[bold]

My Master was on early morning reveille in the Media centre, and I was on security duty, keeping out the riff and the raff of Vegas detritus from disturbing him getting involved in forum bickering in which there were no winners

My attention was distracted, and a small terrier like man on the verge of puberty and with girlish hair rushed under my rope barrier and moved towards My Master

As I rushed back, pepper spray at ready, My Master put his palm up to indicate all was well, and the young man sat down

I hovered a pace away.

"Why eye man, I'm playing a tournament today lie the Maine bent. Great clock like the mane vent. Yous in?"

My Master looked at me. I shrugged. Perhaps the man was from Wisconscin

My Master looked at the young man

"I'm sorry, you'll have to repeat that. Didn't understand a word"

"Soz teeks, yous reminder mu din't yous? Padpick Loapard. Plinop"

"Sorry, again?"

The man was by now getting frustrated, and he raised himself with help of a cushion to a height equal to the table top

He tried again

"Yessirduy tikay. Had 30. 90 would have been huge at this point on great table

Muppet hasn't stopped fist pumping andncelebreaingnstood up for last 6 minutes.

Joke tilted, had chipped up decent early. Then Busted 30th. 27 paid

Jammed 10bbs with k2 villain tank calls ak bvb lawl"

I decided to intervene and handed the young man a piece of paper and a pen, told him to write it down but by now his notoriously low attention span had wandered and from his bag he took out a telephone headset and began "podcasting". Or "pudcysting" as he called it

We both looked on blankly, and when he began talking to gborotaypaurmoorman1 we both backed away, on tiptoes, not wanting to disturb him in the absence of an interpreter.

tikay muttered to me "I wonder if he knows mondatoo?" but I only caught part of what he said and there followed a tetchy argument about cockatoos in Vegas.

Some time later I followed tikay round the $5000 NLHE WSOP event field. Me with camera, him with index digit pointing frequently and regally

"Jeeves. Alterman. Picture."

"Jeeves. La Coren. Picture" followed sotto voce by "Lovely Jeeves, just lovely"   My pictures had never been complimented so

"Jeevs. Black. Picture" So I turned the flash off

"Jeeves. Trigg. Picture"

and on it went. I returned to the suite to work on Master's to do list.

On a yellow post it note I wrote, in italics

PM replies

Diary Questions

Twitter comments

Blogs

Business e-Mails

and added a motivational comment at the bottom "Time to get back on the bike. Holiday is ending. Its time for work. Sir"

This was not in italics, but was in bold

I busied myself ironing Sky Poker, holiday Sagas for Limited poker players, polo shirts ready for the arrival of the cameraman and waiting for Master's return from the poker floor......
   

[Bang!]

Bang!

The door to the Rio Suite crashed open

Wallop!

An I-Pad and Mobile phone landed on the perspex table top, with force

My master, it appeared, was at the Limit stud of his tether.

He sat down and I prepared to listen to a now all too familiar diatribe. I went into mental "power down" mode and prepared for my own game of "tikay Bingo"

My mental Bingo table reads as follows

Concrete-Bring-In-Gulch-Latte

Complete-Train-Downtown-Ante

Scoop- Arsehole-Thewy- Muffin

Omaha-Limit-Rain-Beetroot


As soon as I complete a horizontal, vertical or diagonal line of four in my head, I know to interrupt and change the subject.

Today's line took under a minute as he took umbrage at the doctrines of a game called Limit Stud, a game I only knew from long nights in Peppermints but I guessed that the context of the word Stud was different

We readied for our new night-time routine. A British player named after Barney the dinosaur and similarly aged to My Master had won a bracelet, which sounded a bit effeminate to me but was apparently much prized in poker circles, and now before bed I had to load the National anthem onto I-Tunes and play it to My Master. Clearly a near pensioner scooping had energised my Master into believing that yes, it really could be him.

As the Henry Carey lyrics, sang by Emelie Sande (we cannot even escape her in Las Vegas) begin over the speakers, My Master stands reverentially and respectfully, often the beginnings of a patriotic tear in his right eye.

After the first night, where I carried on with the first line of the second verse "O Lord our God arise," and then once complete recited the verse the anthem is based on in Latin

 " O Deus optime
    Salvum nunc facito
    Regem nostrum;
    Sic laeta victoria
    Comes et gloria
    Salvum jam facito
    Tu dominum"

..I was met with such a withering look that I have desisted since. I suspect My Master does not like a smart-arse, merely ripping a new smart-arsehole on a daily basis on the felt.

National anthem and bathroom ablutions complete, I am then instructed to softly sing a lullaby while the chapter of the latest book "Rainfall-Runoff Modelling, what to do if you need an Umbrella in Las Vegas" is read

Not exactly a best-seller, but it keeps my Master calm.

So I clear my throat, and to the only tune I could think of when put on the spot a few nights ago, I begin

"It's only a game sir, you'll put up a real good fight....you are going to be scooping them tonight..you've paid for the game so, you'd better believe you're right...you are going to be scooping them scooping them tonight."

On first rendition this was met with a raised eyebrow and a curl of Master's top lip, but I was not told to stop and nightly since it has lulled master to his slumber, at which point I pop "Pompeii" by Bastille onto my headphones and write Master's blog for upload onto Sky Poke'sr, Big Breaks for octogenarian presenters, website

Under two weeks to go, and the colossal task of solving my Master's inferiority complex ahead of the Main Event awaits...

"Jeeves..."

