With a little help from my friends

I told myself I didn't have time for any serious blogging today (or even any silly blogging, which often takes even longer), but then I opened an e-mail from the ever-alert Neal Dench, who wanted to make sure I saw this BBC News article, in which the author mentions a handful of books that have enriched his life. One of them--and this is undoubtedly the reason Neal sent me the link--was P.G. Wodehouse's The Code of the Woosters. If that title doesn't ring a bell, you might be more familiar with the PBS series about Bertie Wooster and his excellent man Jeeves, played by the hilarious Hugh Laurie and the equally talented Stephen Fry. Funny, funny stuff.

If I mention Wodehouse a lot, that's because his novels and short stories have given me countless hours of pleasure. I keep a fat volume of his writings close to my desk because whenever I need a break, I can open it, read one random page, and be sure to end up grinning. Hold on a sec, and I'll prove it.

Okay, I just picked up a collection of Wodehouse stories and opened the book to somewhere around the middle. I stabbed my finger at the right-hand page and then looked down to find myself at the beginning of "The Purity of the Turf," one of the Jeeves stories. What you need to know is that Bingo Little, whose heart has just been stomped flat by the capricious Cynthia, is making a too-early call on his pal Bertie Wooster. Our Bertie is a staunch friend unless you happen to interrupt his breakfast, which is exactly what the feckless Bingo has just done:

...And when, one morning, he blew into my bedroom while I was toying with a bit of breakfast, I decided to take a firm line from the start. I could stand having him moaning all over me at dinner, and even after lunch; but at breakfast, no. We Woosters are amiability itself, but there is a limit.

"Now look here, old friend," I said. "I know your bally heart is broken and all that, and at some future time I shall be delighted to hear all about it, but--"

"I didn't come to talk about that."

"No? Good egg!"

"The past," said young Bingo, "is dead. Let us say no more about it."

"Right-o!"

"I have been wounded to the very depths of my soul, but don't speak about it."

"I won't."

"Ignore it. Forget it."

"Absolutely!"

I hadn't seen him so dashed reasonable for days.

See what I mean? There's a chuckle on every page.

What books do you find yourself picking up when you need a quick laugh?