Very Good Jeeves Quotes

The voice of Love seemed to call to me, but it was a wrong number.

Red hair, sir, in my opinion, is dangerous.

Unseen in the background, Fate was quietly slipping lead into the boxing-glove.

Hell, it is well known, has no fury like a woman who wants her tea and can't get it.

As Shakespeare says, if you're going to do a thing you might as well pop right at it and get it over.

There is no time, sir, at which ties do not matter.

Remember what the poet Shakespeare said, Jeeves? 'Exit hurriedly, pursued by a bear.' You'll find it in one of his plays.

I don't know why it is, but women who have anything to do with Opera, even if they're only studying for it, always appear to run to surplus poundage.

There's no doubt about it, being a policeman warps a man's mind and ruins that sunny faith in his fellow human beings which is the foundation of a lovable character. There seems to be no way of avoiding this.

I was back at the flat so quick that I nearly met myself coming out.

One more toot--just one single, solitary suggestion of the faintest shadow or suspicion of anything remotely approaching a toot--and may the Lord have mercy on your soul.

I'm lonely, Jeeves.' 'You have a great many friends,sir.' 'What's the good of friends?' 'Emerson,' I reminded him,'says a friend may well be reckoned the masterpiece of Nature,sir.' 'Well, you can tell Emerson from me next time you see him that he's an ass.' 'Very good, sir.

If you ask my Aunt Agatha she will tell you — in fact, she is quite likely to tell you even if you don’t ask her — that I am a vapid and irreflective chump. Barely sentient, was the way she once described me: and I’m not saying that in a broad, general sense she isn’t right.

Jeeves," I said. "A rummy communication has arrived. From Mr. Glossop." "Indeed, sir?" "I will read it to you. Handed in at Upper Bleaching. Message runs as follows: When you come tomorrow, bring my football boots. Also, if humanly possible, Irish water-spaniel. Urgent. Regards. Tuppy. "What do you make of that, Jeeves?" "As I interpret the document, sir, Mr. Glossop wishes you, when you come tomorrow, to bring his football boots. Also, if humanly possible, an Irish water-spaniel. He hints that the matter is urgent, and sends his regards." "Yes, that is how I read it. But why football boots?" "Perhaps Mr. Glossop wishes to play football, sir.

Jeeves,' I said - and I am not ashamed to confess that there was a spot of chokiness in the voice - 'there is none like you, none.

She is very wonderful, Bertie. She is not one of these flippant, shallow-minded, modern girls. She is sweetly grave and beautifully earnest. She reminds me of - what is the name I want?" "Marie Lloyd?" "Saint Cecilia," said young Bingo, eyeing me with a good deal of loathing. "She reminds me of Saint Cecilia. She makes me yearn to be a better, nobler, deeper, broader man.

I have always had a suspicion that Aunt Dahlia, while invariably matey and bonhomous and seeming to take pleasure in my society, has a lower opinion of my intelligence than I quite like. Too often it is her practice to address me as ‘fathead’, and if I put forward any little thought or idea or fancy in her hearing it is apt to be greeted with the affectionate but jarring guffaw.

As Shakespeare says, if you’re going to do a thing you might just as well pop right at it and get it over.

Very good," I said coldly. "In that case, tinkerty tonk." And I meant it to sting.

Now look here, old friend," I said. "I know your bally heart is broken and all that, and at some future time I shall be delighted to hear all about it, but - " "I didn't come to talk about that." "No? Good egg!" "The past," said young Bingo, "is dead. Let us say no more about it." "Right-o!" "I have been wounded to the very depths of my soul, but don't speak about it." "I won't." "Ignore it. Forget it." "Absolutely!" I hadn't seen him so dashed reasonable for days.

Why has the car stopped?" "Ah!" I said with manly frankness that became me well. "There you have me." You see, I'm one of those birds who drive a lot but don't know the first thing about the works. The policy I pursue is to get aboard, prod the self-starter, and leave the rest to Nature. If anything goes wrong, I scream for an A.A. scout. It's a system that answers admirably as a rule, but on the present occasion it blew a fuse owing to the fact that there wasn't an A.A. scout within miles.

One of the first lessons life teaches us is that on these occasions of back-chat between the delicately-natured, a man should retire into the offing, curl up in a ball, and imitate the prudent tactics of the opossum, which, when danger is in the air, pretends to be dead, frequently going to the length of hanging out crêpe and instructing its friends to gather round and say what a pity it all is.

Oh, Jeeves," I said, "did Peabody and Simms send those soft silk shirts?" "Yes, sir. I sent them back." "Sent them back!" "Yes, sir." I eyed him for a moment. But I mean to say. I mean, what's the use? "Oh, all right," I said. "Then lay out one of the gents' stiff-bosomed." "Very good, sir," said Jeeves.

