Ra de ra de ra de ra, sir

Last night we had friends over for dinner and right beofre we sat down James disappeared into his bedroom and returned dressed as a proper waiter. He had buttoned up his shirt and put a white towel over his arm. He then poured beverages, fetched condiments and tried to eat in the kitchen away from the rest of us. We began to do waiter-jokes and James answered the old "Waiter, what is that fly doing my soup?" with a perfect Jeeves accent: "I believe it is the backstroke, sir". Hilarious. We also had a 'grace' competition so our meal was truly (and repeatedly) blessed. Who says hospitality is a lost art?