Aunts Aren't Gentlemen Quotes

“If she ever turned into a werewolf, it would be one of those jolly breezy werewolves whom it is a pleasure to know.”
― P.G. Wodehouse, Aunts Aren't Gentlemen

“No, I am quite content with you, Bertie. By the way, I do dislike that name Bertie. I think I shall call you Harold. Yes, I am perfectly satisfied with you. You have many faults, of course. I shall be pointing some of them out when I am at leisure.”
― P.G. Wodehouse, Aunts Aren't Gentlemen

“Aunts Aren't Gentlemen”
― P.G. Wodehouse, Aunts Aren't Gentlemen

“I'm much too much the popular pet ever since I sang 'Every Nice Girl Loves A Sailor' at the village concert last year. I had them rolling in the aisles. Three encores, and so many bows that I got a crick in the back."

"Spare me the tale of your excesses," I said distantly.

"I wore a sailor suit."

"Please," I said, revolted.”
― P.G. Wodehouse, Aunts Aren't Gentlemen

“Lord Chesterfield said that since he had had the full use of his reason nobody had heard him laugh. I don't suppose you have read Lord Chesterfield's 'Letters To His Son'?
...Well, of course I hadn't. Bertram Wooster does not read other people's letters. If I were employed in the post office I wouldn't even read the postcards.”
― P.G. Wodehouse, Aunts Aren't Gentlemen

“I felt like Doctor Watson hearing Sherlock Holmes talking about the one hundred and forty-seven varieties of tobacco ash and the time it takes parsley to settle in the butter dish.”
― P.G. Wodehouse, Aunts Aren't Gentlemen: (Jeeves & Wooster)

“He was looking like a minor prophet about to rebuke the sins of the people”
― P.G. Wodehouse, Aunts Aren't Gentlemen: (Jeeves & Wooster)

“He was a red-headed chap, and my experience of the red-headed is that you can always expect high blood pressure from them in times of stress. The first Queen Elizabeth had red hair, and look what she did to Mary Queen of Scots.”
― P.G. Wodehouse, Aunts Aren't Gentlemen: (Jeeves & Wooster)

“Father is and always has been a cross between Attila the Hun and a snapping-turtle.”
― P.G. Wodehouse, Aunts Aren't Gentlemen: (Jeeves & Wooster)

“If I meet a bird, I wave a friendly hand at it, to let it know that I wish it well, but I don’t want to crouch behind a bush observing its habits.”
― P.G. Wodehouse, Aunts Aren't Gentlemen: (Jeeves & Wooster)

“How sharper than a serpent's tooth, I remember Jeeves saying once, it is to have a thankless child, and it isn't a dashed sight better having a thankless aunt.”
― P.G. Wodehouse, Aunts Aren't Gentlemen

“Tell me, Jeeves," I said. "Suppose you were in a shop taking By The Order of the Czar out of the lending library and a clergyman's daughter came in and without so much as a preliminary 'Hullo, there' said to you, 'Has he brought it yet?' what interpretations would you place on those words?"

He pondered, this way and that dividing the swift mind, as I have heard him put it.

"'Has he brought it yet,' sir?"

"Just that."

"I should reach the conclusion that the lady was expecting a male acquaintance to have arrived or to be arriving shortly bearing some unidentified object.”
― P.G. Wodehouse, Aunts Aren't Gentlemen

“I found him in the private bar having a gin and ginger ale. His face, never much to write home about, was rendered even less of a feast for the eye by a dark scowl. His spirits were plainly at their lowest ebb, as so often happens when Sundered Heart A is feeling that the odds against his clicking with Sundered Heart B cannot be quoted at better than a hundred to eight.

