Grok: Setting: Bertie Wooster’s swanky London flat, April 2025. Bertie is sprawled on a velvet sofa, scrolling X on his phone with a look of utter bewilderment. Jeeves, impeccable in a tailored suit, enters with a silver tray bearing a single espresso, his expression as serene as a Zen master.
Bertie: I say, Jeeves, have you caught wind of this absolute rummy business on X? That Trump fellow’s at it again, declaring war on Big Law! Says he’s going to kneecap those fancy law firms with taxes or regulations or some such rot. What’s a chap to do if he can’t get a decent lawyer to sort out his parking fines?
Jeeves: Indeed, sir. Former President Trump’s recent pronouncements on X suggest an intent to impose punitive measures on large law firms, ostensibly to curb their influence and fees. The precise mechanism remains unclear, but the rhetoric has caused considerable consternation in legal circles.
Bertie: Consternation? It’s a dashed catastrophe, Jeeves! Why, just last week, Biffy Biffen got himself tangled in a legal scrape over a misunderstanding with a drone delivery—thought it was his takeaway curry, you see, and shot it down with a pellet gun. Needed a top-notch lawyer to avoid a stint in the clink! If Trump’s mucking about with Big Law, where’s a fellow like Biffy to turn?
Jeeves: A regrettable incident, sir. However, I suspect the British legal system will remain insulated from Mr. Trump’s policies, given their extraterritorial nature. Should Mr. Biffen require assistance, I could recommend a discreet solicitor from a smaller firm, unencumbered by the proposed measures.
Bertie: Smaller firm? Jeeves, you’re talking like I should hire some chap working out of a garden shed! No, no, I need the heavy artillery—those chaps in pinstripes who charge by the syllable. If Trump’s going to tax them into oblivion, I’ll be left defenseless against Aunt Agatha’s next scheme to marry me off to some horsey girl with a laugh like a foghorn.
Jeeves: I assure you, sir, that even in the event of Mr. Trump’s policies taking effect, the availability of competent legal counsel in London will not be unduly compromised. Might I suggest diversifying your legal resources? A boutique firm, for instance, could handle your parking fines with aplomb.
Bertie: Boutique? Sounds like a place that sells overpriced scarves, not legal advice. And anyway, what’s Trump’s beef with Big Law? I mean, I know their bills can give a chap the vapors, but they do get results. Is he just sore because they didn’t take his case or something?
Jeeves: From my perusal of recent X posts, sir, it appears Mr. Trump’s grievances center on the perceived elitism and high costs of large law firms, which he claims disadvantage smaller businesses and individuals. His proposed measures—potentially including targeted taxes or regulatory reforms—aim to level the playing field, though critics argue they may disrupt the legal ecosystem.
Bertie: Ecosystem? Dash it, Jeeves, you make it sound like we’re talking about saving the whales! All I care about is not getting hauled into court over some trifling misunderstanding—like that time I accidentally RSVP’d to two rival debutante balls and caused a minor riot. Needed a lawyer sharper than a serpent’s tooth to smooth that one over. What’s Trump thinking, stirring up this hornets’ nest?
Jeeves: His motivations, sir, appear rooted in a populist appeal, as evidenced by the enthusiastic responses on X from certain quarters. However, the practical implications remain speculative. To safeguard your interests, I have taken the liberty of compiling a list of reputable legal advisors unaffected by transatlantic policy shifts.
Bertie: Compiled a list? Jeeves, you’re a wizard! What, have you got a secret Rolodex of barristers stashed behind the gin? I swear, you could run MI6 with that brain of yours. But hang on—what if Trump’s war on Big Law makes all the good lawyers flee to, I don’t know, Bermuda? I’ll be stuck pleading my case to a traffic warden!
Jeeves: An unlikely scenario, sir. The legal profession is notably resilient. Should you find yourself in need, I am confident we can secure representation capable of addressing even the most delicate social entanglements. In the interim, might I recommend refraining from engaging in drone-related altercations?
Bertie: Ha! Easier said than done, Jeeves. Drones are everywhere these days—buzzing about like mechanical wasps. But you’re right, I’ll steer clear of trouble. Still, this Trump business has me rattled. War on Big Law, indeed! Next he’ll be taxing my morning kippers.
Jeeves: A distressing prospect, sir. To ease your mind, shall I prepare a fortifying cocktail? A martini, perhaps, to restore equilibrium?
Bertie: Jeeves, you’re a bloomin’ saint. Make it a double, and let’s toast to the survival of decent lawyers and the downfall of daft tariffs!
Jeeves: Very good, sir. He glides toward the bar, a flicker of amusement in his eyes as Bertie resumes scrolling X with exaggerated indignation.
