R: Fantastic Four Annual #19 (November 1985), art by Kerry Gammill and Joe Sinnott
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'It turns out that she's an imposter. It's an odd thing about Blandings Castle, it seems to attract imposters as catnip does cats. They make a bee line for the place. When two or three imposters are gathered together, it's only a question of time before they're saying "Let's all go round to Blandings", and along they come. It shakes one. I've sometimes asked myself if Connie is really Connie. How can we be certain that she's not an international spy cunningly made up as Connie? The only one of the local fauna I feel really sure about is Beach. He seems to be genuine.'(Oh yes. Beach the butler. Hmmm. It really is too bad Sebastian Cabot is dead, isn't it? Well, p'raps Beach could be created by CGI or perhaps other Hollywood wizardry.)
'Not that we don't have some remarkable names over here. I was reading my Debrett the other day, and I came on a chap called Lord Orrery and Cork. I wondered how you would address him if you met. One's natural impulse would be to say "How do you do, Lord Orrery?", but if you did, wouldn't he draw himself up rather stiffly and say "And Cork"? You'd have to apologise.'Connie's scolding does no good, because Clarence immediately digresses into a long paragraph about potato chips (incidentally showing how long Wodehouse had been in America by this point that he didn't type 'crisps') and how extraordinary it is that some companies claim you can't eat just one. It's something remarkable about nothing, predating Seinfeld by decades with a pleasantly hazy British peer of the realm instead of a Jewish stand-up comedian.
'...But all that's over now. It makes me feel as if I were sitting in at the end of a play, one of those charming delicate things the French do so well. You know the sort of thing I meanlightly sentimental, the smile following the tear. I am having my dinner. The storm is over, there is sunlight in my heart. I have a glass of wine and sit thinking of what has passed. And now we want something to bring down the curtain. A toast is indicated. Let us drink to the Pelican Club, under whose gentle tuition I learned to keep cool, stiffen the upper lip and always think a shade quicker than the next man. To the Pelican Club,' said Gally, raising his glass.
'To the Pelican Club," said Lord Emsworth, raising his. 'What is the Pelican Club, Galahad?'
'God bless you, Clarence,' said Gally. 'Have some more roly-poly pudding.'