All language subtitles for jeeves.and.wooster.s02e05.720p.bluray.x264-ingot

This is a big day for the last
of the Woosters, Jeeves.

Indeed, sir?

The Drones are electing a new chairman
of the dining committee.

Today is the last day
for nominations to be in.

Is the post much sought after, sir?

Much sought after, Jeeves?

Suffice to say that five
out of the last seven chairmen

have had to spend time in the Jim-jam
clinic after their periods in office.

The rigours and responsibilities
of the post, sir?

Partly, but mostly the fact
that every wine merchant

within gargling distance
of the metropolis

is so keen to get the Drones' order that
cases of their most treasured vintage

go astray and end up
at the chairman's private residence.

The ways of commerce
are exceedingly odd, sir.

That's not to mention wine tastings,
trips to the vineyard

and the slap-up dinners
at Château Plonk.

Am I to infer, sir, that you might be
offering yourself for election?

Your inference is slap on the button

and leading by a length
in the final furlong.

I have the ear of Oofy Prosser and he has
the ear of the nominations committee.

Save the congratulations for later.

But as the French might say,
it's dans le sac.

I'm sorry about this, sir.
Can you hear them?

It would be difficult not to.

Women and children are huddled
in frightened groups

as far north as Grosvenor Square.

The committee's on the warpath
about this, I can tell you, sir.

Yeah!

- What are you cheering about, Barmy?
- I've finished miles ahead of you fellows.

What? What?

Some more, chaps?

It's beginning to sound
quite professional, Oofy.

We're playing at Barmy's Aunt Hilda's
place this weekend,

It's her sliver wedding anniversary.

Is Barmy's Aunt Hilda Spanish?

Spanish? No.

Why are they playing Lady Of Spain?

The only other tune we know is
Barnacle Bill The Sailor.

Ah. Not the sort of thing
for a sliver wedding, you mean?

We didn't think so. Of course,
we haven't seen Barmy's Aunt Hilda.

Well, I was sort of hoping
to chance on you, Oofy.

It's about the chairmanship
of the Dining Committee.

- The election?
- Yes. I was...

What I'm trying to get at is this.

How about edging yours truly
onto the list of candidates?

- I've had experience...
- Absolutely impossible, Bertie.

Is this Oofy Prosser
I hear, saying no, no, no,

to his oldest and dearest friend,
Bertram Wilberforce?

There's nothing I can do, Bertie.

Ever since that scandal about
Horace Pendelby Davenport

and the three tons of Gorgonzola,

It's been written into
the committee rules

that no one with a criminal record
may offer himself for election.

A criminal record?

Weren't you up in front of the magistrate
for stealing a policeman's helmet?

Yes. He fined me £5, but...

It all counts, Bertie. I'm sorry.

Why, if it isn't Pauline Stoker.

Well, well, well, Bertie Wooster.

- What are you doing here?
- You know, this and that.

Back and forth. I sort of live
just round the corner.

- Am I glad to see you.
- Likewise, old prune.

- Are you in London for long?
- No. Just for the day.

Buying the wedding dress.

That's charging ahead, you and Chuffy?

Of course it is.

- But, Bertie...
- Steady on.

There's somebody been
following me all day.

Following you?
You mean as in following you?

A man with a big ginger beard.

Perhaps he wants to borrow
the price of a razor.

Don't look now.
He's just come round the corner.

He's stopped.
He's pretending to look in a window.

- Why can't I look?
- All right, look now.

No, he's gone.

Bertie, would you do me
a terrific favour?

What a spiffy apartment, Bertie.

Jeeves, we shall be going down
to Chuffnell Hall for a few days.

Very good.
Good afternoon, Miss Stoker.

- Hiya, Jeeves.
- I trust Mr Stoker is well?

When they invented
the phrase rude health,

they didn't know it would get
as rude as my father.

Miss Stoker's got
a bit of a problem, Jeeves.

I'm sorry to hear that, miss.

Some fella keeps following her around.

Much as one might disapprove of such
a course of action by a gentleman,

one is scarcely surprised.

- Why, Jeeves, you old smoothie.
- Thank you, miss.

