"I can't do this, Jeeves. I would not survive. If I have to go to Madeline's Mindfulness Seminar every week, you will see my position advertised on the listservs by the end of the semester. What is mindfulness, anyway? Does she not use her mind otherwise?"
"I have often thought that Professor Bassett's approach to scholarship differs from your own in important ways, sir. I fear your collaboration would be unproductive."
"But I can't back out now. You know how keen the Chair is on what's-its-name."
"Interdisciplinarity, sir?"
"That's the ticket. Seems to think our mission in life is giving poets Erdos numbers."
"Nevertheless, sir, it occurs to me that if your course section were rescheduled to fill the slot currently occupied by Professor Little, you would be unable to participate through no fault of your own."
"But why would they be switched? Not that the old bean isn't one to help out a pal in distress, but he was desperate to wangle that slot."
"Circumstances have altered, sir. It transpires that Dr. Banks, whose day is almost entirely occupied with first-year writing seminars, takes her lunch break at just that time."
I felt as if the sword of whoever it was, the fellow who had the sword hanging over him, had been taken away. "Write the email, Jeeves. No, emails: one to Bingo to switch the sections, one to Madeline telling her how awfully sorry I am I can't go to her seminar."
"I have already done so, sir." Jeeves opened the windows and showed me.
The emails were masterly. "All done out of your own head, too, I suppose!" I commented.
"Yes, sir. I have never felt the need for artificial aid in composition."
"You're a marvel, Jeeves. The dining hall must be pretty nearly out of fish."