James


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home, James(, and don't spare the horses)

A humorous directive for a driver to take one home directly and without delay. Thank goodness you finally came to pick me up. Home, James, and don't spare the horses! You know, shouting "home, James" every time you get in the car is starting to get a little tiresome.
See also: and, spare

home, James (and don't spare the horses)!

used as a humorous way of exhorting the driver of a vehicle to drive home quickly. dated
This was the title of a popular song by F. Hillebrand in 1934 ; it represents a parody of the instruction given to a coachman in the days of the horse and carriage.
References in classic literature ?
'Come in,' yelled James. (Your author is notoriously irritable.)
Zo!' And Adolf, in the worst taste, gave a realistic imitation of the scene, himself sustaining the role of James.
James listened attentively to this tabloid tragedy, but made no comment.
And then madness descended upon and occupied James Williams.
"McDoodle, the Pink, or Pinky the Brute, I forget which," was James Williams's answer.
James Williams, with Uncle Thomas, of Madison Avenue, in a respect-compelling motor car and proofs of the hero's innocence--for all the world like the third act of a drama backed by an automobile mfg.
"It's a day that sticks in my throat," said James. "O man, man, man--man Alan!
"But see here," said James, returning to his former manner, "if they lay me by the heels, Alan, it's then that you'll be needing the money.
"This is unco hard on me that brought him here, James," said he, throwing his head back.
"Senior Wranglers at Cambridge, not Oxford," said the scholar, with a knowing air; and would probably have been more confidential, but that suddenly there appeared on the cliff in a tax-cart, drawn by a bang-up pony, dressed in white flannel coats, with mother-of-pearl buttons, his friends the Tutbury Pet and the Rottingdean Fibber, with three other gentlemen of their acquaintance, who all saluted poor James there in the carriage as he sate.
At dinner, James appeared choking in a white neckcloth, and had the honour of handing my Lady Jane downstairs, while Briggs and Mr.
At this moment she felt angry with the perverse Sir James. Why did he not pay attention to Celia, and leave her to listen to Mr.
Celia thought privately, "Dorothea quite despises Sir James Chettam; I believe she would not accept him." Celia felt that this was a pity.
It was set about with hawthorn hedges and juniper bushes, and on the small, green branches sat a little nightingale, which sang so loud and clear "that all the garden and the walls rang right with the song." Prince James leaned from his window listening to the song of the birds, and watching them as they hopped from branch to branch, preening themselves in the early sunshine and twittering to their mates.
Thus, from the first moment in which he saw her, James loved the beautiful lady.