So I've been deputed
to act as bodyguard.

I'll go to Chuffnell in Miss Stoker's car.
You bring the luggage down in mine.

Very good, sir.

You look as if you could use
a drink, old girl.

- I could.
- Hang onto your hat.

In two shakes of a dog's tail, you shall be
rocked in the cradle of a Bertram special.

One doesn't like to intrude,
old former fiancée,

but you don't seem the usual
effervescent Stoker P.

Is it this bearded geezer?

- No, not really. it's Chuffy.
- Oh?

I thought everything was ooja-cum-spiff.

Well, it is, but Chuffy's got
this terrible pride, you see?

He'll only marry me if he can support me
in the style I'm accustomed to.

Which, as your esteemed parent
owns three quarters of Chicago,

with a fair proportion of Illinois
thrown in, is a bit difficult.

But Daddy was going to buy Chuffnell
Hall from him and turn it into a hotel.

- He'd have had lots of money.
- Was going to buy Chuffnell Hall?

There's a problem,
something called planning permission.

Whatever it's called, Daddy can't get it.

- A bit difficult, that.
- Well, yes, but I may have a solution.

They don't want a hotel there,

but apparently they wouldn't say no
to some sort of medical establishment

and I've found this distinguished old
medical bird who could run it for us...

Oh, my God. I'm meant to be having
lunch with him in five minutes.

You sure this old medical bird won't
mind there being an extra beak to feed?

He's expecting Daddy
to be there anyway.

That's the trouble.

Daddy isn't too keen
on the sanatorium idea.

He had his heart set on a hotel.

On the morning in question,
the Earl of Slough awoke to find

that during the night...

- Yes, Delia.
- The Stokers are not here yet, Roderick.

Delia, I manage to snatch five minutes'
continuing work on my memoirs

and you interrupt me to inform me
of an event which has not happened.

I know, Roderick, and I'm awfully sorry,
but it is so important.

Not to me, Delia. I have no wish
to bury myself in the country.

There is no question of you
burying yourself, Roderick.

Sir Wensley Doggett
has not buried himself

and he's got a clinic in Switzerland.

People say he might get
a peerage next year.

Nonsense. Doggett is a quack, Delia.

I'll thank you not to mention his name
in any sort of conjunction with mine.

They're here.

Do be nice to them, Roderick.

We're here to see Sir Roderick.

Thank you.
Sir Roderick is expecting you.

It's, er... it's not
Sir Roderick Glossop, is it?

Yes. Why?

Oh, my hat.

Miss Stoker and Mr Wooster
to see you, milady.

Miss Stoker, how nice.

- Mr Wooster.
- What ho, Lady Glossop.

- I didn't know you knew one another.
- Oh!

Yes. However, Sir Roderick
will be with us directly.

- He's working on his memoirs.
- Really?

I thought my ears were burning.

Do sit down, won't you?

- A glass of lemonade, Miss Stoker?
- Thank you.

- Mr Wooster?
- Rather. Yes.

I really look forward to the old lemonade
before luncheon.

I had thought, Miss Stoker,
that your father would be... with you.

Yes, I know. He's really sorry
he couldn't get here.

Well, no matter. We shall see him later
today when we come down to Chuffnell.

Forgive me. Forgive me, Miss Stoker.

Mr...

- Wooster.
- What ho, what ho.

The old bad penny, you see?

What are you doing here?

This is jolly. You all being
old friends and everything.

Boy, that'll go in my diary as
one of the great lunches of my life.

I don't know. I thought it all biffed
along rather well, considering.

- What had you done to those people?
- I was once engaged to their daughter.

Ah.

We must be out of gas, Bertie.

No, I'm pretty sure
these things run on petrol.

Oh, Bertie, do something.

You're going to stop, are you?

It's all smoky in there.

- What's that?
- That's the engine.

- Right. That's interesting.
- I think you'll have to push, Bertie.

It's getting dark, Bertie.
Can't we go any faster?

Bertie, look, there's
a public house up ahead.

Come on, Bertie.

Of course we don't get many visitors,

but you're very welcome
to the two little rooms we have got.

