M Banks – shall be featured to demonstrate our values in matrimonial harmony. One will depict a full-scale model of a silver cow-creamer. Yet another will depict some of the better known animals and pets we have – Potato Chip, McIntosh, Bartholomew, Poppet, Tabby,  Augustus and the like. There are quite a few others which, I am sure, you would enjoy.”

“This would certainly be an experience I would treasure. You also mentioned some official talks, Baxter?”

“Yes. There will be a delegation accompanying you to attend to those details. You may get to inaugurate an Indian Institute of Chivalry, so they might address the challenge of mistreatment of the delicately nurtured more effectively. If all goes well, you may also lay the foundation stone of a manufacturing complex, to be set up in technical collaboration with our Royal Academy of Goofy Technologies.”happy-republic-day

“Well, quite a busy schedule, as I can see. Hope I shall get enough time for some rest and recuperation. Possibly, some palatable food as well.”

“I shall personally attend to the matter. Indian dishes and curries are now a hot favourite all over the world. Thanks to your active lifestyle, your stomach lining is in good shape, Mr President. I am sure you would relish them.”

From afar came the silver booming of a gong. Lord Emsworth rose.

“Baxter, I daresay you pay too much attention to food. I still remember the occasion when you allowed your passion for midnight snacks to take precedence over your bounden duties. Our museum lost a precious scarab that way.”

Baxter stood up and shuffled his feet.

“Several times have I tried to explain the matter………”

Lord Emsworth drew himself up to his full height.

“No need. I certainly appreciate the invitation received, though I must confess that from a purely practical standpoint it leaves me a little cold. I wonder if the Indians are capable of looking after her dietary needs.”

Baxter looked up in surprise. “The Empress?”

“Of course. Do you think we could be so careless as to leave her here? Especially, when the next Shropshire Agricultural Show is coming up in a few months’ time?”

“But George Cyril Wellbeloved would be back on duty in the first week of January, Mr President. You need not be anxious on that account.”

“Do you think she will be getting fed as per the Wolff-Lehmann feeding standards, Baxter?”

“I am certain, Mr President.”

“If so, shall we go ahead with the trip? Have you consulted Mr. Psmith?”

“Yes, sir. He is positive about it. In fact, he plans to meet you early next week, so as to be able to brief you about the future plans he has for us to deepen our engagement with India.”

Lord Emsworth inched towards the door.

“Right, Baxter, do call him over. Let us go ahead with this.”

“Thank you, Mr President. I shall initiate the official process without further delay.”

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When the dark clouds of sorrow envelop us and Life makes us glum,

A brilliant ray of humour breaks through in the form of a narrative Plum;

The deep blues of despair and despondency get chased away,

Replaced by a warm glow of joy which holds us in its sway.

 

There is no problem which a brilliant Jeeves cannot solve,

Be it an intellectual girl friend or a scheming aunt with a goofy resolve;

When he shimmers in with one of his pick-me-ups on a tray,

Our hangovers evaporate, making us forget all shades of grey.

 

All his solutions are based on the psychology of the individual,

His approach to solving problems is often circuitous and gradual;

Breaking a few eggs to make an omelette is a sign of his maturity,

By ensuring his master never ties the knot, he enjoys job security.

 

With a pal like Bertie Wooster around, never to let us down,

He pleads the case of a tongue-tied lover, his face without a frown;

To bring together two hearts, he would even shove a kid into the lake,

The Code of the Woosters he follows, would do anything for a pal’s sake.

 

The pride of the Wooster clan is close to his heart, the feudal spirit intact,

For the sake of an aunt, restoring a stolen cat to its owner is part of a pact;

For the happiness of an uncle, thirty days without the option is no big deal,

At the end of which he merely aspires for a delectable Anatole meal.

 

The sporting spirit of Bingo Little keeps our spirits soaring,

His endeavours to touch the son’s Godfather for a tenner are endearing;

A knight in shining armour, he ensures Rosie gets her afternoon cup of tea,

For matrimonial nectar to pour in, he works as hard as a honey bee.

