Jeeves and the Vaccine

“What ho, Jeeves! What ho, what ho, what ho!” I was in jolly good spirits. Had to pop off to the country to help Augustus Fink Nottle terminate his engagement with my cousin, Eustace. I was successfully able to convince both of them that love was a transient disease, best dealt with quickly. After many crumpets, they decided to remain dear, dear friends. We had then repaired to the Drones’s Club with Monty Bodkin, Barmy Fotheringay-Phipps, and Oofy Prosser to indulge in libations. When we began to slur on the fifth rendition of “Hey Nonny Nonny”, I had legged it back to London, though in top form.

“Yes, sir?” Jeeves queried. Dashed annoying, you know. How the bloke never seems to lose his composure.

“It’s over! One more feather in my cap! It’s the Wooster brains, old boy” I gloated.

“Yes, sir.” He replied, with complete equanimity. It was hard to know if he was being condescending or supportive, but he went about his way nonchalantly as if nothing was remiss. “You have an invitation from Lady Agatha.”

I quickly grabbed the envelope and read the invite. It was a heavenly dinner invitation with none other than Anatole cooking his masterful fares. But the fine print got my attention.

“Rum thing, Jeeves! I can’t go unless I’m not vaccinated!”

“Indeed sir? That is rather inconvenient”. Jeeves was the master of understatement. I had not been vaccinated as yet but was just about to. The Fink Nottle case had put a lid on it.

“Inconvenient? This is absolute stinker!”

“Yes, sir.” He continued, not in the least agitated..

“To take or not to take, that is the question” I continued in a fit of Shakespearean prose.

“Yes, sir.” He replied agreeably. “that is indeed the question.” I could see that this conversation was not going anywhere. The Lord of the House would have to take charge.

“Well, what do you think? Should I take it?”

“It’s not for me to say, sir”. He demurred.

Perhaps a little background would be in order. Aunt Agatha, who is little to the right of Attila the Hun, refuses to have anything to do with vaccines. Something about freedom and all that. She keeps saying the lads did not die in Dunkirk for nothing. Which is fine, except that she has the most amazing Chef, Anatole, whose cooking could render even the Viking hordes into singing sappy songs and exchanging tearful hugs. And she won’t let anyone in the house who is vaccinated. So yes vaccine, no Anatole.

“So Jeeves, what am I to do? You know, if I don’t go, you don’t either!” As a fan of Anatole’s French culinary perfection, this would finally get his attention.

It did. The forehead became furrowed, if only for just a few seconds. The upper lip quivered.

“One could always say one thing even if one did that other” he suggested in a circuitous way.

“No Jeeves!” I replied firmly. “We Woosters do not prevaricate!” Code of the Woosters, you know. Besides, I knew I would crack under Aunt Agatha’s piercing gaze, one that can send a shiver down even a shark’s spine.

“She does not believe the science?” He was careful not to be judgmental.

“She does not believe it has been proven enough. And with new mutants that keep coming, she thinks vaccines are losing their elan Vitale. So she thinks it is a waste of time.”

Unsaid, of course, was the money issue. Upkeep of her castle costs a lot of money, and with all spending by governments, she could see her taxes increase. Darndest thing, but there you have it.

“Then, sir, there is only one solution!” He drew himself up and repaired to his quarters, only to reappear with his hands full.

“Here, sir, is a mask that you can wear in her house while unvaccinated and dining with those similarly afflicted”. It was specially designed, with a flap in the middle that wiggled like a cat door. Food could go in and out through the flap while the mask stayed on.

“Clever, Jeeves. But how will I get food from the table without getting close to others?”

“You can use this, Sir?”. He pulled out a pair of tongs, six feet long. And using that, he poured me a glass of the finest Scotch from a safe distance. Nothing that a long stiff one can’t cure.