Now, there's one there
and the other one is here.

The bathroom's down the hall.

- They'll be just fine.
- Good.

Bertie?

- Hello?
- Lucky old Chuffy can't see us now, eh?

Lucky, why?

Well, you know how suspicious
and jealous he is.

He'd probably tear you limb from limb.

Good morning, Miss Stoker.
Good morning, sir.

Ah, Jeeves. Miss Stoker's car
broke down, Jeeves.

In Wiltshire.

I surmised that something of the kind
had taken place.

Mr Stoker was enquiring
after you at the hall.

Oh, lordy, you didn't tell him I was with
old sweet cheeks here?

When he saw me, miss,
he leapt to that conclusion himself.

- Was he cross?
- I could not say.

A dark hue suffused his cheek
and he attempted to kick a passing cat.

Em... I'd better get back
to the yacht and explain things.

After all this time, he still thinks
Bertie and I are madly in love.

My dratted engagement to Pauline
Stoker seems to dog the footsteps.

Indeed it does, sir.

It only lasted two days
and I was unconscious most of the time.

I recall it with great vividity, sir.

I felt it a benison
that the young lady's father

objected to the union with such fervour.

Me, too. I don't know what
I could have been thinking of.

Foreign travel often liberates emotions
best kept in check.

The air of North America is notoriously
stimulating in this regard,

as witness the regrettable behaviour
of its inhabitants in 1776.

Oh? What happened in 1776, Jeeves?

I prefer not to dwell on it,
if it's convenient to you, sir.

Oh. All I'm saying is, I wish
old man Stoker could forget

that I was ever engaged to his daughter.

Chuffy, too. He doesn't know
I was with Pauline last night?

I could not say, sir. I did not see
Lord Chuffnell last evening.

- Ah, Bertie, good to see you.
- What ho, Chuffy.

I hope you don't think it an awful crust,
me arriving like this.

What? No, no, no, no, no.
My casa is your casa, what.

I say, Bertie, I don't suppose Jeeves
would butler for us tonight, would he?

Oh, I will ask him.

Only old Birdwood had to retire.

We couldn't afford to replace him.

Still, I suppose once you've sold the old
pile, you can employ an army of butlers.

I want to play.

Hello, young Seabury.

I want to play croquet. You said
I could play the next time you played.

Yes, that's absolutely true,
but I'm playing with Mr Wooster.

You remember Mr Wooster?

- What ho.
- He can watch. I'm good at croquet.

There you are, Seabury. Come along.
Time for your maths class.

- I want to play croquet.
- Maths first.

- Oh, hello, Bertie.
- Hello, Myrtle.

Good to see you again.

It's on a knife edge at the moment.

If he can get planning permission, old
Stoker will take this heap off my hands

in return for vast amounts of oof.

And I'll be engaged
to his beautiful daughter.

It's not going to be
a hotel now, I understand.

Pauline met this woman called Glossop.

She's keen to turn it into a sanatorium
with her husband running it.

He's here staying at the local hostelry?

Stoker? He's on his yacht in the harbour.

- No, I meant Glossop.
- Yes, he's at the hotel.

- Why, do you know him?
- Yes.

I was engaged
to his daughter Honoria once.

Oh, Bertie, is there any girl
you haven't been engaged to?

Well...

Everyone here yet, Jeeves?

The Stokers have not yet arrived, sir,

but Sir Roderick and Lady Glossop
are in the drawing room.

Oh, Lord. Well, better go and face
the music, I suppose.

This room will do wonderfully well for
your office, don't you think, Roderick?

Oh, yes, perfect.

Possibly. Possibly.

I shall of course retain
my consulting rooms in Harley Street.

So many of my patients rely on me.

It must be a fascinating life,
Sir Roderick.

It has its rewards, Mrs Pongleton.

The Marchioness of Clapton
said to me only last week...

What ho.

Wooster.

- Here we are again, what.
- You two know each other, I believe.

We do indeed and what's more...

Would you like a glass of sherry, Bertie?

Mr J Washburn Stoker, Miss Stoker
and Master Dwight Stoker.

- Stoker.
- Ah, good evening.