My master beckoned me over towards the table where he was still in his PLO8ISBNBICCPLOROE WSOP event two thirds of the way through the second day

He whispered

"Its nearly the dinner break. Going to go up to the suite and have a shower"

He raised an eyebrow and nodded conspiratorially

I whispered back

"Shall I ready the ducks, sir?"

He nodded again

I left his side and made my way to the suite. I went to the washbag and did as MyMaster sugested. I readied the ducks



and stuck them to the tiles on the shower unit, and turned the shower on.

A few minutes later My master arrived, stressed from six hours of short-stacked folding waiting for a raise in front and a combo draw holding to gamble with to double up, and shut the door behing him in the bathroom

I busied myself preparing his Gordon Ramsey sandwich for when he re-appeared. As requested by My Master, for added authenticity I shouted at the food as I prepared it

"You call yourself a beetroot? I've seen more colour in a paint palette"

"Pineapple? You look nothing like a fucking pineapple"

and judging from the approving noises emanating from the bathroom, this added realism was going down well.

Having completed his assignation with the suction ducks, My master emerged for his beetroot, pineapple and boiled egg sandwich, which he wolfed down before toying with a sticky bun like a spider with a fly in its web. For the bun, sticky or not, there was simply no escape.

I gave My master his Mental game pep talk before returning to the crucial levels in the run up to the cash positions.

I had just begun to motivate, cajole and puff when he interrupted me

"I'm all angry, & revved up.  I'm gonna go rip my table a new arsehole" he said with a steely glint

I did not doubt him for a second, for temporarily the blight of poker lack of confidence had been replaced by a determination to succeed.

He left the suite and at a respectful distance, a few minutes behind I joined his bijou rail at table side.

Several hours later, as the bubble passed and the cash, that all so important cash, had been achieved he nodded to me, I nodded back and I went back upstairs to fire up the spreadsheet. As I departed, I listened quietly and just ascertained the sound of My Master at the table "chirp, chirp, chirp" like an ageing budgerigar after a big show.

Another spreadsheet entry, more profit, and a job well done

My Master had completed the History of the Panama Canal and was about to start a book about Computerised stock trading and I took it out of the WH Smith bag, placed the "Barnes Wetlands" bookmark on the contents page and put it on the bedside table

Today was a day for special nightwear, so out came the neatly folded "Sky Poker, Ambassadors for Poker players" gold embossed cotton pyjamas

As I put the kettle on, and stirred the horlicks into the Matlock Bath Mug, I reflected that MyMaster would be proud.

Don't tell him, but I was too.

He's already asleep

A long day in the $3,000 PLO8 WSOP Event and this was my view for most of it

Click to see full-size image.

Click to see full-size image.

Before hand I had introduced my new friend Mr Channing to an earnest looking Brummie, at the Brummie's request

"Mr Channing, this is Tal. Tal, this is Mr Channing"

The opening gambits were interesting

"Neil, The question of how to play the opening in chess was once one that hardly vexed leading players. The classical school of opening theory, emphasising the need to occupy the centre of the board with pieces in order to control the game, represented the accepted wisdom of the time. Right up to the early twentieth century, the overwhelming majority of players still subscribed to 1.e4 e5, and on occasion 1.d4 d5. Deviating from this path alone was regarded as a sign of eccentricity. What do you think?"

Unfazed, Mr Channing had much experience of crashing bores and rejoindered

"I'm trying to give away a £2500 poker holiday. To get it you'll need some Boarding Passes. You can win one tonight by cashing the $10 freezeout with $5,000 guaranteed at 7.30pm."

I left them talking to each other, but really talking to themselves, by backing away surreptitously.

Instead when the poker started I took up my place Four paces behing the table and one step to the right, ready to fill up My Master's green bottle which provided the elixir of Mental youth for another day

I went to the suite with one level to play to prepare it for the bedtime routine, hoping that in my absence he would survive to make an attempt at another spreadsheet entry tomorrow

Fifteen minutes ago he arrived back

I raised an eyebrow

My Master was matter of fact. No sign of excitement. Not even a hint of a tune from The  Cure while jumping up and down on the Sofa

"I made it Jeeves" and immediately embarked on his night time routine

1 Cup of Horlicks
2 Dentures out
3 Monogrammed pyjamas on. (Tonight they are embossed with Eddie Stobart lorry depictions, his favourites)
4 First of several trips to the Mens room
5 Charge the I-Pad

and now, he is asleep. Every few minutes he cries out "SCOOPIO" "BACKDOOR BLOCKERS" "I FOLD" are the three I have heard so far in the embryonic stages of what I hope will be a long slumber

Tomorrow is a big day
 

"Shine bright like a diamond, Shine bright like a diamond"....

My US cell ring tone vibrated to the dulcet tones of Rihanna once more. My Master was ringing, and the special ring tone told me as such

He was already late for his bed, and I was once again worried

I answered

"Jeeves Jeeves Jeeves JEEVE JEEEE-VEEEEEEEEEEES"

The ever familiar shrill cry of a Master in the throes of deep joy or deep distress, and only further enquiry could establish which

I went through my mental check list

a) Is there is a siren in the background? (Answer: No)
b) Any women's voices? (Answer: No) or music said women could gyrate to? (Answer: No)
c) Is Lil Dave audible? (Answer: No)
d) Is cambridgealex audible asking to be staked at 1.5 for mini-golf behind walmart? (Answer: no)

I was just left with e) then

e) Is there the sound of chips being riffled in a slightly arthritic and stilted way? (Answer: Yes)

I was relieved, he was still playing poker

"Yes sir?" I enquired

"Another final table Jeeves. $240 ROE PLO/PLO8 Stardate 2013 ISBN BIC tournament at the Nugget. Come now and bring your camera"

"Wouldn't you rather I prepared the spreadsheet, sir?"

