The only cook that measures up

I have stated earlier in this chronicle that this curious object of the seashore with whom Aunt Dahlia has linked her lot is a bloke who habitually looks like a pterodactyl that has suffered, and the reason he does so is that all those years spent in making millions in the Far East put his digestion on the blink, and the only cook that has ever been discovered capable of pushing food  into him without starting something like Old Home Week in Moscow under the third waistcoat button is this uniquely gifted Anatole.

(from Right Ho, Jeeves, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)