Evening. Dwight. Darling.

You know everyone, I believe.
My sister, Mrs Pongleton.

Sir Roderick and Lady Glossop.
Oh, and Mr Wooster.

- What in Hades is he doing here?
- Oh, you know. The usual sort of thing.

Is that the one you were engaged to?

Dwight.

- He was engaged to my daughter, too.
- What?

Well, you know, an engagement here,
an engagement there.

Let's all go into dinner, shall we?

- It's Dwight's birthday tomorrow.
- And how old is the dear little fellow?

- He's nine.
- I'm gonna have a swell party.

I do hope you can come, Seabury.

Oh, yes, he'd love to come.

We've got this troupe of black-faced
minstrels doing the entertainment.

I bet you've never had minstrels
at a birthday party before.

- I hate minstrels anyway.
- Oh, yeah?

Minstrels... Roderick,
do tell them about the Duke of Tooting.

- Duke of Tooting?
- Yes.

Oh, yes. The old Duke had a minstrels'
gallery at the family seat, Tooting Hall.

Every night at dinner, he used
to excuse himself, creep up to the gallery

and drop boiled sweets
on the guests below.

Everyone knew it was him,
but had to pretend not to.

The family had to call for me eventually.

Bertie once dropped a blancmange
on the Bishop of Woolwich,

while we were at Oxford.

On a bishop?

Fair's fair, Chuffy.
It wasn't really meant for the bish.

It was meant for Boko Fittleworth,
but from above they look very similar.

I do not find this funny, Wooster.

Well, no, you had to be there, really.

He looked up to see what was
happening, tripped over the steps

and fell straight into the Cherwell.

- At least it washed off the blancmange.
- Happy days, happy days.

You didn't say that
when they arrested you.

- Arrested?
- A boyish prank.

And this is the sort of man
you choose as a friend.

Yes. I know, but he means well.

- He was fried to the tonsils at the time.
- Do you mean intoxicated?

Means well? A man who makes
a mockery of the church.

A jailbird. A drunkard. A womaniser.

- Oh, now, come.
- A womaniser, sir.

- He deceived my daughter, too.
- He was young.

Do you know your so-called friend spent
last night at a hotel with your fiancée?

Daddy!

More soup, anyone?

- Do you deny lit?
- It wasn't the way you make it sound.

- I'm sure it was all perfectly innocent.
- Innocent

Don't you care?

I mean, I'm sure
nothing untoward happened.

How do you know that?
How dare you?

- Pauline...
- You just take me for granted.

Either that man leaves your house
immediately or I do.

Look, this is my house
and I'll have whoever I like in it.

- Then it can stay your house.
- You don't love me.

Pauline, you don't understand.

If you think I'd let my daughter marry
a man who consorts with criminals,

you do not know
the middle west of America.

- But, Mr Stoker, the sanatorium.
- I never wanted a sanatorium anyway.

Come on, Dwight.

I think you can clear
the soup now, Jeeves.

Very good, madam.

I suppose one ought to be prepared
for one's past to return now and again,

strike one a nasty blow on the mazard.

Indeed, sir. Our least deed,
like the young of the land crab,

wends its way to the sea of cause
and effect as soon as born.

Oh, quite, but it hardly seems fair

that it should also strike
the mazards of one's chums.

This ancient matter of the blancmange
and the bishop

has come back to haunt poor old Chuffy.

Do you hear music?

Of a sort, sir. If I'm not mistaken,
it comes from up ahead there.

I wonder why these minstrel fellows
blacken their faces

in order to play the banjo
and sing songs, Jeeves.

It's said to originate with
the entertainment got up

on the cotton plantations
of the New World

by the slaves employed
on those facilitates,

in order to express joy and happiness
at their lot.

An unlikely contingency, one surmises,
bearing in mind their situation.

Dashed odd that these fellows should be
playing Lady Of Spain, too.

That's the only tune
the chaps at the Drones know.

Thank you, Bertie.

- Who's in there?
- It's me, Barmy.

What on earth are you doing here?

We're here to play at
my Aunt Hilda's silver wedding party.

- What are you playing on the beach for?
- Practising. It's meant to be a surprise.

