One Hundred Pushups

I drew Beau GST’s name for the Drones Club Chess Tournament Sweepstakes, so naturally I toddled around and put the laddy on a strict training regimen. He’s rather cutting up rough, but I told the fractious son of what not that I intend to stand for no rannymagazoo, as I believe our American cousins put it. My man Jeeves happened to overhear part of the contretemps between self and B. GST, and suggested that I avail myself of the poet’s dictum that music has power to still the savage beast, or possibly breast, I didn’t altogether catch the last part.

For felicity of expression I dare say that advice is all very well, though I must say that for all his gifts Jeeves is lamentably behind-hand with Scottish dialect, so no doubt what that johnny Burns really said was an music hane puir tae stillt the savick breastie, or perhaps beastie, but though Burns is to be complimented on his gift for expression, as advice its the balliest rot. Has Jeeves never heard the music they have these days? I shall have to send him to the Old Vic to run his eye, or rather his ear, over a few of the rapping artists. Music, forsooth!