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Sometimes Jeeves can be difficult about my wardrobe. “Jeeves, kindly lay out my new waistcoat.”

I considered the weather through the window. “Well anyway, that’s as far as I’ve got so far.” Sounds alright on the page, but in real life…” I suppressed a shudder. Think of a cross between Honoria Glossop and Bobby Wickham and you won’t be too far off. “Well, their pal Jimmy Thesiger decides he won’t stand for this, so he starts to investigate this Seven Dials business with Bundle.” “And then this second chap gets run over – only actually he’s been shot.” Someone had poisoned him during the night and lined up seven of the clocks on the mantlepiece and chucked one out the window.”

“And was the intended effect produced, sir? He suggests playing a prank on this Gerry Wade chappy by leaving a whole lot of alarm clocks in his room – he’s a heavier sleeper even than Barmy Fotheringay-Phipps by the sounds of things.” I broke off to make a mental note that this would be a suitable trick to play on old Tuppy Glossop and would serve him right for his beastly behaviour regarding the business of the rings and ropes over the swimming pool. Although there is this fellow Pongo who is a bit of a thinker. There’s a bunch of chaps who would fit in perfectly at the Drones Club – complete fatheads the lot of them. “I’m sure you’re right, Jeeves, as always. “I would venture to suggest that he is in fact a Belgian.” That French chappy hasn’t appeared yet though. “I say, Jeeves,” I said, “this new Agatha Christie’s not half bad.