And we thought we'd give
the holidaymakers a treat.

You're taking money
for making a racket?

Absolutely. And we've got a job playing
on that yacht at a kid's birthday party.

- With old man Stoker?
- Do you know him? He's paying us £5.

My mother's going to be thrilled. She's
always saying I should work for a living.

Oh.

- This is odd, Jeeves.
- Sir?

A letter or missive.

- Odder and odder, Jeeves.
- Indeed, sir.

Not to say downright rummy. it's a
letter of invitation from old Stoker.

He'd be bucked if I'd mangle a spot
of dinner with him on the boat tonight.

Most peculiar, though.

I do not see the point of this at all.

I shall be better employed back
in London continuing my memoirs.

We have to try to heal the rift, Roderick,
between Lord Chuffnell and the Stokers.

I do not care about the rift.
Besides, it's pointless.

Stoker has retired to his yacht
and remains there incommunicado.

It's Lammas Eve tonight, sir.
Don't you be late.

- I beg your pardon.
- We lock up early tonight.

Old Boggy walks on Lammas Eve.

Superstitious rubbish. Old Boggy, huh.

We don't know any Boggies,
do we, Roderick?

I say, jolly decent of old Stoker
to extend the olive branch like this.

Ahoy, Gypsy Queen.

Ahoy, Jeeves?

It is the correct form
of nautical address, sir.

The sort of thing they only said in books.

- Who is it?
- It's Mr Wooster and his manservant,

requesting permission to board, sir.

Come aboard.

Ah. Ahoy there, Stoker.

Well, well, well.

- Well, fine-looking craft, this.
- Well, we like it.

- Why don't I show you over?
- Dashed civil of you.

This is the main saloon,
just being prepared for the festivities.

Ah, little Dwight's birthday. Of course.

- Is Pauline around this evening?
- My daughter?

She has a headache.
Let me show you one of the staterooms.

- What do you think of that?
- Very nice.

Go in. Have a look around.

Feel the bed.

- Very nice.
- Aha.

Mr Stoker appears
to have locked us in, sir.

Good heavens.

What on earth has he done that for?

Why can't I go to the party?

Uncle Chuffy's had a disagreement
with Mr Stoker, Seabury, and we felt...

I haven't.

No, but you sometimes have
disagreements with young Dwight.

I still want to go to his party.

They're so logical
at that age, aren't they?

- Now, look here, Stoker.
- Wait outside, Jeeves, would you?

Very good, sir.

Look here, I know this is
trespassing on your time.

- Could you tell me what this is about?
- You don't know?

- Hanged if I do.
- And you can't guess?

Hanged if I can.

Wooster, you spent the night
at a hotel with my daughter.

No, no, no, no.

Well, let's just say yes, but...

There was a time when I was younger,
when I would have broken your neck.

- Oh, I say.
- Nowadays I'm more sensible.

I take the easier way.

Good.

- Hey, Jeeves.
- Yes, miss.

- Could I have a word?
- Certainly, miss.

This is not the situation
I would have chosen personally,

but my hand is forced
and that's all there is to it.

What are your views
on engagements, Wooster?

- Engagements?
- I prefer them short.

I feel we should put this wedding
through as quickly as possible.

Wedding?

You are going to make my daughter
an honourable woman.

Oh, no, no. No, no. Now, look here...

There are certain formalities, of course,
and while these are being tended to,

you will be my guest.

That's awfully decent of you.

Now, I must get back
to my son's birthday party.

You don't have to go back in there,
Jeeves. I've no quarrel with you.

My place is at Mr Wooster's side, sir.

As you wish.

You're abreast
of the latest developments?

- Yes, sir.
- He's going to make me marry Pauline.

Miss Stoker related to me an outline of
the plan that Mr Stoker had made, sir.

By Jove. Jeeves,
an idea suddenly occurs to me.

It's all very well for Stoker to talk airily
about marrying us off, but he can't do it.

Miss Stoker will simply put her ears back
and refuse to cooperate.

You can lead a horse to the altar,
Jeeves, but you can't make it drink.

