Happy birthday, Pelham

I can only apologise for the lack of anything interesting round here lately. I’m still in a bit of a slump after various life-mares and work-mares, so there’s not much in the way of inspiring content pumping through my veins.

Today would have been P G Wodehouse’s 131st birthday and as he’s the person I turn to whenever I’m feeling slumpish, I figured I’d share this documentary on his life and works.

It was on originally aired on the BBC last September and it’s like the visual equivalent of a onesie, a lasagne or the Mamas and Papas; good, clean comfort and nothing else.

Here’s a bit of Wodehouse to end on;

β€œThere was something sort of bleak about her tone, rather as if she had swallowed an east wind. This I took to be due to the fact that she probably hadn’t breakfasted. It’s only after a bit of breakfast that I’m able to regard the world with that sunny cheeriness which makes a fellow the universal favourite. I’m never much of a lad till I’ve engulfed an egg or two and a beaker of coffee.

“I suppose you haven’t breakfasted?”

“I have not yet breakfasted.”

“Won’t you have an egg or something? Or a sausage or something? Or something?”

“No, thank you.”

She spoke as if she belonged to an anti-sausage league or a league for the suppression of eggs. There was a bit of silence.”

Ah, even in my darkest hours.

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