"Jeeves, getting some questions from back in the UK about At the Races. They've moved channel apparently. Know anything about it?"
I was of course aware that Sky Poker #tkvegas had moved to Channel 861, after all tikay had spoken of nothing else in his sleep these past few weeks, but ATR? I had to investigate
A short google later, and I had his answer
"Sir, The individual channels have no say in the matter. You just get a notification that you are being moved.
I don't believe the tx quality is affected one way or another. ATR would not have " decided to move", they would have been moved by higher ups for whatever reason"
"Thank you Jeeves, that is what I will tell them"
and he did. On
MY diary.
I was in a bit of a sulk with this and decided to pop downstairs for some early morning sticky buns and advil, being careful not to pick up a pregnancy testing kit by mistake. I feared that handing this to tikay and watching a rogue blue line emerge once he followed instructions by visiting the restroom would send him over the edge after the dramas of the last few days
On my way, I spotted a scene that summed up the vagaries of a modern butler's life. Here the man sat, as his boss Mr Dempsey, wearing his pyjamas, received a massage of his unmentionables. I expect the butler was not looking forward to using those towels in the immediate aftermath of the massage.
| Click to see full-size image. |
A busy day lay ahead. We were off to the "Ball Game" with tikay meant to meet his friend to watch the drama of pitches and flyouts, sacrifices, splitters and breaking balls. I expected him to be clueless, more so than usual, but I nevertheless prepared a hamper of fresh advil, with gleaming silver cutlery and china plates and we headed to the "ballpark"
We arrived to a surprisingly small crowd, and I lay out our picnic in what I was told by the staff was the "foul ball line" behind third base. We had plenty of space, but tikay was restless. Never too comfortable outside the confines of air-conditioned Vegas card-rooms we nevertheless sat and waited. and waited. After a while gentlemen on ride-on mowers began to motor past. I could tell that tikay was getting a little frisky at the sight, and gave him some advil to calm him down.
After several hours in relaxed repose, with shadows lengthening, I decided I would find out what time the game started. tikay was fast asleep. The air fizzed with the smells of freshly mown grass.
I soon received the bad news, and fished the crumpled baseball schedule from tikay's hip pocket. He'd underlined the game for August, not July. In a green biro, with the annotation "curveballs of a different sort today, hahahaha" for his own amusement.
I had a problem. One sleeping master, one hamper and a long way from home. Resorting to my basic training from 1953, I used a manoeuvre last used on Lord Bertie Squires in a brothel in 1973, a most troublesome employ from my past, and fireman lifted my Master over one shoulder, the hamper slung over the other towards the nearest taxi rank. Only I was stopped by two of Vegas' finest patrol cars on the way. Not the easiest situation to explain, especially in double breasted suit and waistcoat in ninety degree heat with someone dribbling and mumbling over your right shoulder.
However, within 90 minutes we were safely ensconsced in the Media Centre back at the Rio.
tikay was now alert, though its all relative, and unaware of the events of the last few hours. He set up his laptop, and as we awaited the people with whom he was to grant today's audience, I showed him some snaps of Vegas Airport and a Sphinx I had snapped on the way back from the ballpark.
The routine was familiar. The night before the concierge would pass through a series of names who had requested an audience with tikay on the morrow. Before slumber tikay and I would go through the list.
A typical conversation went as follows
"Dempsey: yes"
"LittleDavid: yes"
"Keys yes, auction talk banned. Goulder yes, ditto"
"Channing ok, but cut him off after 10 mentions of BBP"
"Mahrenholz and Trodd. Yes, but once the Bulldog Puppy photos come out, you know what to do Jeeves"
"Trigg, normally a no, but since the $1k at the Venetian, yes"
"Grafton? No, not unless sedated"
and so on
I would then go to the Media centre and set up a high backed chair at the far end of the room, where tikay would spend up to 90 minutes daily receiving his subjects and dispensing valuable advice, notably on 5 card PLO8 with a straddle.
He had, at last, morphed into the Queen of British Poker.
Today's list had a late pull-out. Razavi had finally been committed to an institution for a few days for his own safety. In his place was a name I had entered, I must admit for my own selfish reasons for in it I saw a way to a more secure future after our Vegas adventure was over.
"Talal"
Minted. Butler-less.
He was to be the last appointment and he approached in the way that tikay required. Bowing and fawning, tugging a forelock.
tikay looked at him. Not a clue who he was
"Hello tikay" said the well heeled man "Remember me?"
The vacant look said it all, and it was n ot just the advil wearing off
"Er, well, er, well, yes I mean no"
At least we were spared the daily ten minute ritual of conversations where he did not know who he was speaking to. Unless they produced the Puppy photos. Then he knew alright.
The conversation was sadly all too typical of tikay's penchant for faux pas
"Talal, I'm so pleased to see you" a safe opening gambit
"Yes, you too" forward defensive back up the pitch
"What a fantastic event that "One Drop" is" full unction mode engaged
"Yes, it is" playing it cool
"So Talal, $18 MILLION to the winner. Wow" Getting down to business. I could feel my blood pressure rising
"Yes, a lot of money". not giving much away
"I mean, EIGHTEEN MILLION" I thought to myself that we'd already said that
"Yes, 18 million" and now so has Talal.
"Incred" Too much exposure to David Nicholson is a bad thing, at times like this
"Yes." We might have lost our customer
"So, how are you getting on, you were in OK shape when I last looked?" back to business
"I just busted, 18th" Bollocks, I thought to myself, the prospect of a cushty retainer in Knitsbridge receding before my eyes
"Ahhh...." tikay's word trailed away as Talal retreated, bowing and scraping all the while. No doubt comforted by tikay's kind words, but neverthless a temporarily broken man
Not as broken as I though for in ten days time and with the flight home, I was once more going to be looking for new employ.
A frustrating day indeed
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