"Not this time, Jeeves. The Nugget straight away. Need photos for the blog and I have a problem"

"A problem sir?" I mentally prepared myself to go down the checklist further. Not a pleasant prospect

"Stalker Jeeves, following me everywhere. I need you to deal with it" 

Twenty minutes later I alighted at the nugget and found my Master at the final table. He didn't look happy



A quick glance at the photograph told me everything I needed to know. The young man "photobombing" was wearing dark socks with shorts. He therefore could not be aman of distinction

I beckoned my Master over

"Who is it Jeeves?"

"Never mind that sir, he's wearing dark socks with shorts in a casino sir" I replied

I soon gathered that I had rather missed the point from the tirade that followed

Suffice to say the colour of the gentleman's socks were not the issue and whether there was a proclivity to harm My Master was the problem

I told My master I would deal with it, and he went back to his final, next to the grumpy old man in the hood from Nebraska. My Master himself had the countenance of a constipated Bassett Hound, so I realised that I needed to act quickly

"Excuse me sir, I notice you want to be in every picture with Mr Kendall, can I help you?"

"Sky Poker Double your money Sit N Goes cash for points NL30 is full of regs why no Viva Las Vegas I don't like the new presenters Monday night DTD Orange HitSquad Cash Champ leaderboard I want a new avatar email skyopen@ Hartigan Orford poker points he's a fish I'm a bumhunter you are a moron"

I put my hand up. I had heard enough to know that he was a Sky Poker regular, and most likely a regular user of their forum

He took a deep breath "tikay is my hero, i want his autograph do you know him ?"

"No sir" I lied, "I am Nugget security and I am going to have to ask you to leave"

He looked crestfallen, and showed me his autograph book, lovingly crafted. They were all there in alphabetical order. Hartigan, Orford, Champion, Fowler, Spittles, Citrone and Lee. No Kendall though.

I shook my head, declined to mention his sock faux pas as he looked disappointed enough and escorted him off the premises

I returned to the final, My Master's mood lifted and soon he was $2,135 wealthier

I reckon My Master owes me one.

The days settle into a familiar pattern where my Master rises at the crack of dawn for several hours work in the media centre for which I join him for the last ninety minutes and escort various supplicants for an audience with him which they gain in return for a latte.

He then toddles off to starbucks, then toddles for a few hours play in some little known poker format, toddles back to starbucks and more play beofre generally retiring before midnight in a welter of recrimination about how a 95 year old Cowboy from Arkansas can possibly play 8-8-9-9 to a raise, re-raise and three calls and knock out My Master who is holding A-A-2-3 in PLO8 and only playing hands that can scoop both ways.

With the exception of what is now not referred to as "The Gulch incident" because each time I raise the subject I am receipt of such a glowering and withering look that I might be Jeffrey Osborne talking to Barack Obama, this has been the pattern

Except not yesterday. It started normally enough. My Master rose, and put on a dark blue Summer pullover and spent seventeen minutes carefully pressing a Sky Poker, 14/1 for Master to cash in the main event restricted to anyone wanting to put on over a fiver, badge onto the right breast area. Not as simple as you'd think, for this involves careful planning with a spirit level and ruler to ensure it is exactly straight . A contractual obligation apparently.

While he went down to the deserted Media centre, preferring solitude while he worked, I busied myself in the suite with the minutiae of the Manservant's day. Tidying, cleaning, Ironing and blog preparation the staple diet as always. As part of this routine I did what I normally do, throwing back the duvet on the ultra king sized water bed that Master preferred, and again stipulated in his contract.

I did not expect what I saw. In fact so did I not expect what I saw, that I had to sit down. I threw back the duvet, half expecting a handcuff and a smear of Gulch lipstick but no, I found crumbs, a cherry, a long slither of icing and a sultana alongside the picture of Ryan Spittles.

To any manservant, this is heresy. Eating food in bed? This is not the done thing. Eating food in bed without a plate? Sleeping in the detritus of a messy sticky bun?

Nevada I knew corrupted people, but this was simply taking things too far.

I immediately took the lift to the media centre to confront my master.

I stormed to the back row of the empty room, where My Master was busily closing down Firefox tabs as I approached. Alongside him, the tell tale signs of an addiction gone haywire



"Morning Jeeves" he half burped and half cajoled,before taking a massive slurp of a something very frothy and very chocolatey, and he hadn't even been to Gulch yet today



and then let out an enormous belch whilst patting his stomach

"The ideal pre-breakfast snack Jeeves"

Less than two weeks in Vegas and the path to extendable trousers had well and truly begun

I decided to leave him to it and found him later playing PLO8 triple straddle over 65's cash at the Rio

Behind him sat an agitated man in glasses, talking to himself and then to me

"Why the fuck are they asking me about IPoker network problems on facebook? Fucktards. I run a small skin and its not my fault, I've been up 46 hours playing poker, writing Royal Ascot previews and getting unlucky and now they are all messaging me"

I looked at him, and realised without being introduced that I knew who this was

"Cheer up Channing" I said,

and without a further introduction, and with glazed over eyes, he shook my hand and told me

"If you'd like a £2500 poker holiday for cashing 7 from 12 $5 tournaments you're going to want to look at the 12 Days of Summer on Black Belt Poker. To win one of your 12 Boarding Passes you could try the $15 Deepstack Mulligan at 8.30pm."

and sat down and once more started tapping into his Android phone

My Master looked at me. I looked at him. As the man tapped ever more furiously I asked the obvious question, sotto voce, to My Master

"Doesn't he have a Manservant sir?"

tikay shook his head "No planning Jeeves no planning"

The stressed man looked at me, his eyes glazed over again

"Come to moan about fish at your table have you? Bad players getting lucky against you? You should try being me, can't say a word to these guys because of poker ecology and inside it eats me up, and all the while these facebook guys ask me about player refunds on IPoker and...."

