This is just a bit of fun, inspired both by the fabulous 'Rebellion' thread and by the stories of the late, great P.G. Wodehouse.
For the benefit of those not familiar with the 'Jeeves' stories, Jeeves is the resourceful, knowledgeable, and wise Valet to an aristocrat who is also a complete twit.
So it seems rather fitting that I should take the role of 'complete twit.'
So, right then, here we go:
Jeeves and the Lady Barbaria
I awoke bright and early one fine June morning. Outside, the birds were singing and the clock on St Eulalia’s church could be heard over the meadows as it chimed ten o’clock.
There was a soft knocking on my door, and my valet, Jeeves, entered with a steaming cup of the finest English breakfast tea. The man had an uncanny knack of knowing when I would awake and his entry with the early morning restorative was always timed to perfection.
“Good morning, sir,” he ventured.
“Good morning, Jeeves,” I replied. “Lovely morning, what?”
“The weather this morning does indeed tend toward the clement, sir, and the weather forecasters take the view that it will remain so.”
“How did that poet cove, Browning, put it, Jeeves? The Lark is on the wing, or some such rot?”
“The year 's at the spring, sir,
"And day 's at the morn;
"Morning 's at seven;
"The hill-side 's dew-pearl'd;
"The lark 's on the wing;
"The snail 's on the thorn.
"God 's in His heaven—
"All 's right with the world.
“It is an entrancing device that Mr Browning entitled ‘Pippa’s Song’, sir.”
“Well, Pippa must have been quite a woman, to have inspired him so. “
“Indeed, sir.”
“Just like Barbaria, wouldn’t you say, Jeeves?”
“Indeed, sir. If you’ll excuse me, sir, I shall go and prepare your breakfast.”
Despite his agreement, there was something frosty in his manner. I could tell that he did not really approve of the Lady Barbaria Fortescue-Phipps, nor of her younger sister, the Honourable Penelope, always referred to as ‘Little Siss.’
I decided it was time to be firm with the man. There are occasions when one has to take one’s underlings in hand, or they can get above themselves. So it was that having devoted some minutes to arranging myself around the outside of some bacon and eggs, I fixed the man with a steely glare.
“Jeeves,” I said.
“Sir?”
“Out with it, man. What do you have against the Lady Barbaria?”
“Well, sir, if I might be so bold as to mention it, she is somewhat profligate with your expense account at Harrod’s, sir.”
“You mean, she goes shopping a lot?”
“Yes, sir.”
“But Jeeves!” I exploded. “Of course she does! You have to agree that she is a fine-looking young woman?”
“She does tend to enhance any landscape in which she happens to be present, sir.”
“As does her younger sister.”
“Indeed, sir.”
“Well they can scarcely totter around in rags, then, can they? In fact, this very day, we’re off to Knightsbridge. She wants to buy some shoes.”
“Shoes, sir?”
“Shoes, Jeeves.”
“Forgive me if my recollection is in error, sir, but did she not procure some footwear the day before yesterday?”
“She did, but these are different shoes. So lay out my silk cravat with the yellow flowers, bring the car round to the front, and to Harrods we shall go!”
He didn’t move. I could see he was pained.
“Well, Jeeves?”
“If I might venture to suggest it, sir, not the silk cravat with the yellow flowers. Gentlemen are wearing plain cravats this season.”
This was going from bad to worse. I glared at the fellow. But an unpleasant scene was cut short by the intrusion of a knock at the front door. He shimmered off to answer it, while I brooded on the insubordination of the serving classes.
Presently, he returned.
“A telegram, sir.”
“Pass it over, then, Jeeves.”
“Yes, sir. I fear the news is grave, sir.”
I looked at the telegram
URGENT STOP WE ARE SURROUNDED BY TREE AND GANG STOP THEY HAVE CROSSES STOP COME QUICKLY HILL 100XS STOP BARBARIA
“Jeeves!” I spluttered, all thoughts of silk cravats and shoes having been banished from my mind, “What does this mean?”
“It is a most unusual communication, I must say, sir. My understanding of it is that they are in peril from a gangster known only as ‘The Hanging Tree’. He is aided and abetted by a corrupt judge known as ‘Admi’, who attempts to dress up his crimes with some form of legality, and by an entrepreneur who goes under the name of ‘Racing Rodent’ whose primary aim is to make as much money as possible from the resulting spectacle.”
“What spectacle, Jeeves?”
“I should expect, sir, that they will be crucified.”
“Crucified? Like Jesus in St Eulalia’s church?”
“It is only an effigy of Jesus in St Eulalia’s church, sir, but yes, that would approximately represent what may happen to the Lady Barbaria. I am extremely sorry, sir.”
“But Jeeves, this is awful! We must do something. We must go at once to the Hill.” I paused. “Though I’m dashed if I know which hill.”
“Sir?”
“She says ‘Come quickly to Hill.’ Then she sends me a hundred kisses. That is just like my dear Barbaria, but she doesn’t specify which hill!”
“I am sorry to disappoint you, sir, but I do not believe she was sending a hundred kisses. I imagine that the intelligence she was attempting to convey was that we should proceed in some haste to the Hill of a Hundred Crosses.”
“The Hill of a Hundred Crosses? I’ve never heard of it.”
“It is in the County of Devonshire, sir, within a particularly bleak and lawless area known as ‘Dartmoor.’ Mr Tree and his co-conspirators appear able to operate unhindered by the forces of the law in that location.”