I heard the telephone tootling out in the hall and rose to attend it. “Bertram Wooster’s residence,” I said, having connected with the instrument. “Wooster in person at this end. Oh, hullo,” I added, for the voice that boomed over the wire was that of Mrs. Thomas Portalington Travers of Brinkley Court, Market Snodsbury, near Droitwich — or, putting it another way, my good and deserving Aunt Dahlia. “A very hearty pip-pip to you, old ancestor,” I said, well pleased, for she is a woman with whom it is always a privilege to chew the fat. “And a rousing toodle-oo to you, you young blot on the landscape,” she replied cordially.

Emerson,” I reminded him, “says a friend may well be reckoned the masterpiece of Nature, sir.” “Well, you can tell Emerson from me next time you see him that he’s an ass.” “Very good, sir.” “What I want—Jeeves, have you seen that play called I-forget-its-dashed-name?

In love with me. Don't be absurd." "My dear old thing, you don't know young Bingo. He can fall in love with anybody." "Thank you!" "Oh, I didn't mean it that way, you know. I don't wonder at his taking to you. Why, I was in love with you myself once." "Once? Ah! And all that remains now are the cold ashes? This isn't once of your tactful evenings, Bertie." "Well, my dear sweet thing, dash it all, considering that you gave me the bird and nearly laughed yourself into a permanent state of hiccoughs when I asked you - " "Oh, I'm not reproaching you. No doubt there were faults on both sides. He's very good-looking, isn't he?" "Good-looking? Bingo? Bingo good-looking? No, I say, come now, really!" "I mean, compared with some people," said Cynthia.

You know how it is. Love's flame flickers and dies, reason returns to her throne, and you aren't nearly as ready to hop about and jump through hoops as in the first pristine glow of the divine passion.

Every young man starting life ought to know how to cope with an angry swan, so I will briefly relate the proper procedure. You begin by picking up the raincoat which somebody has dropped; and then, judging the distance to a nicety, you simply shove the raincoat over the bird’s head; and, taking the boat-hook which you have prudently brought with you, you insert it underneath the swan and heave. The swan goes into a bush and starts trying to unscramble itself; and you saunter back to your boat, taking with you any friends who may happen at the moment to be sitting on roofs in the vicinity. That was Jeeves’s method, and I cannot see how it could have been improved upon.

Still, there it is, of course. The point to be considered now is, What will Aunt Agatha do about this? You know her, Jeeves. She is not like me. I’m broad-minded. If Uncle George wants to marry waitresses, let him, say I. I hold that the rank is but the penny stamp—’ ‘Guinea stamp, sir.’ ‘All right, guinea stamp. Though I don’t believe there is such a thing. I shouldn’t have thought they came higher than five bob.' Wodehouse, P.G.. Very Good, Jeeves

Come to the bit about soft silk shirts for evening wear?" I asked carelessly. "Yes, sir," said Jeeves, in a low, cold voice, as if he had been bitten in the leg by a personal friend. "And if I may be pardoned for saying so - " "You don't like it?" "No, sir. I do not. Soft silk shirts with evening costume are not worn, sir." "Jeeves," I said, looking the blighter diametrically in the centre of the eyeball, "they're dashed well going to be. I may as well tell you now that I have ordered a dozen of those shirtings from Peabody and Simms, and it's no good looking like that, because I am jolly well adamant." "If I might - " "No, Jeeves," I said, raising my hand, "argument is useless. Nobody has a greater respect than I have for your judgment in socks, in ties, and - I will go farther - in spats; but when it comes to evening shirts your nerve seems to fail you. You have no vision. You are prejudiced and reactionary. Hidebound is the word that suggests itself. It may interest you to learn that when I was at Le Touquet the Prince of Wales buzzed into the Casino one night with soft silk shirt complete." "His Royal Highness, sir, may permit himself a certain licence which in your own case - " "No, Jeeves," I said, firmly, "it's no use. When we Woosters are adamant, we are - well, adamant, if you know what I mean." "Very good, sir." I could see the man was wounded, and, of course, the whole episode had been extremely jarring and unpleasant; but these things have to be gone through. Is one a serf or isn't one? That's what it all boils down to.

Pretty soft!' he cried. 'To have to come and live in New York! To have to leave my little cottage and take a stuffy, smelly, over-heated hole of an apartment in this Heaven-forsaken, festering Gehenna. To have to mix night after night with a mob who think that life is a sort of St Vitus's dance, and imagine that they're having a good time because they're making enough noise for six and drinking too much for ten. I loathe New York, Bertie. I wouldn't come near the place if I hadn't got to see editors occasionally. There's a blight on it. It's got moral delirium tremens. It's the limit. The very thought of staying more than a day in it makes me sick. And you call this thing pretty soft for me!' I felt rather like Lot's friends must have done when they dropped in for a quiet chat and their genial host began to criticise the Cities of the Plain. I had no idea old Rocky could be so eloquent. 'It would kill me to have to live in New York,' he went on. 'To have to share the air with six million people! TO have to wear stiff collars and decent clothes all the time! To - ' He started. 'Good Lord! I suppose I should have to dress for dinner in the evenings. What a ghastly notion!' I was shocked, absolutely shocked. 'My dear chap!' I said, reproachfully. 'Do you dress for dinner every night, Bertie?' 'Jeeves,' I said coldly. 'How many suits of evening clothes have we?' 'We have three suits full of evening dress, sir; two dinner jackets- ' 'Three.' 'For practical purposes, two only, sir. If you remember, we cannot wear the third. We have also seven white waistcoats.' 'And shirts?' 'Four dozen, sir.' 'And white ties?' 'The first two shallow shelves in the chest of drawers are completely filled with our white ties, sir.' I turned to Rocky. 'You see?' The chappie writhed like an electric fan. 'I won't do it! I can't do it! I'll be hanged if I'll do it! How on earth can I dress up like that? Do you realise that most days I don't get out of my pyjamas till five in the afternoon and then I just put on an old sweater?' I saw Jeeves wince, poor chap. This sort of revelation shocked his finest feelings.

