Right Ho.

[woe-in-a-hoodie.livejournal.com]

Here, answering my own challenge - and I do think this will end up being part of a series, as well - is a slashiful ickle Bertie sonnet.
(Hopefully, I pronounce joie de vivre correctly in my head - I've never actually heard someone say the phrase aloud - because otherwise, the bally thing doesn't scan.)

Right Ho

I sometimes wish I were some other blighter
Labouring under other sorts of blight
But when you quirk a brow, pass me my lighter
I see, in fine, everything's all right.
They're trying, often times, I know – my antics;
But you inspire all smiles and joie de vivre
I must admit, your presence makes me frantic:
You seem to strike me with some sort of fever.
The way you glance at me, it drives me loony;
At tender ministrations from your hands
I find the Wooster self distinctly swoony,
And I'm in no posish to make demands.
You take me places others dare not go
I give up all control, and shrug. 'Right ho.'

Comments

[the-maenad.livejournal.com]

Yes. Yes, yes, yes.