I was profoundly stirred, for if you think fellows enjoy listening to the sort of thing Spode had been saying about me, you're wrong. My pulse was rapid and my brow wet with honest sweat, like the village blacksmith's. I was badly in need of alcoholic refreshment, and just as my tongue was beginning to stick out and blacken at the roots, shiver my timbers if Jeeves didn't enter left center with a tray containing all the makings. St. Bernard dogs, you probably know, behave in a similar manner in the Alps and are well thought of in consequence.
(from Jeeves and the Tie That Binds, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)