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Number 8 in my Celebrity Interviews Series

ME: Hello, Mr Wooster

BW: What Ho! Fire away!

ME: Your butler, Jeeves, helped me.

BW: Size 9 brain. Eats a lot of fish. He is a gentleman’s gentleman, not a butler, but if the call comes, he can buttle with the rest of them.

ME:  We think you and the media underplay your talents.

BW: Bally rich. Jeeves once called me mentally negligible.

ME:  To protect you. How would fearsome Aunt Agatha describe you?

BW:  Barely sentient was how she once described me, and I’m not saying that in a broad general sense; she isn’t right.

ME:   But she doesn’t like you or Jeeves. Don’t put yourself down. You’re a genius.

BW:   At what?

ME:  You superbly narrate stories loved by millions. You sum up people brilliantly. What did you call that gorilla of a man, Spode?

BW: The Dictator

ME: And what did Jeeves find out he was?

BW: The fascist leader of the black shorts – they’d run out of black shirts.

ME:  And how did you sum him up after learning his secret – a secret which once he knew you held transformed him from tearing you limb from limb into a pussy cat?

BW: You can’t be a successful Dictator and design women’s underclothing.  One or the other, not both.

ME: Genius! And you’re an escapologist from your many fiancées. How do you do it? 

BW:   With Jeeves’ help. Most are still great friends – brainy and robust. Honoria G is one of those dynamic girls with the muscles of a welterweight and a laugh like a squadron cavalry charging over a tin bridge.

ME And Pauline S?

BW: Wants you to come and swim a mile before breakfast and routs you out when you’re trying to catch a wink of sleep after lunch for a heavy five sets of tennis.

ME:  Your beloved Aunt Dahlia always speaks highly of you. Can she be a bit fearsome too?

BW:  It isn’t often that Aunt Dahlia lets her angry passions rise, but when she does, strong men climb trees and pull them up after them. 

ME: All your friends and family, including Uncle George, are aware of your talents and constantly seek your help.

BW: Mine and Jeeves help, don’t you know. By the way, it was my Uncle George who discovered that alcohol was a food well in advance of modern medical thought.

ME: What issues do you help friends with?

BW: Shortage of funds; bunfights; romances; minding newts; beating the bookies; careers advice; and pinching policemen’s helmets.

ME: You’re well educated. Did you meet our ex and next prime minister when you were at Eton and Oxford?

BW: Is that the cove with bleached hair – the tubby chap who looks like he had been poured into his clothes and forgotten to say “when”?

ME: Yes

BW: No, he was at Balliol, and I was at Magdalen. Last I saw, he looked haggard and careworn like a Borgia who had suddenly remembered that he had forgotten to shove the cyanide in the consommé and the dinner gong due any moment.

ME: Oh!


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