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Are you Smarter than Havaldar Hook?

Are you stuck at home and want to do something entertaining with the young ones? Havaldar Hook is here for you!

He wants you and your child to give him some answers!

Did you think Hawaldar Hook was done? He has some more questions for you!

Want to have more fun with Havaldar Hook? Check out our Hook Books: Hey Diddle DiddleA Quiet Girl ,Who’s There? and My Daddy and the Well



Psst… Here are answers for Worksheet 1:
Horse – Foal or Colt (male) or Filly (female)
Goat – Kid
Hen – Chicken


Answers for Worksheet 2:
You’ll just have to ask for help from people around you!

From picture books to Hook Books: Why your child needs Hook Books!

The Hook Books are early chapter books for very young readers, aged five and above (for being read to) and six and above (for reading independently). Written by award-winning and most-loved writers for children, and illustrated in exuberant colour by some of India’s best illustrators, these stories are set largely in non-urban settings.

Why Hook Books? Sayoni Basu, editor of the Hook Books explains why you and your child should be reading these.

Who’s There? || Hansda Sowvendra Shekhar, Anupama Ajinkya Apte

It is an accepted fact that every child reads at a different pace. Reading levels and grade targets and lexile levels work up to a point, but children’s actual reading abilities vary widely within these levels and frequently fall outside them on either side. This is especially true in India in the case of books in English—English might be the first, second or third language, and is introduced at different ages.

The challenge for authors and publishers is to therefore create books which can work for wide age groups. Books which are both simple and complex: with a vocabulary that works for kids of five and six, who are graduating from picture books to books with more words, yet with a story that would interest a reader who may be a lot older.

My Daddy and the Well || Jerry Pinto, Lavanya Naidu (Illustrator)

This was one of our goals in the Hook Book series.

The longer we work in children’s publishing, the more clearly we realise the impossibility of linking age group to reading ability. So we wanted to create books that satisfy the metro parents’ desire to fast-forward their child’s reading achievements, and yet allow children the pleasure of reading well-written stories that appeal to them.

Hey Diddle Diddle || Anushka Ravishankar, Priya Kuriyan (Illustrator)

The second goal we set ourselves is to have a diversity of experiences in these books. Many of our readers live in cities and are in many ways deracinated. Living within an urban bubble and interacting only with other children like themselves, it is easy for them to lose touch with the the fact that despite belonging to the same country, we are diverse in the way we look, the way we live, the religious practices we follow, and social habits. So one of our goals in this series was also to try to bring together stories of small towns from different parts of the country. This is done subtly, through the names of the characters and the lives that are depicted and through visuals. There is no explicit mention or discussion, but it brings the lives of people who are ‘different’ into the world of the reader.

A Quiet Girl || Paro Anand, Toposhi Ghoshal (Illustrator)

The third goal is an educational value addition. We strongly believe that reading should be for pleasure and pleasure only, but we are sadly aware that a lot of the world does not share this view. And because we want our books to sell, we have given in to market pressure and created one exercise for each book. These exercises are carefully chosen to fit in with what children learn at school, so parents and teachers will be happy. But we also wanted to make these as enjoyable as possible for the child. And instead of quizzing kids about what is in the book, we use the story as a starting point for the child to explore the nuances of language and its usage.

So the Hook Books tick many boxes: they are attractive, well-written, fun to read, and are also educational, diverse and carefully crafted. We hope they will be an exciting and groundbreaking new series in the Indian children’s market.


It’s not a book, it’s a hook!

The Curious Case of Havaldar Hook – An Interview


Havaldar Hook is the endearing mascot of the Hook Books, a new series for early readers for ages 5 and up. To get to know him better, we posed some questions and he very merrily indulged, with honesty and humour.


Q: You are a humble havaldar, but you now have a series named after you. How do you feel?


A: I’m not ‘a’ havaldar, my name is Havaldar, because my father thought that I would grow up and become a policeman. But I wanted to become a teacher. So I’m very happy that there is a such a fun series in my name. I love books.


Q: But, HH, you wear a police uniform. 


A: I wear the uniform because it makes my father happy. I believe that it’s all about one’s parents.


Q: You have asked a lot of questions at the end of the book. Do you believe all books should be educational? Can’t children just read for fun?


