An account of Jeeves' trip to Las Vegas latterly in the service of Mr tikay.

[Chompy]

Roffle, good to see you return Jeeves. Back with a bang there.

[Karabiner]

Wonderful news, wecome back Jeeves 

[byronkincaid]

genius 

[technolog]

Brilliant to have you back Jeeves! Really looking forward to your exploits in Vegas.

[tikay]

Groan.

Is there NOTHING you don't know about me?

[sofa----king]

Pure class writting
who is Jeeves.,..,.is it Stephen fry??,..,?

[Jeeves]

Monday

Las Vegas is on Thursday, and I have booked myself into Economy some three rows being Mr tikay who is just ahead of me in Premium economy.

At his request I have been researching, via a young lady I once knew called Arabella in the British Airways Frequent Flyer (in more ways than one) programme, tikay's travel companions and intend to impart this news to him when he is a slightly better mood than he has been today.

On Mr tikay's left: Dietmar from Dusseldorf. He has requested extra leg-room

On Mr tikay's right: "arbboy" from Betfair. Methinks this is a flight that might go on, and on and just when me tikay thinks it's coming to an end, and on.

Anyway preparations continue apace.  Books are being bought.

The text instruction as brief "Addicted. I want Addicted. Adams"

I have jettisoned plans for Oasis on mr tikay's IPod, and will instead replace with Gorillaz to accompany the inevitable Johnny Cash. I expect I will have to listen to "Hurt" about three hundred times in mr tikay's suite ante-room over the next fortnight, mostly to the accompaniment of how Cash "gets how little time I have left".

The long term car-park has been booked, the Plane Spotter's guide also. I am wondering if my capacity to smile vacuously while mr tikay describes the maximum thrust potential of the Rolls Royce Trent 1000 engine will have survived two years without the requirement for that particular skill . As I know what will inevitably follow, I am also packing the Rolls Royce plc Annual Report and Accounts for the perennial discussion of mr tikay's shareholding in said company. I intend to memorise these accounts before Thursday and dazle my master with my knowledge of contingent liabilities and forward order books.

I have spent the day outside Arquiva house in Feltham, shining the new 3-Series, and double checking the number plate. I have filled two wheelie-bins with Latte Cups and Sandwich wrappers.

tikay has just texted me again. "Don't forget the Oil of Ulay. Apologies for the all night farting". Quite a text to receive that, if you were to take it out of context.

Anyway I am looking forward to the trip. A fortnight three paces behind one of the hardest working men in the Industry. A man who has his eccentricities, and may keep irregular hours, and may be OCD. Or Obsessed. Or forgetful. There must be an upside somewhere.

Oh no, another text

"Do not call it a handbag"

This just never stops.

I will report more on arrival at McCarran. 

 

[tikay]

Rumbled Jeeves. Not a latte cup in the Beemer, & one no longer partakes of crisps. Changed man, me.

Otherwise, good obso skills.

[NoflopsHomer]

Oh the JAPES!

[Jeeves]

It was an early morning. I met my master in the lobby of the Days Inn Gatwick at 5.30am and from there we travelled through to departures. I was travelling light, Master was not.

Three suitcases. In the first the routine paraphenalia of the traveller, clothes and tolietries. In the second his reading matter for the trip. Sixteen books on subjects as diverse as Engines, trains and Motors. and Gangsters. The third suitcase was padlocked with a Yale so sturdy I was tempted to purchase boltcutters just in case the key was lost. Mr tikay saw me struggling to carry this case and re-assured me that my efforts were not in vain

"Jeeves" he said "I have been sent a Manual on how to use Twitter, direct from San Francisco. 1,459 pages long over 8 volumes. Guard it with your life. I will get to 200 followers if it kills me, and it is from now on your job to Tweet as if you are me, as much as you can. Sky Poker, where fish are fish and talent isn't talented, are paying me by the tweet. It's in my new contract, see?"

I was not sure I did see, being hitherto unfamiliar with the new economy world of Twits and Tweets and Tweetdecks and TwitPics, but at least I knew that the first volume would wile away the Virgin Atlantic flight that was impending.

Through into departures and we received the unfortunate news that the flight was delayed. This caused angst to an already psyched up Master, who was no doubt relying on me to provide order and routine through the long days ahead but as Mother Attilla Hen, with whom I am developing quite a rivalry for Mr tikay's organisational affections said to both of us

"Not even I, with my legendary abilities to organise and do risk assessment reports and use my Sky Poker (where fish are fish and the talent isn't talented) Amex Card, can control the vicissitudes of Air Traffic Control, Sir Richard Branson and the weather tikay"

I was tempted to claim I indeed could control the weather, just to wind the clipboard clad Mother Hen up, but thought better of it. Best to choose one's battles rather than shoot from the hip at this early stage and then be spent for the important nights ahead.

After a momentary flummox, tikay summoned us to action

"Jeeves, Mother Hen...breakfast!!"

and off he strode to the Garfunkels restaurant next to the Thomas Pink shirt shop. Mr tikay sat down and proceeded to order three all-day breakfasts, one for each of us.

Several minutes later after pronouncing to Abdul and Karim, recently arrived from Kabul and Tehran respectively and about to be deported, that he had

"lost seven stone this year" and

"Mother Hen couldn't stop the plane being delayed. Not in my contract that" and

"Jeeves is my Twit. Jeeves, send a Tweet"

he tucked in to scrambled eggs, sausages, bacon, beans, hash browns, mushrooms whilst asking for a customer complaint form about the piece of Parsley that had adorned his breakfast which was as out of place as some of the Sky Poker Non-talent at a Temperance meeting.

Meanwhile Mother Hen told Sergio, a young Spaniard en route to Rio De Janiero, that she had a Black Amex Card and a new clipboard. Sergio was most impressed, as was Mother Hen's intention.

Several hours, and six weigh-ins for tikay on the public scales at £2 a time, later we boarded.

Premium economy for Mr tikay and Mother Hen. Economy for me. Proof, as if I needed it, that the pecking order was skew-whiff.

Now, posting from approximately three hundred miles south of Greenland, half way through our journey, I have watched Mother Hen fall asleep only 47 minutes into a discourse on Trent Engines. I've watched Sandra the Head Cabin Lady make her excuses after 37 minutes of a discourse on London Gangsters of the mid 1960s. I've watched Mr tikay get a tour of the cockpit because one bright spark called GreekStein decided to tell SirRichard that one of his passengers on the flight to Las Vegas was one hundred years old today. I've complained on mr tikay's behalf that the in flight entertainment contains far too much fiction and not enough factual based programmes and we are STILL ONLY HALF-WAY

In a spare few minutes I have also created my own twitter account. I will be updating you on Mr tikay's trip via

@Jeevesfortikay

Please follow me. There you will see the real version of tikay's own tweets which might be written by me, as you know now but of course will be sanitised for corporate reasons

For the real story, follow @Jeevesfortikay

   

[boldie]

[Claw75]

you got your first follower Jeeves old boy

[The_nun]

Fantastic.

[GreekStein]

Ship the mention!

[MrDickie]

4th and loving this forum this week. Like a breath of fresh air.