All language subtitles for jeeves.and.wooster.s03e04.720p.bluray.x264-ingot

The train now standing
at Platform three is the 09:35 from...

- Madeline!
- Augustus, I have such bad news.

- It's poor darling Hilda.
- Hilda?

- She's broken up with Woger.
- Woger?

I must be with her in her hour of need.

But I can't see your godmother
by myself.

- Suppose she doesn't approve of me?
- She'll love you, Augustus...

- 'Scuse me, sir.
- ..Just as I do.

- But I'll be all alone!
- Oh, my brave, my wonderful boy.

In you get, now.

Wait, Mad...

Madeline!

Oh, my goodness! The address!

- This club is really amazing, Jeeves.
- Indeed, sir.

Don't sound so soupy. You won't have
to lug that bag of clubs round.

- This is the whole works.
- I should not wish to be seen

carrying an illegal club
around Wentworth, sir.

Nothing in the rules says
one can't have an adjustable iron.

I press this button, click, it's a niblick,
click-click, it's a mashie niblick

- click-click-click, it's a mid-mashie...
- Yes, thank you, sir. Most ingenious.

All the way up to cleek.

Rule No. 14-3, sir,

states that no player shall use any
artificial device or unusual equipment.

The rules committee
of the Royal and Ancient...

The rules committee of the Royal
and Ancient are yesterday's men.

- They must face the modern world.
- If you say so, sir.

Mr Wooster's residence.

Good afternoon, Mrs Gregson.

No, I regret to say that Mr Wooster
is not at home, Mrs Gregson.

Certainly, Mrs Gregson.

Yes, Mrs Gregson.

That was Mrs Gregson, sir.
She desires us both to visit immediately.

- And I say yes, Bertie.
- But dash it, Aunt Agatha...

Please! Confine that sort of language
to the tap room where it belongs.

I don't know Gertrude Winkworth.

Her mother, Dame Daphne,
is one of my oldest and dearest friends.

There is good blood there, Bertie.

An injection of it
might fortify the jejune concoction

which seems to run through the veins
of the Woosters these days.

You're not suggesting I just turn up at
this place and ask to marry their Gertie?

Her mother confided to me
that Gertrude was being pursued

by some quite unsuitable sort of actor
of all things.

I said to her,
"She's just the girl for Bertie."

That's another thing. if this Gertrude
Winkworth and I should hit it off,

we'd be known by all and sundry
as Bertie and Gertie,

- like some dashed music hall act.
- Don't be such a poltroon, Bertie.

- Get him down to Deverill Hall, Jeeves.
- Very good, Mrs Gregson.

Bertie! Bertie, Bertie, Bertie!
I've forgotten the address.

- Hello, Gussie. Whose address?
- I can't remember.

Dean something something.

Can't you telephone Madeline
to find out?

I don't know where Madeline is.
Well, I do.

The Larches, Wimbledon Common,
but I don't know the telephone number.

We can look it up.
What's the name of her friend?

Hilda... something.

- Pardon me, sir.
- Yes, Jeeves?

If it is to Miss Bassett's godmother that
Mr Fink-Nottle must present himself,

I think you'll find
that it is Dame Daphne Winkworth.

- That's it! That's it!
- How the dickens did you know that?

I heard Miss Bassett's father,
Sir Watkyn, mention

that Miss Madeline's godmothers
are Dame Daphne and Mrs Gregson.

He referred to them in a moment of grim
jocularity as Scylla and Charybdis.

This is the Dame Daphne Winkworth of
Deverill Hall we're under orders to see?

- Indeed, sir.
- There you are, Gussie.

You can travel with us tomorrow.

Oh, no... Madeline would expect me
to be there tonight.

Assert your independence, Gussie.
Anyway, how will she know you're not?

We could slide over to the Drones
for a snifter.

All right. Why shouldn't I?

I will.

Why should I do exactly what Madeline
tells me all the time?

- Spoken like a true Fink-Nottle, Gussie.
- I don't tell her what to do.

Usual for me, George.
How about you, Gussie?

- Orange juice, please.
- Gussie, you're a on a long leash.

- You'll drink champagne and like it.
- Oh, nearly!

- Catsmeat!
- What?

