RANDOM REMINDER

Press, Volume CIV, Issue 30788, 28 June 1965, Page 26

RANDOM REMINDER

LEAVE IT TO JEEVES

To the ululation of the heat-exhausted peacocks, the Greater London Coun-

cil’s first new restaurant, the Belvedere, was opened yesterday in Holland Park. Thus “The Times” the other day. We have a suspicion that the Bright Young Man responsible for that piece of immortal prose had the idea in the back of his mind that he would send Top People all over England scurrying for their dictionaries ait breakfast next morning; but not, of course, young Wooster . . . “Jeeves,” he would ask, “describe in no more than a dozen words the ululation of a heat-exhausted peacock.” “Sir, one does not recall precisely the particular cadences of Pavo cristatus, but there is a lasting impression of cacophanous

diseuphony, sostenuto and, if I may say so sir, fortissimo.”

“Good gracious Jeeves. Is it fatal?” “P cristatus emits this discordant stridor when in a state of euphoria or when attempting to attract the attention of the female.” “Jeeves, not, please, at the breakfast table. This constant pre-, pre- whatever it is, with thingamy takes the edge off the old bacon and doings. I only asked about this dashed 00100 thing. Old Jeremy and I thought we’d give this Belvedere place a whirl for luncheon, but it says here in The Times’ in blade and grey that the peacock things were ululated. Did the diners throw some crusts at them or try the wines on them?”

“The term, sir. doee not describe a state, but rather the vocal emissions of P cristatus.” “P who?” “Peacock sir." “Dash it Jeeves, you’re confusing the issue. 1 simply want to know about ooloo." “The term, sir, merely means a call or a cry. If, in the passage quoted, the word 'cry' or ‘call’ substituted for ululation, the meaning becomes clear.” “Cry? Is that all. Why the devil didn’t the writer fellow say so? Jeeves I shall write a letter to The Times’ to complain.” “Very good sir. The phrase would be enigmatic to many.” “Jeeves?" “Sir." “How do you spell editor?"