what-ho-internet

[what-ho-internet]

what is one to do during a hot summer in london?

A hot summer in London! Both delight and horror vibrate through my nerves at the prospect which has so recently come upon us. The fancy dress parties I enjoy so vividly otherwise seem a pudding-headed idea in this weather.

Rather, I am (since my return from Sussex) perfectly happy to picnic –St. James’ park provides ample space and atmosphere for it– and find ample satisfaction in walks by the river where the air is cool. A favourite day of mine to take for myself is a stroll through Hyde, in the middle of which I dip into the Serpentine. The rot some people have to say about the water is intolerable –murky, it is, but smooth and clean and followed by ice-cream, the experience in total cannot be beaten.

There are some fine restaurants I may recommend for a fine day: A favourite of mine, The Wolseley, is just fine if you wish for an alternative to The Ritz which is also on the Strand. More thrifty modern places are in abundance as you get further into SoHo –plenty on Rupert Street and more so in Chinatown. There is a rummy Vietnamese deli nearby the Lord Nelson pub (which is similarly delightful) in Southwark. Food is a great joy of mine, and London is the place for it!

[what-ho-internet]

I say, have you read the rummy AJ Raffles stories? You might like the narrator, Bunny. And Jeeves might appreciate the sensibilities of Raffles. They're constantly pinching things.

I cannot say that I have read much of Raffles beyond one or two of the short stories, and shall not speak for Jeeves. He is out presently and on the largest part does not approve of the more frivolous comedies, despite the fact that the genre ranks among my favourites. I shall chase the question up with him later.

I cannot imagine that Jeeves would approve much of the pinching, as you put it. I, however, find it something of a hilarious delight. Being somewhat Sherlockian in sentiment myself, Raffles’ toddling about town with his mask and moral codes as the famed Holmes-parody he is brings me a light feeling in the tummy. I shall ask Jeeves to fetch me a copy of one of the little collections which has recently been published once he is back, and return to you with a more thorough opinion.

[what-ho-internet]

dear bertie,

it is i, prophet john.. i apologise for asking if your bum jiggles. it was merely product of mindless curiosity (and a bit of cheekiness if i might say). however i hope we can resolve this matter by putting down our weapons and doing what this blog was meant for… helping the people of the internet! in this case, me!

bertie, i’m DESPERATE for advice, and i’m not willing to turn to those sodding agony aunts on the papers anymore (not after reading what you have to say about them!), so i’m putting my faith on you and your good character to help resolve my problem.

i’m afraid i have involuntarily become involved with a money-stealing scheme that i genuinely believed to be a new business venture…

my cousin’s friend biffy happened to knock on my door just the other day and asked if i was interested in investing in his business fashioning tables for care homes. charitable as i am, i had to say yes—after all, what kind of monster would deny helping the elderly?

however, upon joining biffy on one of his trips to a care home, i watched on with horror as he convinced the poor elderly people into buying tables that he claimed were worth thousands (when, in reality, they are only worth a few hundred, as he later confessed).

the elderly are none the wiser, and parade around their money towards old biffy so much so that he’s practically drowning in it!

should i back out and run away before it’s too late, or find a way to somehow warn the people of the care home?

thank you as always & with the jiggliest of sorrows,

LLPJ

What ho, Prophet John.

It is fortifying to return to my regular posting with a reminder of your line of questions which swept this blog up in the last month. Be assured that all is forgiven.

You have come to the correct place if looking for an alternative to the agony aunt. While I do not disapprove of them strongly in general, I find often that they fail to inject the good-spirited humour and prescriptive advice I aim to bring to this blog. I bring fresh air to the rather stale, cupboard-like air of the establishment, you might say.

Now, to the task at hand: I am afraid that you are in quite the simple situation, old chap. It may masquerade itself as awkward, but in fact it asks only for the confidence to say ‘dash it all, I shall have nothing to do with your hair-brained scheme, and I suggest that if you continue in its enterprise your moral character shall certainly be reduced to that of a courgette.’

This Biffy fellow sounds like quite the stinker. I wish you dashed luck in making a well-won enemy of him, my friend.