- Bertie.
- I haven't seen you in an age.

Do you know Gussie Fink-Nottle?
Claude Potter-Pirbright.

- What are you up to?
- I start a new musical next week.

- Oh. Nice part?
- The usual:

bound on Act One clutching
a tennis racket and shout "hello, girls,"

Act Two, fall in love with a parlour maid,

Act Three, find out she's Lady Penelope
incognito and live happily ever after.

- I don't think I've seen that one.
- What about you? Busy?

Yes. Gussie and I are going
to Deverill Hall tomorrow.

- Do you know them, the Winkworths?
- You trying to be funny?

I'm engaged to Gertrude.

- Gertrude? As in Winkworth?
- Of course.

- Oh.
- What do you mean, "Oh"?

- She's wonderful, Bertie.
- Can we have the ball?

- Yes, well, that's good, isn't it?
- No, it's not good.

When we got engaged
and broke the news to her mother,

she let out a yell
you could have heard in St Neots.

- St Neots being...?
- About 20 miles as the crow flies.

- A goodish distance.
- I haven't seen Gertrude since.

I'm trying to pluck up the courage to go
down and persuade her to elope with me.

- Oh! What's her mother like?
- Dame Daphne?

Light-heavyweight, touch
of Wallace Beery about the jaw line.

- Gussie's engaged to her goddaughter.
- I'm going to get her blessing.

- Well, I wish you luck with the aunts.
- Aunts?

Dame Daphne's got about 43 sisters
living with her

and they let out yells too.

- Oh, dear...
- Why not take Catsmeat out to dinner?

He doesn't eat much and he can enwisen
you re these aunts over the pottage.

Owzat!

Ah, Jeeves, a slight complication
has arisen about the Winkworth girl

- Aunt Agatha wants to pair me with.
- Indeed, sir?

The actor Dame Daphne wants to head
off is Catsmeat Potter-Pirbright.

Catsmeat is barmy about her apparently.
The girl, that is.

That would put you
into an ambiguous situation

in regard to your friendship
with Mr Potter-Pirbright, sir.

Ambiguous is right.
There's nothing for it.

I shall have to throttle back
on the charm.

I don't want to leave Catsmeat standing
at the post.

It would seem to be a danger, sir.
Will that be all, sir?

- Yes, Jeeves, that'll be all. Yes.
- Thank you, sir.

I hunt with the East Sussex
of course,

but Roger said he felt a certain
obligation to support the Mid-Hants.

The consequence was I never saw the
little blighter at all, during the winter.

- My poor Hilda.
- Any old how,

I issued an ultimatum, I'm afraid.

"Look here, Roger, " I said,
"either it's the Mid-Hants or it's me.

- Take your choice."
- Oh, Hilda, you're so courageous.

Yes, well, I've not seen him since
and that was six weeks ago.

Oh, it isn't fair, is it?

I'm so lucky to have a man
like Augustus - strong, reliable...

What happened to that other blighter
you were keen on,

- that Bertie Wooster?
- Oh, poor Bertie.

He's still wildly in
love with me of course,

but I had to tell him that there could
never be anything between us.

My heart belongs to Augustus, you see.

Of course, if Augustus and I
were ever to break up...

Oh...

- I told you!
- Come on, then.

I'm pretty handy with my fists, you know.

- Come on, Gussie.
- No! Let me get at him!

No. We'll go to The Blue Havoc.
They'll let us in there.

Let me get at him!

It was five in the morning
and we were in Trafalgar Square.

Gussie thought there might be newts in
the fountain and started wading about.

You can't go wading
in Trafalgar Square fountain.

- Gussie did.
- Lucky he wasn't pinched.

He was!
A cop came along and gaffed him.

He was given 14 days without the option
at Bosher Street Police Court.

- Do you know what, Jeeves?
- No, sir.

Gussie Fink-Nottle's in stir.

Gussie Fink-Nottle's in stir!

You see the ghastly position, Jeeves?

What will happen when Gussie doesn't
turn up? Madeline will enquire.

You know how women are
for digging out the truth.

Nothing puts a girl off more than hearing
a fellow is doing 14 days in chokey.

A very acute observation, sir.

