Quietly ironing some Sky Poker, analysis by octogenarians for pre-pubescent fish, polo shirts late last night whilst watching Desperate Housewives my calm was shattered by the arrival of my master.
"Fucking hell Jeeves, Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck"
I wondered what it could be. Could it be that the Ding Dong of hand to hand combat across the felt had reduced him to such a temper?
"No one respects my raises. I can't talk at the table, everyone raises my blinds thinking I am a doddery old fool who only plays Aces.."
"Yes sir...." I interrupted, only to be shot yet another withering look of a type that was becoming characteristic of this trip
"and now Jeeves, my home made card protector has been banned"
"Not the croissant sir?
"Yes the fuck fuck fuck fuck fucking fuck croissant"
"Oh dear sir, why don't you sit down, take the weight off your feet and tell me all about it....."
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To make sense, dear reader, of the predicament of my Master we have to go back to early that morning. It was 32c when I parambulated around the Rio pool at 6am, leaving my master alone with his e-mails and blogs for a short period. Come 6.30am there I was, in the Rio media centre alone with my master.
Master seemed perplexed that no one else was there, nose to the grindstone. After all, what esle was there to do in Vegas than play poker and report on poker?
"Jeeves, I'm hungry. Can you get me some breakfast please? Continental breakfast today"
and ten minutes later, I returned with these
"Far too big Jeeves, far too big. Take one back and get a refund"
I must have looked crestfallen at the lack of approval for my breakfast choices, so the Master's backtrack was more forthcoming than usual
"No it's ok Jeeves, I am going to have some fun with this crossiant"
"Fun sir?"
I had travelled across seven continents with a variety of Masters from the sexually flaccid to the sexually disturbed, and I had yet to discover fun with a croissant
"Turn around Jeeves"
I did as I was told, not sure what to expect next
Suddenly I was jolted by a huge cry
"TAAAAA-DAAAAAAA"
I turned round, and saw
Master was chuckling.
"What do you think of that then. Come on, come on"
Years of training at hiding my real feelings came into play as I muttered
"Very good sir. Ha ha ha"
"Come on Jeeves, what does it remind you of?"
Resisting the temptation to suggest that it most closely resembled a croissant with sunglasses on, I dithered
"Come on Jeeves, its obvious"
"Sorry, you'll have to help me sir"
"JEEVES! It's Doyle Brunson of course!"
Tumbleweed sped across the recesses of my mind as I sought another suitable response
"Very good sir. Ha ha Ha"
"Tell you what Jeeves, I am going to use it as a card protector today in the Caesars deepie. Everyone will be most amused"
I thought to myself that amusement woould be one of the least likely emotions, but kept my counsel
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At 4pm I left my Master at the table, granted a day off from twitting duties, and returned to my chores. What happened next comes from the mouth of my Master later that evening
"I sat down in seat 10. Doyle the Croissant on my cards. A few funny looks. Then after two orbits seat 9 calls for a ruling. Scottish tosser comes up, asks the problem. Seat 9 who is enormous says that Doyle is putting him off. He cannot sit next to any food stuff for longer than 20 minutes without wanting to eat it. Dealer who looks like Giant Haystacks then pipes up that he too is getting hungry. Then seat 8 who is even bigger says that Robert's rules should outlaw foodstuff card protectors"
"I just wanted a little bit of fun Jeeves. Nothing serious. I thought it was funny. Scottish tosser gives me another orbit's penalty and confiscates Doyle. I get knocked out and go and ask for Doyle and guess fucking what Jeeves..."
"Yes Jeeves, the biggest fucking dealer you could ever see has just eaten him and all I get back is my sunglasses"
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I decide to make my Master a late night Horlicks, before going off to indulge in some Horlicks of my own.
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