[what-ho-internet]

I have come to say hullo and apologise for what I am sure has been a rather rummy disappearance this last week. If you happen to be one of the fantastic old Johnnies who has left me burning questions rest assured I will be answering them shortly. My present adventures have taken me to Sussex and the sea, to return on Monday. I sit at this moment awaiting the start of a little local production of The Winter's Tale, (photographs attached) having given Jeeves the afternoon off. What would you know -I saw the very cove in the audience the moment I took my seat! We have agreed we should await the start and enjoy it together.

More to come once this fellow has rumbled his way back to smoky London.

[what-ho-internet]

 A promised update on the scheme involving Aunt Dahlia.

Success! Warranted and complete, in fact. For those who had been biting their proverbial lip for news, allow the thing to spring free.

The ordeal on Friday went something like this: all was calm, and I made the face of an eager prospective magazine-writer to Aunt Dahlia. She was quite convinced. I could tell as she had three cubes of sugar in her tea, as opposed to two. She allows this only when she is tuly excited. I can be quite the Sherlock Holmes when asked to, you see.

‘Bertie, you shall get along splendidly with the girl who writes our fashion segment,’ she proclaimed. I fought to keep my demeanour. She leaned a little closer. ‘She is not only intelligent and well-dressed –otherwise I would not have hired her– but she is not of ill-means, and has a sparkling sense of humour.’

‘Come Aunt,’ I said, attempting to conceal my rising feeling of horror. ‘I cannot have both you and Aunt Agatha attempting to marry me off. I shall have no ring fingers left to marry with!’

She did allow me a laugh at this, which severe Agatha would not have. ‘Oh Bertie,’ she said with some vim. ‘You must get married sometime!’

It was at this point Jeeves burst forth into the room, looking to me every spot the avenging angel. ‘A cigarette, sir?’ He asked me, with his usual coolness of tone and look.

‘Good lord Jeeves,’ I said in relieved tones. ‘I was just about to look around for a gasper. How do you do it, man?’

Jeeves only smiled and opened his mouth to form a rebuke, before the telephone rang out, shrilly.

‘Mr. Wooster’s residence,’ he answered as he usually did. There was some hullabaloo on the other side of the phone, and I heard some crackle and a raised voice. Jeeves looked every part surprised, and nodded. He interjected but twice to say ‘I am very sorry, sir,’ and ‘I will convey in less colourful language the sentiment, indeed.’ The play-actor on the other end was so convincing as to hang up without saying goodbye.

‘Who was that?’ Asked my Aunt with a rather indecent level of curiousity once the call was over. Jeeves henceforth explained the situation, fulfiling his promice to censor some of the more untoward words which had been used. Aunt Dahlia, as genuinely surprised as I pretended, looked from Jeeves to myself. I acted every part the agonied friend, who could not fathom having hurt so great a chum as poor Bunbury.

And so the thing was done: my aunt shook her head, lamented that I had not grown in the direction she hoped I had, and proclaimed a similar situation must have been why this very blog has been ‘mysteriously deleted’ (she has not discovered the miraculous ‘block-button’ yet.) She withdrew her commission and I returned to my happy writing, which is found in this very spot.

I am sure more situations such as these will present themselves to us in time; I shall write and attest to them at further length in the future if this adventure is met with affection.

For now, adieu.

[what-ho-internet]

what is ur favourite brand of shoe

An excellent question! And an excellent use of modern shortenings. You-are becomes u-r –spiffing.

Where to begin? Being cheesed off by rambling myself, I shouldn’t like to be a fellow who harps on and on without getting to the point so I shall say foremostly: I am extremely partial to a two-toned Oxford, although with a dark suit there is nothing to compete with the solid-coloured square-toe.

Now to the more complex answer: my favourite brand is truly dependent on the time of year. I warn you that I am not so adroit as Jeeves on the objective features of shoes –this is, rather, drawing on personal experience and opinion.