Gussie will get the bum's rush

and the figure shambling
down the aisle with Madeline

while the organ plays
The Voice That Breathed O'er Eden

- will be Bertram Wilberforce Wooster.
- I don't see why.

Madeline Bassett believes
I'm madly in love with her.

When a girl thinks you love her

and says she's leaving her betrothed
and is ready to sign up with you,

what can you do except marry her?
One has to be civil.

Ahem.
There is one possible solution, sir.

You see? "There is one possible solution,
sir," just like that.

Catsmeat, Jeeves takes a size 14 hat,
eats tons of fish

and moves in mysterious ways his
wonders to perform. Speak, Jeeves.

Well, sir to obviate the enquiries
which would be set on foot

should Mr Fink-Nottle not present
himself at Deverill Hall this evening,

it would appear to me to
be essential that a substitute,

purporting to be Mr Fink-Nottle
should take his place.

You're not suggesting that I check in
at this plague pit as Gussie?

Unless you persuade
one of your friends to do so, sir.

You can't go round asking people
to pretend to be Gussie Fink-Nottle.

Well, you can, I suppose,
but what a hell of a life.

Besides, there isn't even... Catsmeat!

Not on. They all know me at Deverill.

Well, I can't do it.
I can't even do an imitation of Gussie.

You'll pardon me
for pointing this out, sir,

but the virtue of the plan
is that there is no need

to approximate the look or manner
of Mr Fink-Nottle.

Nobody at Deverill Hall
has ever seen him.

Yes, but dash it all, Jeeves,
they must have heard about him.

Let's face it, if Gussie's brain were silk,

he'd be hard-put to find material
to make a canary a pair of camiknickers.

Five minutes' conversation with me
and they would penetrate the deception.

I'm sure that your undoubted thespian
powers will see you through the day, sir.

Jeeves,
what are we letting ourselves in for?

I regret that I shall not be able
to accompany you, sir.

Not be...? Why on earth not, Jeeves?

I'm sorry, sir. The Ganymede Club
would not look kindly

on a gentleman's gentleman sailing,
as it were, under false colours.

- Mr Fink-Nottle, sir?
- No.

Oh, that's to say yes. Fink-Nottle, yes.

I'd better dress.
I don't want to be late for dinner.

Dinner has already commenced, sir.
We dine at 7:30 punctually.

- Ah, so straight in and join the fray.
- Such were Dame Daphne's instructions.

Lead on, then.

Mr Fink-Nottle has arrived,
Dame Daphne.

Oh, good.

Oh. Fink-Nottle. Sorry.
Dottle. Fink-Nottle.

Mr Fink-Nottle, you're very late.

You'll have to forgo the soup
and the fish.

Oh, consider them forwent.
Shall I sit here?

Well, this is jolly.

Allow me to introduce my sisters.

Miss Emmeline Deverill,
Miss Myrtle, Deverill,

Miss Harriet Deverill
and Miss Charlotte Deverill.

All the little Deverills, eh?

I'm Gussie Fink-Nottle,
noted newt fancier.

- What did he say?
- He said he's a newt fancier.

- Is that why he's so late?
- This is my daughter, Gertrude.

The nephew of a friend of mine
is meant to be here.

I wonder if you know him, a Mr Wooster?

Bertie Wooster? Oh, yes. I've not actually
had the pleasure, but I've heard of him.

- That's how I know his name.
- Apparently he's irresponsible.

Agatha says she wonders if the kindest
thing would be to put him in a home.

Well, if that isn't just...

Yes, but um... l wonder,
have you heard the one about the, er...

the fan dancer and the performing flea?

Ah... no. Actually, here's a better one.

Yes. There are these three deaf chaps
on a train and it stops at Wembley.

- What's he doing?
- Mr Fink-Nottle is telling an anecdote.

Anyway, there it is at Wembley,
and one chap says, "Is this Wembley?"

- The other says, "No, it's Thursday."
- What did he say?

- He said, "No, it's Thursday."
- No, it's not. It's Friday.

- I know. I changed my library book.
- It's a joke, Charlotte.

Thank you. The third one says,
"So am I. Let's go and have a drink."

- It's a joke about drink, Charlotte.
- No, it's not about drink. It's about...

Why did the first man bring up
the days of the week?