I backed away as he got up a head of steam. My Master shook his head and returned to his action, and the man carried on talking.....

I went back upstairs to change Master's bedsheets and as I went to do so the text arrived

"Jeeves, The picture of Thewy on the ceiling, above the bed, next to the Mirror? Replace with picture of Spittles. Find a nice picture. Thanks"....

Easier said than done I thought to myself, but it was all in a day's work
 

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

It had been a long day, and tikay had been playing his first WSOP Bracelet event. I had railed for most of the day and retired upstairs to the suite confident that a Day Two would be secured and, despite outside perceptions to the contrary, my Master's rather dark mood borne of not winning a single pot in the US since 2012, would be lifted

As I ironed some fawn socks for My Master the outer door opened, and then slammed. The inner door opened and then slammed. My Master threw his Ipad onto the sofa, and let out a frustrated roar.

I waited a few seconds

"Oh dear sir, did it not finish well? How about a cup of Horlicks and a Beetroot smoothie?"

"Yes I am out Jeeves but its not that. It's not that Jeeves, its not...."

His voice trailed off as he went into the bathroom and slammed that door too

I decided to let things take their course and went back to my ironing. Inside the bathroom, there was intermittent silence and muttering

Some moments later, My master sheepishly came out

"Jeeves, we need to ditch the cap"

Click to see full-size image.

I opened my mouth and just stopped myself from saying that the cap was nothing to do with me, it was his cap and I didn't want anything to do with it but demurred. Instead, composing myself, I went with the tried and tested servant technique of the open question that allowed my master to incriminate himself without so doing myself

"Why?"

A few minutes later, after the following torrent of self doubt and recrimination, I regretted the question

"Jeeves, you know I moved table and you took a picture?"

I scrolled through the pictures on the phone, and tikay pointed at this one

Click to see full-size image.

 

"Him. What a cock"

He pointed at the gentleman in black at the far end

"Mike the fucking Mouth"

Silence. I didn't think I could usefully contribute to the impending diatribe

"He says my cap and scarf makes me look like Dick Van Dyke and he nicknamed me Dick the Cap"

I said nothing. Impressively I kept a straight face

"Dick the Cap. The whole table laughed Jeeves. The dealer laughed so much they had to change him Jeeves"

"Oh" Perhaps not the most telling reply from myself

"Jeeves, I like the cap"

He sat down on his Ipad, which beeped constantly due to 47 unread emails from Mere Novice. I caught sight of the first email headline

"Send more money. Royal Ascot Free bet problems"

Guaranteed to improve my Master's mood

"Sir, if you like the cap, wear the cap. Does it matter what Mike the Mouth thinks?"

tikay's head was still in his hands

"look sir, here is the straight flush photo you asked me to take today"

and I showed him

Click to see full-size image.

tikay sighed

"Jeeves, I only won three quarters of that pot too, two straight flushes and still I can't scoop"

I moved into full life coach mode, a Jared Tendler for the British pensioner, a Mental Game for the slightly Mental

"Sir, bed, Beetroot smoothie, one chapter of the History of the Panama canal, fluff up a pillow for your cap to rest on. Wake up in the morning ready for the fight again. You will win a pot outright on this trip, and I will be there to record it. We can then email all your investors about it. and sir...."

I paused, searching for the killer photo

"and sir, I can take more photos like this for your blog"

I showed him



tikay peered at the exciting photo. Peered closer. Looked at me, his sunken eyes a perfect complement to an ever more hangdog expression

He shook his head, picked up his beeping IPad and muttering something to himself about someone being less talented at picture taking than himself, went quietly to bed

Vegas.

Straight off the plane, where tikay had spent nine hours in high dudgeon because the riff-raff of scotty77 and Big D had turned left on embarkation and not right as he had expected and to the Palazzo. On time. Tick for Jeeves.

As you can see, my lone battle to stop my employer looking like a refugee from Blackpool in the 1950s has been all but lost, even at this early stage. No tick for Jeeves.

As the person sitting down, later introduced to me as a Sky Poker, sponsorship for lumberjack luckboxes, professional said to me

"Fucking hell you fuckwit, what the fuck did you allow him out in public like that for?? Do fucking Sky Poker know what he fucking looks like? Wanker"

I wondered if he was always this rude, and made a mental note to google this uncouth man on my return to the Rio suite ante chamber

Click to see full-size image.

My master settled in to play the $600 PLO8 at the Palazzo and, as instructed, I settled down on ghost writing my master's first Vegas blog for Sky Poker, do you really believe he writes his own stuff, blogs for the gullible.

I was told to have it complete by the time My master retired for the night. I feared I might only have a few minutes to write it therefore, but this is what landed in master's inbox a couple of hours later.....

My editors notes are in red

Of course by the time you see it he has edited it, and passed it through various Sky Poker, filters for the infirm, language filters.

"Good morning all from a remarkably cool morning in Las Vegas, where the temperature is a mere 26c right now (9am). (change this if tomorrow is hotter tikay)

Just a short blog today (no one will expect the usual amount of blather Master), as I settle in & get everything set up for my annual sojourn in Vegas. sojourn=trip. you may wish to use the word trip. Do you know the word sojourn?
 
