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Carry On, Jeeves: (Jeeves & Wooster) (Jeeves & Wooster Series Book 3) Kindle Edition
|New from||Used from|
|Kindle, 26 March 2009||
|Length: 163 pages||Word Wise: Enabled||Enhanced Typesetting: Enabled|
|Page Flip: Enabled||
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Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Now, touching this business of old Jeeves - my man, you know - how do we stand? Lots of people think I'm much too dependent on him. My Aunt Agatha, in fact, has even gone so far as to call him my keeper. Well, what I say is: Why not? The man's a genius. From the collar upwards he stands alone. I gave up trying to run my own affairs within a week of his coming to me. That was about half a dozen years ago, directly after the rather rummy business of Florence Craye, my Uncle Willoughby's book, and Edwin, the Boy Scout.
The thing really began when I got back to Easeby, my uncle's place in Shropshire. I was spending a week or so there, as I generally did in the summer; and I had had to break my visit to come back to London to get a new valet. I had found Meadowes, the fellow I had taken to Easeby with me, sneaking my silk socks, a thing no bloke of spirit could stick at any price. It transpiring, moreover, that he had looted a lot of other things here and there about the place, I was reluctantly compelled to hand the misguided blighter the mitten and go to London to ask the registry office to dig up another specimin for my approval. They sent me Jeeves.
I shall always remember the morning he came. It so happened that the night before I had been present at a rather cheery little supper, and I was feeling pretty rocky. On top of this I was trying to read a book Florence Craye had given me. She had been one of the house-party at Easeby, and two or three days before I left we had got engaged. I was due back at the end of the week, and I knew she would expect me to have finished the book by then. You see, she was particularly keen on boosting me up a bit nearer her own plane of intellect. She was a girl with a wonderful profile, but steeped to the gills in serious purpose. I can't give you a better idea of the way things stood then than by telling you that the book she'd given me to read was called 'Types of Ethical Theory,' and that when I opened it at random I struck a page beginning: -
'The postulate or common understanding involved in speech is certainly co-extensive, in the obligation it carries, with the social organism of which language is the instrument, and the ends of which it is an effort to subserve.'
All perfectly true, no doubt; but not the sort of thing to spring on a lad with a morning head.
I was doing my best to skim through this bright little volume when the bell rang. I crawled off the sofa and opened the door. A kind of darkish sort of respectful Johnnie stood without.
'I was sent by the agency, sir,' he said. 'I was given to understand that you require a valet.'
I'd have preferred an undertaker; but I told him to stagger in, and he floated noiselessly through the doorway like a healing zephyr. That impressed me from the start. Meadowes had had flat feet and used to clump. This fellow didn't seem to have any feet at all. He just streamed in. He had a grave, sympathetic face, as if he, too, knew what it was to sup with the lads.
'Excuse me, sir,' he said gently.
Then he seemed to flicker, and wasn't there any longer. I heard him moving about in the kitchen, and presently he came back with a glass on a tray.
'If you would drink this, sir,' he said, with a kind of bedside manner, rather like the royal doctor shooting the bracer into the sick prince. 'It is a little preparation of my own invention. It is the Worcester Sauce that gives it its colour. The raw egg makes it nutritious. The red pepper gives it its bite. Gentlemen have told me they have found it extremely invigorating after a late evening.'
I would have clutched at anything that looked like a life-line that morning. I swallowed the stuff. For a moment I felt as if somebody had touched off a bomb inside the old bean and was strolling down my throat with a lighted torch, and then everything seemed to get all right. The sun shone in through the window; birds twittered in the tree-tops; and generally speaking, hope dawned once more.
'You're engaged!' I said, as soon as I could say anything.
I perceived clearly that this cove was one of the world's workers, the sort no home should be without.--This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.
- ASIN : B0031RS2CM
- Publisher : Cornerstone Digital (26 March 2009)
- Language : English
- File size : 423 KB
- Text-to-Speech : Enabled
- Screen Reader : Supported
- Enhanced typesetting : Enabled
- X-Ray : Not Enabled
- Word Wise : Enabled
- Print length : 163 pages
- Page numbers source ISBN : B08ZDB8NCV
- Best Sellers Rank: 224,549 in Kindle Store (See Top 100 in Kindle Store)
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Jeeves Takes Charge where we and Bertie Wooster are first introduced to the almost super-human Jeeves
The Artistic Career of Corky; Jeeves and the Unbidden Guest; Jeeves and the Hard-Boiled Egg; The Aunt and the Sluggard; The Rummy Affair of Old Biffy; Without the Option; Fixing it for Freddie; Clustering Round Young Bingo and Bertie Changes His Mind.
I own all the Jeeves stories in book form, and would love to get them on audio CD; unfortunately this seems to be the only compilation obtainable on Amazon that is read by Cecil, who is excellent and captures the mood of the time exactly. I've noted that the other Jeeves stories are in the form of plays, starring Richard Briers as Bertie. I HATE Richard Briers!
This is the first book of Bertie Wooster and Jeeves short stories and includes Jeeves' arrival into hapless Bertie's life. It has to be the ultimate feel-good read, outrageously funny and impeccably written. Packed full of characters like Florence with the wonderful profile, and Edwin the boyscout, not to mention Bertie's own hapless pals ever at the mercy of formidable aunts and rich uncles, this is gentle social satire and a very British type of humour. Wonderful stuff!