.002 [Video]

[what_ho_jeeves]

[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.

Comments

[vinkus-witch.livejournal.com]

Then why do you fall in your soup so often?

[what_ho_jeeves]

I should hope so. It'd be a tricky thing to be worse, I tell you. Spode is a perfect poop. Grown men biffing about wearing black shorts crying Heil, Spode? It's a frightful sight to behold.

[what_ho_jeeves]

[Puzzled frown what this has to do with eating, then the light bulb goes on.]

Oh no, I don't literally fall in the soup. It's a meta...thing. Metaphor, that's the word. You see, I whenever I land myself into a spot of trouble, wholly against my will, I assure you, Jeeves gets me out again.

[equalsfive.livejournal.com]

...Was he just trying to be Hitler?

[vinkus-witch.livejournal.com]

I see...I don't think I quite understood any of this conversation.

[Spam?]

[collector]

[Brax shuts off the communicator and arrives supernaturally quickly, because that's how Time Lords roll.]

[what_ho_jeeves]

To be honest, I'm not sure I did either.

[what_ho_jeeves]

Hitler?

[Just a few years too early for Bertie to be familiar with that name. If he paid more attention to international politics it might have rung a bell, but as it is...]

Spam!

[what_ho_jeeves]

[Bertie is probably still aimlessly circling about the hallway in front of his room and is startled when Brax is SUDDENLY THERE.]

I say, that was fast. Your flat must be just a hop, skip, and a jump away.

Spam!

[collector]

You just have to click your heels thrice, really. [Is it kosher to joke about Baum at a Wodehouse character? He doesn't even know.] Shall we go in?

Spam!

[what_ho_jeeves]

[Only if you joke about Wodehouse to Elphaba, too. Equal opportunity intertexuality.]

Right-o. [He opens the door, which, almost miraculously he managed *not* to lock behind him.] After you.

I'd have my valet make us a spot of tea but as lack of valet and subsequent lack of tea is the very conundrum that brings you here I'm afraid my capabilities as host are sadly limited, but I could mix you up a whisky and s if you like.

Spam!

[collector]

[Stepping inside] I appreciate that you are at some inconveniences.

[And now, for an exercise in being COMPLETELY UNSUBTLE. Some things need unsubtle.] If you don't manage to get your valet, what will you be forced to use as your warden's item?

Spam!

[what_ho_jeeves]

[Being unsubtle is surely a great strain on Brax, but subtlety would surely be lost on Bertie.]

It's this bally useless book. [He helpfully holds it up. It looks like a cheap, hard boiled detective novel.] It looks corking on the outside, with an exciting picture on the front hinting of a weird and fabulous tale within, but upon opening it there are no bally words. Really, what kind of book is one without any words? I suppose Jeeves might be able to ascribe some deep meaning to it, like invisible words waiting in the wings or some such, but I just want a good read to while away an evening. Is that too much to ask?

[He thinks a book without a story in it is a giant tease.]

Spam!

[collector]

[This is why he doesn't manipulate really dense people. It's a sport, not a game.]

Fortunately, there are a great many novels of similar calibre [read: pulp fiction] in our local library. They will be more than adequate substitutes, doubtless.

Spam!

[what_ho_jeeves]

[He brightens.]

Well, that's a relief. I was beginning to wonder what I'd do with my time except practice my putting and tinkle on the old ivories.

[He thoughtlessly tosses the book onto the sofa.]

Now, you were going to have a peep at the kettle, weren't you? Or was it the telegram-play-cinema thingummy?

Spam!

[collector]

[Bingo! Braxiatel is going to be try to be surreptitious about this, for himself more than for Bertie.]

How about we check on the kettle while I look at your communicator?

Spam!

[what_ho_jeeves]

Jolly good! The kitchen is over yon. [He hands Brax the communicator and leads him towards the kitchen. Once there he gingerly touches the side of the kettle, as if maybe, just maybe, it's heated up. Then puts his palm flat against the side and says mournfully,]

Cold as the Thames in January.

[Somehow he does not notice that the gas is lit under the *other* burner. If narrative law didn't protect Bertie, he'd probably burn down his flat or gas himself within a month.]

Spam!

[collector]

[He walks over to it and briefly considers simply taking this away and replacing it with something simpler. But narrative law might just mean Bertie makes it worse, and Irving Braxiatel never underestimates the power of narrative law.]

[So he'll distract him with the communicator first.]

I've written up a message here to myself. [It's in Martian, and he is politely asking himself if he is entirely certain he wants to get involved in this sort of comedy.] Select that feature like so [he demonstrates], and it will put it on private filter.

[And he hands the communicator over to Bertie.]

Spam!

[what_ho_jeeves]

[He watches Brax intently with a furrowed brow.]

Like so. [He mimes pressing the button. And again. And, say, he thinks he's got the hang of this!] Like so [He murmurs to himself again as he continues to practice. Even tries a few variations to see what's the most suitable finger and comfortable direction from which to approach the communicator. It's a bit like practising the precision of a golf swing, except on a very very small scale.]

Spam!

[collector]

[While Bertie exerts his mental faculties, Braxiatel surreptitiously reaches over to turn the wrong stove burner off and turn the right one on.]

[subtlescience]

[Wut.]

...I am not falling for this.

[Because we are paranoid on level seven.]

[equalsfive.livejournal.com]

German fascist totalitarian. Had a stupid moustache and uniforms, as far as I'm aware.

[una_persson]

Anything's worth a try, but I advise not getting your hopes up too high.

[rass-bestie.livejournal.com]

Most irresponsible, indeed. You'll find ample evidence of that, I'm afraid.