Sky Poker have sent me out again - a rotten job, but someone has to do it I suppose.......bit of self deprecation sir, never does any harm. After all a Rio Suite for amonth sir, how did you swing that?

I'll try & bring you the flavour & atmosphere of Las Vegas, with an excelctic deliberate spelling mistake sir, no one will believe you can spell eclectic range of topics & tittle tattle,[/color] & the occasional photograph.
 
The Virgin flight arrived 20 minutes early (Boeing 747-400, internally refurbished), the immigration queue was not too bad, & I was booked into my room an hour later. tick for Jeeves sir, tick for Jeeves

Played the $600 PLO8 @ Palazzo, but got busted just after the dinner break, marv. if you win it, edit this bit, I was just being realistic

Today, I'm off Downtown to Binions to play their PLO8, which is $240 I think.

Bumped into (plotted for several hours to accidentally meet Kara) this lovely lady yesterday.....

Take a look at the following paragraph please. I know you badgered her for 37 minutes for an autograph and a photo until she gave in, but I think this version sounds better

Yes, none other than Kara Scott. What a top, top, lady. I first met her when she started her poker journey on the TV Show Poker Night Live, we worked together on several Shows, then she came across to Sky Poker, but whilst I stayed put, she soon had had enough of me went on to work first for Pokerstars, & then Party Poker, where she still has the best TV poker gig in the world. She deserves every bit of success she has had, because she works hard & treats folks right.

Arise Sir Kara. (a joke sir, Canada, commonwealth, technically able to be a Dame but lets pretend she could be a sir, sir) 

Talking of Poker & Ladies, watch out for the Sky Poker Ambassador, Charlotte Jackson, who will be appearing on Channel 861 next month.  One of the many perks of my job is getting to meet & know folks like Charlotte, she really is genuinly lovely, in every way. I made a move, & she seemed keen, & put me on her list at # 9,372. (got to pay for that Rio suite sir)

Here is Charlotte at work.....



.....and more work (sorry, gotta get the spam in, after all a suite, FOR A MONTH SIR!)......



....and finally, when not working, Charlotte enjoys watching football with the lucky man here, Chris Coleman.......




Then I bumped into these two reprobates, Julian Thewy (Sky Poker Profanity professional OH THAT IS WHO IT IS, HOW RUDE IS HE SIR?) & Ryan Spittles (Channel 861 Analyst & poker pro keeping Adidas Perry clothing in business, take him to an emporium soon sir). They are both playing their first WSOP Event of 2013 today, so join me in wishing them good luck please.



Later, wandering around the Palazzo card room, I spotted Mr Richard Trigg, aka Action Man, aka The Claimer, where he was playing an $1,100 Event. One of these days he'll win a WSOP Bracelet, believe me, fingers crossed it is this year. Some bloke called Claypole left a message for you sir, asked you to look after Mr Trigg until he could arrive at the table in person and fawn without shame in his presence again


p.s If he turns up again in a football shirt, disown him sir





The Palazzo, where I played yesterday, is HUGE.



The photo barely tells you the sheer scale of the place.

Not only is it the tallest building in Las Vegas (though not for much longer and this probably isn't true, note google Stratosphere) but it has more useable floor space than ANY other building in the USA, pushing the mighty Pentagon into 2nd place. Now that is BIG. Casinos in Vegas are BIGGGGG (five G's enough emphasis for you?) business.

In fact, EVERYTHING in Vegas is big (note, may not be true sir I could tell you a few stories).

Here's a Starbucks Blueberry Danish. Comes with a health warning - keep the kids away, if they fell in this they could drown. Jeeves note to self, think of better metaphor for second blog



That's about it for today, I need to change my hotel room, mine is officailly described as unserviceable. (sorry sir, I did get the girls out of the room before you arrived back)

Today's favourites............

......Track by Lightning Seeds?



Any answer other than "PURE" and you are disquaified. Agreed? (The Life of Riley in Vegas sir, surely?)

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6myNbk15sMs

sir I found some of your, er, folders in your, er, private, er hard drive. decided to use them
 
Bridge?......



Passenger aircraft?


 
Greggs pie?



Mmmmmmmm.

Sorry sir the beetroot pictures were just too unsavoury. Whoever knew...

(bit worried I am using up too much of your loveable Englishman abroad quotient in the first blog post sir, let me know what you feel)


Tell us YOUR fvourites in ANY of those categories, & if I particularly like one, I might just award you a free Tournament entry. What? you don't have a Sky Poker Account? Well sign up now, & we'll GIVE you a £10 Tournament Entry by way of welcoming you on board. Go on, you know you want to.  (sir I thought we were meant to spam to pay for the suite, not give away MORE money? please advise)




More nonsense & blather tomorrow. 

Cafe Rouge, the airport

I want to curl up, such is my embarrassment

"Excuse me sir, but is there any need to wear your Sky Poker, badges for pensioners, badge on the flight and at the airport?"

"Yes Jeeves I am representing the brand"

"Excuse me sir, but is looking like a Dexys Midnight runner representing the brand?"

"Jeeves, I am on holiday. Its my new hat, and my favourite scarf..."

"Excuse me sir, if you are on holiday, why do you need to represent the brand?"

and round and round in circles we go, in between perfunctory attempts to flirt with a perplexed member of staff

Click to see full-size image.

Breakfast complete, I am instructed to follow my master

"Jeeves, WH Smith. Time for books"

More books, I wondered......We were transporting one suitcase full of reference manuals and biographies to Vegas as it was...

Click to see full-size image.

