Much Obliged, Jeeves

the ointment, a familiar saying meaning… well, I don’t quite know what it does mean. It seems to imply a state of affairs at which one is supposed to look askance, but why, I ask myself, shouldn’t flies be in ointment? What harm do they do? And who wants ointment, anyway? But you get what I’m driving at. The Junior Ganymede club book is still in existence. That is what tempers my ecstasy with anxiety. We have seen how packed with trinitrotoluol it is, and we know how easily it can fall into the hands of the powers of darkness. Who can say that another Bingley may not come along and snitch it from the secretary’s room? I know it is too much to ask you to burn the beastly thing, but couldn’t you at Ieast destroy the eighteen pages in which I figure?’
    ‘I have already done so. sir.’
    I leaped like a rising trout, to the annoyance of Gas. who had gone to sleep on my solar plexus. Words failed rne but in due season I managed three.
    ‘Much obliged, Jeeves.’
    ‘Not at all sir.’
    The End