Dedicated with esteem and gratitude to Old Bill Townend my friend from boyhood’s days who first introduced me to Stanley Featherstonehaugh Ukridge...

“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 sa...

“Half a minute, laddie,” said Ukridge. And, gripping my arm, he brought me to a halt on the outskirts of the little crowd which had collected about the church door. It was a crowd such as may be seen ...

It becomes increasingly difficult, I have found, as time goes by, to recall the exact circumstances in which one first became acquainted with this man or that; for as a general thing I lay no claim to...

Never in the course of a long and intimate acquaintance having been shown any evidence to the contrary, I had always looked on Stanley Featherstonehaugh Ukridge, my boyhood chum, as a man ruggedly ind...

It was a most embarrassing moment, one of those moments which plant lines on the face and turn the hair a distinguished grey at the temples. I looked at the barman. The barman looked at me. The assemb...

The girl from the typewriting and stenographic bureau had a quiet but speaking eye. At first it had registered nothing but enthusiasm and the desire to please. But now, rising from that formidable not...

To Ukridge, as might be expected from one of his sunny optimism, the whole affair has long since come to present itself in the light of yet another proof of the way in which all things in this world o...

Given private means sufficiently large to pad them against the moulding buffets of Life, it is extraordinary how little men change in after years from the boys they once were. There was a youth in my ...

The Theatre Royal, Llunindnno, is in the middle of the principal thoroughfare of that repellent town, and immediately opposite its grubby main entrance there is a lamppost. Under this lamppost, as I a...

The late Sir Rupert Lakenheath, K.C.M.G., C.B., M.V.O., was one of those men at whom their countries point with pride. Until his retirement on a pension in the year 1906, he had been Governor of vario...

“Life, laddie,” said Ukridge, “is very rum.” He had been lying for some time silent on the sofa, his face toward the ceiling; and I had supposed that he was asleep. But now it appeared that it was tho...

“Laddie,” said Ukridge, “I need capital, old horse⁠—need it sorely.” He removed his glistening silk hat, looked at it in a puzzled way, and replaced it on his head. We had met by chance near the easte...

“Another beaker of port, laddie?” urged Stanley Featherstonehaugh Ukridge, hospitably. “Thanks.” “One more stoup of port for Mr. Corcoran, Baxter. You may bring the coffee, cigars, and liqueurs to us ...

“Corky, old horse,” said Stanley Featherstonehaugh Ukridge in a stunned voice, “this is the most amazing thing I have heard in the whole course of my existence. I’m astounded. You could knock me down ...