Another Wrykyn story. No surprises here. Wodehouse's fluent (but
not, as yet, sublimely absurd) style. A lesson in the politics of `good form'
in an early 20th Century English Public School. Houses, masters, rugby matches,
come-uppances, coarse working class louts, and the like. No women, of course.
This is a predictably pleasing story, as Wodehouse sets up what, for an upper-class schoolboy of the time, would be the most delicious `rag'. Our hero starts poorly, `funking' it in threatening situations both in and (worse) outside the school, letting down the house and consequently being `cut'. He finds himself through learning to box, and in typical Hollywood style (all we need is a montage), wouldn't you know it, he's actually got huge latent talent.
Wodehouse even makes some self-aware comments about how storybook this is, but he still manages it in an entertaining fashion.