Master picked out a volume that appealed

"How to look like an octogenarian chimney sweep in 2013"

Not a tome I expected to find at number 22 in the best sellers list, but perhaps the manageress had seen him coming


Ladies and Gentleman, it is going to be a long month. Even more so because the hat is "non-iron" and hand wash only.

Final preparations for Las Vegas were well underway.

"Jeeves sort this suitcase out please"

I turned round to see my Master dragging a metal samsonite in my direction.

I tried to lift it, and struggled. It weighed a ton.

"What is it, sir?" I enquired

"My suitcase from Las Vegas last year Jeeves, Haven't unpacked it yet. Needs unpacking"

I looked at him. He seemed serious

"and then re-pack it, sir?" I enquired

He nodded, and left it with me

I applied my hypo-allergenic mask and marigold gloves before opening the suitcase. I feared the worst.

I opened it and across the room some paint peeled off the wall.

I unpacked the contents

- History of the Panama Canal, 3 volumes.
- An idiots guide to Ducks, 1 slim volume.
- Socks. Five. Odd.
- Sky Poker, Royal Ascot previews for poker players, polos: 5. All Dark Blue.
- Anti-ageing cream: One Pot. Empty.

Whilst I busied myself disinfecting the suitcase and readying it for our imminent journey I heard a commotion from downstairs and opened the bedroom door. Immediately a cacophony of jumbled sounds assaulted my aural senses.

I tried to disentangle the sounds

Yes, it really was Simon Le Bon, via a crackly LP, singing

"Her name is Rio and she dances on the sand, just like a river twisting through a dusty land"

That was bad enough, but then a croaky voice took up the mantle as if assaulting a stone with a cudgel

"and when she shiiiiiiiiines Jeeves, she really shows you all she can Oh Rio, Rio I am going to fold for days across the felt, thats grand"

I tip-toed down the stairs and barely perceptibly opened the door to the living room

There stood my master, astride a sofa, one leg on the cushions, one leg on the top of the back of the sofa. Dressed in a cream linen suit, and with a huge fan blowing wind over his face, holding a mop.

I wondered what I had done to deserve this? A month in the employ of a man growing more eccentric by the day awaited. I must have dropped my guard as My master turned round. He seemed unabashed

"Great song Jeeves. A great song for a Las Vegas trip Jeeves. Wonderful video too. Thought I would really get in the mood Jeeves"

"Quite, sir" I muttered without sincerity

"Jeeves..." my master was a ball of energy

"Be here for 9am tomorrow.  We shall meet my crew for brekkie at “Café Rouge”, as it overlooks the apron. Warn the chef that Dylan will be coming too.

You will park my car at “Purple Parking” valet parking.

Flight VS043 (Virgin Atlantic), take off is scheduled for 11.25 am, & arrives Vegas 2.10pm.

Over the last 2 weeks, it has taken off on time, or early, 13 times out of 14, & it’s average arrival time in Vegas has been 1.35pm.

I am scheduled to play my first tourney @ 4pm, at Venetian, so it needs to arrive on time for me to have a chance of playing at 4pm. It generally takes an hour to transit McCarron Airport, 15 mins by taxi to The Rio, 15 minutes to book in, so it’ll be tight Jeeves"

The words had poured out in a torrent of excitement

and then the killer coda

"and you are responsible for making it happen Jeeves. Get me to the Venetian for 4pm tomorrow, local time"

and then a sinister addendum
 
"I have got myself a rather fetching hat for Vegas, too. Jeeves you must make sure I do not lose it. Simon Le Bon said it had to go back to him for 15th July..."

and with that he moved over to his gramophone, changed the record and began nodding his head to  "Master and Servant" by Depeche Mode.

Perhaps, I thought, the wheels really were close to coming off and compos was soon not to be mentis.



 

The flood of text messages had reached a crescendo.

There was no choice but to call my Master in Birmingham. It was 8am on Saturday, he was bound to be up

I rang, and after an inordinate wait I received a muffled reply

"wha-what wh-who wh-who who, who am I? What is it? where am I?"

A standard tikay telephone response, let alone at 8am on a Saturday morning

"Its Jeeves sir. Whilst I hope you have a good day at your event in Birmingham, I need to speak to you about another matter"

"Jeeves, I was in bed. I won the copmpetition last night you know?"

I paused, still shocked after all these years that he tried such simple deceptions on his manservant

I continued.

"Congratulations on your 53rd place finish sir. The other matter. My sources tell me you have been seen out in public without shaving and you are sporting...."

I coughed, hardly able to utter the words no manservant wanted to hear...

"sporting bum-fluff on your chin"

There was silence, and then the sound of snoring. It seemed my entreaties had fallen on the stony ground of an infirm man with a sleep deprivation

"SIR!" I Shouted down the mobile device and I received the tell tale response

""wha-what wh-who wh-who who, who am I? What is it? where am I?"

Rather than going through our elaborate welcome ritual again I merely repeated my complaint

His reply spoke to a decline in standards in this country that I thought my master would resist, but clearly I was too optimistic

"wasn't working yesterday Jeeves, travelling, decided not to shave"

I thought my silence spoke volumes but clearly not

"Anyway Jeeves, got to go, Front of House from midday. Long day ahead. See you next week for Veeeeeeeeeeegas baby"

It had been a long time since I was called baby by anyone, let alone an octogenarian stubble-sporting peroxide-topped employer. I really was running short of luck but I kept my professionalism and replied

"Yes sir, Birmingham awaits"

My day was uneventful as I busied myself in Hampton sewing a new set of "tikay-Presenter" name tags into my master's socks and I went home

The next day I awoke to a series of email communications

To: Jeevesisamanservant@hotmail.com
From: tikayis45@hotmail.com
Subject: YOUR RESPONSIBILITY

Attachments: 1

Jeeves, we will be taking this to Vegas and using it CONSTANTLY. Please do not lose it, it is your responsibility

tikay.


