[Bertie Wooster, who has a terrible hangover, encounters a prospective new valet – Jeeves.]
“If you would drink this, sir,” he said, with a kind of bedside manner, rather like the royal doctor shooting the bracer into a sick prince. “It’s a little preparation of my own invention. It is the Worcestershire sauce that gives it its colour. The raw egg makes it nutritious. The red pepper gives it bite. Gentlemen have told me they have found it extremely invigorating after a late evening.”
I would have clutched at anything that looked like a lifeline that morning. I swallowed the stuff. For a moment I felt as if someone had touched off a bomb inside the old bean and was strolling down my throat with a lighted torch, and then everything seemed suddenly to get all right. The sun shone in through the treetops and, generally speaking, hope dawned once more.
“You’re engaged!” I said, as soon as I could say anything.
P.G. Wodehouse Carry on, Jeeves (1925).
April 1, 2025
QotD: Jeeves proves his talent for the first time
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