In my recent conversation
with the young lady, sir,

I did not receive the impression that she
was antagonistic to the arrangement.

Her attitude was influenced
by the thought

that in contracting a matrimonial alliance
with you,

she will be making a gesture
of defiance at Lord Chuffnell.

- Scoring off him, you mean?
- Yes, sir.

What a damned silly idea, Jeeves.
The girl must be cuckoo.

Feminine psychology
is admittedly odd, sir. The poet Pope...

- Never mind about the poet Pope.
- No, sir.

There are times one wants
to hear about the poet Pope

- and times one doesn't.
- Very true, sir.

The point is, if that's the way she feels,
then I'm a pipped man.

Yes, sir. Unless...

Unless?

I was wondering, sir, whether it might
not be best to obviate all unpleasantness

by removing yourself from the yacht.

What a tragedy, Jeeves. What a tragedy.

After all these years, that superb brain of
yours has come unstuck at the edges.

The matter might be easily arranged,
if you're agreeable, sir.

- You mean this is not mere gibbering?
- I think not, sir.

We have three requirements.
Firstly, a pair of tweezers.

Next, a sheet of paper, sir.

Indeed, sir, I'm inclined to think

that your removal from
the general vicinity of Chuffnell Regis

is to be advised.

I believe, sir, that there is a train
to London at 20 minutes past ten.

- Good heavens, Jeeves.
- Thank you, sir.

- But you said we needed three things.
- Indeed, sir.

While at liberty,
I ventured to purloin this.

And what is this, Jeeves?

Boot polish, sir.

Oofy.

Oofy, old sport, I'm in a bit of a jam.

I need to borrow your headgear
and jacket.

- What for?
- Stoker's after me.

- He's got me prisoner on the boat.
- I say.

♪ Lady of Spain, I adore you

♪ Right from the first time I saw you

♪ My heart has been yearning for you

♪ What else could any heart do?

Good night.

If he recognises me,
I'll jump over the side.

- Splendid evening.
- Good night.

- Thank you so much.
- Thank you. Good night.

Thank you.

I wonder how you get
this blasted stuff off your face.

- Butter.
- Butter?

That's what Barmy says, anyway.

- Gone!
- I tried to reason with him, sir.

- But nothing would dissuade him.
- Where has he gone?

He swam ashore. It is my conjecture that
he has gone to catch a train to London.

He's not going to get out of
his responsibilities as easily as that.

On the other hand, it is possible
he may return to Chuffnell Hall.

I could try the station,
but how could I go back to the hall?

It might be managed by stealth, sir.

You mean creep up to his bedroom?

Merely a proposal, sir.

- And nab him where he lies.
- Precisely, sir.

It would be a famous victory were you
to extract Mr Wooster

from under their very noses.

You're right. You're right.

But what if anyone saw me?

- If I might make a suggestion, sir.
- Go ahead, Jeeves.

In operations of this type, particularly
if they are of a nocturnal nature,

It is often thought necessary
to resort to camouflage.

- Hey.
- Exactly, sir.

A blackened face will conceal one from
all but the must assiduous searcher.

Sort of melt into the darkness.

Yes, sir.

By jiminy, Jeeves, I'll do it.

I'll look for him at the station. if he's
not there, I'll know where to find him.

Thinks he can make a fool
of J Washburn Stoker, does he?

I'm sure we'll be able to talk
to Mr Stoker. He's a reasonable man.

No, he isn't. He's made his mind up.

I was really looking forward
to those minstrels.

Yes, it would have been nice,
Seabury, dear.

Never mind. You'll see
the minstrels another time.

I won't. You never let me have
minstrels on my birthday.

You like the minstrels, do you, Seabury?

They're fun. They sing and do
tap-dancing and one of them tells jokes.

Roderick has an awfully fine voice.

- Really?
- Oh, yes.

He was greatly in demand
when he was younger.

- Can he tell jokes?
- No.

Er... well.

It's no good.
You have to black your face.

Well, I certainly...

Come on, Jeeves.
Put some beef into it.

- Very good, sir.
- Wooster's not getting away with this.

Thinks he can play fast and loose
with my daughter, does he?

Are you coming with me, Jeeves?