Biltwell’s Oxfords offer more breathability than others if you’re in the market for a Summer-shoe or looking to do curvet some settees and pianos (as I do find myself at times.) Gold Bonds and Marshalls are splendid as far as I am concerned for more formal occasions, or if looking to impress an aunt when in need of a bean. These are shoes I have been reliant on for a long time, but as Jeeves does I will reinforce the modern sayings –one ‘cannot be too careful with one’s look,’ just as it is better one is ‘better safe than sorry.’ This did not prohibit me from taking a dekko at some of the new stuff when walking down Oxford street yesterday, however, being the more spontaneous of the two of us. (Myself and Jeeves, that is.)

I went out with the pristine appearance which has come to follow the reputation of this household, rather tan and healthy from my recent trip to the continent. What I saw variously shocked and interested me –there was an establishment of what seemed to me charlatans selling shoes with holes professed to be  part of the design! It seemed to me entirely ridiculous. I turned to my friend –a fellow I call Chuffy, but whose Christian name is unfortunately Marmaduke– and proclaimed that I had never encountered so blatant an devious scheme in all my life. Chuffy, to my horror (as I am still attempting to make up to him a mix-up we had concerning his latest fiance) turned to me with quite the rosy colour and claimed to have actually bought a pair for himself only the previous week!

‘Foorsooth, Chuffy?’ I said, attempting to ease the way without compromising my principles (very much a trick I have learned form Jeeves.) The fellow nodded.

‘I see no reason why I should joke when you have made such a display of the situation,’ he replied in dubious tones which harkened me back to terrifying visions of him launching himself over a bench at me. 

‘I do not make fun Chuffy,’ I said. ‘I only wish to marshal my facts. I simply cannot understand what use a pair of shoes covered in holes could be to a fellow.’

‘They are loungewear, Bertie,’ Chuffy sighed. ‘They are not created to endure extreme weather, as your fine Oxfords are. They are comfortable for lying about the house and all that.’

I pressed my lips together and resolved not to speak up to say that I could not see what the problem with an ordinary set of warm slippers might be. I resolved, too, not to tell Jeeves of Chuffy’s decision to buy these strange modern shoes. He, however, does read these posts so I suppose he will now discover this and be upset by it. I shall warn Chuffy off turning up at the flat for a few days.

I hope my musings have been sufficient, dear anonymous. More, anon!

[what-ho-internet]

My dear Mr. Wooster,

In a previous correspondence you asked if the phrase “do it jiggle” was a command. If in fact it were a command, would you jiggle your posterior (your gluteus maximus) for the viewing pleasure of all your fans here on tumblr. Would Jeeves jiggle for us? I am eagerly awaiting your reply.

Best!

Beetle-goth

My dear Beetle-goth (do you mean as-in Visigoth or a beetle overfond of eye-makeup? I am enormously curious,)

I shall give you the answer you ask for as it is my due diligence: I daresay, buy a fellow dinner first! I would need some incentive were I to jiggle my posterior, even for my fine loyal viewership. I am reluctant to say that on so public a platform any incentive may be enough. If only there were perhaps a private platform on which you might access –but I digress. I shall not, much as I regret to disappoint. 

I have asked Jeeves. He does not let much slip past that calm exterior but this did encourage just a little disdain about the eyebrows. Nonetheless, I feel that the young master’s smile has somewhat encouraged him to answer. ‘Certainly not in the public eye sir,’ he said, ‘Though I cannot say definitively I would not for love nor money.’

There we have it. Do with this information what you will.

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dear bertie,

if it isn't too impertinent then I'd like to ask: what's going on with you at the moment? have you got any next big schemes on the agenda?

We thus move away from the contretemps matter of my 'fat ass'.

My dear anonymous fellow,

You are only as impertinent as I might be myself! And this I shall reward. Aunt Dahlia made an appearance to me Wednesday last and has asked me something which has begged a ‘scheme’ –often, my agendas are indeed begged of me by relative or circumstance rather than me having a naturally mysterious demeanour. Jeeves has just read that over my shoulder and made a minute exhale from his nose, which is his equivalent of chortling at my expense. I shall ignore this and proceed. I cannot afford to lose an ally such as him, especially in regard to this particular situation.

