The club book was never intended to be light and titillated reading for the members. Its function is solely to acquaint those who are contemplating taking new posts with the foibles of prospective emp...
No burglar wastes his time burgling authors.
It was a morning when all nature shouted Fore! The breeze, as it blew gently up from the valley, seemed to bring a message of hope and cheer, whispering of chip-shots holed and brassies landing square...
Her eye was aflame, and she spoke like Cleopatra telling an Ethiopian slave where he got off.
Conversationally, I am like a clockwork toy. I have to be set going.
But, Bill, old scout, your sister says there's a most corking links near here.He turned and stared at me, and nearly ran us into the bank.You don't mean honestly she said that?She said you said it was...
I never feel really comfortable unless I am either actually writing or have a story going. I could not stop writing.
You would not enjoy Nietzsche, sir. He is fundamentally unsound.
The wretched man seemed fully conscious of his position.
He couldn’t have moved quicker if he had been the dachshund Poppet, who at this juncture was running round in circles, trying, if I read his thoughts aright, to work off the rather heavy lunch he had...
From my earliest years I had always wanted to be a writer. It was not that I had any particular message for humanity. I am still plugging away and not the ghost of one so far, so it begins to look as...
I spent the afternoon musing on Life. If you come to think of it, what a queer thing Life is! So unlike anything else, don't you know, if you see what I mean.
Lord Emsworth belonged to the people-like-to-be-left-alone-to-amuse-themselves-when-they-come-to-a-place school of hosts
You remind me of an old cat I once had. Whenever he killed a mouse he would bring it into the drawing-room and lay it affectionately at my feet. I would reject the corpse with horror and turn him out,...
You ask me,’ a thoughtful Crumpet had once said in the smoking-room of the Drones Club, ‘why it is that at the mention of his Uncle Fred’s name Pongo Twistleton blenches to the core and calls for a co...
Boko looked at me, and raised his eyebrows. I looked at Boko, and raised my eyebrows. Nobby looked at us both, and raised her eyebrows. Then we looked at Stilton, and all raised our eyebrows. It was o...
You can't expect an empty aunt to beam like a full aunt.
The ideas of debtor and creditor as to what constitutes a good time never coincide.
I could see that, if not actually disgruntled, he was far from being gruntled.
For a time the broken heart, and then suddenly the healing conviction that one is jolly well out of it.