It all began with Donald Trump. A 2016 report that Trump’s butler had suggested assassinating Barack Obama reminded Ben Schott of P.G. Wodehouse’s inimitable Jeeves – the altogether more gentlemanly manservant to hapless toff Bertie Wooster. Schott, a lifelong Wodehouse fan, penned a rapturously received vignette in the Spectator (where Bertie and Trump face-off over croquet) and was soon persuaded to write two novels in homage to the great comic master: Jeeves and the King of Clubs and Jeeves and the Leap of Faith.

Early life and Wodehouse

After a “disarmingly happy” (some might say Wodehousian) childhood, Schott read social and political sciences (now HSPS) at Caius. “It was a stupid degree then – I don’t know if it’s a stupid degree now!” he laughs. His fondest memories are of the old Criminology Library, staffed by two Miss Marple characters in knitted jumpers who directed students with morbid glee (“Ooh, garrotting? You go past mutilation and then it’s past hanging!”).

Schott also tried his hand at acting (“She Stoops to Conquer…I was probably terrible!”)  but was more at home backstage as the “sound and lights guy” for a production of The Norman Conquests at the Corpus Playroom, where Olivia Colman (in her first ever role) met her now-husband, Ed Sinclair. He was also the photography editor for a certain student newspaper…

After graduating, he worked at JW Thompson – a grand Mayfair advertising agency where “people only stop working when their parents can no longer afford to send them.” Once, on seeing an ink stain on the carpet, a manager quipped “it appears one of our secretaries has cut herself!” Unsurprisingly, JWT was another source of inspiration for Schott’s novels, with his sharply-dressed boss reimagined as urbane Scottish spymaster, Lord Macauslan.

“Ooh, garrotting? You go past mutilation and then it’s past hanging!”

Perhaps inspired by his stint in Varsity, Schott later worked as a photographer, with subjects including John Prescott and Tony Blair; but soon became better known for writing. Schott’s Miscellany, a compilation of quirky, little-known facts, became an international bestseller. (Miscellany, Schott keenly explains, is a very different beast to trivia: “it’s much more joyous…sharing rather than competitiveness”). 

Schott had been introduced to the Jeeves novels as a child so was thrilled when Wodehouse’s grandson, Sir Edward Cazalet, agreed to let him “borrow the [original] Crown Jewels”. Like all authors, Schott is constantly on the lookout for bon mots and Sir Edward didn’t disappoint: a one-liner on moving to a new place (“once you know the neighbourhood dogs, it’s all cream!”) appears in the first novel.  Another quip comes from a more unlikely source: the description of a dinner party as “nothing but boring wine and blah-blah-blah” was lifted directly from a friend’s eight-year-old son.

Writing Jeeves 1, 2 (and 3?)

After considering which direction to take Wodehouse’s concept, Schott arrived at the idea of a spy caper, having ruled out both a ‘young Bertie’ series (“he wouldn’t be able to drive, or smoke, or have a club”) and a 21st century update (“it’s an Edwardian, sunlit, aspic world…if it was set today, his oligarch friends would be awful!”). 

As well as the rich panoply of figures from the Wodehousian canon, Schott enjoyed creating his own characters, especially Bertie’s glamorous love interest, Iona Macauslan, who is “more than a match for Bertie and almost a match for Jeeves.” In a nod to his Miscellany, Schott realised that there are “26 words in the OED where the first-cited use is by Wodehouse…I wanted to get them all into the first book.” ‘Ilag’, a type of prison camp, was the hardest to shoehorn: “I didn’t want to mention PoW camps because the timing’s wrong, so I named a butler Ilag."

No-one can match Wodehouse’s whimsical wordplay and comic similes so Schott instead drew on his own experiences and insights. In Jeeves and the King of Clubs, he introduces readers to the world of private clubs - something he is very familiar with. “I had a tailor for a while (a highly complicated relationship!)” he tells me, “and I do like clubs… [but] I don’t have private banking, sad to say!”

“it’s an Edwardian, sunlit, aspic world…if it was set today, his oligarch friends would be awful!”

Schott’s second homage, Jeeves and the Leap of Faith, takes Bertie to Cambridge and the familiar world of punting, Latin graces and formal dinners. A hilarious croquet match was based on his team’s success at Cuppers, which he attributes to a “really impressive friend” who played seriously. Schott, meanwhile, “sat on the sidelines with girls from Newnham who we were beating and commiserated with them” - much like Bertie in the novel!

Though Schott never night-climbed, his fascination with the sport inspired several thrilling scenes in the second novel. It’s while scaling the spires of Trinity that Bertie runs into Ludwig Wittgenstein, who lectures him about the college’s poor garden design. This whimsical interlude has some basis in reality: Cambridge academic, John Casey, told Schott that the philosopher had laid Trinity’s flowerbeds after complaining extensively about the existing layout!

 With the expectation of writing a third book, Schott ended Jeeves and the Leap of Faith on an un-Wodehousian “quadruple cliffhanger” - something he now regrets. Had he known that he would only write two novels, Schott would “probably tidied it up a bit more neatly.”  An earlier Jeeves homage, written by Sebastian Faulks, controversially married lifelong bachelor Bertie off. “I haven’t read it” says Schott, “but I probably wouldn’t have done that.” Wodehouse’s world is a “permanent evergreen state…it’s not for me to put a full stop on anything.” Nor will he disclose too many details about his next project, set for release next year: “it’s about operating systems and how they work - but not about computers!”

Naturally, Schott is a fan of the 1990s TV series Jeeves and Wooster, and particularly admires screenwriter Clive Exton’s witty one-liners. He feels Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie were “born to play” Jeeves and Bertie, respectively, but prefers Michael Hordern’s “loving and long-suffering” Jeeves from a 1980s radio production. Any potential remake would be trickier to cast - the actors “have to have the cheekbones” says Schott. Benedict Cumberbatch, Eddie Redmayne and Keira Knightley all fit the bill but Schott suggests younger, unknown actors may fit the roles better.

Schott muses that his career has been an unusual one. Coming from a family of distinguished neurologists, he quips that he “could probably do a general neurology clinic for about 10 minutes before someone called the police!” I suggest that this could have been the plot of a third novel, with Bertie impersonating his nemesis, ‘nerve-specialist’ Sir Roderick Glossop. Schott laughs: “that’s a genius idea!”