The long and short of it is this: Aunt Dahlia has encountered this blog by what she calls ‘providence’ and I call ‘the cruel hand of lady fate.’ She has decided that if I am fit to write it, then I should be fit to write her an agony aunt column for Milady’s Boudoir, her cherished magazine. Some of you may have heard of it. I have no desire to do this, as the shop I run on-line is a hobby, as well as somewhat a paying-back in which I excersise responsibility to my fellow man.

This is not to mention that she has asked me to do this without receiving a wage!

We (that is, me and the good man Jeeves) have conspired thusly: I shall give nothing but the worst advice to my immediate friends, all the while restricting Aunt Dahlia from seeing this blog. (I shall blame technical difficulties. Why she is on the internet in the first place confuses and astounds me greatly.) The largest blow shall be when Jeeves orchestrates a false phone-call, in which a man named Mr. Bunbury will have lost his inheritance as a result of my word, when she comes to tea on Friday afternoon. (I do hope that you appreciate the Earnest reference, my readers.)

I shall report back on the results of this ‘scheme,’ as you call it, but have every faith in the results.

[what-ho-internet]

To attempt to clarify the "do it jiggle" asker: do you, Mr. Wooster, possess a fat ass? Thanks ever so much.

The mystery has been conked.

In fact, the bafflement has thus been cleared up not only by you (who appears to present yourself as an animated bean, which quite interests me,) but also by Jeeves (as he is wont to do.) I thank you both, though the former I find more than a trifle crass (and somewhat baffling, as donkeys are brought to mind) in phrasing.

In answer I turn a chastising to you, Mr. Prophet-John, for asking me so invasive a question. This fellow is far from an old prude –in fact, I have been engaged (I now think) about fourteen times. But whether the thing ‘jiggle’s or not is hardly any business of yours! I am not in the business of checking myself, at any rate.

This overstepping might have been put aside had you not greatly offended Jeeves. He grows more weary of this internet business by the day. I pray that in future you might tickle our lemon rather than our behinds so that he might be assuaged to support this venture again.

P.S. For any easily scandalised and confused by the language used thus far, the ‘it’ in question I hardly dare confess the nature of –but I ought, I suppose, being a man of the world posting upon a blog which I have decided serves the purpose of foremostly aiding those who are ignorant.

Boldness might be found in Latin: gluteus maximus. There we have it.

[what-ho-internet]

do it jiggle

I am afraid, dear Mr. Prophet-John, that I cannot speak to the ‘it’ you speak of, and if it indeed ‘jiggle’ as I can make neither head nor tail of this question –or is it a phrase? There is little I can say on the subject. Are you commanding a ‘jiggle’ (whatever that may be) to ‘do it’? Are you asking me if an ‘it’ jiggles?

Jeeves has just come in and sprung away again upon reading this question, with a look I can describe only as one of horror and disgust. What can the elusive ‘it’ in question be? I am concerned that it is not as innocent as the trifle that first sprung to my mind. I shall follow Jeeves now. I do hope you have not gotten me into trouble.

[what-ho-internet]

Welcome to the internet, Wooster Old Thing! And a what-ho to Jeeves as well.

Hullo my dear fellow! And a sober ‘good afternoon’ from Jeeves. I must admit to the fact I fizz quite excitedly at how warm the welcome on the ‘internet’ has been so far. And how dashed exciting the ordeal is already –I have discovered so many avenues of thought and archives of writing, video and images. There is quite enough to entertain oneself all the long day –thank the lord I have the inimitable Jeeves to extract me from the screen and gently asservate that I ought to enjoy the sunshine while she pays London one of her too-infrequent visits.

In fact, today I write this just by the French windows where the sun comes in. The sky is a clear blue and I feel a kind of vividness has come to the world with this Summertime –a fair jocundity settles deep into my bones. I feel I ought to be prancing, though that would be quite ridiculous. I shall ask Jeeves to put on the Cole Porter record instead. I shall also try to resist the Wooster corpus’ stranger instincts –how easily I become tempted into things. (I will allow perhaps a rhythmic leg to bounce with the drum-beat.)

