what_ho_jeeves: (serious)
What ho. [His typical greeting is a little less exuberant than usual.]

I'm sad to say that that I've come to the realization that this Wooster isn't really cut out for this job. It's a dashed tricky thing, wardening, a more convoluted process than making tea even. So the time has come for me to throw in the towel, make a strategic retreat, biff off back to London. You're all the best of fellows and you're all welcome to drop in on my flat if you're ever in the metrop. [Yes, he's including the inmates in this invitation. He's probably never quite caught on that many of them are Bad Peoples.]

Una, you're jolly well the best beazel I've ever been engaged to.

Ana, you're a marvellously clever girl, almost as clever as Jeeves, I'd reckon. I'm sorry I wasn't able to see you graduated. But you're a good egg at heart and I'm sure you'll do it in no time.

Georgie, I've got some things to give you before I go. And I'll try to look you up the next time I'm on the other side of the Atlantic.

Doctor Caesares, I've got something for you, too. You're a well-dressed gentleman, so I think you'll appreciate it.

Toodle-pip.
what_ho_jeeves: (cogitation)
By Jove, there's a great flurry of talk going on. Is there something important happening? If so, this Wooster is willing and able to lend strength, wit, and...thingness to the cause.

.012

Oct. 10th, 2011 03:05 pm
what_ho_jeeves: (GQMF)
I knew I wasn't imagining things when I thought something was watching me. Maybe next time people will take note of my keen observations. [No, he really was imagining things earlier. But the timing is convenient.]

[Private to the Admiral]

What ho, old chap! I say, it's not very preux of you to make a poor beazel bath semi-publicly, and it's all the worse when such horrid things happen there. Thus, I'd like you to give Ana a private bath in her quarters. Hot and cold tap. Iron and porcelain tub is preferred, with little feet on the bottom. And a rubber duck.

Thank you, that will be all.

((OOC: Response from the Admiral would be fab.))
what_ho_jeeves: (too sexy for my hat)
How do you do, Lady DeCobray. [A little more formal than usual to start out with, because Ana is a member of the peerage and a stranger.]

Since the Professor biffed off to parts unknown, it seems that the Admiral decided that it simply wouldn't do to have me at loose ends for too long. He's assigned me to be your warden. Would you mind terribly if I popped by and asked you a few questions, my lady?
what_ho_jeeves: (thinking)
[Bertie's been reading bad pulp fiction. The title on the spine of one of the books near him is "The Haunting of the Queen Mary." Another is "Ghosts of the Titanic."]

What ho, my fellow passengers!

Do you ever think there's something a bit...odd about this ship? Now, I'm a man possessing of a keen and rational mind, but there were times I would swear I was being watched. There's a distinct creeping up my spine as if the ghosts of those who have died on the ship are nearby.

[There's...something wrong with that thought. It takes him a while to place it.]

I say, if someone dies, and becomes a ghost, does their ghost-self die when the Admiral brings them back to life? Just as if I'm inside, I have to pass through my door to go outside, and if I'm outside, I have to pass through my door again to get back in again. And if that's the case, do ghosts have ghosts?
what_ho_jeeves: (whelp...)
What ho, Professor Fate! We never did finish that questionnaire, you know. Somehow we got on the topic of eggs instead and never quite came back around to the main point. In fact, not only did we not finish, we didn't really get much of a start, either. So I'm just going to assume that you answered "yes" to question number one, "Are you evil?" if it's not too much trouble. You see, all the other questions rather require that the answer to the first question be "yes."

So, on to the second question.

[Clears throat.]

Why are you evil?

...

[Waits. Looks at his pocketwatch.]

...

Professor Fate? I say, Professor? Are you there? [Usually Fate would be shouting into the communicator by now. Bertie frowns.]

...

Professor, if you can't hear me, say something. ...No, wait, that doesn't work at all, does it. If you can hear me, say something.

...

Professor?

...

[Professor Fate is gone, but it hasn't yet occurred to Bertie to check his warden item. So the Barge gets Bertie's (increasingly bored and restless) waiting face for a long time.]
what_ho_jeeves: (GQMF)
Miss Lua? Is there a Miss Lua here?

My item [holds up a pulp mystery novel] is telling me that I'm supposed to look out for you now as well as the Professor. I didn't realize this wardening business would be such hard work.

Perhaps we should meet up, get to know each other, what? I have a small questionnaire we could do together.
what_ho_jeeves: (zzz)
[Bertie's hair is mussed, his collar undone, his eyes bleary. He speaks a bit more quietly and without as much joie de vivre as usual.]

I do think I was a bit more zozzled than I realized last night. [Four nights ago. Bertie was in a Barge coma and doesn't realize it. He missed the entire mirrorverse.] One of Jeeves' brilliant pick-me-ups would be just the ticket right now. Admiral, old chap, I don't suppose you'd oblige a suffering warden in need?

No?

[sigh]

I say, has anyone seen my left shoe? I must have misplaced it somewhere. Dashed odd thing to lose, though, a left shoe. I've lost ties and hats and cuff links on nights such as last, but never before a shoe.
what_ho_jeeves: (three-quarters)
[Not private filtered at all. Bertie doesn't quite get the filter thing unless the other person filters first.]

Professor Fate? I say, Professor, are you there?

