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

[MereNovice]

You never fail to make me smile Jeeves.
Thanks.

[Junior Senior]

Good work Jeeves. Tally ho what what

Now please stop these peasants sending me PMs asking about your identity. I've told them, Jeeves is Tikays butler.

As you were

[claypole]

Absolute genius....my favourite - and true - get Keys in the well, legend.


""I finish SECOND in the Aussie Millions, I make that staking board ONE MILLION Aussie dollars and STILL they haven't asked me to go in the fucking well. Well I will teach them, my fucking auctions are going to get ramped so far that they won't know what's hit em. In the well with Rupert flipping Elder my bony arse" and on and on it went"

[Jeeves]

He did it. Third final of this trip, and it rescued another difficult day

Here he is, like a little boy in a sweet shop. Poker, IPad, Sky Poker badge. Peroxide heaven.

Unfortunate to travel 8,000 miles to have to sit next to Poker Monkey though, without any headphones to pop in. but still....

Click to see full-size image.

Afterwards, we rushed to the Rio to enable tikay to rail Mr Channing, even before we filled in the latest entry in the embossed ledger book, that's how keen he was to hotfoot it across to the Amazon...

He was singing to himself, such was the joy in his heart

"I Wynn again, yes I Wynn again, here I stand again..." to the tune of Hot Chocolate in a "life meets art" moment. Who knew that his favourite hit parade artist was the name of his favourite bedtime drink?

As we strode into the lobby, tikay's tasselled genuine floridan alligator skin loafers were off, in one hand, latte ready in another, all ready to shoe-bomb the heck out of Brian Hastings only to find out that no one was there, and we had arrived at the start of an hour's break.

Timing is everything.

Before we went to the Wynn earlier I had been tasked with more "content provision" for the blog I write for him. We're up to blog 9 now. Or rather I am. He is. No, I am. All a bit confusing what story we are telling who, to be frank

"Jeeves, today I want to do buildings. Architecture. Lobbies. Make it interesting"

So out I went with the camera, leaving tikay to adopt the Mere Novice moniker for his posts for the morning, and began to take shots. I thought I did well. A ferrari here, an escalator there but most of all, lamp-posts.

I arrived back at the suite, downloaded the photos and waited for the inevitable protestations from someone so picky about photographs, you would imagine he was Lord Lichfield. Minus the Lord bit.

"JEEVES! Here!"

I stopped folding tikay's socks for a moment. Took a deep breath, Reminded myself that silent indignation was better than fighting my corner in these instances. After all, now he was actually winning at poker, after 9 years of trying, I might actually be in line for a bonus if I managed the rest of the trip unscathed and most importantly kept tikay out of the clutches of the bail bondsman.

"Jeeves these are brilliant!"

I stood aghast. This was not what I expected to hear.

"This escalator Jeeves. It's circuuuuuuuuular"



Such was the elongation of the pronounciation of the word circular, it was as if tikay was making love to the notion of a circular escalator.

"Jeeves, this is stunning"

I nodded, and remained modest. After all, I thought it was a crap photo.

On he flicked. The photos.

"Ooh Jeeves. Lampost and traffic lights. You have excelled yourself"

"Word" I said, in a Microsoft documents inspired piece of badinage that sadly sailed straight over tikay's head



"but Jeeves, what have you taken this photo for? All he does is complain about Sky Poker lobby features, table tiling and he frankly makes my life a misery. No Jeeves, that photo was an error of judgement"



"Sorry sir" I said genuinely. All the man had done was ask for $100 to enable him to play a couple of tournaments and such was his unkempt and gaunt look that I had taken pity on him.

"Never mind Jeeves, today is going to be a good day"

and he was right, it became a very good day

The ledger awaits

[MrDickie]

"I Wynn again, yes I Wynn again, here I stand again..." to the tune of Hot Chocolate

Thanks for the coffee I just spat all over my keyboard.

[Jeeves]

"Jeeves, JEEVES. Come quick come quick. I've locked myself out of the media centre"

I opened the door to the suite, and there stood my Master all of a dither

"I thought I knew the code Jeeves, went out for a latte, the door shut and my laptop, phone, croissant and shoebombing brogues are all locked in there. Disaster"

I looked at my watch. 5.15am. I looked at his feet. Socks, not shoes. I looked once again at his face. Panic. Probably the thought that someone would get to see the Sky Poker daily figures, I thought to myself, or perhaps the special folder I knew nothing about in tikay>images>private which I repeat I knew nothing about, at all.

