[Exit Bertie hacking his way out of the burning forest, hair singed, clothes blackened, exhausted but triumphant.]

...Hah. Made it.

[He peers at the charred bit of wood still in his hand. On further inspection, it might once have been a practice sword...]

I say, Kondou-sensei, I think I'm going to need another--

[--annnd he's down.]

[Bertie's somehow managed to roll up the sides of his teepee, and now he's dusting off his hands with a satisfied air.]

There! That ought to get out some of that musty... must. [He frowns in confusion for a second, but recovers admirably.] Hm... now I've just got to get that carpet hung up somewhere, it might still be salvageable, and then it's ( Read more... )

[It seems that Bertie's taken advantage of the relative solitude of his mountain refuge to... practice the trombone. He's playing something that's probably Lady of Spain.]

Well, I think I've got that one down. Next I think I'll...

...I say. How long have I been up here?

[Girl!Bertie, thanks to the laws of comedy, is exactly the sort of woman that any of his her chums would be instantly head-over-heels for. Golden hair, sparkling eyes, a killer silhouette, the whole souffle. Unfortunately for the laws of comedy (but fortunately for Bertie) her friends from home aren't here ( Read more... )

Well, chaps, I'm taking a leaf from some of your books and heading for higher ground. I mean to say, never let it be said that we Woosters ever fled the field of battle, but dash it, a chap's got to know when enough is enough, and this is it ( Read more... )

I say. Does the tide seem a little-- tide-ier to anyone? Only things seem a bit rummy in that general vicinity, if that's the word I'm after.

[With the nervous-Bertie laugh:] I mean, er, not that I've been inspecting the ocean for any reason. Hahaha.

[Bertie's sitting at a makeshift desk in his teepee, writing what looks like a letter. He's acquired a bottle and a cork from somewhere, which sit ready to one side. There are already a few crumpled-up attempts littering the floor around him, and he shortly crosses out several lines in the current version and balls it up as well. He takes a new ( Read more... )

[Have a preppyboy!Bertie, pink shirt, popped collar, and all-- the whole ensemble ought to look ridiculous, but somehow it works. He's sitting at the piano in the school auditorium, attempting to practice a Bach fugue. It's going surprisingly well considering he's not playing a pipe organ, until he reaches a phrase that his fingers stumble over. He ( Read more... )

I say, these eggs, they're a rummy sort of situation, what? I've found two that exploded glitter everywhere, one that just exploded, and one with this odd little whistle contraption inside-- [A brief, annoyingly high-pitched sound, like a train whistle but a couple octaves up.]

Oh, here's another one. I wonder what-- ouch!Pardon me, chaps, that ( Read more... )

[The living room of a spacious flat, with a couple comfy chairs and a piano next to the window. Outside the window, a bit of the London skyline is visible. The sound of the door opening is heard, and Bertie appears.]

I say! I say, it is real! Ahh, good old homestead! Good old chairs, good old piano, good old Gawd-help-us painting!

[He does a ( Read more... )