Please Sir, Am I Allowed To Love Wodehouse?
I still haven’t recovered all my P G Wodehouse books from the removal men’s boxes but these three are out. I’ve been leafing through them, laughing aloud as I go. I love the similes:
'What-ho, Jeeves!' I said, entering the room where he waded knee-deep in suitcases and shirts and winter-suitings, like a sea-beast among rocks. 'Packing?'
'Yes, sir,' replied the honest fellow, for there are no secrets between us.
and the literary allusions:
'Jeeves,' I recollect saying, on returning to the apartment, 'who was the fellow who on looking at something felt like somebody looking at something? I learned the passage at school but it has escaped me.'
Every page has its felicities; the books are pure delight. So you might expect a fan like me to beetle off, hop on a train to London and visit the Plum Pie exhibition at the Heywood Hill bookshop. No fear! This is what put me off, the Today programme slideshow. Have a look. Exclusive, or what? You’d think Wodehouse was the preserve of posh old blokes rather than a great writer there for anyone who appreciates language and enjoys a laugh. Or indeed, likes to watch television or listen to the radio, for almost all adaptations are good. Why wouldn’t they be? The scripts must write themselves. I have a particular fondness for Richard Vernon as Lord Emsworth.
Bertie Wooster
Duke of Kent