 

The generosity of Lord Emsworth is an example for all of us to follow,

A girl friend deserves to be treated lavishly, sans any hospitality hollow;

McAllister notwithstanding, the sanctity of the moss-covered yew alley is to be maintained,

For the Empress to feed well, thoughts of drawing a parson’s son as a niece’s life partner may be entertained.

 

Those who wish to unleash their animal spirits get great entrepreneurial advice,

The likes of Sally and Joan Valentine are there to inspire them at the throw of a dice;

Unless you speculate, you do not accumulate, is what Ukridge strongly recommends,

Those burning their houses to claim insurance get caught and need to make amends.

 

Psmith provides us many tips to survive and do well at our place of work,

Cultivating a Friendly Native is something from which he would never shirk;

Motivating an efficient deputy like Mike to do his bidding is a part of his plan,

Haunting the boss at his club or at public rallies he does with great suavity and elan.

 

Mr Mulliner gives us a sneak peek into the world of eccentric movie producers,

Of struggling starlets, dreamy script writers and subservient nodders;

Fighting a guerilla to win the affections of a lady love is the work of a moment,

When fed only on the juice of an orange, people go to war with their souls in torment.

 

Ashe Marson is there to provide tips to all those wanting to remain fit,

Larsen exercises, brisk walks and cold baths form a part of his wellness kit;

Troubles of the lining of the stomach unite those who are young at heart,

Forsaking the pleasures of the table and allowing Prudence to win over Greed is a worthy art.

 

Hapless rozzers watch with dismay as criminals are let off the hook by the Justices of Peace,

Members of the canine species restraining them from discharging their duties they catch with ease;

Ceaseless vigil is their motto, but they face the professional hazard of getting their helmets pinched,

They have their own methods of investigation, but their sinister ‘Ho’s and ‘Ha’s fail to get a matter clinched.

 

When judges look at us with a stern eye, dishing out a hefty fine of five bobs,

We think on our feet and give out an assumed name, sparing the family some sobs;

Supportive members of the delicately nurtured tribe rescue us from confinement,

The art of pinching umbrellas and silver cow-creamers surely needs some refinement.

 

Boy scouts out on their errands of mercy use paraffin to douse a chimney fire,

Would-be step-fathers not paying up protection money face consequences dire;

Rogue ones, when in love with Hollywood divas, start behaving angelically,

Priests need them around so as to be hotter on their jobs and to evolve spiritually.

 

Female lion-tamers appear in the form of a school headmistress,

A sharp reprimand on smoking in the shrubbery causes much distress;

Escapades to steal cookies are met with steely eyes and a stiff upper lip,

Getting six juicy ones on the soft spot is a chance we would like to give a slip.

 

Dogs gaze at us with soulful eyes, get led like a lamb with the whiff of aniseed,

Sleepy cats adore those who scratch them behind the ears whenever they need;

Young hippopotami wilt and retreat when faced with White Hunters duly armed,

Cabinet Ministers brave heavy rain, face an angry swan and return shaken but unharmed.

 

Touch any aspect of life and Plum would have covered it in one of his works,

They cast a spell, improve mental health, and protect us from life’s harsh jerks;

Some may label it escapism, others the portrayal of an era long since past,

Oh, what a pleasure it is to bask in the sunshine of Plumsville’s plains vast.

 

Each narrative embellished with the pristine language of the Queen,

Laced with lofty codes of conduct flouting which is no task mean;

Eccentric characters, delightful situations, unalloyed humour, sparkling wit,

Enough to earn us ridicule in public places but a great prescription for keeping fit.

 

His works carry life lessons which we can pick up and apply,

Amongst his characters, milk of human kindness is never in short supply;

On offer are sumptuous literary quotes and many a spiritual insight,

Keeping our passion for laughter and happiness alive and shining bright.

