Up The Workers,
Jeeves
by D C White
It was with a
heavy heart that I groped blindly for the bell
and summoned Jeeves. He sashayed in, in that way
of his.
“Morning,
Jeeves.”
“Morning,
Sir.”
With the
formalities out of the way I could see that it
was time to get down to business, to whit: the
Wooster head, hammering thereof.
“I say
Jeeves, I rather think I’m in need of one of
your restoratives.”
“Very
good, sir,” he said, and sashayed out again.
I propped the
old frame up on the pillows as best as I could,
and tried to blink. Normally one finds it
triflingly easy to blink, this morning, however,
it defeated me, sorry to say. Presently, however,
Jeeves entered, magic elixir in hand. In a trice,
I was clear-headed and, happy to admit, blinking
freely once more. Refreshed, I turned my
attention to the matters of the day.
“Tea,
Jeeves,” I told the faithful retainer.
“Certainly
sir.”
Once the
herbal infusion had been presented, I realized
that something was amiss.
“I say,
Jeeves,” I said, as he laid out my brown
suit for the day’s perambulation, “was
there a paper today?”
“I’m
afraid not, sir.”
I was aghast.
“No paper?”
“No, sir.”
There was
– and I believe this is the correct term
– a pregnant pause.
“A new
age of social upheaval has begun, sir, in which
heroes are made o’er the ramparts, to quote
Tennyson.”
“Bother
Tennyson. I must say it all sounds rather ghastly
if you ask me. What do these ramparts have to do
with my bally paper?”
“I
believe the revolution has rather led to an
interruption in the media, for the time being.”
This was
unexpected. “Er, revolution, Jeeves?”
“Yes sir.
The worker’s uprising, I believe the popular
press has been calling it for some days now.”
“I see.
Dashed inconvenient, what?”
“I
believe, sir, with all due respect, that the
working classes deem it more important that they
have bread to eat than you have a paper to read.”
I eyed the man
warily over the oolong. “You’ve been
reading Marx again, haven’t you?”
“Just as
you say, sir.”
“I knew I
should have gotten you that Spinosa for Christmas
instead.”
“Indeed,
sir.”
I sipped a
moody cupful. “I say, Jeeves,”
“Yes, sir?”
“This tea
tastes very strongly of almonds.”
“Indeed,
sir?”
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