Kipling was right

"Kipling was right, the f of the s is indeed more d than the
m"

If the latter tenth of the twentieth century belongs to Homer Simpson
(as I assert) then the earlier ninety percent belongs to Bertram
Wooster.

Bertram Wooster, (Bertie to his friends, enemies, ex-fianc?es and
aunts) is a character created by P G Wodehouse. He appears in a number
of comic novels and short stories, invariably accompanied by his "man"
Jeeves, a man of considerable intellect and learning, a
butler-cum-valet.

Bertie Wooster is thin, charming, an upper-class English gentleman,
very noble, attractive to women and considerably well-off. In all of
these respects, he is utterly unlike Homer Simpson.

However, he is a dreamer, a man of schemes and plans, a man of good
intentions whose good intentions, as the plans of mice and men, "gang
aft agley". He is on the dim side, though not perhaps as dim as people
of his acquaintance would believe.

He is partial to a snooterful of brandy and adores cocktails. He has
had brushes with the law, often on Boat Race night, but has spent a
number of nights incarcerated for one foible or another. " Pinched
three times but never under the correct name" is his proud boast.

The level of his intellect is difficult to fully assess - his memory
seems to be vague on detail but good on generalities. He has been
well-educated (he went to prep school, Eton and Oxford), but perhaps
lacking in judgment. "A slight throbbing about the temples told me that
the conversation had reached saturation point. "

Bertie's central character flaw is his wish to be a "preux chevalier"
or perfect gentleman. On all the occasions where he is carried away and
proposes to a nightmarish woman, he is too noble to simply call it off
when the mists lift and he sees that he has picked a lemon in the
garden of love.

More often, the ghastly woman reinstates a proposal he made much
earlier, as a result of splitting up with her current fiance. He must
wait for circumstances to engineer a rift within the lute, which widens
soon and makes the music mute. He cannot decline, the lady must call it
off.

Equally, if asked by an old school friend to steal a policeman's helmet
in order to restore love and respect between said friend and a woman,
Bertie will stiffen the sinews and do so. And if an elderly aunt seeks
the theft of an antique cow-creamer (a sort of ugly milk jug, which
would come low down on the list of things Bertie would wish to be
caught dead in a ditch with), then steal the cow-creamer is what he
must do.

Bertie is always touched by the plight of a friend.

Most of the novels revolve around Bertie coming to the assistance of a
friend, in the course of which, he lands himself in more and more
inextricable problems, from which he has to be rescued by the
brilliantly subtle schemes concocted by Jeeves. He is often placed in a
position where to save himself would be to cause more trouble for his
friend, and he takes the noble option, each and every time.

The world in which Bertie moves is populated by vicars who play rugby
and used to box at Oxford, village policemen with grudges, aunts who
gamble at baccarat and publish magazines for discerning ladies
(Milady's Boudoir), young men who are reliant upon financial from
elderly uncles who must be kept sweet, cryptic telegrams, lovers who
cannot get married unless permission is granted by the young lady's
reluctant father, well-regarded nerve specialists who pose as butlers
named "Swordfish" to observe whether a house-guest might be a
kleptomaniac and other esoteric delights.

Two types of women seem fascinated by Bertie - the domineering type who
want to make something of him and banish cocktails and prescribe
enlightening books (such as Honoria Glossop and Florence Craye) and the
terminally wet, such as Madeleine Basset, who although easy on the eye
was inclined to say that the stars were fairies daisy-chains.

Bertie is well aware of the fascination that attracts the Honoria
Glossop's of this world hold. He knows that he has about half the
amount of brains an ordinary bloke ought to have, and when a woman
comes along with about twice the allocation, she makes a beeline for
him, to balance out the species.
They usually want to improve his soul, which although Bertie concedes
his is not the sort of soul that gets crowds shouting in the streets,
is one which he is rather fond of.

The third type of woman in the books has no romantic inclination
towards Bertie, though this tends to be the type of woman he likes, the
mischievous powder-kegs, full of schemes and devilment, usually
accompanied by red hair, such as Stephanie Byng and Bobbie
Wickham.

Although Bertie is continually in fear of being committed to matrimony
with the wrong woman, and never succeeds with the women that he is
attracted to, he remains a total romantic, a firm believer that couples
are meant to be together and that love will conquer all. During his
exploits, he has reunited many an estranged couple.

In my favourite book, "Right Ho Jeeves", Bertie has a newt-fancying
friend called Gussie Fink-Nottle, who is in love with the Bassett but
too shy to tell her. Bertie decides to advise him, because Jeeves has
lost his touch (Bertie often takes this view, because he likes to have
first crack at any crisis)

Things prove difficult because Gussie resembles something that one
might find on a fishmonger's slab and does not drink alcohol. In
Bertie's view, a bracer is necessary before proposal, because "a chap
has to listen to himself saying things which, if said on the silver
screen, would cause him to dash to the foyer demanding his money
back"

Fortunately, Madeleine has similar views on Gussie, which is lucky,
because as Bertie says, "You could throw bricks by the hour in
England's more densely populated areas without endangering anyone
capable of becoming Mrs Augustus Fink-Nottle without an
anaesthetic."

