By P. G. Wodehouse
Bertie Wooster has been overdoing metropolitan lifestyles a section, and the physician orders clean air within the depths of the rustic. yet after relocating with Jeeves to his cottage at Maiden Eggesford, Bertie quickly unearths himself surrounded via aunts - not just his redoubtable Aunt Dahlia yet an aunt of Jeeves's too. upload a hyper-sensitive racehorse, an important cat and a decidedly bossy fiancée - and all of the constituents are current for a plot within which aunts can exert their poor authority. yet Jeeves, in fact, can deal with every little thing - even aunts, or even the rustic. the ultimate Jeeves and Wooster novel indicates P.G. Wodehouse nonetheless capable of satisfaction, good into his nineties.
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Extra resources for Aunts Aren't Gentlemen (Jeeves, Book 15)
Kids, I’m sorry, but the truth is, a few evenings spent sleeping with strangers and tripping your brains out on peyote or some really clean blotter acid would be the best thing that could ever happen to you. Forget trying to get a job at Google or trying to raise venture funding for some startup. Go down to the Mission and score some weed. Buy yourself a bong, and fire it up. Then go think of an idea for a company. Which is all a long way of saying that the first thing I do when I get home from the Ultimate Frisbee game is go upstairs to my office, put on some Leonard Cohen and fire up a bowl of some fine reddish buds.
After the meal, Larry gets up and shows off his karate moves, which scares the shit out of the geisha girls. They all go running from the room screaming. By the time we’re done it’s five in the afternoon. From Larry’s driveway we can see out over the entire Valley. Low black clouds are massing overhead, getting ready to pour. Up here in the hills a few fat drops have started splattering down. “All those poor bastards,” Larry says, nodding toward Route 280, where the traffic is jammed up and inching along.
Obnoxious. I’m told all the time that I seem like a narcissistic egomaniac. You know what I say? I say, “Look, wouldn’t you be an egomaniac if you woke up one day and found out you were me? ” Of course the bad part of being such a mega-rich mega-famous mega-creative genius is that there are always some jerks looking to take a shot at you. In my case those jerks include the United States government, and despite everything I’ve done for the world—or maybe because of it—they are determined to put me out of business.
Aunts Aren't Gentlemen (Jeeves, Book 15) by P. G. Wodehouse