It is patently clear, any awkwardness here can be cleared up in less than a trice. Our identities switch, who is who, which is which, we're in need of some solid advice. There's a painfully simple solution, it's as plain as the nose on your face. By gab, by gosh, by heck, by gum, by rabbit's foot, by kingdom come, by all my sainted aunt believes, by George, by Jove, by Jeeves. When we're faced with the grind of exerting the mind, we are filled with a deep sense of dread. How on earth, I hear cries, does one give exercise to a thing that's in bed in your head? What we need is a free-range consultant, where on earth do you find one of those? By hook, by crook, by way, by path, by sea, by air, by road, by graft, by seven dwarves, by forty thieves, by George, by Jove, by Jeeves. By shuttlecock, by croquet hoop, by Panama, by winter soup, by all those cards tucked up his sleeves, by George, by Jove, by Jeeves. Our collective IQ of around forty-two cannot cope to be perfectly frank. All true leaders of men delegate now and then, try to keep their minds totally blank, to appreciate loftier matters, things that mostly go over my head. By derby day, by nursery tea, by moose, by spoons, by half-past three, by every tender breast that heaves, by George, by Jove, by Jeeves. By marmalade, by bowler hat, by toothpaste tube, by Burmese cat, by baby newts, by autumn leaves, by George, by Jove, by Jeeves. Behold how Jeeves, with sleight of hand, conceives a scheme so carefully planned, even we can understand, if he takes it terribly slowly. By blazing stoke, by cardboard box, by budge's knees, by basset socks, by each that conjurer deceives, by George, by Jove, by Jeeves. By jumping jack, by easy chair, by belmarine, by camembert, by every foot bat in the eves, by George, by Jove, by Jeeves. By walking boot, by thermal drawers, by canapes, by Santa Claus, by all his mighty brain achieves, by every spell the master weaves. By heck, by George, by Jove, by Jeeves, by Jeeves, by Jeeves, by Jeeves, by Jeeves.