Bertie takes Madeleine out into the garden to plead Gussie's case and
hint that there is someone who loves her and yearns for her deeply, but
due to misunderstanding, she thinks Bertie is proposing marriage. She
refuses, as she loves Gussie, but makes it clear that if things do not
work out between Gussie and herself, she and Bertie will tread the
aisle together.

[To my count, the engagement between Bertie and Madeleine has been back
on, entirely against Bertie's wishes, on at least four occasions.
Initially due to both Bertie and Jeeves bracing Gussie with hard liquor
to give him courage both to propose to Madeleine and to give a speech
at the town prize-giving, with disastrous results. I have seen a
totting up of all the occasions on which Bertie has been engaged
against his will and it is about thirteen]

In the midst of all this, Bertie is trying to patch up a relationship
between Tuppy Glossop and his cousin Angela, evade the suspicions of
Tuppy that Bertie is trying to steal Angela from him and ensure that
his Aunt Dahlia's chef Anatole remains in her employ.

And all of this with Jeeves seemingly off the boil and ineffectual for
the vast majority of the book, due to a disagreement about a jacket
Bertie bought while in Cannes which Jeeves disapproves of.

Bertie has two real achievements in his life, both fairly
inconsequential, which he shares with the world at large on many
occasions. The first is the article he wrote for his Aunt Dahlia's
magazine, Milady's Boudoir, entitled "What the Well-Dressed Gentleman
Is Wearing", which seems to be the only actual piece of work he has
done in his entire life. The second is that he won a school prize for
knowledge of Scripture, though this is later bought into question by
Gussie Fink-Nottle, who when drunk alleges to a delighted audience that
Bertie went into the exam room with his pockets crammed full to
bursting with lists of Kings of Judea.

P G Wodehouse created a marvellous alternate world with his stories, a
world much more innocent and amusing than our own. In his use of
language, he is without parallel. That is a lofty thing to say, but it
is true. He can write a sentence in perfectly ordinary English words,
but combine them in a way that becomes totally evocative and
descriptive. The Italian Pirandello once wrote, "There is not a
sentence in the world that cannot be improved by rewriting", but he had
never read any Wodehouse.

Wodehouse could take two lines and capture the character's essence. He
is the most descriptive writer since Shakespeare and has a similar
total command of the English language. Words are there to do his work.
Although it is done with the lightest of touches, he makes the English
language work harder than it is had to for many, many years.

Nobody talks these days the way people talk in his books, but still,
every sentence of dialogue can be read aloud and ring absolutely true.
If there were people like Bertie and Honoria Glossop, this is
absolutely the way they would speak.

They are books, that if you are reading them on a train, you have to
cram your fist into your mouth to stop you laughing too loudly. They
can lighten the darkest of moods.

If I could advise people to read the works of any author in the world,
it would be P G Wodehouse, and Jeeves and Wooster in particular. They
will bring a charm and delight into your life. They will be more
rewarding than any other book, in terms of what the books offer back to
the reader.

They may not be high art, but they are the works of someone who is
without doubt the champion of his craft. To judge them as less because
they are comedy is to decry Mohammed Ali for not being a
ballet-dancer.

There is nothing better than indulging in the work of someone who
performs in their field better than anyone ever has, before or
since.

I love all of the Jeeves and Wooster stories, but personal favourites
would
have to be any involving Gussie Fink-Nottle, whose sheer goofiness
offsets Bertie perfectly. Also, those stories tend to involve Aunt
Dahlia, Spode and the antique cow-creamer, which taken as a whole leads
to comic perfection.

The relationship between Jeeves and Wooster is also of interest.
Ostensibly it is one of master and servant, but it is clear that in
domestic matters and matters of the heart, Jeeves is firmly in charge.
He has very traditional views about evening wear, and is not above
damaging whilst ironing any piece of clothing that he does not approve
of.

Also he is firm in his resolve against Bertie's moustache and leaves
the employ of Bertie when Bertie decides to play the banjo. He can be
stubborn and give either erroneous advice or withhold advice if he is
thwarted in his wishes. Jeeves is also not above besmirching the name
of his good master in order to save the day - on one occasion Jeeves
saves Bertie from marriage to Honoria Glossop by engineering the
situation so that Bertie appears raving mad when Honoria's father
Roderick Glossop (the looney-doctor) comes to inspect his suitability.
On others, Jeeves has delicately explained to guests that Bertie is a
kleptomaniac, in order to save the reputation of one of Bertie's
friends.

It is abundantly clear that Jeeves is by far and away intellectually
superior to Bertie. He understands the psychology of the individual, he
quotes from Shakespeare and Virgil, and is aware of the great
philosophers of the day.

Jeeves is continually the subject of attempts by others to lure him
away for greater pay. Bertie himself wonders why Jeeves is satisfied to
iron his shirts and comments, "why, if I had even half his brains, I'd
have a shot at being prime minister or something."

There must be something within him which enjoys the predicaments and
the huge faith which Bertie has in him. He receives very little reward
for the consultancy service he provides for Bertie's circle - the odd
twenty pounds is trousered here or there, but nothing in relation to
what a man of his genius could be earning.

Get stuck into the books is my advice, make sure that "Wodehouse" is on
every label.