So, I dressed. We went downstairs. We asked around. No one seemed to know the number of runners in the 200x main event, not even the lead Janitor from Tulsa, Oklahoma. tikay thought this was most odd.

We sat outside the entrance to the media centre and waited. Today was a big day, as a bracelet event was to be played, and this was not an auspicious start.

Some hours later, having resolved our difficulties tikay took his seat for WSOP event 47 with me stationed as ever, a few steps behind, unobtrusive and under instructions to on no account query Tournament director rulings or antagonise Justin Bonomo.

All started well. Bonomo-less bonhomie spread across the tables as my master worked the room, lulling them all into a false sense of security before no doubt the Hi-or was it Lo-rapier of doom was unleashed on their unsuspecting stacks.

I kept my master supplied with regular intravenous helpings of Latte, and also took over his forum account with instructions to

"make it convincing Jeeves, make out this is all a bit of fun and I don't mind either way. Just post until I win the tournament"

and with a steely glare in his eye, he returned to work

I passed a few hours playing it safe on the account. "333 left, have half average" "Flushy is on the next table" "147 left, squeaky bum time"I posted. All convincing enough, until disaster struck

"Jeeves. Headache. Pop to the lobby shop and get me some Nurofen, please"

I popped to the shop and grabbed the first headache tablets I could find and rushed them back to the Amazon room

tikay took a couple, and carried on. I resumed forum duties

It didn't take long. Within 40 minutes he was slumped, face down on the table, snoring like a Poker analysing warthog. I panicked, rushed to him and shook him hard. The snores continued. The dealer looked at me. The small blind raised our big blind. Our cards were mucked. The dealer carried on. So did the snores

I looked at the packet of Advil "Headache will go, but you'll fall asleep". I felt guilty. Was I going to be responsible foir dashing the hopes and dreams not only of my master but also smashedagain in Scunthorpe, who told me via repeated text messages after every exit that he was only 13,12,11 and so on places away from a Stars and Stripes flag on his Hendon Mob.

The pressure was enormous. I had to do something. At that moment, fate intervened.

"JEEEVES" There was a scream in my ear

"RAZAVI HERE" Why he was shouting? I did not know. He was more annoying than you could possibly imagine.

"TIKAY STILL IN THEN I SEE?"

I nodded, silently.

"GREAT STUFF. JUST BACK FROM XS JEEVES. LOUD IN THERE. COULDN'T HEAR MYSELF THINK"

I smiled, the germination of a plan was present. In the absence of a cruise ship foghorn, Razavi would have to do

My Android phone came out, I pressed record and told Razavi to speak, in his normal voice

Instead he sang, in a Bee-Gee like falsetto

"RAZAVI'S THE NAME, POKER'S THE GAME AND I AM GOING TO PLAY IT WITH YOU" to the tune of the Generation Game theme, 1976 era

I pressed stop, ushered the madman away and sought some headphones, which were kindly provided by a masseuse.

Stuck the headphones into tikay's ears, pressed play and immediately he awoke with a start

"Who am I? What am I? Where am I? When am I?"

Just a normal morning's disorientation, I though to myself

He then stood to attention, called the table to order, sang the national anthem and the JCB Company song and sat down and resumed playing

Phew.

Half an hour remained, and he made the next day.

Twenty four hours later, some thirty minutes ago he finished 12th. All he has done for four days is play 12 hours, sleep 12 hours. There's a back log of Mere Novice posts to make, two forums to attend to and most importantly we have to lose Claypole and Doobs at some stage, who've followed us around since Sunday, like lost puppies in a kennels.

For now though, a quick bask in glory, finally reply to smashedagain, and to bed. A job well done

 

 

[MereNovice]

Excellent work Jeeves.
Most excellent.

[celtic]

Excellent work Jeeves.
Most excellent.

[Knottikay]

He then stood to attention, called the table to order, sang the national anthem and the JCB Company song and sat down and resumed playing


 

[smashedagain]

Lol. Like I'd ever be allowed your number

[Jeeves]

"I'm sick, Jeeves"

"I know sir, congratulations. Four cashes in your first eight events is so good, soon it will become known as standard"

"No, Jeeves. I'm sick"

"Oh yes sir, I would be too if I was paying $6 every time I wanted a sticky bun"

"No Jeeves, I'm sick. Sick Jeeves. Time for a day off I think. A chance to recharge my pacemaker, and get up to date on the Mere Novice account. You've been missing a lot of winning bets recently"

This was indeed true but I had been so pre-occupied recording the serial numbers for the $100 bills in his recent winnings, into the embossed ledger, that I had rather taken my eye off the ball.