“Well, take me there, Jeeves, and let’s be quick about it!”
For the benefit of those not familiar with the 'Jeeves' stories, Jeeves is the resourceful, knowledgeable, and wise Valet to an aristocrat who is also a complete twit.
So it seems rather fitting that I should take the role of 'complete twit.'
So, right then, here we go:
Jeeves and the Lady Barbaria
I awoke bright and early one fine June morning. Outside, the birds were singing and the clock on St Eulalia’s church could be heard over the meadows as it chimed ten o’clock.
There was a soft knocking on my door, and my valet, Jeeves, entered with a steaming cup of the finest English breakfast tea. The man had an uncanny knack of knowing when I would awake and his entry with the early morning restorative was always timed to perfection.
“Good morning, sir,” he ventured.
“Good morning, Jeeves,” I replied. “Lovely morning, what?”
“The weather this morning does indeed tend toward the clement, sir, and the weather forecasters take the view that it will remain so.”
“How did that poet cove, Browning, put it, Jeeves? The Lark is on the wing, or some such rot?”
“The year 's at the spring, sir,
"And day 's at the morn;
"Morning 's at seven;
"The hill-side 's dew-pearl'd;
"The lark 's on the wing;
"The snail 's on the thorn.
"God 's in His heaven—
"All 's right with the world.
“It is an entrancing device that Mr Browning entitled ‘Pippa’s Song’, sir.”
“Well, Pippa must have been quite a woman, to have inspired him so. “
“Indeed, sir.”
“Just like Barbaria, wouldn’t you say, Jeeves?”
“Indeed, sir. If you’ll excuse me, sir, I shall go and prepare your breakfast.”
Despite his agreement, there was something frosty in his manner. I could tell that he did not really approve of the Lady Barbaria Fortescue-Phipps, nor of her younger sister, the Honourable Penelope, always referred to as ‘Little Siss.’
I decided it was time to be firm with the man. There are occasions when one has to take one’s underlings in hand, or they can get above themselves. So it was that having devoted some minutes to arranging myself around the outside of some bacon and eggs, I fixed the man with a steely glare.
“Jeeves,” I said.
“Sir?”
“Out with it, man. What do you have against the Lady Barbaria?”
“Well, sir, if I might be so bold as to mention it, she is somewhat profligate with your expense account at Harrod’s, sir.”
“You mean, she goes shopping a lot?”
“Yes, sir.”
“But Jeeves!” I exploded. “Of course she does! You have to agree that she is a fine-looking young woman?”
“She does tend to enhance any landscape in which she happens to be present, sir.”
“As does her younger sister.”
“Indeed, sir.”
“Well they can scarcely totter around in rags, then, can they? In fact, this very day, we’re off to Knightsbridge. She wants to buy some shoes.”
“Shoes, sir?”
“Shoes, Jeeves.”
“Forgive me if my recollection is in error, sir, but did she not procure some footwear the day before yesterday?”
“She did, but these are different shoes. So lay out my silk cravat with the yellow flowers, bring the car round to the front, and to Harrods we shall go!”
He didn’t move. I could see he was pained.
“Well, Jeeves?”
“If I might venture to suggest it, sir, not the silk cravat with the yellow flowers. Gentlemen are wearing plain cravats this season.”
This was going from bad to worse. I glared at the fellow. But an unpleasant scene was cut short by the intrusion of a knock at the front door. He shimmered off to answer it, while I brooded on the insubordination of the serving classes.
Presently, he returned.
“A telegram, sir.”
“Pass it over, then, Jeeves.”
“Yes, sir. I fear the news is grave, sir.”
I looked at the telegram
URGENT STOP WE ARE SURROUNDED BY TREE AND GANG STOP THEY HAVE CROSSES STOP COME QUICKLY HILL 100XS STOP BARBARIA
“Jeeves!” I spluttered, all thoughts of silk cravats and shoes having been banished from my mind, “What does this mean?”
“It is a most unusual communication, I must say, sir. My understanding of it is that they are in peril from a gangster known only as ‘The Hanging Tree’. He is aided and abetted by a corrupt judge known as ‘Admi’, who attempts to dress up his crimes with some form of legality, and by an entrepreneur who goes under the name of ‘Racing Rodent’ whose primary aim is to make as much money as possible from the resulting spectacle.”
“What spectacle, Jeeves?”
“I should expect, sir, that they will be crucified.”
“Crucified? Like Jesus in St Eulalia’s church?”
“It is only an effigy of Jesus in St Eulalia’s church, sir, but yes, that would approximately represent what may happen to the Lady Barbaria. I am extremely sorry, sir.”
“But Jeeves, this is awful! We must do something. We must go at once to the Hill.” I paused. “Though I’m dashed if I know which hill.”
“Sir?”
“She says ‘Come quickly to Hill.’ Then she sends me a hundred kisses. That is just like my dear Barbaria, but she doesn’t specify which hill!”
“I am sorry to disappoint you, sir, but I do not believe she was sending a hundred kisses. I imagine that the intelligence she was attempting to convey was that we should proceed in some haste to the Hill of a Hundred Crosses.”
“The Hill of a Hundred Crosses? I’ve never heard of it.”
“It is in the County of Devonshire, sir, within a particularly bleak and lawless area known as ‘Dartmoor.’ Mr Tree and his co-conspirators appear able to operate unhindered by the forces of the law in that location.”
“Well, take me there, Jeeves, and let’s be quick about it!”
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