Saturday, 15 April 2017

A Few More Laughs From ` The Small Bachelor' by PG Wodehouse

I have already posted on `The Small Bachelor' , but the laughs in this novel is unlimited. Despite posting in two parts, a third part is fully loaded

Here is the final instalment but this is just a tip of the iceberg of this funniest novel by PGW

This is the last place you should be proposing to a girl
                `Well, anyway, we walked around for a while, looking at the animals, suddenly he asked me to marry him outside the cage of the Siberian yak’
                `No, sir!’ exclaimed Sigsbee H, with a sudden strange firmness, the indulgent father who for once in his life asserts himself `When you get married, you’ll be married in St Thomas’s like any other nice girl’
                `I mean it was outside the cage of the Siberian yak that he asked me to marry him’
                Why do parents especially mothers of beautiful girls entertain such thoughts about their daughter’s lover?
                George was not vain, and if Molly’s stepmother had been simply content to look at him as if she thought he was something the cat had dragged out of the dustbin, he could have borne up. Her whole attitude betrayed her belief that the cat, on inspecting George, had been disappointed. Seeing what it had got, her manner suggested, it had given him the look of chagrin which cats give when conscious of effort wasted and gone elsewhere to try.
                What a definition of marriage!
                Marriage is not a process for prolonging the life of love, sir. It merely mummifies the corpse.
                Can hatred towards an individual be expressed in a better way?
                What on earth was the use of trying to be optimistic about a world which contained people like Hamilton Beamish?
                Why else do they say Love is Blind, it can make the most logical of men go bizarre!!!
                Hamilton Beamish had been listening to these exchanges with a rapidly rising temperature. His heart was pounding feverishly in his bosom. There is no one who become so primitive, when gripped by love, as the man who all his life has dwelt in the cool empyrean of the intellect. For twenty years and more, Hamilton Beamish had supposed that he was above the crude passions of the ordinary man, and when love got him it got him good. And now, standing there and listening to these two, he was conscious of a jealousy so keen that he could no longer keep silent. Hamilton Beamish, the thinker, had ceased to be; and there stood in his place Hamilton Beamish, the descendant of ancestors who had conducted their love affairs with stout clubs and who, on seeing a rival, wasted no time in calm reflection but jumped on him like a ton of bricks and did their best to bit his head off. If you had given him a bearskin and taken away his spectacles, Hamilton Beamish at this moment would have been prehistoric man.
                An individual’s lack of intelligence cannot be said more funnily
                Sigsbee H Waddington, as has perhaps been sufficiently indicated in this narrative, was not a man who could think deeply without getting a headache; but even at the expense of an aching head he had been compelled to do some very deep thinking as he journeyed to New York in the train.

                The Thumb Rule to a Happy Married Life
                `I’m always right’ said Fanny, giving her husband’s cheek a loving pinch `That’s the first thing you’ve to get into your head, now you’re a married man’
                A philosophical thought on morality
                The instinct of self preservation not only sharpens the wits, but at the same time dulls the moral sensibility.
                 An insensitive person cannot be described better
                Deaf persons had always irritated her, for like so many women of an impatient and masterful turn of mind, she was of the opinion that they could hear perfectly well if they took the trouble.
                PGW has a way with explaining the fairer sex’s tyranny….
                She drew away. She was not normally an unkind girl, but the impulse of the female of the species to torture the man it loves is well known. Women maybe a ministering angel  when pain and anguish wring the brow; but, if at other times she sees a chance to prod the loved one and watch him squirm, she hates to miss it.
                … or expressing the superiority of the male.
                The girl eyed him worshipfully. One of the consolations which we men of intellect have is that, when things come to a crisis, what captures the female heart is brains. Women may permit themselves in times of peace to stray after sheiks and look languishingly at lizards whose only claim to admiration is that they cannot go the first three steps of the Charleston; but let matters go wrong; let some peril threaten; and who then is the main kingpin, who the main squeeze? The man with the Eight and a Quarter hat.

                A man cannot be more determined than this…
                A cyclone might shake this man, but not the human eye.

No comments:

Post a comment

Brickbats or Boquets I accept them all, vent it out here!

Dr BR Ambedkar's 130th Birth Anniversary

Today is Dr BR Ambedkar's 130th Birth Anniversary.  April 14th is my new year, and it is the day on which every festival occurs for me. ...