A: I’ll tell you a secret. The questions are not for the children. They are for the adults. Heh heh heh.  The children will be happy with the marvellous stories and illustrations. So I thought, let’s give the parents and teachers something to be happy about. Still, I made sure that the questions are not like textbook questions, so children can have fun with them too.


Q: If you could give our readers one piece of advice what would it be?


A: Never let your parents decide what you should do in life. Also, if your parents give you a silly name, you can change it officially. Sadly, no one told me this, so I’m stuck with the name Havaldar. It makes me very sad, because most children run away when they hear the words: ‘Havaldar is coming!’


Q: One slightly personal question:  how did your nose come to match your surname: Hook?


A: (preens in pride.) The Raja of Naakpur bestowed the surname Hook on my great-great grandfather in honour of this nose! All the Hooks in history since then have proudly sported this nose. The Raja had just come back from London, otherwise we’d probably have been called the Aakadas.


Q: Finally, Havaldarji, what would you like to change your first name to?


*Havaldar Hook went silent and thoughtful at this point and we are still waiting for an answer to this question.

Here are the Hook Books


Meet These Chatty Dead Folks!

How would you feel if you woke up waiting in an endless room one day?

Chats with the Dead gets us to meet Malinda Albert Kabalana (or Maali Almeida), who sets out to reach ‘The Light’ – a place where the afterlife comes to an end and the next life on Earth begins. As he glides his way through the afterlife, he meets some dead folks – who are way chattier than one would expect the dead to be. They have some very engaging stories to tell.

We are revisiting some of our favourite afterlife folks below!


Dead Lawyer

The Dead Lawyer is witnessing a protest by 113 victims of the 1987 Pettah Bomb blast demanding justice. She wonders:

‘If suicide bombers knew they end up in the same waiting room with all their victims, […] They may think twice.’



Dead Lovers

Adjusting to the mysterious afterlife, Maali notices the Dead Lovers by the elevator at Galle Face Court. The woman wears a chiffon dress and the man is in a banian and Burberry shorts. The couple tells Maali that,

‘We went together in 1948. […] He was Sinhala, I was Muslim. I think you know the rest of the story.’

When Maali inquires why haven’t they gone for The Light, the Dead Lovers respond with:

‘They say The Light is bigger than heaven or hell […] Easy to get lost. If you think you have found a soulmate, go to them and hold tight.’


Dead Mother

Maali comes across his Dead Mother who admits,

‘There is so much to see. I listen to music in different homes. I like to play with the children. I like watching married couples fight.’

When Maali asks her about The Light, she replies:

‘I was abused throughout my marriage. I was forced to give up a baby, my firstborn. If I step into The Light, will they reward me for suffering? Or punish me for being a bad mother?’


Dead Dog

A few adventures later, Maali ends up in an exhibition titled ‘Law of the Jungle. Photography by MA.’ The gallery is filled with the finest shots taken by Maali. While looking at the photographs, he’s interrupted by his first visitor – the Dead Dog. And the Dead Dog can talk!

‘If I am reborn human, I will commit cot death.’


Dead Leopard

Towards the end of his journey to The Light, Maali is visited by the Dead Leopard who is fascinated by human intelligence. The Dead Leopard admits:

‘I tried to survive without killing. Lasted a month. What to do? I am a savage beast. Only humans can practice compassion properly. Only humans can live without being cruel. I want some of that.’

Maali disagrees and tells the Dead Leopard that humans are most savage of all living beings. The Dead Leopard still wishes to be a human in his next life and asks the way to The Light. He says,

‘Leopards can’t invent lightbulbs. I’ll take my chances.’

Shehan Karunatilaka, bestselling author of Chinaman, is back with a darkly comedic tale of voices from beyond!

The Bane of Each Other’s Existence- An Excerpt from ‘Pataakha’

They cannot live with each other, they cannot live without each other. As children, they squabbled all day long. When they were old enough, they married two brothers, and took with them their feuds to their in-laws. Boisterous and fiery pataakhas, sisters Badki and Chhutki are the bane of each other’s existence.

Based on Charan Singh Pathik’s eponymous short story, Vishal Bhardwaj’s adaptation is a hilarious tour de force that obliquely and mischievously takes into its ambit notions of patriarchy and diplomacy between nations. This translation, which includes the novella and the screenplay that the film-maker developed from the short story, not only brings to the reader a rustic, elemental tale rooted in the soil, but also provides a unique glimpse into the art of adapting a literary work into film.