No, the first man is the one who says,
"Is this Wimbledon?"

- No...
- That was the second man.

Let Mr Fink-Nottle finish his joke
before we judge it.

- Well, that was it actually.
- Is it about tennis, perhaps?

I don't care for jokes about tennis.

- Some jokes about tennis...
- No, I just cannot...

- Good lord, Jeeves!
- Good evening, sir.

- What on earth are you doing here?
- I am performing my customary office

- in attending Mr Wooster.
- But...

Gussie?

- You're meant to be in court.
- Allow me to help you, Mr Wooster.

What? Oh, yes.

- Wooster?
- You must be Mr Wooster.

- Yes.
- I beg your pardon?

No, no, not me.
No, I'm... I'm Fink-Nottle, you know,

the newt man.

- Good morning, sir.
- Never mind good morning.

- How did Gussie get out of stir?
- The magistrate decided

to substitute a fine
for the prison sentence, sir.

I was unable to inform you as it
happened when you were on your way.

So Gussie is freed from durance vile
and you bring him to Deverill Hall?

- Yes, sir.
- Why?

It seemed the best course of action.

In the event
of either of you failing to arrive,

enquiries would have been instituted
by either Mrs Gregson or Miss Bassett

with disastrous results.

To point out just one aspect, sir,

Miss Bassett is expecting daily letters
from Mr Fink-Nottle

describing in detail his life here.

I hadn't thought of that.
So, I'm Gussie and Gussie's me?

- Yes, sir.
- Ceaseless vigilance will be required

if we're not to gum up the game.

- We shall be walking on eggshells.
- A very trenchant metaphor, sir.

What ho, Gussie, or rather Bertie?

- This is a pretty state of things.
- Better than being in clink though.

In prison, you don't have
people calling you Mr Wooster.

How do you suppose I feel
knowing everybody thinks you're me?

- Shouldn't you prefer it?
- Prefer it? Are you mad?

How do you think I feel?

Do you realise
that the world of Deverill believes

Bertram Wooster
is an oversized gargoyle

who looks like Lester the Pester
in an American comic strip?

In case you are under any illusion,

those aunts pulled their skirts aside
when I said I was Bertie Wooster

and, as if that wasn't bad enough,
you seem to have made my name mud,

something about trains and Wimbledon
and an unseemly anecdote.

What will happen if they tell Madeline
I tell unseemly anecdotes?

- I advise stout denial, and in any case...
- Mr Wooster...

- Mr Fink-Nottle.
- Ah. What ho, Dame Daphne?

Gertrude is on the terrace, Mr Wooster.

Well?

I thought perhaps
you might want to talk to her.

- What about?
- Excuse us a moment, would you?

Gussie, I'm meant to be wooing
Gertrude Winkworth.

- Wooing?
- Wooing, courting, pressing one's suit.

- Dallying with.
- I'm not going to do that.

You have to, Gussie,
because you're meant to be me.

Do your own dirty work.
Suppose Madeline found out?

Madeline won't find out.
She's in Wimbledon.

Yes, Bertie thinks he might totter out and
have a word with Gertrude, don't you?

- No!
- I'm sure she'd be pleased to see you.

Yes, almost as pleased as I shall be
to see Madeline.

- Yes, I've got so much to tell her.
- Well, you can...

Oh, very well.

What a charming fellow
that Bertie Wooster is!

He could charm the skin
off a rice pudding.

- He seems very confused.
- Confused? Bertie Wooster? Never.

No. One of the keenest minds
of his generation.

- Hello.
- Hello, Mr Wooster.

I'm Bertie Wooster.

- Lovely morning, isn't it, Mr Wooster?
- What is?

The morning. The weather.

Oh.

Do you like newts?

- Newts?
- I've got...

Gussie Fink-Nottle's got lots of newts.

I really envy him.

It must be really fulfilling
to have that many newts.

- Morning, Mr Purdey.
- Morning, madam.

There you are, then.

No letter from Augustus, Hilda.

I do wish he'd write.

I say, Bertie, what a charming girl!

- What? Who?
- That Gertrude, Gertrude Winkworth.

- Is she?
- She wants me to sing tomorrow night.