I think it would be more appropriate
if I waited here, sir.

Right. And I'll be back with Wooster.

I'll be glad when that last train's gone
and I'm safe home tonight, Cedric.

Yes.

Oh, my God.

- 'Tis Old Boggy. He's here.
- I'll call the police.

Why, it was horrible.
A face glaring at me through the window.

It was 'orrible, 'orrible.

♪ I'm singing in the rain

♪ just singing in the rain

♪ What a glorious feeling

♪ I'm happy again...

Don't you know the tune?

- Of course I know the tune.
- Well, you're a rotten singer, then.

Seabury, you mustn't be rude.

What a very forthright little chap he is.

'Tis Old Boggy, he be abroad tonight.

He be heading for the railway station.

Come on, Dennis,
we've got a supernatural.

I'm going to call for reinforcements.

Remember what happened last
Lammas Eve. You go and start the car.

♪ I'm singing, just singing in the rain

What ho.

- What about jokes?
- Jokes?

Minstrels tell jokes.
It might be better than your singing.

Yes, very well, jokes.

Ah, yes, now for this joke,

you have to imagine
that I am two people.

- What do you mean?
- Two people.

Person A and person B.

Get on with it, then.

Person A says,
"My wife's gone to the East Indies.”

And person B inquires, "Jakarta?"

Whereupon person A ripostes,
"No, she went by boat.”

Is that meant to be a joke?

Jakarta, you see,
is the capital city of Java.

Only person B was under the impression
that what person A...

I think you tell rotten jokes, you can't
sing and you look completely stupid.

Seabury.

Get out!

And stay out!

I have every intention of so doing.

Fine.

What ho, what ho.

- Good God.
- No, only B Wooster.

You're no doubt wondering
what is the explanation for all this.

No, no, one doesn't like to pry.

I was endeavouring to entertain Master
Seabury by dressing as a minstrel.

Oh, what went wrong?

Seabury was unappreciative.
For once in my life, I lost control.

- I cuffed him round the ear.
- And Chuffy threw you out?

He did indeed. Mr Wooster, we have
had our differences in the past...

No, no, I feel a distinct warming towards
you now that you managed

to give little Seabury one or two
on the spot indicated.

Only one, I regret to say,
but it was a good one.

Seems to bring us closer together, eh?

However, the burning issue of the hour

is how we are going to get
this stuff off our faces.

- Barmy says one needs butter.
- I can't go back to my hotel in this state.

I can't get on a train without them
setting the police on me.

We could try in the village.
We could take my car.

There was a black face
with 'orrible staring eyes.

Just a minute.

It's him. He's back.

Tell them we've got an emergency.

He's vanished.
Where do you think he's gone?

Quick, in the car.

- I haven't finished my drink yet.
- Can't help that.

- Who's got my banjo?
- Is there another way out, Barmy?

Can't stop here or we'll be late.

Where can we find butter
in this godforsaken place?

I say, Aunt Hilda will have butter.

You have an aunt nearby?

No, no, but Barmy Fotheringay-Phipps
does. Er... Chuffnell Parva.

The other way through the village,
I think.

There's two of them now.

Turn round. Turn round.

Steady on, Dennis.

Sorry, Uncle Ted.

Not so fast, now, Dennis.

I hates the devil
and all his works, Uncle Ted.

Very commendable, Dennis,
but this is a new car.

They've set the police on us.

I barely touched the lad.

This must be it.

Steady, Glossop.

Hilda's parties are always commendable.

Are you going to dance?
Nobody's asked me yet.

You mind your manners, Dennis.
We're dealing with the upper crust.

- They don't understand about Boggies.
- All right, Uncle Ted.

Ladles and gentlemen, dear friends,

you all know my nephew,
Cyril Fotheringay-Phipps.

Two creatures, you say?

- With blackened faces.
- And 'orrible staring eyes.

There are no creatures in this house,
my good man.

- He and his London pails...
- There they go, Uncle Ted.

Got together and formed a band.

And so it is my proud privilege
to present

the Dover Street Jazzomaniacs.

Oh, my God.

Don't be afraid, nephew.