Of course he may have been brooding because he had just heard that a pal of his in Moscow had been liquidated that morning, or he had murdered a capitalist and couldn't think of a way of getting rid of the body, but I preferred to attribute his malaise to frustrated love, and I couldn't help feeling a pang of pity for him”
― P.G. Wodehouse, Aunts Aren't Gentlemen

“If you were to come to me and say ‘Wooster, to settle a bet, which would you estimate is to be preferred, having your insides torn out by somebody’s bare hands or being thrashed within an inch of your life?’, I would find it difficult to decide. Both are things you’d rather have happen to another chap. But I think I would give my vote in favour of the last-named, always provided the other fellow was doing it in a small room, for there he would find that he had set himself a testing task.”
― P.G. Wodehouse, Aunts Aren't Gentlemen: (Jeeves & Wooster)

“You see before you a man who is as near to being what is known as a toad at Harrow as a man can be who was educated at Eton.”
― P.G. Wodehouse, Aunts Aren't Gentlemen: (Jeeves & Wooster)

“I HEADED FOR the cottage, where I had left the car. By the time I got there I should have done three miles of foot-slogging and I proposed to give the leg muscles a bit of time off, and if E. Jimpson Murgatroyd didn’t like it, let him eat cake.”
― P.G. Wodehouse, Aunts Aren't Gentlemen: (Jeeves & Wooster)

“the first thing a doctor does when you tell him you are going to a house where there’s a French cook is to put you on a diet.”
― P.G. Wodehouse, Aunts Aren't Gentlemen: (Jeeves & Wooster)

“I had forgotten you were a bird-watcher till you reminded me just now. You went in for it at Oxford, I remember. It isn’t a thing I would care to do myself. Not,” I hastened to add, “that I’ve anything against bird-watching. Must be most interesting, besides keeping you” – I was about to say “out of the public houses” but thought it better to change it to “out in the open air”.
“What’s the procedure?” I went on. “I suppose you lurk in a bush till a bird comes along, and then you out with the glasses and watch it.”
― P.G. Wodehouse, Aunts Aren't Gentlemen

“a chap after the horses.’ He had found the right”
― P.G. Wodehouse, Aunts Aren't Gentlemen: (Jeeves & Wooster)

“No, sir, is right. We are tranquil. And I'll tell you why. There are no aunts here. And in particular we are three thousand miles away from Mrs Dahlia Travers of Brinkley Manor, Market Snodsbury, Worcestershire. Don't get me wrong, Jeeves, I love the old flesh-and-blood. In fact I revere her. Nobody can say she isn't good company. But her moral code is lax. She cannot distinguish between what is according to Hoyle and what is not according to Hoyle. If she wants to do anything, she doesn't ask herself "Would Emily Post approve of this?", she goes ahead and does it, as she did in this matter of the cat. Do you know what is the trouble with aunts as a class?'

'No, sir.'

'They are not gentlemen,' I said gravely.”
― P.G. Wodehouse, Aunts Aren't Gentlemen

“Seeing Jeeves, he registered astonishment.

'Inspector Witherspoon!' he cried. 'Amazing how you Scotland Yard fellows always get your man. I suppose you've been on Alpine Joe's trail for weeks like a stoat and a rabbit. Little did he know that Inspector Witherspoon, the man who never sleeps, was watching his every move. Well, you couldn't have come up with him at a better moment, for in addition to whatever the police want him for he has stolen a valuable cat belonging to my friend Cook. We caught him redhanded, or as redhanded as it is possible to be when stealing cats. But I'm surprised that you should have untied him from the sofa. I always thought the one thing the police were fussy about was the necessity of leaving everything untouched.'

I must say I was what is called at a loss of words, but luckily Jeeves had plenty.

'I fail to understand you,' he said, his voice and manner so chilly that Plank must have been wishing he was wearing his winter woollies. 'And may I ask why you address me as Inspector Witherspoon? I am not Inspector Witherspoon.'

Plank clicked his tongue impatiently.

'Of course you are,' he said. 'I remember you distinctly. You'll be telling me next that you didn't arrest this man at my place in Gloucestershire for trying to obtain five pounds from me by false pretences.'

Jeeves had no irreproachable mechlin lace at his wrist, or he would unquestionably have flicked a speck of dust off it. He increased the coldness of his manner.

