Most Helpful Customer Reviews
|
|
7 of 7 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
A great tale, 1 April 2000
By A Customer
This is one of P. G. Wodehouse's many works written in the 1920s and 1930s. It shows an upper-middle-class ne'er-do-well in pecuniary difficulties who adopts many hare-brained schemes to make money. The book also features his long-suffering friends and shows what life for a gentleman was like in this period. I particularly liked the frequent references to spats (for the uninformed, these are objects to protect the lower leg from rain and mud). All the escapades are self-contained chapters and can be enjoyed if one just has an odd moment. One often feels sorry for the eponymous Ukridge, who manages to be charming as well as irresponsible. He infects his friends with his unfailing enthusiasm and optimism. Like all of Wodehouse's work, this book is very humorous and still most suitable for the young gentleman of to-day.
|
|
|
3 of 3 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
Hilarious antics of an amiable scoundrel, 9 Nov 1998
By A Customer
"Laddie," said Stanley Featherstonehaugh Ukridge, that much-enduring man, helping himself to my tobacco and slipping the pouch absently into his pocket, "listen to me, you son of Belial." "What?" I said, retrieving the pouch. "Do you want to make an enormous fortune?" "I do." "Then write my biography. Bung it down on paper and we'll split the proceeds." So begins what is more a collection of stories than a novel, a series of episodes like a sitcom, involving the inimitable Ukridge, borrower of fivers and favours, not to mention socks and shirts and dress-clothes, all seen from the point of view of his rather dimly dependable old school friend "Corky" Corcoran. Among the haphazard schemes by which Ukridge hopes to make his fortune, his attempt to manage a not-very-professional pugilist by the name of Battling Billson is perhaps the most egregiously ludicrous. Billson is one of nature's gentlemen, given to such mild rejoinders as "R!" or "Ur", but when roused by insult or the sight of a friend or barmaid in jeopardy, he will knock all comers for six with left-hooks and upper-cuts galore. The only trouble is, he's much too decent to fight a man just for the sake of it, a major drawback in a professional pugilist. Eventually Billson renounces the boxing life altogether, after getting religion at a revival meeting in a remote Welsh village, leaving his hapless manager (who otherwise stands to lose his share of the take) to fight in his place. Another story concerns Ukridge's attempts to insinuate himself into the affections of a hymn-singing suburban family by pretending to be the wealthy owner of a smart new motor car whose chauffeur he happens to have befriended. The plan goes awry when a persistent creditor catches up with him and exposes him for a fraud. Nothing daunted, by the start of the next story Ukridge will have another sure-fire plan for the achievement of instant enrichment. Corky looks on, fascinated and appalled, but with a sneaking admiration too. "And listen laddie, I'll tell you what. You're a good chap and we've been pals for years, so I'll let you have my share of the English serial rights for a hundred pounds down." "What makes you think I've got a hundred pounds?" "Well, then, I'll make it my share of the English AND American serial rights for fifty." "Your collar's come off its stud." "How about my complete share of the whole dashed outfit for twenty-five?" "Not for me, thanks." "Then I'll tell you what, old horse," said Ukridge, inspired. "Just lend me half a crown to be going on with."
|
|
|
2 of 2 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
Hilarious antics of an amiable scoundrel, 6 Nov 1998
By A Customer
"Laddie," said Stanley Featherstonehaugh Ukridge, that much-enduring man, helping himself to my tobacco and slipping the pouch absently into his pocket, "listen to me, you son of Belial." "What?" I said, retrieving the pouch. "Do you want to make an enormous fortune?" "I do." "Then write my biography. Bung it down on paper and we'll split the proceeds." So begins what is more a collection of stories than a novel, a series of episodes like a sitcom, involving the inimitable Ukridge, borrower of fivers and favours, not to mention socks and shirts and dress-clothes, all seen from the point of view of his rather dimly dependable old school friend "Corky" Corcoran. Among the haphazard schemes by which Ukridge hopes to make his fortune, his attempt to manage a not-very-professional pugilist by the name of Battling Billson is perhaps the most egregiously ludicrous. Billson is one of nature's gentlemen, given to such mild rejoinders as "R!" or "Ur", but when roused by insult or the sight of a friend or barmaid in jeopardy, he will knock all comers for six with left-hooks and upper-cuts galore. The only trouble is, he's much too decent to fight a man just for the sake of it, a major drawback in a professional pugilist. Eventually Billson renounces the boxing life altogether, after getting religion at a revival meeting in a remote Welsh village, leaving his hapless manager (who otherwise stands to lose his share of the take) to fight in his place. Another story concerns Ukridge's attempts to insinuate himself into the affections of a hymn-singing suburban family by pretending to be the wealthy owner of a smart new motor car whose chauffeur he happens to have befriended. The plan goes awry when a persistent creditor catches up with him and exposes him for a fraud. Nothing daunted, by the start of the next story Ukridge will have another sure-fire plan for the achievement of instant enrichment. Corky looks on, fascinated and appalled, but with a sneaking admiration too. "And listen laddie, I'll tell you what. You're a good chap and we've been pals for years, so I'll let you have my share of the English serial rights for a hundred pounds down." "What makes you think I've got a hundred pounds?" "Well, then, I'll make it my share of the English AND American serial rights for fifty." "Your collar's come off its stud." "How about my complete share of the whole dashed outfit for twenty-five?" "Not for me, thanks." "Then I'll tell you what, old horse," said Ukridge, inspired. "Just lend me half a crown to be going on with."
|
|
|
Most Recent Customer Reviews
|