It had been another tense day. We had just returned from the Venetian, $606 lighter, following a frustrating day of High Only Omaha in which I had managed to keep my mouth shut in the vicinity of the tables, despite excruciating tournament direction from the flatulent man in the ill-fitting suit, but had nevertheless disgraced myself in other ways.

My day had begun with a new set of instructions from the boss.

"Keywords, Jeeves, Keywords" The only Keywords I knew were safe words at vital moments in delicate situations, so I enquired what he meant in this context....

"Google Jeeves. SEO. Clicks, acquisition rates, CPA, CPS, Google Analytics. Message. It's all about message. As long as the message can be shown as an acronym"

"So sir, not like those poker players who just use Jargon?"

"No Jeeves, no Jargon. Just concentrate on the Search Engine Optimisation in your messages via my blog, your diary, Mere Novice's tips and in conversations when you are ordering my sticky buns"

The irony had seemed to escape him, I thought, as I pondered how I would order two danish pastries in the Venetian lobby whilst all the time not forgetting to mention Sky Poker Hashtag #tkvegas to the Puerto Rican vendor with only a smattering of English.

I had decided I needed to blend in a bit more at tableside so had bought a hoodie and headphones. I had made sure the hoodie had a zippable top pocket in which to hide my monocle too.

Play in his Omaha competition was sparky, but before long tikay's attention was drawn away by the arrival of a man showing Super-Unique sartorial qualities.

I looked the man up and down. Polo shirt. OK, fair enough. Shorts. OK fair enough. Man bag. Doubtful, but one must make allowances for modern fashion on occasions. It was when my eyes reached the below the knee area that my heart missed, missed a beat. The prime Example of the faux pas to end all faux pas.

Sandals. White socks.

I almost fainted

Click to see full-size image.

"Jeeves, this is Raymer. Always on CPA message Jeeves, CPA message"

Raymer nodded, knowingly

"Top Pro Jeeves Raymer, this is Jeeves"

We shook hands, all the while I was being careful not to divert my gaze below the waist again. I was feeling nauseous but needed to maintain composure.

We chatted, as tikay returned to his Omaha

Raymer seemed to breathe a sigh of relief

"Hey Jeeves, now he's gone I wanted to talk to you about a hand. I 3-bet triple barrelled & turned my hand into a bluff against his polarized range"

I looked at him. Wondered about message

Raymer continued

"Whaddya think, good play? Don't be results orientated and consider the meta-game of the situation"

My mouth opened. Not for the first time this trip I struggled to form the right words. Mostly because I didn't have scoobie what he was on about.

Instead, my subconscious blurted out, as I stood to attention

"Sky Poker. Hashtag tikayVegas"

Finally, the message was so absorbed, that it was becoming my default in times of stress

"Hey buddy" Raymer whispered conspiratorially

"Forget all that message stuff. I tried it for a few years and Stars still dumped me. Gotta be talking ranges, merges, floats and Barrels"

I stood open mouthed.

After a moment I handed Raymer my business card, underlining the words I wrote on the back

"Sandals, but NOT socks"

Raymer took, and Raymer read. He looked down. I looked down. He nodded.

My job was done, and hoody back up, earphones in I returned to tikay and said

"think he has just come from a Fashion Show"

He turned round

"I dare you to say that to his face"

Well I had, almost.

"Lovely fella Jeeves. Always on Message is Greg"

and with that, he went back to his Omaha   



 

[Karabiner]

Just too damn good Jeeves. 

[david3103]

Wonderful stuff, funny in itself, even funnier in counterpoint to the daily blog.

It occurs to me that if you are Jeeves, we should perhaps be referring to your employer as Bertie.

[Chompy]

Best Jeeves series EVER

[smashedagain]

Wonderful stuff, funny in itself, even funnier in counterpoint to the daily blog.

It occurs to me that if you are Jeeves, we should perhaps be referring to your employer as Bertie.

Totally agree. Just read Tikays blog then came over here for this. You just could not make this any funnier and even better that Tikay is playing so well.