Luck of the Bodkins by P. G. Wodehouse

Dooser. Well, as I was saying, the Dooser gave this party and the proceedings continued to a late hour, and the Dooser, having to get his bit of sleep so he could be fresh for his duties next day, excused himself to the young ladies and went off and turned in with Scupperguts - ’
    'Who the devil's Scupperguts? I wish you'd talk English.'
    The head waiter, sir. Invariably termed Scupperguts. Well, sir, as I was saying, the Dooser dossed with Scupperguts, and when he got to his own room next morning he found that one of the young ladies had written a number of highly copperizing things on his wall with lipstick, and the way he carried on had to be seen to be believed, so I was informed by those who witnessed his emotion. You see, he was afraid that at any moment the Old Man might take it into his head to have a ship's inspection.'
    'All dashed interesting -'
    'Very, sir. I thought you'd think so. And he couldn't get it off, the Dooser couldn't this writing, because lipstick's un-deliable.'
    'Undeliable?'
    'A scientific term, sir, meaning impossible to be got off without the proper chemicals and what not. ’ 'What!'
    There was a sharp agony in Monty's voice which caused the steward to look quickly at him. He observed that the young man's knotted and combined locks had parted and that each particular hair now stood on end like quills upon the fretful porpentine.
    'Sir?'
    'Steward!' ‘ Yes, sir?'
    ‘ You don't think - do you think - you don't think that writing in there was done with lipstick?' ‘ I know it was done with lipstick, sir.' 'My sainted aunt!' ‘ Yes, si r. That's lipstick, that was.' ‘ Oh, golly!'
    Albert Peasemarch could not quite follow this. He was unable to fathom the reason for this, as it seemed to him, excessive perturbation. The Dooser, yes. The Dooser had had an official position to keep up. If the pitiless light of publicity had been thrown on the writing in the Dooser's cabin, the Old Man would have had more than a word or two to say. But Monty was a carefree passenger.
    However, it was plain that the young man was taking the thing a good deal to heart, so Albert Peasemarch endeavoured to cheer him up by pointing out another aspect of the matter. He was a deep thinker in his off hours, and he proceeded to give Monty the benefit of his hard-won philosophy.
    'The way to look at these things, sir, is to keep telling yourself that it's just Fate. Somehow, if you know a thing has been fated from the beginning of time, if I may use the expression, it doesn't seem so bad. I'm always telling my mates in the Glory Hole that, but you'd be surprised how they don't seem to see it. If you want to know what's wrong with the average steward on an ocean liner, sir, he don't have no breadth of vision. I wonder, sir,' said Albert Peasemarch, warming to his theme, 'if you have done much thinking along those lines -devoted your mind, I mean, to considering the inscrutable workings of Fate - or, as some call it, Destiny. Take this simple instance here before us now. What have we got? Lipstick. Very we'll. Whose lipstick? The young lady next door's. Right. Now, before the war ladies didn't use lipstick. It was the war that brought about lipstick. So, if there hadn't been a war, the young lady next door wouldn't have had a lipstick to write on your bathroom wall with.'
    'Steward,' said Monty.
    'Ah, but wait one moment, sir. We can go farther back than that. What caused the war? That bloke in Switzerland shooting the German Emperor. So if that bloke hadn't have shot the Emperor, there wouldn't have been no war, and there wouldn't have been no lipsticks, and the young lady next door wouldn't have had one to write on your bathroom wall with. ’
    'Steward,' said Monty.
    ‘ Just one instant, sir. We haven't finished even yet. We go back still farther. What caused the bloke in Switzerland? The fact that his father and mother happened to meet and get married. Probably they met at the pictures or somewhere. Very well. Now you