[what-ho-internet]

Dear Bertie,

I am absolutely dotty for a girl I met at the races just two weeks ago. I met her father last week and he’s bally excited for our future engagement — although not as much as I.

I, however, need your help. Upon speaking to her tete and tete only yesterday, she took umbrage with my suggestion that, were we to wed, she should wear a black dress to match with my own soup and fish (which shall, no doubt, be a black affair).

Is it so wrong to hope for a co-ordinated wedding? Help!

Ah! A gentleman who speaks my language. Hullo, old fruit, and know that you have asked advice of the finest possible quality.

I am extraordinarily glad to hear of your engagement to this girl, and her father’s willing blessing –trust a fellow avec experience, this will make the pill go down far easier, so to speak. 

Now, my rummy friend, for the problem. I do not consider your hope for a co-ordinated wedding so much a cardinal sin as peccadillo. However, your wish for the bride to wear black, I fear, has given Jeeves heartburn. I have had to fetch him bicarbonate of soda in order to calm his stomach. (He is not a cove physically oversensitive, but when it comds to what he considers crimes against tradition –especially those involving fashion– he can be quite overwrought.) I find that although it is a minor crime, I must agree that it would be quite unusual and –if you allow me to be frank– entirely unnecessary.

The boone you have craved from us here at the Wooster household is thus a resounding wish that you will allow your wife’s word to be final in this instance. I am all for a little break with tradition –Jeeves is not– but upon this, we must agree. If you will not take this from a man with so much of his heart in fashion as Jeeves, then perhaps you will from me –being one of the Cognoscenti who has been (un)fortunate enough to anticipate many weddings without any coming to harvest.

I have asservate-d thus, but do nevertheless wish you the best upon your nuptials. Perhaps at the races I shall spot you and your girl as dark spots amidst the glittering crowd!

P.S Jeeves did not find this very funny.

[what-ho-internet]

what’s all this then

Jeeves had just brought in my first good old cup of the morning when I received this question –and rather in the tone of one of my aunts (though far more uncouth in phrasing, I must say.) I am glad of having the first cup to answer with –last night I enjoyed rather a snootful and otherwise I might have answered quite abrasively.

‘this,’ as you so charmingly put it, is my new venture: I am to impart my wisdom and advice to the world, should the world so want it!

If you care to hear, Jeeves is rather sceptical of this new venture. Even now he peers over my shoulder with quite the soupy eye, and I will admit that it somewhat unnerves me. I am past the point of neglecting Jeeves’ wisdom, he being the only fellow who I believe would certainly run this ‘blog’ better than I.

‘You shall have to be my mouthpiece, sir,’ he has just commented upon reading this previous sentence, and there we have it: together we shall conquer this ‘web-site’ with much vim.

[what-ho-internet]

When speaking with my dear friend, bonhomme Gussie (Mr. Augustus Fink-Nottle to those who are strangers to the Drones) earlier today, we came -as ever, inevitably- to the subject of his newts. My dear Bertie, he said after a rather lengthy description of his new Firebelly that had him all riled up, do you know how I first heard of the Firebelly Newt?

I do not, my dear fellow, I responded in kind.

There is a thing called a blog upon which nibs (such as Gussie is) can find all sorts of information -as well as post his own ponderings. I asked if such a place as the 'Internet' may be interested in my own thoughts and perhaps accounts of my various scrapes. Of course! Gussie responded.

Straight away the old onion was ticking. By Jingo! I thought. Why should this blighter not make a crack at it hence?

By this concatenation I come to say 'what ho internet!' and introduce myself to you as Bertram Wilberforce Wooster. I have no relation to the politician, being instead a young man whose late father was lucky with horses. This serendipity has been passed upon to myself not in regard to equine but rather the form of my valet, Jeeves. He shall feature heavily upon this page in future as I make my accounts of humorous time spent. For now I simply make my Introductions and invite you, my dear coves and beazels (and any who may lie outside the two,) to beg any information they might from me by use of the 'Ask' button.

I shall, however, merely make my Introductions for the present moment. Hullo, indeed!