 

(This composition has also been translated into Italian language. Same can be accessed at http://www.ilcovile.it/scritti/COVILE_935_Wodehouse_2.pdf)

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The rekindled romance of Joe and Julia makes us realize that wounds caused by Cupid’s arrows do not get healed very easily. These remain subdued, only to resurface when we least expect them to. Even the younger lot benefit from the same.

Here is yet another juicy post from Plumtopia.

Honoria Plum's avatarPlumtopia

PGW Man with two left feetHot on the heels of the Blandings centenary in June comes the 100th anniversary of P.G. Wodehouse’s Bertie Wooster and Reginald Jeeves, who made their first appearance in the story “Extricating Young Gussie”, published September 1915 in the Saturday Evening Post. The centenary has been commemorated with a flurry of articles –try What ho! Celebrating 100 years of Bertie, Jeeves and Blandings by Aparna Narrain, or  Jeeves and the vital oolong in The Economist. But in spite of praise for Wodehouse and his beloved duo –who made their final appearance in 1974’s Aunts Aren’t Gentlemen– this first story, “Extricating Young Gussie“, continues to hide it’s light under a bushel. If indeed that’s what lights do.

In his introduction to the 1967 omnibus The World of Jeeves, Wodehouse laments giving Jeeves just two lines, and no important role in the story:

It was only some time later, when I was going into the…

View original post 725 more words

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PGWodehouseThe foundations of our civilization are quivering. Homo sapiens are faced with a medical crisis of gigantic proportions. There is widespread concern about the pace at which the epidemic of Wodehousitis is spreading across countries and continents. Medical researchers of all hues are twiddling their thumbs, trying to figure out a cure for this dreaded affliction.

Wodehousitis is reported to be a disease which affects all human beings, irrespective of their age, sex, cast, creed or ethnicity. It is said to be highly contagious. A word of mouth is all that is required to lead one to contract it. One merely borrows a work of P G Wodehouse. A cursory perusal of any part of a narrative follows. A lifetime of bondage ensues. Frequent purchases of his books gladden the hearts of many a publisher. When one is not able to lay one’s hands on a particular title, one’s moral upbringing goes for a toss. Intentions of returning borrowed titles weaken. Stealing a book from the shelf of a friend becomes the norm.

To put it simply, once the germs of Wodehousitis have managed to find a foothold in any neuro-system, one’s fate is sealed.

The Symptoms

Wodehousitis manifests itself in many ways. Public display of uncontrolled mirth, a tendency to erupt into laughter at inappropriate moments, occasional falls from a chair or a sofa while lapping up one of the juicy narratives, an insatiable thirst for acquiring as many titles of his works as is humanly possible, a relentless devouring of the works of P G Wodehouse, a perpetual state of intoxication with his words of wisdom, and a pitiless analysis of the scintillating characters created by him – these are but some of the symptoms.

As a tribe, bloggers suffering from Wodehousitis also display peculiar symptoms. They cannot help themselves but publish posts based only on Master’s works. With each subsequent post, the time interval between two posts gets shortened. When they pick up any work of his, the simple joy of reading it gets subdued, only to be replaced by a tendency to analyse the narrative from different angles. An irresistible urge to compile some juicy quotes takes over, casting a gloomy spell on the otherwise sparkling wit and humour embedded in the Master’s works.

The most serious symptom happens to be the disinclination of all those suffering from Wodehousitis to seek a cure for this dreaded affliction. Once afflicted, one is apt to remain happy to continue in a state of perennial addiction. Medical fraternity is yet to find a solution to this unique kind of drug resistance.

Medicos use these symptoms to ascertain if the person under scrutiny deserves to be classified as one suffering from Wodehousitis.

Three Stages

There are three stages of Wodehousitis which have been identified and catalogued so far.

In the first stage, one displays occasional signs of having any of the symptoms described above.

In the second stage, one shows grave signs of many of these symptoms, but is still considered treatable.