- Sing?
- She heard from your Aunt Agatha

what an expert you are
on modern dance music,

and as she thought I was you, she said
I could entertain everyone after dinner.

- Can you sing, Gussie?
- Probably.

- What do you mean, "Probably"?
- Well, I haven't tried yet, have I?

I thought you could teach me
a couple of those songs.

- Do you play the piano, Gussie?
- Yes. I'm better at the oboe.

Really? No, I think the piano's
a more usual sort of thing.

Now, this is a good one, yes.

Shall I play it, give you the idea,
then you have a go.

- All right.
- Right. One, two, three, four.

♪ Some people make a fuss

♪ When a thing goes wrong

♪ Some stop and swear and cuss

♪ Others sing a song

♪ I don't do either

♪ That's all napoo

♪ When a thing goes wrong with me,

♪ This is what I do

♪ I lift up my finger and I say,
"Tweet-tweet,

♪ "Shush-shush, now-now, come-come"

♪ I don't need to linger when I say,
"Tweet-tweet, shush-shush..." ♪

Stop! Are you mad?!

Do you think I'm going to stand
in front of people

and sing tweet-tweet, ha-ha, hee-hee?

- No, the second one's shush-shush.
- What does it all mean?

It's the absolute dernier cri, Gussie.

As cries go,
this is as dernier as you can get.

- It's absolute gibberish!
- Well, if you want intellectual content...

Ah, this is the one. Right, here we go.

♪ How do you feel
when you marry your ideal?

♪ Ever so goosie-goosie-goosie goo-sie

♪ How do you feel
when the bells begin to peal?

♪ Ever so goosie-goosie-goosie goo-sie

♪ Walking up the aisle in a kind of daze

♪ Do you get the wind up
when the organ plays?

♪ How do you feel
when the parson's done the deal?

♪ Ever so goosie-goosie-goosie
goo-sie ♪

Oh, I like that. That's very good!
Let me have a go.

- Gertrude will love this.
- She'd have to have a heart of stone...

What do you mean,
"Gertrude will love this"?

She's the one who wanted me to play.
Madeline never wanted me to play.

Madeline doesn't think you're me.

Don't you sometimes feel that Madeline's
a bit, well, soppy, Bertie?

Madeline? Soppy?

All that business about bunny rabbits
and the stars being God's daisy chain.

No, no-no-no-no. Madeline's beliefs
are out of the ordinary,

but sound, Gussie, extremely sound.

I think it would be a mistake
to think of her as soppy.

Well, let's get on with this.

Ah, Jeeves, sorry to disturb you
in your lair.

Not at all, sir.

I don't like the way things are going.

Fink-Nottle appears to be besotted
by this Gertrude female.

I feared that this might be the case,
sir.

It's only to be expected.

The impact of a girl like Gertrude
in spring on a fathead like Gussie,

weakened by swilling orange juice,
must be terrific.

- What are we going to do, Jeeves?
- I've taken the liberty, sir,

of arranging a three-ball this afternoon
between Miss Winkworth,

- Mr Fink-Nottle and yourself.
- Golf? At a time like this?

With Gussie? He's a terrible golfer.

Gertrude takes golf seriously.
She plays off six.

- Such is my understanding, sir.
- She'll see his abysmal putting

and his laughable game off the tee and
cast him aside like a spilt beverage.

Jeeves, how could I ever doubt you?

I could not say, sir.

Psst!

Psst!

Claude! Well, just where have you been,
Mr Potter-Pirbright?

Me? Well, after that row
with your mother...

That was three weeks ago!
You haven't telephoned...

Anyway, I'm here now, and I've decided

I want you to elope with me.

Oh, do you just?
Good of you to let me know.

Well, you can just jolly well
go back to London and...

- Catsmeat?
- Shh!

- I'm in disguise.
- Pathetic, isn't it?

That face fungus?
It wouldn't fool a parrot.

- I'm your man.
- What do you mean, you're my man?

Your valet. It's the ideal way for me
to come and see Gertrude incognito.

My name's going to be Meadows.

Are you mad?

- Mr Fink-Nottle
- Oh, my God. What ho, Dame Daphne?

- Don't I recognise you?
- I hope so. I was at dinner last night.

- No, you.
- No. No.

