"Yes, Wodehouse, that's the author chappie's name!" said Bertie. "Have you read them? I haven't dared myself." He sighed at the protestation of disbelief. Recalling how Lexi had convinced him that things were indeed very out of the ordinary, and would probably not be in it again, he wished briefly that he was a vampire or able to fly or somesuch.
"It's all real. I'm afraid you'll have to believe me," he said. "It is rather a rummy affair, but you see, there's a thing called a Seal, some sort of mystical whatsit, to do with the Apocalypse I think, and it, er... Well, it all sounds perfectly loony, I know, but it sort of grabs people from different times and places, or from books and moving pictures and such, or from other planets, all sorts of perfectly bonkers and barmy stuff, and it plonks them down here, so to speak."
He looked at the Irishman in the vague hope that the explanation had made sense and been believable.