My mind boggled as I clicked open the attachment

Click to see full-size image.

After I had pondered for a while how my master had acquired the skills to lean at a 55 degree angle whilst being photgraphed I looked closer and saw what appeared to be a Fisher Price toy camera.

I then opened the next email

To Jeevesisamanservanrt@hotmail.com
From tikayis45@hotmail.com
Subject: Possible extra ticket

Attachments : 2

Jeeves, may be needing an extra ticket to Vegas. Will advise soon

p.s She is wearing a LeopardPrint Bra

tikay

It is no exaggeration to say that it took thirty minutes, three cups of coffee, a double Scotch and a walk to the shops and back before I clicked the first attachment



Recovering my composure I clicked on the second

Click to see full-size image.

The second, I thought, told a story and was probably superfluous

My mind raced. Who was it? Vegas? really? A lifetime of bachelordom about to be thrown away with a Vegas wedding at the Church of the Little Shop of Horrors and tikay dressed as Elvis giving his vows to a woman who would wear leopardprint underwear in public?

I felt it my duty to warn my master before he went any further and rang.....

It went to voicemail

Now I was really worried.........

Ping! The tell-tale sign of another e-mail from my master. I opened it, immediately, as a man-servants role had long since expanded to efficient handling of electronic communications as well as the more usual menial tasks readily associated with the role

To: Jeevesisamanservant@hotmail.com
From: tikayis45@hotmail.com

Jeeves Jeeves Jeeves JEEVES!

Look!

I was playing two tables at once (yes Jeeves, TWO!!!) on Sky Poker, multitabling for dummies by mannequins, last night and I was engaged in politesse by the chat box.

Normally Jeeves I get "tikay you are a tosser" "tikay how on earth are you analysing poker on TV?" "Where's your bus pass mate?" but this time Jeeves look at what they said:

Enut> tikay, it's an honour. You're a God.
tikay1> ha! Behave!
tikay1> leased to meet you Mr Enut
tikay1> (Pleased).......
Enut> I liked your life story. A gentleman
tikay1> Thank you Sir
Enut> np
FatAndy290> yep, i only used my tourney token so i could say i played with the king of concrete, planes and trains
tikay1> !!

An honour Jeeves. A God, Jeeves. King of Concrete Jeeves. and planes and trains Jeeves.

Wonderful isn't it?

See you tomorrow at Osterley. Don't be late.

The King of Concrete hahahahahaha


I closed down the email, and logged off my Sky Poker account "Enut" on which I had been, um "grinding" 20p Double your money tables and logged on to my Sky Poker (no duplicate accounts really, no duplicate accounts) duplicate account "FatAndy290" on which I was currently engaged in nosebleed 15-30p stakes against recreational "fish" called Lambert180 and AJR18, from whom I supplemented my income on a weekly basis.

I made a note in my I-Phone 2

"Remember when using tikay's laptop in Las Vegas to log out of multiple SkyPoker accounts before he uses it. Note all attempts to massage master's ego must remain undetected until after Las Vegas"

and pressed send to myself.

After all, what is a faithful manservant for, unless to create accounts solely for the purpose of engaging your master in chat room dalliance and making him feel ten feet tall?

This is clearly what the internet is for, and as I pictured my master skipping down the halls towards the TV studio, ready to give of his best to an audience of millions, I had the satisfaction of a job well done, once more.

[VELVET]

"You better lose yourself in the music, the moment
 You own it, you better never let it go"

The dulcet tones of my Eminem ringtone interrupted my afternoon slumbers.

"Jeeves Jeeves Jeeves Jeeves JEEVES"

There was no mistaking that this was clearly an emergency.

"Jeeves"

I had got the message by now tikay required my attention

"I am doing the Sky Poker, autocue reading for non autocue readers, TV show tonight at 7pm"

"Yes sir, good luck sir. I shall tune in"

"No Jeeves, I am doing the show tonight and I have LEFT MY VELVET BLAZER AT HOME"

The breathlessness in my master's voice betrayed a panic, and a real sense of loss

"Sorry to hear that sir, do you not have your polyester-cotton mix lightweight jacket in wardrobe?"

"Yes Jeeves but I need the Purple velvet. I am wearing matching boxers"

Just momentarily, the image that came into my head left me quite flummoxed. I needed to recover my sang froid and quickly

"Oh sir, I quite understand" I lied convincingly

"Jeeves I need someone to go to Hampton, go into my closet and bring the jacket to Osterley by 6.45pm at the latest. Would you mind?"

I paused. I was, after all, looking forward to the Antiques Road Trip, Pointless, Eggheads and The Chef's Protege that made late afternoon BBC2 watching such a joy.

"No sir" the words came out involuntarily, a reflex of 35 years in service that I demurred whenever a man of breeding or deportment, or tikay, asked.

"Key is under the stone figure of Clare Balding, fourth slab away from the front door Jeeves. Let yourself in. Oh and Jeeves please can you do some tidying up? The cleaner is due on Friday."



"You want me to tidy up before the cleaner comes?" I enquired forlornly

"Yes if you tidy today and I tidy tomorrow it will be spotless for when she comes"

My mouth formed to produce words but I merely looked like a startled goldfish in a tank as the mouth opened, but no noise came out

The pause lasted an uncomfortable while but soon we said out goodbyes and I made my way over to Hampton and collected the Purple velvet C and A jacket.