The third stage is the most critical one, with no cure in sight as of now. Medicos continue to be baffled. In this stage, one is obsessed with all facets of Plum’s narratives, much to the exclusion of every other piece of literature one comes across. In each and every situation of life, a streak of one of the narratives is invariably noticed. All relatives and friends get identified with one or the other characters created by P G Wodehouse.

A person suffering from the last stage of Wodehousitis often complains of a stifling sensation. No other work of literature appeals any longer. The allure of catching up on the latest best sellers fades away. All friends, philosophers and guides sound like Jeeves. All aunts appear to be moulded along the lines of either Aunt Agatha or Aunt Dahlia.

Cops sound like Constable Oates, using their investigating skills to the hilt, but meekly surrendering to the dictates of the Justices of Peace. Introspection leads one to identify oneself with the woolly-headedness of the likes of Bertie Wooster and Lord Emsworth. All kids appear to have traces of traits like those of Thos and Edwin.

Even pets assume a halo of some kind – the canine ones sound either like a Bottles or a Bartholomew; the feline ones sound like an Augustus. All pigs look like malnourished cousins of the Empress of Blandings.

A psychoanalyst, having examined a person who has attained this blissful state, would be forgiven for certifying the person to be eminently fit to be admitted to a loony bin.

Searching for a cure

Governments the world over are justifiably worried over the relentless spread of this affliction. If our armed forces contract this affliction, fighting wars would be a thing of the past. Ex-service-persons would need to identify alternative employment avenues. Cops would take a benevolent view of law and order problems. Doctors may end up prescribing only Laughter Therapy to seriously ill patients. Politicos mighst take a leaf out of the Code of the Woosters and start rolling out welfare schemes based only on the milk of human kindness, thereby resulting in empty coffers. The socio-economic implications of widespread Wodehousitis are mind-boggling indeed.

While steps are being taken to motivate medicos to come up with a cure for Wodehousitis, fans of the author wonder if finding a solution to this endemic problem is really necessary. The overriding feeling is that the germs of Wodehousitis should instead be deployed cleverly, thereby improving the score of Gross National Happiness of all countries.

The case against finding a cure for Wodehousitis

Imagine a scenario where reading Wodehouse is made mandatory at all levels of education, all across the world. Pretty soon, professionals of all hues would end up being afflicted with Wodehousitis. Judges would end up having stiffer lips, possibly dishing out harsher sentences. Their propensity to get swayed by non-judicial considerations would get curtailed. Illegal activities of any kind would get nipped in the bud. Lawyers, doctors, engineers and professionals across all vocations would have a better sense of humour. As a consequence, their ability to deliver results would improve drastically.

Members of the so-called sterner sex would end up being more chivalrous, thereby minimizing misdemeanours directed at the delicately nurtured. Following the dictums propounded by Jeeves, match-making quality would improve. Divorce rates would plummet. Loving husbands would be more likely to follow the example of Bingo Little, thereby ensuring that the doves of peace keep their wings flapping over their humble abodes.

Even kids who are normally a threat to societal peace would aspire to be worthy of their favourite silver screen divas. Headmasters and headmistresses would lose their faith in the old adage which exhorts them to spare the rod and spoil the child.

Global peace and harmony

The premier of a country who is toying with the idea of unleashing violence upon a neighbouring country would simply meet up her counterpart, say ‘What ho!’ and gift the other a set of Wodehouse books. Peace and love would stand a better chance.

Those planning a terror strike would look at their plans askance and wonder if better results could not be achieved by persuasive methods of a gentler kind. If advised by the likes of Roberta Wickham, they might even conclude that their goals could be met more effectively by merely ensuring that the hot water bottles of the dissenting politicians and their immediate family members get punctured at frequent intervals.

Money being spent on arms of all kinds would eventually get deployed to eradicate poverty across all our continents. Gross Happiness Indices of all countries would reach stratospheric heights.

International bodies such as the United Nations would come up with a Charter of Global Happiness and take initiatives designed to spread cheer and happiness amongst all the citizens of our planet. Peace Keeping Forces would be trained in Wodehousian skills and redeployed to monitor and promote laughter and mirth in strife torn areas.

