A Jeeves and Wooster novel The beefy 'Stilton' Cheesewright has drawn Bertie Wooster as red-hot favourite in the Drones club annual darts tournament - which is lucky for Bertie because otherwise Stilton would have beaten him to a pulp and buttered the lawn with him. Stilton does not, after all like men who he thinks are trifling with his fiancée's affections. Meanwhile Bertie has committed a more heinous offence by growing a moustache, and Jeeves strongly disapproves - which is unfortunate, because Jeeves's feudal spirit is desperately needed. Bertie's Aunt Dahlia is trying to sell her magazine Milady's Boudoir to the Trotter Empire and still keep her amazing chef Anatole out of Lady Trotter's clutches. And Bertie? Bertie simply has to try to hold onto his moustache and hope he gets to the end in one piece.

When Bertie Wooster goes to stay with his Aunt Dahlia at Brinkley Court and finds himself engaged to the imperious Lady Florence Craye, disaster threatens from all sides. While Florence tries to cultivate his mind, her former fiance, hefty policeman Stilton Cheesewright, threatens to beat his body to a pulp, and her new admirer, the bleating poet Percy Gorringe, tries to borrow a thousand pounds. To cap it all, Bertie has incurred the disapproval of Jeeves by growing a moustache, thus alienating the only man who can save him from his trip to the altar.

In The Inimitable Jeeves, Bertie Wooster and his valet Jeeves embark on a series of riotous adventures. Among other things they involve Bertie's feeble attempts to stop his friend Bingo Little from falling in love with every girl he meets. But the amiable chump's main concern is to avoid the eagle eye and iron will of his merciless Aunt Agatha. In one of the funniest works in the English language, P. G. Wodehouse charms, delights, and occasionally surprises the reader with his shrewd parody of the carefree lives of the English elite.

Jeeves—my man, you know—is really a most extraordinary chap. So capable. Honestly, I shouldn't know what to do without him. On broader lines he's like those chappies who sit peering sadly over the marble battlements at the Pennsylvania Station in the place marked "Inquiries." You know the Johnnies I mean. You go up to them and say: "When's the next train for Melonsquashville, Tennessee?" and they reply, without stopping to think, "Two-forty-three, track ten, change at San Francisco." And they're right every time. Well, Jeeves gives you just the same impression of omniscience. As an instance of what I mean, I remember meeting Monty Byng in Bond Street one morning, looking the last word in a grey check suit, and I felt I should never be happy till I had one like it. I dug the address of the tailors out of him, and had them working on the thing inside the hour. "Jeeves," I said that evening. "I'm getting a check suit like that one of Mr. Byng's." "Injudicious, sir," he said firmly. "It will not become you." "What absolute rot! It's the soundest thing I've struck for years." "Unsuitable for you, sir." Well, the long and the short of it was that the confounded thing came home, and I put it on, and when I caught sight of myself in the glass I nearly swooned. Jeeves was perfectly right. I looked a cross between a music-hall comedian and a cheap bookie. Yet Monty had looked fine in absolutely the same stuff. These things are just Life's mysteries, and that's all there is to it. But it isn't only that Jeeves's judgment about clothes is infallible, though, of course, that's really the main thing. The man knows everything. There was the matter of that tip on the "Lincolnshire." I forget now how I got it, but it had the aspect of being the real, red-hot tabasco. "Jeeves," I said, for I'm fond of the man, and like to do him a good turn when I can, "if you want to make a bit of money have something on Wonderchild for the 'Lincolnshire.'"

_______________________________ A Jeeves and Wooster novel Jeeves is on holiday in Herne Bay, and while he's away the world caves in on Bertie Wooster. For a start, he's astonished to read in The Times of his engagement to the mercurial Bobbie Wickham. Then at Brinkley Court, his Aunt Dahlia's establishment, he finds his awful former head master in attendance ready to award the prizes at Market Snodsbury Grammar School. And finally the Brinkley butler turns out for reasons of his own to be Bertie's nemesis in disguise, the brain surgeon Sir Roderick Glossop. With all occasions informing against him, Bertie has to hightail it to Herne Bay to liberate Jeeves from his shrimping net. And after that, the fun really starts. ‘I picked up Jeeves in the Offing recently, having not read PG Wodehouse for years. Half an hour later I was still reading and laughing. He can develop a comic idea and deliver the payoff over a chapter, a paragraph, or a single sentence.’ Sadie Jones (in the Guardian)

"P. G. Wodehouse wrote the best English comic novels of the century." —Sebastian Faulks Bertram Wooster’s interminable banjolele playing has driven Jeeves, his otherwise steadfast gentleman's gentleman, to give notice. The foppish aristocrat cannot survive for long without his Shakespeare-quoting and problem-solving valet, however, and after a narrowly escaped forced marriage, a cottage fire, and a great butter theft, the celebrated literary odd couple are happy to return to the way things were.