Here’s an excerpt from the book below:

Badki’s husband dropped her back to the village after buying her medicines. Although Badki religiously took her medicines as prescribed, she found no relief even after the stipulated three days. Badki’s husband brought her back to the city. This time he showed her to a specialist who ran a battery of tests.

‘I can’t find anything wrong with these results,’ said the mystified specialist. ‘Let me prescribe some other medicines, however. Come back to me after five days.’

Badki flounced out of the doctor’s cabin in a huff and her embarrassed husband ran after her. She turned on him furiously. ‘What kind of a quack is this guy? He knows nothing. How in the name of the devil will he treat me?’ And with that she returned home, deeply annoyed.

At night, she said to her elder son, ‘Call your cousins in Agra. I want to talk to your maasi.’

The soldier, who had just come home from work, answered, ‘Hello, who is this?’
‘It’s me . . . Golu.’

‘Yes, Golu. Tell me . . . is everything okay?’

‘Everything is fine.’

‘Is budhi-maa okay?’ he said, referring to his mother; all the kids were used to calling their grandmother budhi-maa or ‘old-mother’.

‘Yes, she is. Please give the phone to maasi. Ammi wants to talk to her.’

The soldier handed the phone to Chhutki. ‘A call from home.’

Chhutki snatched the phone. ‘I’m Chhutki. Who is this?’

‘It’s me . . . Badki.’

‘Idiot! Why this urgent need to talk to me?’

‘Did you see the Red Fort and the Taj Mahal?’

‘May you suffer, dari.’

‘I’m already very unwell.’

‘You’ll die suffocating,’ Chhutki retorted, unsympathetically.

‘Did you sit in the aeroplane?’

‘Don’t you dare talk, witch! I’m also unwell. Agra’s water doesn’t suit me.’

‘You left me behind to go gallivanting with your husband. You had to pay, so pay!’

‘You’re a monster from another life, dari!’

‘And acting like a lioness just because you are at a safe distance, you hedgehog! If you have any guts, and are a red-blooded man’s daughter, I dare you to come to the village and face me . . .’ Badki challenged again. ‘Trying to behave like a soldier’s wife from far away!’

‘I’ll be back in two days, dari . . . and then see if I don’t grab your braids, twirl you around and hurl you a hundred yards out! Then you’ll know whether I’m the daughter of a red-blooded man or not!’

The soldier was dumbstruck to see the transformation in his wife. She seemed to have instantly thrown off the wan, sickly air that she had been carrying for days now.

Upon hearing that Chhutki was due to return in two days, Badki immediately switched off her phone.

That night she devoured several rotis and polished off a double helping of milk and rabdi. The next day she tossed out the packet of medicines. She announced, ‘It has been ages since I slept as well as I did last night.’

Will things go too far between Badki and Chhutki? You’ll have to read Pataakha to find out!

A Chat with War Photographer Maali Almeida…in the Afterlife

Renegade war photographer Maali Almeida has to solve his own murder. Does that sound fun? It would be if there wasn’t so much bloody red-tape to get through. It’s also doesn’t look like anyone alive is actually missing him. Worst of all, it’s all those goddamn memories of war, constantly interrupted by the overly chatty dead folks breezing through the afterlife. Besides, he’s so busy solving his ethical dilemmas that there’s barely any time to solve a murder-even if it’s his own. 

As we meet the photographer in the afterlife in Chats with the Dead, we discover there is so much more to him than just a name. As well as to the stories of all the people who are dead and gone.

Meet (late) Maali Almeida in an excerpt below:


Say My Name

You want to ask the universe what everyone else wants to ask the universe. Why are we born, why do we die, why anything has to be. And all the universe has to say in reply is I don’t know arsehole stop asking. The After Life is as confusing as the Before Death, the In Between is as arbitrary as the Down There. So, we each make up stories because we’re afraid of the dark.

The wind brings your name and you follow it through air and concrete and steel. You float through a Slave Island alley and you hear the whispers in every doorway. ‘Almeida . . . Malinda . . .’ Then the wind blows through busy Dehiwela streets and you hear more voices. ‘War photographer . . . activist . . . Almeida . . . Maali . . . missing . . .’

