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Showing posts with label P. G. Wodehouse. Show all posts
Showing posts with label P. G. Wodehouse. Show all posts

The Haunted Tram / P. G. Wodehouse

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Ghosts of The Towers, The Grange, The Court, Ghosts of the Castle Keep. Ghosts of the finicking, "high-life" sort Are ...

Damon and Pythias / P. G. Wodehouse

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A Romance Since Earth was first created, Since Time began to fly, No friends were e'er so mated, So firm as JONES and I. ...

The Past Theatrical Season / P. G. Wodehouse

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And the Six Best Performances by Unstarred Actors What lessons do we draw from the past theatrical season? In the first place,...

On the Writing of Lyrics / P. G. Wodehouse

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The musical comedy lyric is an interesting survival of the days, long since departed, when poets worked. As everyone knows, the only r...

The Agonies of Writing a Musical Comedy / P. G. Wodehouse

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Which Shows Why Librettists Pick at the Coverlet The trouble about musical comedy, and the reason why a great many otherwise kindl...

My Life As A Dramatic Critic / P. G. Wodehouse

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I had always wanted to be a dramatic critic. A taste for sitting back and watching other people work, so essential to the make-up of t...

The Alarming Spread of Poetry / P. G. Wodehouse

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To the thinking man there are few things more disturbing than the realization that we are becoming a nation of minor poets. In the goo...

A Plea For Indoor Golf / P. G. Wodehouse

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Indoor golf is that which is played in the home. Whether you live in a palace or a hovel, an indoor golf-course, be it only of nine ho...

Photographers and Me / P. G. Wodehouse

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I look in my glass, dear reader, and what do I see? Nothing so frightfully hot, believe me. The face is slablike, the ears are large a...

In Defence of Astigmatism / P. G. Wodehouse

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This is peculiarly an age where novelists pride themselves on the breadth of their outlook and the courage with which they refuse to i...

Some Aspects of Game-Captaincy / P. G. Wodehouse

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To the Game-Captain (of the football variety) the world is peopled by three classes, firstly the keen and regular player, next the par...

Disentangling Old Duggie / P. G. Wodehouse

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Doesn't some poet or philosopher fellow say that it's when our intentions are best that we always make the worst breaks? I can...

Jeeves Takes Charge / P. G. Wodehouse

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Now, touching this business of old Jeeves—my man, you know—how do we stand? Lots of people think I'm much too dependent on him. My...

Tom, Dick, and Harry / P. G. Wodehouse

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This story will interest and amuse all cricketers, and while from the male point of view it may serve as a good illustration of the fi...

When Papa Swore in Hindustani / P. G. Wodehouse

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"Sylvia!" "Yes, papa." "That infernal dog of yours——" "Oh, papa!" "Yes, t...

My Battle With Drink / P. G. Wodehouse

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I could tell my story in two words—the two words "I drank." But I was not always a drinker. This is the story of my downfall...

The Secret Pleasures of Reginald / P. G. Wodehouse

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I found Reggie in the club one Saturday afternoon. He was reclining in a long chair, motionless, his eyes fixed glassily on the ceilin...

The New Advertising / P. G. Wodehouse

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"In Denmark," said the man of ideas, coming into the smoking room, "I see that they have original ideas on the subject ...

An Unfinished Collection / P. G. Wodehouse

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A silence had fallen upon the smoking room. The warrior just back from the front had enquired after George Vanderpoop, and we, who kne...

Pillingshot, Detective / P. G. Wodehouse

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Life at St. Austin's was rendered somewhat hollow and burdensome for Pillingshot by the fact that he fagged for Scott. Not that Sc...