Ukridge Stories by P. G. Wodehouse (best large ereader TXT) ๐
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Stanley Featherstonehaugh Ukridge is one of P. G. Wodehouseโs less famous characters. He first appears in Love Among the Chickens in 1906 and then continues to make appearances in another 19 short stories until as late as 1966, making him Wodehouseโs longest running character.
Ukridge is an inveterate opportunist, and these stories chronicle his exploits as a young man: his trials and tribulations as one who is destined for greatness, if the rest of the world would only cooperate. Told from the point of view of his long-suffering friend and fellow bachelor โCorkyโ Corcoran, they chronicle their many meetings in the years before the period of Love Among the Chickens.
As with most of his stories, Wodehouse published the first 10 stories in both the U.S. (Cosmopolitan) and the UK (Strand Magazine) before they were published in the 1924 collection Ukridge.
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- Author: P. G. Wodehouse
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All over the inhabited globe, so the well-informed sheet gave one to understand, every kind of accident was happening every day to practically everybody in existence except Teddy Weeks. Farmers in Minnesota were getting mixed up with reaping-machines, peasants in India were being bisected by crocodiles; iron girders from skyscrapers were falling hourly on the heads of citizens in every town from Philadelphia to San Francisco; and the only people who were not down with ptomaine poisoning were those who had walked over cliffs, driven motors into walls, tripped over manholes, or assumed on too slight evidence that the gun was not loaded. In a crippled world, it seemed, Teddy Weeks walked alone, whole and glowing with health. It was one of those grim, ironical, hopeless, grey, despairful situations which the Russian novelists love to write about, and I could not find it in me to blame Ukridge for taking direct action in this crisis. My only regret was that bad luck caused so excellent a plan to miscarry.
My first intimation that he had been trying to hurry matters on came when he and I were walking along the Kingโs Road one evening, and he drew me into Markham Square, a dismal backwater where he had once had rooms.
โWhatโs the idea?โ I asked, for I disliked the place.
โTeddy Weeks lives here,โ said Ukridge. โIn my old rooms.โ I could not see that this lent any fascination to the place. Every day and in every way I was feeling sorrier and sorrier that I had been foolish enough to put money which I could ill spare into a venture which had all the earmarks of a washout, and my sentiments towards Teddy Weeks were cold and hostile.
โI want to enquire after him.โ
โEnquire after him? Why?โ
โWell, the fact is, laddie, I have an idea that he has been bitten by a dog.โ
โWhat makes you think that?โ
โOh, I donโt know,โ said Ukridge, dreamily. โIโve just got the idea. You know how one gets ideas.โ
The mere contemplation of this beautiful event was so inspiring that for awhile it held me silent. In each of the ten journals in which we had invested dog-bites were specifically recommended as things which every subscriber ought to have. They came about halfway up the list of lucrative accidents, inferior to a broken rib or a fractured fibula, but better value than an ingrowing toenail. I was gloating happily over the picture conjured up by Ukridgeโs words when an exclamation brought me back with a start to the realities of life. A revolting sight met my eyes. Down the street came ambling the familiar figure of Teddy Weeks, and one glance at his elegant person was enough to tell us that our hopes had been built on sand. Not even a toy Pomeranian had chewed this man.
โHallo, you fellows!โ said Teddy Weeks.
โHallo!โ we responded, dully.
โCanโt stop,โ said Teddy Weeks. โIโve got to fetch a doctor.โ
โA doctor?โ
โYes. Poor Victor Beamish. Heโs been bitten by a dog.โ
Ukridge and I exchanged weary glances. It seemed as if Fate was going out of its way to have sport with us. What was the good of a dog biting Victor Beamish? What was the good of a hundred dogs biting Victor Beamish? A dog-bitten Victor Beamish had no market value whatever.
โYou know that fierce brute that belongs to my landlady,โ said Teddy Weeks. โThe one that always dashes out into the area and barks at people who come to the front door.โ I remembered. A large mongrel with wild eyes and flashing fangs, badly in need of a haircut. I had encountered it once in the street, when visiting Ukridge, and only the presence of the latter, who knew it well and to whom all dogs were as brothers, had saved me from the doom of Victor Beamish. โSomehow or other he got into my bedroom this evening. He was waiting there when I came home. I had brought Beamish back with me, and the animal pinned him by the leg the moment I opened the door.โ
โWhy didnโt he pin you?โ asked Ukridge, aggrieved.
โWhat I canโt make out,โ said Teddy Weeks, โis how on earth the brute came to be in my room. Somebody must have put him there. The whole thing is very mysterious.โ
โWhy didnโt he pin you?โ demanded Ukridge again.
โOh, I managed to climb on to the top of the wardrobe while he was biting Beamish,โ said Teddy Weeks. โAnd then the landlady came and took him away. But I canโt stop here talking. I must go and get that doctor.โ
We gazed after him in silence as he tripped down the street. We noted the careful manner in which he paused at the corner to eye the traffic before crossing the road, the wary way in which he drew back to allow a truck to rattle past.
โYou heard that?โ said Ukridge, tensely. โHe climbed on to the top of the wardrobe!โ
โYes.โ
โAnd you saw the way he dodged that excellent truck?โ
โYes.โ
โSomethingโs got to be done,โ said Ukridge, firmly.
โThe man has got to be awakened to a sense of his responsibilities.โ
Next day a deputation waited on Teddy Weeks.
Ukridge was our spokesman, and he came to the point with admirable directness.
โHow about it?โ asked Ukridge.
โHow about what?โ replied Teddy Weeks, nervously, avoiding his accusing eye.
โWhen do we get action?โ
โOh, you mean that accident business?โ
โYes.โ
โIโve been thinking about that,โ said Teddy Weeks.
Ukridge drew the mackintosh which he wore indoors and out
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