From slave to Dehiwela in one breath, faster than a helicopter ride. At least death frees you from Galle Road traffic, Parliament Road drivers and checkpoints on every road. You ride past the faces of oblivious people ambling through Colombo’s shabby streets, the mortal brothers and sisters of the dearly departed and quickly forgotten. You are a leaf in a gale, blown by a force you can neither control nor resist.

Lankan visionary Arthur C. Clarke said thirty ghosts stand behind everyone alive, the ratio by which the dead outnumber the living. You look around you and fear the great man’s estimate might have been conservative.

Every person has a spirit crouching behind them. Some have guardians hovering above and swatting away the ghouls, the pretas, the rahu and the demons. Some have distinguished members of these latter groups standing before them, hissing idle thoughts in their faces. A few have devils squatting on their shoulders and filling their ears with bile.

Sir Arthur has spent three decades of his life on these haunted shores and is clearly a Sri Lankan. Austria convinced the world that Hitler was German and Mozart was theirs. Surely, after centuries of armed plunder, courtesy the sea pirates from London, Amsterdam and Lisbon, may we Lankans at least help ourselves to one sci-fi visionary?

At Borella junction, a woman in white walks the edge of your periphery and disappears when you focus; a demon toddler squats in a corner and hisses at the young girls waiting for buses; a clovenhoofed ghoul stands at the headlights looking for a motorcyclist to impale. It appears that too many in Colombo have died unwillingly and too few are ready to leave.

One by one, the figures look at you, each pupil a different shade, each iris with its own sheen. The angry flash greens and yellows, the lost glimmer in browns and in blues. The hungry blink in famished purple, the helpers wink in pretentious white. There are also those with red eyes and black eyeballs whose gazes you dare not meet.

Bestselling author of Chinaman, Shehan Karunatilaka is back with a darkly comedic story of life and death – with a brilliant twist. Infused with moments of staggering humanity, this one is a powerful read that exposes the plight of Sri Lanka in the aftermath of a civil war.


All the Tumble and Bumble in Trotter-land!

In the eighteenth century, Justin Aloysius Trotter, or the Great Trotter, tumbles earthward to his death while surveying his vast lands and admiring his wealth from a hot air balloon. Two centuries later, the Seventh Trotter, Eugene Aloysius, narrates the epic story of a family at the fraying ends of its past glory.

The Trotter-Nama, Allan Sealy’s comedy of manners about Britain and India’s motley offspring is presented on an extravagant canvas where the chronicle of the Trotter family is generously scattered with unabashedly entertaining moments.

Here are 6 delightful instances from this mesmerizing narrative-

  1. The buoyant Salamandre carrying the ageing Trotter is buffeted by the strong winds of his hubris. As he proudly surveys his demesne and indulges in a feverish ecstasy of imagined power, Mr. Great Trotter loses his balance and is launched into an anti-climactic tumble. On his way down, Trotter yearns for roasted meat and dessert-

‘Justin was hungry. Might the Salamandre have sent down the tandoori partridge? He looked about him: it had not. The bird was wasted, his lunch floating away. But it was not a tandoori partridge he craved, nor was it the curried doves. It was nothing savoury; rather, a taste he had almost forgotten thanks to a hasty vow….’

  1. From the gossamer hammock of riches and power, the Great Trotter billows down into the dense, corrugated waste of his neighbourhood. The final resting place of the doyen, the gutter, is described by the frenzied narrator in a hyperbolic verbal diarrhoea –


‘…of cretins, the discharge of pimps, the lavings of lepers, the spewings of drunkards, …the moultings of reptiles, the crackling of corpses—


Narrator, do you hear me? Your eyes are rolling!


— the bedding of incontinents, the bile of oil painters, the gall of historians, the swaddling of infants,…the betel-juice of bicyclists, the chewing-gum of motorcyclists….’

  1. Expertly crafting a fresh batch of jalebis- a wildly popular sweetmeat- Mansoor Halvai expresses comical disbelief at a refusal of his precious offering. His exaltation of the silver leaf covered, syrup coated crisp coils of deliciousness is as amusing as his absurd attempts at enticing Yakub – 


‘He handed the jalebis to Yakub on a leaf, and laughed out loud as he did. ‘Sorry, Yakub! I misheard you. For a moment I thought you said no!’ His eyes bulged. ‘You did? Yakub, bhai, what are you saying! Surely you mean yes, yes? No? Yakub, reconsider, I beg you—the offer is free, no strings attached. Shun this foolery. Look, here’s gold beneath the silver—see the precious liquid running in these veins? You’re not well, that’s it; the sun’s gone to your head.’

