I was busy writing another blog for Sky Poker, blogs by ghost writers for ghost busters, featuring 1970s fashion carpets, swarthy Greek men, footwear and a strange looking man from the Fens wearing an identical cap to my master.
A few minutes earlier my cell had chirped with a text message
"Jeeves Final Table. First cash of the summer. Hold blog, may need re-write."
I temporarily moved away from the keyboard and awaited further instructions.
Minutes turned to hours and I dozed fitfully, the longer I waited the more I was convinced that victory would be ours, and My Master's mood would be lifted and I could, temporarily at least, open the Mere Novice tikay cash spreadsheet, so far disappointgly empty and email it to our investors across the world, and at Osterley.
The phone eventually rang
"Jeeves Jeeves Jeeves JEEVES"
the words cascaded and my spirits soared
"You won, sir?"
My mouse was by now paused over the accruals column in the spreadsheet
"No Jeeves but that doesn't matter. I am going out Jeeves I may be late and don't wait up"
This flummoxed me. Not only did I have a sachet of horlicks ready, the Sky Poker, monogrammed pyjamas for talent, monogrammed pyjamas neatly pressed on the bed and the History of the Panama canal open at the next chapter, but this was so out of character
He continued
"Came out of the Nugget Jeeves, a couple of nice young ladies clicked some cards in front of me and I looked at one of them. Submission night at the Gulch Jeeves"
"sir, I..."
Before I could continue, he carried on clearly excited
"Submission Jeeves. World of Sport Jeeves. Kent the commentator Jeeves. Jackie Pallo, Kendo Nagasaki Jeeves. It will take me back thirty five years Jeeves. Saturday afternoons. Dickie Davies. I'll send you a picture Jeeves"
"sir, I...."
Before I could continue, the phone chirped and I looked at the picture when it downloaded
"oh my" I exclaimed without thinking
My master responded immediately
"Never mind who you can see in the picture Jeeves, its submission night. Wrestling like the good old days, the girls told me so"
"sir I...."
Before I could continue My master was signing off
"see you in the morning Jeeves. I'll bring you back a programme"
and hung up
I looked at the phone. I thought about ringing back. The thought lingered. I contemplated a trip to the Gulch club. However, that would soon reveal my dark side to My Master, and I preferred such activities to remain covert.
I decided to leave him to it and went to bed.
----
4.35am, I am wakened on the camp bed by a fumbling of a key in a lock and the all too loud entrance into the suite of a man trying terribly hard to be quiet.
I opened an eye, as the bedside light across the room went on. My Master stands, and with deliberate movements takes out a handcuff from his back pocket and undoes a collar from around his neck. He enters the bathroom and in the half light I see his face is smeared with lipstick, with scratches and marks on his neck. He is limping.
A few minutes later he comes back in, monogrammed pyjamas no doubt hiding a multitide of sins
He catches sight of me stirring and I mutter
"A good night sir?"
"Yes Jeeves, but not quite what I expected...."
"No sir, goodnight, don't forget your horlicks...."
I saw his face look towards me...and with that, the light went off
Author