And, Admiral, my good chap, since you refuse to bring me my valet, even though he'd be corking at this wardening business, I need a bit of help with my flat. It's getting a bit chaotic if you know what I mean. Dusting is dashed harder than it looks, and I've already broken two teacups trying to wash up. If you won't let me have Jeeves, don't you at least a maid on board who could tidy up? This really is the worst service I've had on a ship. I've half a mind to write a complaint to your company chairman and tell him so.
what_ho_jeeves: (beardy)
[This little pamphlet appears across town overnight, nailed haphazardly to hitching posts, doors, walls--anything in a public place that's wood. It's a clear sign that loony Mr. Wooster is back in town after a three month sojourn into the wild. Feel free to rip up the pamphlets, graffiti over them, or run into Wooster. He's actually quite wealthy and has a rich family back east that sends him money to support his obsessions, but to any newcomer he looks more like the town beggar right now, all tattered clothes and filthy beard.]

The Locusts of the West

When you walk with Nature, you walk with the Divine. Out upon the desert plains one can see the Sublime and in the immense stillness one finds oneself and is refreshed. I have seen forests made of stone, and a canyon trench more vast and awesome than any creation made by man, a veritable abyss from which the Hopi Indians say the first man walked.

This, God’s creation, is brought to ruin not by war or drought, but by the Locusts of the West. I say locusts, although I do not mean any insect, although the destruction they wreak upon the land is as great as any Biblical plague. What I do mean by locust is the cattle that trample the earth, champ the wild grasses down to the soil, turn the subtle beauty of the wilderness into a desolate wasteland of clay and dust.

If you love God, if you love this Earth, which He has given to us, despoil it not. Nevermore drive the cattle through this sun-blessed paradise, but walk in solitude and silence and see what Nature will provide unto your body and soul.
what_ho_jeeves: (Aunt Agatha)
[An elderly woman with grey hair, who has an expression like she might gnaw on glass for an appetizer or shoot laser beams from her eyes or snort fire from her nose dragon-like, appears on the screen.]

So this is where my no-good layabout of a nephew has got himself to. Let me tell you right now that the last thing he needs are more wastrel friends and gold-digging floozies encouraging his bad habits. He must return home at once, at once I say, and settle down with a proper girl who will mould him into a respectable member of society.

If he comes back married to some upstart actress [she's giving you the evil eye, Una] or a filthy-tongued harridan [that's you, Parker] or any of the other vile persons aboard this ship, I will personally see to it that he is cut off from the family and never inherits the Yaxley estate.
what_ho_jeeves: (:O)
[The camera is shaking and jostling about quite a lot. Bertie is up in a tree, clinging to a branch with one hand while trying to video post with the other.]

I say, can someone please give a chap a helping hand here?

[The picture jolts as Bertie yelps and looks at something below him, off camera.]

Nice puss puss puss. Good puss.




((OOC: Feel free to spam and use this as a Bertie Day In The Life In Port, too))
what_ho_jeeves: ('sup!)
Did some eventful event happen this weekend? This ship looks like the streets of Oxford after a particularly lively Boat Race Night.


((OOC: Guess who misplaced his communicator for a while. Also, LJ has been mostly failing utterly to give me notifs for the whole last week, so if I've dropped tags with Bertie here or Narvin, let me know and I'll pick them back up.))
what_ho_jeeves: (OTeaP)
[FAIL!private to the Admiral. ie--not private at all]

Excuse me, Admiral fellow, if you could do a chap a favour, I'd like to trade in my current Warden Item for a new one. I'd like my new Warden Item to be a valet, tall, dark-haired, goes by the name of "Reginald Jeeves." I'm sure he'd do a corking job keeping me informed of my inmate-to-be's activities, as he's always kept me informed of dashed near everything that one could possibly need to be informed about. In fact, he's the most informed bird I know. "Informed" is just the word to describe him.

And I'd be bally grateful if you could make the replacement quickly. I've a yearning for a spot of tea, you see, and the kettle's a bit tricky.


[OOC: Brax put the idea in his head.]
what_ho_jeeves: (WTF Tea?)
[Voice]

--at ho? [sound of communicator falling down and shutting off.]



[Text]

e9oas0-50igf4eaw3l;k82=erwl;dkl;3r0;kxkop8954 0kdska0230-



[Video]


...blasted thing come with instructions.

[Lo! The whatsitsthingy is blinking! This might be a good sign. Or this might be like the half-dozen other times that he thought it was working when it actually wasn't. ...No...it really is working this time. In the background is a posh flat designed with hints of Art Deco in the architectural details.]

What ho, what ho!

I say, this is a dashed peculiar sort of ship, isn’t it? I mean, when I was approached by this Admiral chap I knew I’d be on some boat or another, but I rather expected it to be more of a sea-going affair, as is, I think, a natural conclusion to come to when the word “ship” is uttered. Instead, inside, I find a replica of my Berkeley Mansions flat, so perfectly perfect I half expect Jeeves to come biffing in through the kitchen door at any moment, and outside, I find all the starry universe.

Well, this is a rummy whatsits, it is. All the same, this Wooster shall not yield to brooding or despair. Oh no. Did the Wooster who fought at Agincourt look around that stormy and troubled hill and say, “Dash it all, this wasn’t on the cards,” and go home? Oh no. A Wooster always keeps his word, you know.

[He emphatically gestures with the hand that's holding the communicator at the end of his little speech, causing the picture to veer wildly around and ultimately drops it again. Barge-folk, enjoy a view of his ceiling.]

Dash it all, why can't the Admiral use sensible things that start with "tele," like telegrams and telephones to--

[And in picking it up he's accidentally turned it off again. It may be hours before he figures out how to turn it back on.]
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