  1. The crippled artist Marazzi pricks the grandiose bubble that the Great Trotter floats on by painting Sans Souci is all its flawed and skewed incompleteness. The ruins of the ambitious project are no deterrent to either Monsieur Trotter’s flamboyance or Marazzi’s reproof-


‘Do you know,’ he offered, his good humour returning, ‘I mean to call my seat Sans Souci.’

Marazzi’s eyes disappeared in a smile. ‘Monsieur Trotter is doubtless aware that every house built in Europe since the peace is called Sans Souci. There are six in my district alone.’

  1. E Trotter hoodwinks airlines to manipulate their determination to appease their customer and gets himself a fun, relaxing experience out of all the chaos he single-handedly generates-

‘The last call for Mr E. Trotter. You sit out ten minutes. Will Mr E. Trotter please report immediately to Gate 6. Stay put for another ten. Mr E. Trotter, you are wanted immediately at Gate 6. Then you count, slowly, to a hundred, and rush out. And after a little storm and stress they slap a First Class boarding pass into your hands because the stand-by crowd have filled up Economy. Then a whole bus, all to yourself, racing past the hangars…..’


  1. Sunya, a poulterer, indulges in rhapsodic rapture at his choice of profession and places the fruit of his labour, the humble egg, in a halo of purity bolstered on the authority of scriptures and old codes-

‘No, an egg is a noble thing. Consider its shape: there is the sunya, the zero from which all things spring, to which all things tend. Consider its colour: there is the whiteness of the sun, of cows, of milk, of pure ghi, of goddesses, of all good things. An egg is blameless. An egg is smooth, hairless and un-begotten. It is firm, it is fragile, it is flawless, it is just fine.’        


Allan Sealy, winner of the Sahitya Akademi Award, the Commonwealth Writer’s Prize and the Padma Shri, proves once again his ability to elevate the mundane, add sparkle to the dreary and to create unforgettable characters out of his wickedly masterful humour.

For more of his magic, read The Trotter-Nama!

Meet the Trotters from Irvin Sealy’s ‘The Trotter-Nama’

“The nama is a medieval court history, a chronicle. My nama would chronicle a colonial encounter, the overlap of Europe and India, across seven generations of the Trotter family. The Trotters would embody that history, the history of the Anglo Indians, down to Independence and after.” writes Irwin Sealy about his dazzling epic.

The Trotter-Nama meanders around Sans Souci, the Trotter estate near Lucknow, and teems with multi-faceted characters that are looped into the orbit of  the Trotter family as they struggle to hold on to their shifting identities.

Here are 5 unforgettable characters from The Trotter-Nama

  1. The Great Trotter

Justin Aloysius Trotter- the octogenarian with a brown and a blue eye- lords over Sans Souci from the west tower with wives stashed away in the other three towers that form the silhouette of his estate. The Great Trotter straddles two worlds- his wig draws attention to his western roots while his choice of clothes makes him a part of the landscape of Lucknow. Perched above his beloved estate in his prized balloon Salamandre, Justin Trotter gives wings to his ambition-

‘But now—here—in the air above Nakhlau what swept over him was the original lust, that suzerain impulse which once shook to his vitals a younger man. Take this city, then all Tirnab, and who was to say what else might follow? Install the Nawab in some petty principality. Drive the British down….’


  1. Eugene Trotter

Writer by profession and narrator of the Nama, Eugene Trotter- the 7th of the line- is ubiquitous in the numerous asides and interpolations that fill the nooks and crannies of this chronicle. His gaze encompasses the length and breadth of this vast saga as he navigates between space and time and offers a glimpse of the world outside Sans Souci through the slips-

‘The Late Mr Trotter,’ my favourite dentist used to call me. His daughter was less charitable. ‘Lenten Trotter’ was her choice, and when I asked her why, she said: Well, corpu-lent, flatu-lent, indo-lent. She thought the indolent was especially apt even though I said: I’m half Anglo, you know. So. The Late Mr Trotter, Seventh Trotter, pleased to meet you.’


