by P.G. Wodehouse
A tale of Uncle Elmsworth, the Efficient Baxter and Uncle Fred. It was
brilliant in its execution, but not as funny as the Bertie and Jeeves
chemistry. Also, the incredibly complex plot strained even the
Wodehousian limit of credulity: a man is convinced he is crazy because
three of his friends pretend not to know him (and he accepts their flat
denial of their identity). But this type of silliness is best when not
looked at too closely and simply enjoyed, eh?