'You are mistaken in every respect,' he said. 'Mr Wooster has ample means. It seems scarcely likely, therefore, that he would have attempted to obtain a mere five pounds from you. I can speak with authority as to Mr Wooster's financial standing, for I am his solicitor and prepare his annual income tax return.'

'So there you are, Plank,' I said. 'It must be obvious to every thinking man that you have been having hallucinations, possibly the result of getting a touch of the sun while making a pest of yourself to the natives of Equatorial Africa. If I were you, I'd pop straight back to E. J. Murgatroyd and have him give you something for it. You don't want that sort of thing to spread. You'll look silly if it goes too far and we have to bury you before sundown.'

Plank was plainly shaken. He could not pale beneath his tan because he had so much tan that it was impossible to pale beneath it. I'm not sure I have put that exactly right. What I mean is that he may have paled, but you couldn't see it because of his sunburn.

But he was looking very thoughtful, and I knew what was passing in his mind. He was wondering how he was going to explain to Cook, whom by tying people to sofas he had rendered liable for heavy damages for assault and battery and all sorts of things.

These African explorers think quick. It took him about five seconds flat to decide not to stay and explain to Cook. Then he was out of the room in a flash, his destination presumably Bongo on the Congo or somewhere similar where the arm of the law couldn't touch him. I don't suppose he had shown a brisker turn of speed since the last time he had thought the natives seemed friendly and had decided to stay the night, only to have them come after him with assegais.”
― P.G. Wodehouse, Aunts Aren't Gentlemen

“Yes, where is she, rat?' said Plank, and I suddenly came over all calm. From being a Pekingese with throat trouble I turned in a flash into one of those fellows in historical novels who flick a speck of dust from the irreproachable mechlin lace at their wrists preparatory to making the bad guys feel like pieces of cheese. Because with my quick intelligence I had spotted that the parties of the second part had got all muddled up and that I was in a position to score off them as few parties of the second part had ever been scored off.”
― P.G. Wodehouse, Aunts Aren't Gentlemen

“I hid my tremors. A lifetime of getting socks on the jaw from the fist of Fate has made Bertram Wooster's face an inscrutable mask, and no one would have suspected that I was not as calm as an oyster on the half-shell as I started out for Eggesford Court with the cat. But actually, behind those granite features I was far from being tranquil. Indeed, you wouldn't have been wrong in saying that I was as jumpy as the above cat would have been if on hot bricks.”
― P.G. Wodehouse, Aunts Aren't Gentlemen

“t was a nasty knock, and the fact that I had been expecting it didn't make it any better. Oddly enough, I felt no animosity towards Cook, holding Plank the bloke responsible for this awkward situation. Roaming through Africa knee-deep in poisonous snakes of every description and with more man-eating pumas around than you could shake a stick at, he could so easily have passed away, regretted by all. Instead of which, he survived and went about making life tough for harmless typical young men about town who simply wanted to be left alone to restore their delicate health.”
― P.G. Wodehouse, Aunts Aren't Gentlemen

“I could appreciate her emotion. She was aware of her parent's distaste for the last of the Woosters, a distaste so marked that he turned mauve and swallowed his lunch the wrong way at the mention of my name, and chez me was the last place he would wish to find her. Orlo Porter had thought the worst on learning of what he called her clandestine visits to the Wooster home, and a father would, of course, think worse than Orlo. Pure though I was as the driven s., a fat chance I had of persuading him that I wasn't a modern Casa something. Not Casabianca. That was the chap who stood on the burning deck. Casanova. I knew I'd get it.”
― P.G. Wodehouse, Aunts Aren't Gentlemen

“To a man who has seen as much of life as I have there is always something sinister in a book bound in limp purple leather.”
― P.G. Wodehouse, Aunts Aren't Gentlemen

“The trouble is that she is greatly under the influence of a pal of hers called Tolstoy. I've never met him, but he seems to have the most extraordinary ideas. You won't believe this, Jeeves, but he says that no one needs to smoke, as equal pleasure can be obtained by twirling the fingers. The man must be an ass. Imagine a posh public dinner – one of those "decorations will be worn" things. The royal toast has been drunk, strong men are licking their lips at the thought of cigars, and the toastmaster bellows "Gentlemen, you may twirl your fingers." Don't tell me there wouldn't be a flat feeling, a sense of disappointment. Do you know anything about this fellow Tolstoy? You ever heard of him?'