In other words, Wodehousitis need not be contained or cured. On the contrary, it needs to be spread as quickly as may be possible. This could ensure that God continues to be in heaven and all remains well with the world.

(Related Posts:

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2017/10/06/a-plummy-appeal-to-the-honble-human-resource-development-minister-of-india

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2017/11/05/a-plummy-wish-for-a-bride-to-be

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2017/12/02/the-need-to-look-for-plummy-soul-mates

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2018/01/01/spreading-wodehousitis-some-plummy-awards

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2019/05/28/dont-fret-the-future-of-wodehousitis-is-secure)

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A saunter down the Gallery of Rogue Kids in Plumsville leaves us amazed at the innovative skills, cunning and resource of the children we come across in the works of P G Wodehouse.

Some end up boosting the sagging morale of their fathers. Some treat their step fathers with as much scorn as theyPGW PiccadillyJim can muster at a tender age. They do not spare them while out to collect protection money. Their antics could make or break matrimonial alliances in a jiffy. Souring up business deals comes easy to them. When they burn down cottages, guests are forced to seek shelter in garden sheds.

When seniors devise a Good Conduct award, they leave no stone unturned to prove their mettle. When infatuated with celebrities, they devote their lives to being worthy of their affections. When in the company of clergymen, they end up making them more spiritual, thereby making them hotter on their jobs.

When it comes to wreaking vengeance, they do not discriminate based on one’s wealth or social stature. A Cabinet Minister has as much chance of spending a rainy afternoon out in the open marooned on an island inhabited by an agitated swan as you and I. If we have reported their misdemeanours to an unforgiving mother like Aunt Agatha, we are bound to land in a soup sooner or later. If we have decided to kick them on their backsides, we are bound to find hedgehogs in our beds at night. Retribution is invariably swift and harsh.

When delivering mischief, kids of the gentler sex appear to be deadlier than their male counterparts. But they deploy subtler methods. When playing a prank, they are more delicate in their approach. Not so for the kids of the so-called sterner sex, whose roguish tendencies manifest in a straight forward manner, in full public view. Methods as well as outcomes of the pranks played by them happen to be rough.

Rankings on the Richter Scale of Roguishness

When it comes to ranking them on a Richter Scale of Roguishness, one has to evaluate the evidence available in somePGW MatingSeason of the narratives of P G Wodehouse. One sifts it based on three broad parameters. One, the gravity of the kind of pranks played. Two, if the pranks were of an ingenious nature, perpetrated by self-motivated souls, entirely of their own. Three, the goofiness of the methods deployed.

Based on the above, one would endeavour to grant them the following scores.

Ogden Ford

Here is someone who can manipulate his kidnappers with much aplomb, change the rules of the game at the school he joins and even tick off his step father. If there is a spoilt and unpleasant brat who is overindulged by his wealthy parents, it is Ogden, the supreme fiend in human shape.

A score of 8.2 would perhaps be the mot juste.

Thos

Master Thomas is one of the star attractions in the Gallery of Rogue Kids. He is the King of the Underworld. He is alsoVeryGoodJeeves known as The Shadow. He has carroty hair and a cynical expression. His manner is curt and supercilious. The only person who appears capable of outwitting him is Jeeves.

A score of less than 7.9 would be undervaluing his unique capabilities.

Edwin

He is the younger brother of Florence Craye. When he tries to catch up with his acts of kindness, human life is imperiled. His acts of mercy include burning down country cottages, nipping his father and others with a Scout’s stick when mistaking them for a burglar, mending egg boilers with perilous results and pasting press clippings of ‘Spindrift’ upside down.

He deserves a score of at least 7.7.

Seabury

If you do not cough up protection money when called upon to do so, things could happen to you. The fact that you JoyInTheMorninghappen to be an aspiring step father does not get you off the hook. Using butter slides to trip one up is one of the tricks he can teach us. This is how Bertie views him.

