Anybody who's had the misfortune of being cornered by me when im rambling on the subject will unquestionably know that im more than a little obsessed with the writings of a certain Sir Pelham Grenville.. Or to you lesser mortals, P.G. Wodehouse.. Following are snippets which may constitue my 'favorite bits'.. the list is by no means exhaustive..
He had the look of a frustrated tiger whose personal physician had recommended a strict vegetarian diet....
If he had a mind, there was something on it.
His whole attitude recalled irresistibly to the mind that of some assiduous hound who will persist in laying a dead rat on the drawing-room carpet, though repeatedly apprised by word and gesture that the market for same is sluggish or even non-existent.
I suppose I'm one of those fellows my father always warned me against.
He looked like a dictator on the point of starting a purge.
"I love deer.''
"Me, too. I've met some very decent deer.''
It is never difficult to distinguish between a Scotsman with a grievance and a ray of sunshine.
He's as jealous as billy-ho. Smear a bit of burnt cork on him, and he could step right on to any stage and play Othello without rehearsal.
"I am rejoiced that my poor effort should have elicited so striking an encomium.''
"He says he's glad you liked it.''
He was white and shaken, like a dry martini.
It was a confusion of ideas between him and one of the lions he was hunting in Kenya that had caused A. B. Spottsworth to make the obituary column. He thought the lion was dead, and the lion thought it wasn't.
And it goes on...