As you say, sir.

Yester-eve we commenced to staging our theatrical. Even in the service of Mr. Wooster, I have never been involved with such an undertaking. The sheer amount of information one must retain is staggering: one must remember the words coming out of one's mouth, recall where one is to stand or walk, imagine different furnishings and properties from the ones at hand, and, perhaps most importantly, attempt to prevent one's master from diving headlong into the soup. I haven't the slightest notion how professional actors do such a thing year in and year out.

We started, as one does, at the beginning, with page one of our our playscript. Sir and I begin our skit together with a rather elaborate routine of cat and mouse, which one might mistake for farce if it weren't so very grounded in the reality of our past. After an hour and a half we had covered a grand total of five pages (out of 91). Things were looking a bit grim. However, we had a lovely turnabout when Mr. Bassington-Bassington arrived to begin work upon his section of the play. Although he and Mr. Wooster often needed separating, I am very pleased to report that due to the pacifying effects of Mr. Bassington-Bassington's need to perch on the sofa, the next section progressed swimmingly, and we were back on schedule by the time Mrs. Spencer-Gregson and Miss Winklesworth-Bode arrived. Here things took a slight turn for the worst, again, as Mr. Bassington-Bassington's tongue-tied, stumbling antics created quite the obstacle to our forward progress. After numerous suggestions by those assembled, and a great deal of rehearsal, and re-rehearsal, we were finally able to solve a number of questions. (Or, at the least, have them solved "-ish", as our fearless leader, Ms. Tami Workentin-Snoose so quaintly puts it.)

Fortunately, although I was often required to do a sort of juggling act one rarely sees outside of the Variety Theater or Picadilly Circus, no China was broken and no furniture needed to be sent out for repair. Of course, one should never be so thoughtless as to presume a streak of one day will extend the six and one-half weeks stretched out before one, but I shall endeavour to do my very best.

-Jeeves.