As I stood there gaping at the closed door, a vision rose before my eyes, featuring me and an inspector of police, the latter having in his supporting cast an unusually nasty-looking sergeant. ‘Are you coming quietly, Wooster?’ the inspector was saying. ‘Who, me?’ I said, quaking in every limb. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ ‘Ha, ha,’ laughed the inspector. ‘That’s good. Eh, Fotheringay?’ ‘Very rich, sir,’ said the sergeant. ‘Makes me chuckle, that does.’ ‘Too late to try anything of that sort, my man,’ went on the inspector, becoming grave again. ‘The game is up. We have evidence to prove that you went to this safe and from it abstracted a valuable pearl necklace, the property of Mrs. L.G. Trotter. If that doesn’t mean five years in the jug for you, I miss my bet.’ ‘But, honestly, I thought it was Aunt Dahlia’s.’ ‘Ha, ha,’ laughed the inspector. ‘Ha, ha,’ chirped the sergeant. ‘A pretty story,’ said the inspector. ‘Tell that to the jury and see what they think of it. Fotheringay, the handcuffs!’ Such was the v. that rose before my e. as I gaped at that c.d., and I wilted like a salted snail. Outside in the garden birds were singing their evensong, and it seemed to me that each individual bird was saying ‘Well, boys, Wooster is for it. We shan’t see much of Wooster for the next few years. Too bad, too bad. A nice chap till he took to crime.

Major Plank?' he said. Plank, too, was goggling. 'Who on earth are you?' 'Chief Inspector Witherspoon, sir, of Scotland Yard. Has this man been attempting to obtain money from you?' 'Just been doing that very thing.' 'As I suspected. We have had our eye on him for a long time, but till now have never been able to apprehend him in the act.' 'Notorious crook, is he?' 'Precisely, sir. He is a confidence man of considerable eminence in the underworld, who makes a practice of calling at houses and extracting money from their owners with some plausible story.' 'He does more than that. He pinches things from people and tries to sell them. Look at that statuette he's holding. It's a thing I sold to Sir Watkyn Bassett, who lives at Totleigh-in-the-Wold, and he had the cool cheek to come here and try to sell it to me for five pounds.' 'Indeed, sir? With your permission I will impound the object.' 'You'll need it as evidence?' 'Exactly, sir. I shall now take him to Totleigh Towers and confront him with Sir Watkyn.' 'Yes, do. That'll teach him. Nasty hangdog look the fellow's got. I suspected from the first he was wanted by the police. Had him under observation for a long time, have you?' 'For a very long time, sir. He is known to us at the Yard as Alpine Joe, because he always wears an Alpine hat.' 'He's got it with him now.' 'He never moves without it.' 'You'd think he'd have the sense to adopt some rude disguise.' 'You would indeed, sir, but the mental processes of a man like that are hard to follow.' 'Then there's no need for me to phone the local police?' 'None, sir. I will take him into custody.' 'You wouldn't like me to hit him over the head first with a Zulu knobkerrie?' 'Unnecessary, sir.' 'It might be safer.' 'No, sir, I am sure he will come quietly.' 'Well, have it your own way. But don't let him give you the slip.' 'I will be very careful, sir.' 'And shove him into a dungeon with dripping walls and see to it that he is well gnawed by rats.' 'Very good, sir.

The trouble is that she is greatly under the influence of a pal of hers called Tolstoy. I've never met him, but he seems to have the most extraordinary ideas. You won't believe this, Jeeves, but he says that no one needs to smoke, as equal pleasure can be obtained by twirling the fingers. The man must be an ass. Imagine a posh public dinner – one of those "decorations will be worn" things. The royal toast has been drunk, strong men are licking their lips at the thought of cigars, and the toastmaster bellows "Gentlemen, you may twirl your fingers." Don't tell me there wouldn't be a flat feeling, a sense of disappointment. Do you know anything about this fellow Tolstoy? You ever heard of him?' 'Oh, yes, sir. He was a very famous Russian novelist.' 'Russian, eh? Well, there you are. And a novelist? He didn't write By Order Of The Czar, did he?' 'I believe not, sir.' 'I thought he might have under another name. You say "was". Is he no longer with us?' 'No, sir. He died some years ago.' 'Good for him. Twirl your fingers! Too absurd. I'd laugh only she says I mustn't laugh because another pal of hers, called Chesterfield, didn't.