Old Boggy has sought out the ideal place
to conceal himself.

You mean some of them creatures
up there is not Boggies?

Some of them's as human as you or me.
The question is, which ones?

Wooster!

Here!

Arrest them all!

With all due respect, Mr Stoker,

you could hardly think of allowing
your only daughter to marry

a gentleman as eccentric as Mr Wooster.

Hold hard, Jeeves.

Nor would a sanatorium be likely
to thrive were it to become known

that not only the owner,
but the chief physician,

had been arrested with blackened faces

and charged with occasioning
a breach of the peace.

It will ruin me.

Well, I'm not buying
that goddamn house anyway.

That would seem to be a pity, sir.

If you would let me give Lord Chuffnell
your assurance

that you would buy his house and you
will allow him to marry your daughter,

I'm sure that he could persuade
the magistrate to take a lenient view

of your parts in this sorry affair.

How can you be sure of that, Jeeves?

I think you will find, sir, that
Lord Chuffnell is in a unique position

to effect such a persuasion.

These are serious charges.

But I'm inclined to believe
that you, Alfred Trotsky,

and you, Frederick Aloysius Lenin,
were led astray.

You are discharged.

But as for the rest of you,

Boko Disraeli, Oofy Lloyd George,

Barmy Lord Tennyson, and the rest,

not only have you been guilty

of a breach of the peace
of considerable magnitude,

but I also strongly suspect that you have
given false names and addresses.

You are each fined the sum of £5.

I say!

Quiet, Dr Crippen!

I don't think there was any need
to describe me as eccentric, Jeeves.

It was a word Mr Stoker would readily
understand and disapprove of, sir.

It was essential that matters
be brought to a speedy conclusion.

- I appreciate that...
- ...meet some strange man.

Spend the night at a hotel
and you're not jealous.

Why should I be jealous?
Bertie spent the night in his car.

- You don't know that.
- I do. I saw him.

- What do you mean?
- I saw everything you did in London.

- I followed you.
- That creature in the ginger beard.

- I thought it rather suited me.
- How dare you!

You trust me so little you have to follow
me about all day. You worm!

But you were just complaining
that I trusted you too much!

That's a totally different thing.
To care about me is one thing.

To put on a false beard
and trail after me...

Yes, well, that bit of your little scheme
seems to have gone rather agley.

Oh, I hardly think so, sir.

I imagine the young couple will spend
much of their happily-married lives

in a state of similar emotional turmoil.

- Well, wouldn't do for me, Jeeves.
- Indeed not, sir.

Pauline, Chuffnell, I was just saying
to my good friend Sir Roderick here,

we all ought to go down to the yacht and
open one or two bottles of champagne.

Champagne?

To celebrate the purchase
of Chuffnell Hall.

And your engagement.

Oh, Daddy.

It all seems a bit chancy to me, Jeeves.

Not entirely, sir. The essential goal
was to demonstrate to Mr Stoker

that an innocent man can sometimes
come close to a criminal record.

How did you know he'd be arrested
when you sent him ashore?

It is often profitable
to study local folklore, sir.

It seemed unlikely
that with his face blackened,

Mr Stoker would get very far on the night
Old Boggy is said to walk.

Old Boggy is believed to knock on
innocent persons' doors

and, when they answer, to pull them
down to hell by their garters.

Garters, eh? What a mine
of information you are, Jeeves.

- Thank you, sir.
- That all went off quite well, I thought.

You'll pardon me for saying so,
Mr Prosser,

but it raises considerable difficulties
for the Drones Club dining committee.

- The dining committee?
- Rule 27A, sir.

No member with a criminal record
may offer himself for election.

Good God, you're right, Jeeves.
We've all got criminal records now.

I imagine, sir, that a further emendation
of the rule book might be indicated.

In which case, I might still conceivably
be persuaded to stand, Oofy.

Jeeves, I find it hard to believe
that you thought it worth your while

to get half the members
of the Drones into the dock

to ease my way onto
the dining committee.

The methods were perforce draconian,
sir, but the stakes were high.

The diminution in the wine bill
each month

should mean a considerable saving
in the housekeeping.