"It's tikay, Leave a Message"
I had tried the number i had for him for several days but had always received the same mobile phone greeting
"It's tikay, Leave a Message"
"It's tikay, Leave a Message"
"It's tikay, Leave a Message"
In the end there was nothing else for it, a trip to Thames Ditton to try and establish contact with the gentleman himself to see if he wanted to avail himself of my services for his forthcoming trip to Nevada
I strode up the path that led to the front door and rang the doorbell and the hallway inside reverberated to the tune of "Hurt" by Johnny Cash.
I waited, and waited some more
Master's car was in the drive way, with its rather apt FML registration, so i thought something must be up
I peered through the net curtains and couldn't make out much. I found the side gate unlocked and walked round to the garden. There i saw piles of hedgerow, strewn across the lawn and a discarded pair of shears alongside a packed of elastoplast. Master had obviously been busy.
However no sign of Master
I looked into the kitchen, and saw a pile of wet clothes hanging out of a washing machine with a half open door. I didnt think this was a particularly appropriate way to treat Sky Poker monogrammed clothing, but i decided my priority was to find my master rather than write to Wellington place, Leeds to complain about this slovenly treatment of branded property
I was just about to give up when i heard a mournful mewling from the summer house at the bottom of the garden. I walked down towards the water's edge and looked in the hut
There unshaven sat my Master, muttering quietly and rocking himself back and forth.
"Sir it Jeeves, what is wrong sir?" I enquired, concerned for his welfare
"Bowl of rice Jeeves, Bowl of rice"
I knew the 10p PLO8 games on Sky Poker had become a tough pastime in recent months, but had no idea that masters fortunes had declined to the extent that this was all he had left.
"Its ok sir, the downswing will end soon. Vegas is just around the corner"
I tried to move the discussion, such as it was, to the reason for my visit and the prospect of two month's summer employment
"No Jeeves, look"
and from behind his back he produced a bowl of rice containing a mobile phone.
He picked up the mobile phone and, bottom lip quivering, pointed at water sloshing around behind the screen
"Twenty five years Jeeves. Twenty five years. Vodafone man and boy Jeeves. 1500 contacts. Alll...."
and his voice broke and he sobbed
"gone, Jeeves"
This was clearly a difficult predicament. After all, it was beyond reasonable consideration that anyone could extract a dry SIM Card and walk to a local high steet, purchase a phone, insert SIM card and carry on as normal.
"I have to go to a..."
he paused, as if almost unwilling to contemplate the horror he was about to utter.....
"I have to go to a..."
Again, a huge pause and a pair of doleful eyes looked up at me, seeking assistance
"You have to go to where sir?"
I prodded him along. I had forgotten that this is what it was like.
"I have to go to a Vodafone shop Jeeves"
and his head plunged into his hands
| Click to see full-size image. |
I thought immediately that i would regret this utterance but my instinct was to serve, as always, the needs of My Master
"Would you Jeeves? would you?" his visage immediately brightened in the k nowledge that he wiuldnt be going through this ordeal alone
"Of course sir, Kingston high street, tomorrow morning 9.30am. Park near Bentalls and i will meet you outside?"
He nodded, gathered up his framed pictures of Tal and Hector62, and walked into the garden....
"Perhaps sir, if this goes well, i might be of assistance in Vegas from June 3rd?"
He nodded again
"Name your price Jeeves, sort this and name your price"
"That's a pack, sorry, pact, sir, thats a pact"
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