  1. Yakub Khan

The hazel-eyed baker and balloon master flits around the Great Trotter minding the ladder that he stealthily aims to climb. His unchecked advancement and increasing authority indicate the ambition that he nurtures and shapes as vigilantly as his wick-moustache that he trims twice a day. Sunya, the poulterer, observes-


‘…the young Yakub, the apprenticed baker of fifteen years ago. What was the Muslim up to now? He had watched the wiry youth advance from post to post, improve the ovens, outclass the chief baker, perfect past recipes, introduce new ones, oust the chef, trespass on the cooks’ duties, encroach on the bearers’, perfect a new and sensational bread, create offices where none existed before, appoint cronies… and fill every void with his mercurial presence.’

  1. Jarman Begam

Justin Trotter’s consort, ensconced in the south tower, aches for her fatherland Germany as she watches her husband- whom she affectionately calls Trot- take his final and fatal flight in the Salamandre. Unaware of the admiring glances directed at her, she harbours a passion for the barber Fonseca who claims loyalty to the Great Trotter.

‘It was not her own face, though she stood directly before the glass: through a forest of red she made out the face of Fonseca himself. The face hovered just beneath the surface of the glass, caught in a kind of vapour, the dyed black curls crowned with a gold wig; in place of the habitual ironic mask was a look of earnest entreaty. Before she knew what she was doing, Elise bent and kissed the glass once, twice, then repeatedly, without restraint.’


  1. Munshi Nishan Chand

Librarian of Sans Souci and master of fourteen languages, Munshi Nishan Chand sits meditating on the injustice of the glory of the decimal, owed to Indian scholars, having been bestowed upon the Arabs. His soul burns at the ravages his beloved nation has had to suffer at the hand of invaders. The rage at  being reduced from esteemed writer to an administrator propels him toward his mission –

‘At every step recall your mission. Study the circumcised foreigner, barbarian though he be; learn his roughcast languages, school yourself in his childish arts, trace out his tactics, duplicate his strategy, mirror his guile, best his success…Then overwhelm him, and with him his house. And after he is gone, restore once more the bright ancestral home, sweep clean the hearth, rekindle the pure flame. Avenge the violate zero.’


About trotter-nama Irvin Sealy observes, ‘Today I realize it’s a book of hyperlinks, only the term had not yet been invented.’ The characters he creates become the links that are threaded through the narrative to bolster the weighty epic.

There are more trotters sauntering inside the pages of The Trotter-Nama waiting to tell their story. Get your copy to meet them!

5 PG Wodehouse Characters Who Will Make You Laugh Out Loud

P.G. Wodehouse is widely recognised as one of the greatest 20th-century writers of humour in the English language. As well as his novels and short stories, he wrote lyrics for musical comedies with Guy Bolton and Jerome Kern, and at one time had five musicals running simultaneously on Broadway. His time in Hollywood also provided much source material for fiction. His iconic characters have always been successful in bringing a smile to his readers’ faces. So much so, that in 1936, he was awarded the Mark Twain Prize for ‘having made an outstanding and lasting contribution to the happiness of the world’. He was subsequently made a Doctor of Letters by Oxford University and in 1975, aged 93, he was knighted by Queen Elizabeth II.
Here are a few characters from Wodehouse’s books who will make you speechless with their wit.

Aren’t these characters outrageously funny? Tell us which character you found the funniest.

5 Quotes That Show PG Wodehouse Was The Master of Humour

Pelham Grenville Wodehouse is one of the best humorists known today to bibliophiles. He wrote more than ninety novels and some three hundred short stories over 73 years.
Along with his iconic characters Bertie Wooster and Jeeves, Wodehouse also created the world of Blandings Castle, home to Lord Emsworth and his cherished pig, the Empress of Blandings. His stories are never complete without the disreputable Ukridge; Psmith, the elegant socialist; the ever-so-slightly-unscrupulous Fifth Earl of Ickenham, better known as Uncle Fred; and those related by Mr Mulliner, the charming raconteur of The Angler’s Rest, and the Oldest Member at the Golf Club.
Here are 5 quotes by Wodehouse that make him a renowned humorists in the world of literature.

Did you just laugh your guts out? Tell us which quote did you find the funniest.
The classic pair returns! Jeeves and Wooster are all prepared to tickle your funny bone. Get your box sets here.

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