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Updated: June 7, 2025
Shortly after the conclusion of this afternoon's binge at Market Snodsbury Grammar School he asked her to marry him, and she appears to have right-hoed without a murmur." "There must be some mistake." "There was. The snake Fink-Nottle made it, and by now I bet he realizes it. I've been chasing him since 5.30." "Chasing him?" "All over the place. I want to pull his head off." "I see. Quite."
"It must have been rather an eye-opener for you, watching me handle this case." "Yes, sir." "The simple, direct method never fails." "No, sir." "Whereas the elaborate does." "Yes, sir." "Right ho, Jeeves." We had arrived at the main entrance of Market Snodsbury Grammar School. I parked the car, and went in, well content.
Anything about splitting trousers went straight to the simple hearts of the young scholars of Market Snodsbury Grammar School. Two in the row in front of me turned purple, and a small lad with freckles seated beside them asked me for my autograph. "Let me tell you a story about Bertie Wooster." A Wooster can stand a good deal, but he cannot stand having his name bandied in a public place.
It was some time before this happened, for he had got a very fine hand indeed. I suppose it wasn't often that the boys of Market Snodsbury Grammar School came across a man public-spirited enough to call their head master a silly ass, and they showed their appreciation in no uncertain manner.
If, right after that, I ask him to put on lavender gloves and a topper and distribute the prizes at Market Snodsbury Grammar School, there will be a divorce in the family. He would pin a note to the pincushion and be off like a rabbit. No, my lad, you're for it, so you may as well make the best of it." "But, Aunt Dahlia, listen to reason. I assure you, you've got hold of the wrong man.
"But why do you want me? I mean, what am I? Ask yourself that." "I often have." "I mean to say, I'm not the type. You have to have some terrific nib to give away prizes. I seem to remember, when I was at school, it was generally a prime minister or somebody." "Ah, but that was at Eton. At Market Snodsbury we aren't nearly so choosy. Anybody in spats impresses us." "Why don't you get Uncle Tom?"
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