'Oh, yes, sir. He was a very famous Russian novelist.'

'Russian, eh? Well, there you are. And a novelist? He didn't write By Order Of The Czar, did he?'

'I believe not, sir.'

'I thought he might have under another name. You say "was". Is he no longer with us?'

'No, sir. He died some years ago.'

'Good for him. Twirl your fingers! Too absurd. I'd laugh only she says I mustn't laugh because another pal of hers, called Chesterfield, didn't.”
― P.G. Wodehouse, Aunts Aren't Gentlemen

“Hell's bells! Ye gods! Angels and ministers of grace defend us! He brought the cat, and you deliberately turned it from your door, though you knew what it meant to me. Letting the side down! Failing me in my hour of need! Bringing my grey hairs in sorrow to the grave! And after all I've done for you, you miserable ungrateful worm. Do you remember me telling you that when you were a babe and suckling and looking, I may add in passing, like a badly poached egg, you nearly swallowed your rubber comforter, and if I hadn't jerked it out in time, you would have choked to death? It would go hard for you if you swallowed your rubber comforter now. I wouldn't stir a finger. Do you remember when you had measles and I gave up hours of my valuable time to playing tiddlywinks with you and letting you beat me without a murmur?”
― P.G. Wodehouse, Aunts Aren't Gentlemen

“How much do I want, sir?'

'Yes. Give it a name. We won't haggle.'

He pursed his lips.

'I'm afraid,' he said, having unpursed them, 'I couldn't do it as cheap as I'd like, sir. You see, what with them having discovered the animal's absence by this time, the hue and cry, as you might say, will be up and everybody at Mr Cook's residence on the qui vive or alert. I'd be in the position of a spy in wartime carrying secret dispatches through the enemy's lines with every eye on the look-out for him. I'd have to make it twenty pounds.'

I was relieved. I had been expecting something higher. He, too, seemed to feel that he had erred on the side of moderation, for he immediately added:

'Or, rather, thirty.'

'Thirty!'

'Thirty, sir.'

'Let's haggle,' I said.

But when I suggested twenty-five, a nicer-looking sort of number than thirty, he shook his grey head regretfully, so we went on haggling, and he haggled better than me, so that eventually we settled on thirty-five.

It wasn't one of my best haggling days.”
― P.G. Wodehouse, Aunts Aren't Gentlemen

“The first thing that impressed itself on me as I gave him the once-over was his air of respectability. I had always supposed that poachers were tough-looking eggs who wore whatever they could borrow from the nearest scarecrow and shaved only once a week. He, to the contrary, was neatly clad in formfitting tweeds and was shaven to the bone. His eyes were frank and blue, his hair a becoming grey. I have seen more raffish Cabinet ministers. He looked like someone who might have sung in the sainted Briscoe's church choir, as I was informed later he did, being the possessor of a musical tenor voice which came in handy for the anthem and when they were doing those 'miserable sinner' bits in the Litany.

He was about the height and tonnage of Fred Astaire, and he had the lissomness which is such an asset in his chosen profession. One could readily imagine him flitting silently through the undergrowth with a couple of rabbits in his grasp, always two jumps ahead of the gamekeepers who were trying to locate him. The old ancestor had compared him to the Scarlet Pimpernel, and a glance was enough to tell me that the tribute was well deserved. I thought how wise Jeeves had been in suggesting that I entrust to him the delicate mission which I had in mind. When it comes to returning cats that have been snitched from their lawful homes, you need a specialist. Where Lloyd George or Winston Churchill would have failed, this Graham, I knew would succeed.”
― P.G. Wodehouse, Aunts Aren't Gentlemen