I then made my way to the Sky, still employing Paul Merson and Phil Thompson as pundits, Studios

I went into the gatehouse and gave my name, In the corner, a man with a pencil thin moustache was regaling a security guard with tales of his television life

"So I then had to pretend to have a shower while the nutter shouts "Oi Kammy, no". I was very professional and did it in one take but they knew that when they hired me for the gig Steve, all that Soccer Saturday from the touchline at Fratton Park had shown them that I was cut out for better things Steve, and now I have a screen test for the presenters job on BT Vision Steve"



Frankly, Steve looked a bit bored with Kammy and I moved towards the Sky Poker, five hour TV shows for insomniacs, studios.

Through reception and wardrobe, past the green room and the gallery and to a door with a star on it. On the star, a simple message

"Talent. Please knock gently, may be sleeping"

I knocked gently. Inside there was the sound of hurried scrambled activity.

The door opened. There, in nothing but a silk kimono, plastered in foundation, silver foil in his hair and a frankly bewidering sight, stood my master.

"Jeeves, dah-ling"

I stepped back

"No Jeeves, its me tikay. Everyone speaks like that here, I have to."

"Your jacket sir"

tikay's face lit up and he immediately calmed down

At that moment a man came down the corridor. Tall, thin, a man I recognised as Richard Bacon from the Big Breakfast in 1987. Only it wasn't, it was the man from the Green Flag adverts.

He had a weary look, and our eyes met.



tikay made the introductions

"Jeeves, this is Richard Orford my presenter. Richard, this is Jeeves my man"

Orford held my grip for just a shade too long as we shook hands. I sensed that all was not well

"tikay I will see you in 20 minutes in studio, I'll show Jeeves out" Orford said and grabbed me by the arm, pulling me down the corridor

As we rounded the corridor and tikay's dressing room shut he grabbed me by both lapels

"JEEVES YOU HAVE TO DO SOMETHING. THEY KEEP PUTTING ME WITH HIM ON SHOWS"

He was breathing heavily, and very agitated

"ON SCREEN CHEMISTRY JEEVES. ON SCREEN CHEMISTRY THEY SAY. I CAN'T TAKE IT ANY LONGER JEEVES. IF I HEAR ONE MORE STORY ABOUT BRIDGES OR CONCRETE OR DUCKS I'LL..."

His voice tailed off, and he began sobbing uncontrollably on my shoulder

"JEEVES MAKE IT STOP"  

"Sir, I, er, I am not sure how I can do that sir" I muttered

A wistful Orford began to reminisce

"I was on Channel four at the age of 21 Jeeves. Glittering future ahead. I had visions of This Morning with Anne Diamond. The National Lottery show. Perhaps Supermarket Sweep. BUT IT ALL WENT WRONG JEEVES. I ended up being the voice of Discovery Quest and presenting game shows on Challenge Jeeves and I had to take the Sky Poker job Jeeves and NOW EVERY SHOW THEY PUT ME WITH HIM"

and with that his vice like grip was released and he went off down the corridor, shaking his head, a gentle sobbing an ever quieter reminder that behind the public persona, real problems lay.  

Thank you for the welcome back

There is no Mrs Jeeves. I have been dedicated to the employ of my various Masters for nearly 35 years now. I am available at their every beck and call and I cannot think of too many partners who would accept such ministrations, and coming second to a variety of fecund and eccentric employers.

That said, I do have a weakness for temptations of the flesh in the form of stewardesses and dancers at Peppermint Hippo. Something I believe you have some experience of Mr Nicholson? I remember a joint trip in 2009 that ended with the pair of us face down on a water bed being ridden by Candy and Cassandra. At least I think it was you, I was blindfold. Anyway I occasionally indulge when I know my employer is likely to be out for the count for the next eight hours.

In terms of preparation for such a trip. Well of course it helps that I have had several such trips with my current Master. Nothing can surprise me now. Well almost nothing. My main preparations are for My Master.

Here is the list I have compiled this morning

- Sky Poker, analysis by the bereft for the bereft, polo shirts -8
- Sky Poker, analysis by the infirm for the infirm, stick on badges - 45
- Chinos 3
- Jeans 3
- Shorts 1 0. Would rather not have those knees shown in public
- Shoes/Pair. 4
- Socks 9.
- Underwear. 7
- Laptop
- Lighter
- Camera
- Chargers
- Sky Poker, analysis by the recreational for the recreational, contract - 1
- Concrete Manuals - 4
- Beetroot - 6. Declare at customs
- Cash. Evidence that it is his cash (THM print out, otherwise they will never believe it)

and here is, verbatim, an email I received from my boss this morning

To: Jeevesthemanservant@hotmail.com
From: tikayis45@hotmail.com

Subject Vegas 2013

Jeeves, some gentlemen have agreed to back me (pay part of my buy in Jeeves) for the WSOP Main Event this summer. I know, incredible isn't it?

Here is the list of those with too much money to spare

Names deleted to spare their blushes

Could you please contact them and collect the money so I can take it to Vegas. Please pay extra attention to these Gentlemen, they must PAY IN ADVANCE. I know what they are like

Names deleted to spare their blushes again

Do not on any account tell any individual on this list if we meet them in Las Vegas that Sky Poker have bought me in, and that the total pledges from the list above amount to $13,000 so in effect I am covered to the tune of $23,000.

I will deal with that when I win it.

Please let me know when you have collected the monies.

p.s Did you see the Clare Balding programme on Horses and the Queen last night? I-Player Jeeves. Zara Phillips, Jeeves. I would.