"Jeeves wake up wake up, I'm awake"
The now familiar ritual of turning over to check the bedside clock, and it's 4.06am
I must be dreaming
"Wake up man, I'm awake"
4.07am and I open my eyes to the alarming sight of Master standing in front of me in York Railway Museum pyjamas and holding his HTC desire
"Yes sir" donning once more the mantle of professionalism"how can I help?"
"Was awake anyway Jeeves, body clock is messed up and now I see Barry Carter has twitted that Five Brits have been stripped naked and been robbed at gunpoint. Just like ***** and ***** and that idiot ****** five years or so ago"
I wondered why I had to be woken to be told this, when he continued
"Wasn't you was it Jeeves?"
I raised myself up to the full height of indignity and told him that no, as I spent all night tweeting as if I was him from six paces behind, that I was unlikely to have found the time to round up four pals, several ladies of easy virtue, disappear off for a quick orgy and then back for the next orbit. I thanked him for his concern anyway
"Anyway Jeeves, Chompy arrives today. Chompy! Retired from poker because he's useless Jeeves but I have got a special treat for him. Look at these."
By now fully awake I struggled to understand why Chompy would want tickets for the Vegas leg of the Football Focus tour,
An audience with Garth Crooks , but he always was strange, like many from the fens
So, it by now being 4.18am the working day began. Master busied himself with emails, diaries and googling Phil Tufnell while I ironed, made his bed and prepared breakfast
Come a few hours later and we were ready to depart from the midday Venetian deepie
My instructions were clear, and delivered in a stentorian voice that if you did not know the Master would convey authority and clarity, unlike the dithering and meekness to which I had become accustomed
"Right Jeeves. Here's the desire. One tweet from me every ten minutes. Chip counts, progress, bit of humour. I have 1,002 followers, many of whom hang on my every word. Maxally and Trip5 would be lost without it, lives bereft of purpose and meaning, see?"
I wrote down my instructions as he continued
"Bring the
History of the London Underground book for me to read while I am passing and you are writng down hands that I might have played if you weren't making them up. Today Jeeves I will be making the journey from Hatton Cross and ending at Cockfosters"
Not for the first time, I thought to myself.
We passed into the Venetian over the bridge under which star crossed lovers rode on gondolas. There on the bench on the bridge sat celtic, tenderly stroking Gavlar's hair and whispering to him
"there there Gavlar, you can enter a card-room without walking in hand in hand with someone, and getting felt up. You can do it"
I took up my position behind my Master as the tournament began, and the day continued as planned......
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