‘In my Rogues Gallery of repulsive small boys I suppose he would come about third – not quite so bad as my Aunt Agatha’s son, Young Thos, or Blumenfeld’s Junior, but well ahead of little Sebastian Moon, my Aunt Dahlia’s Bonzo, and the field.’

A score of less than 7.3 would be unjust.

Kid Blumenfeld

In the world of theatre, he is an undisputed king-maker. Besides nipping the career of aspiring artists in the bud, this dish-faced specimen is also in the habit of walking off with a guest’s pet. When he takes a fancy to McIntosh, Jeeves has to intervene so that relations between Bertie and Aunt Agatha continue to be cordial.

Here is someone who deserves to be awarded a score of at least 5.1.

Sebastian Moon

The boy with golden curls has hidden depths which deserve a further investigation. He tends to be direct and blunt. PGW ThankYouJeevesWhile in love with Clara Bow, he does not mince words when criticizing Greta Garbo. Jeeves is convinced about his proficiency in matters which might get classified as pranks in our civilized times.

A score of 4.6 would surely be in order.

Bonzo

Details about his escapades remain fuzzy but the opinion of his mother, Aunt Dahlia, does carry some weight with us.

‘Whenever it comes to devilry, Bonzo is a good, ordinary selling-plater. Whereas Thomas is a classic yearling.’

A score of 3.8 might do him justice.

Peggy Mainwaring

She is a red-haired young girl with a snub-nose and an extremely large grin. She could impart lessons on unnervingPGW Inimitable_jeeves the best of public speakers by using such techniques as giggling and staring.

A score of 3.6 would perhaps be in order.

Oswald

The brother of the formidable Honoria Glossop, Oswald happens to be one of those supercilious souls who give you the impression that you went to the wrong school and that your clothes do not quite fit.

He deserves a score of 3.3.

Kid Clementina

She teaches us the art of going AWOL when under the care of Miss Mapleton, the female lion-tamer.

A score of 2.1 would perhaps be in order.

Prudence Baxter

An innocent kid, she secures the fifth position at the local Egg and Spoon Race. However, thanks to Jeeves, she getsPGW CarryOnJeeves declared as a winner.

She deserves a negative rank on the Richter Scale of Roguishness: -1.8

Algernon Aubrey Little

Bingo Little Junior wins a bonny baby competition, giving his father the vim and courage to demand a raise from the proprietor of Wee Tots. When left in the custody of Oofy Prosser, his Godfather, the latter sees the futility of getting married in life and decides to remain a bachelor.

He scores -2.2.

The hapless parents of all the kids who score higher than 5 on the Richter Scale of Roguishness obviously have our full sympathies.

Notes:
1. This list does not purport to be exhaustive in nature. Nor does it claim to be highly objective. In case of a demur of any kind, a consultation with Reginald Jeeves would provide better satisfaction.
2. This summary has been compiled for the benefit of those in a tearing hurry. For a leisurely review, the reader is hereby exhorted to either refer to the original narratives of the Master, or to look up the detailed blog posts listed herein.

Sourced from:
-The Little Nugget
-Piccadilly Jim
-The Mating Season
-Very Good, Jeeves
-Joy in the Morning
-Thank you, Jeeves
-The Inimitable Jeeves
-Carry On, Jeeves
-Eggs, Beans and Crumpets

An Update:

A shorter and crisper version of this blog post also appears in Wooster Sauce, the quarterly journal of the P G Wodehouse Society (UK) in its issue number 96 of December 2020. 

(Related Posts:

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2015/06/09/some-plumsville-kids-and-the-richter-scale-of-roguishness-part-1-of-3

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2015/06/17/some-plumsville-kids-and-the-richter-scale-of-roguishness-part-2-of-3

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2015/06/25/some-plumsville-kids-and-the-richter-scale-of-roguishness-part-3-of-3

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2015/04/01/when-masters-thos-bonzo-and-moon-rise-in-love)

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