- I'm his man.
- Man?

A lackey, serf, valet.

Your face seems very familiar.

It's that sort of face.
You see them all over the shop.

Anyhow, you may go about your
business. I want to speak to your master.

What's this I hear, Mr Fink-Nottle?

- I beg your pardon?
- I've had a telegram from Madeline.

- Oh, yes?
- Madeline says

she has not received a single letter
from you since you arrived at the hall

and she is distressed
at your abominable neglect.

And I'm not surprised.

Oh, right. Yes, well, I'll dash off a line
as soon as we get back from the golf.

Please do, Mr Fink-Nottle.

Right.

- Gentlemen.
- Morning, sir.

What's this
about you not writing to Madeline?

- Madeline?
- She's sending telegrams about it.

- For all our sakes, Gussie, write to her.
- I am not at all pleased with Madeline.

She made me come to this ghastly place

and I only consented on the
understanding that she'd come too,

and then, at the last moment,

she backed out on the flimsy plea
that some friend needs her.

She must be made to realise
she can't do that sort of thing,

so I'm not going to write to her.
It's a sort of a system.

Gussie, will you or will you not compose
an eight-page letter

breathing love in every syllable
and post it to Madeline?

- Not.
- Come on, Bertie.

Right-o.

Ahem.

- Excellent shot!
- Oh, well struck, sir.

- What club will you use, Gussie?
- Same one.

I press this button, click, it's a niblick,
click-click, a mashie niblick,

click-click-click, a mid-mashie.
Say goodbye to heavy golf bag misery.

Not having much luck
with that new club, Bertie.

It takes a bit of getting used to.
You can't just pick it up and...

Here, let me have a go. You can use
my clubs for the rest of the round.

Fine stroke, sir.

Splendid.

Bertie, you were wonderful.

- What are you doing here, Catsmeat?
- Waiting for you.

- What does Fink-Nottle think he's up to?
- Gussie Fink-Nottle is a criminal lunatic.

He seems to be infatuated with Gertrude.
Sorry to use such long words, Bertie.

I come all the way here
to persuade Gertrude to elope with me

and I can't get near her
for that blasted Fink-Nottle.

Worse than that,
he won't write to Madeline.

You know the importance
girls attach to letters.

- And he won't write?
- Not a line.

I pleaded with him and he put
his ears back and refused to cooperate.

If Madeline doesn't receive a letter
swearing undying fealty,

she's liable to come here
and beat one out of him.

- Jeeves, I'm sunk.
- Well, sir,

if Mr Fink-Nottle will not write
to Miss Bassett, perhaps you might.

But, Jeeves,
she wants to hear from Gussie.

If it were indicated that Mr Fink-Nottle
had sprained his wrist

and had to dictate a letter to you, sir...

I say! What a wheeze!

- You were right about him.
- Thank you, sir.

If you said that Mr Fink-Nottle
had given his wrist a nasty wrench

while stopping a runaway horse

and saving a little child
from a hideous death,

it might turn Mr Fink-Nottle's taciturnity
to your advantage, sir.

A golden-haired child is best
in such circumstances.

What a man, Bertie!

What a brain,
and all this is due to fish, you say?

Never mind Jeeves's diet, Catsmeat.
Writing paper instanta.

If Madeline's withers are to be wrung,
we must catch the five o'clock post.

"Dear...

"Dearest Madeline...

"My dearest... My dearest."

And now for a real treat.

Mr Wooster has kindly consented
to entertain us all

with some songs at the piano.

♪ Maud and Fred were courting

♪ The wedding day drew near

♪ Said Fred to Maud one evening,

♪ I wish you'd tell me, dear,

♪ How do you feel
when you marry your ideal?

♪ Ever so goothie-goothie-goothie
goo-thie

♪ How do you feel
when the bells begin to peal

♪ Ever so goothie-goothie-goothie
goo-thie

♪ Walking up the aisle... ♪

If this doesn't bring Gertrude
to her senses, nothing will. Goodbye.

♪ How do you feel
when you marry your ideal...? ♪

I say, this is dashed decent of you,

doing your normal stint
and pandering to Gussie's every whim.

Mr Fink-Nottle's whims
are few and far between, sir.

Are we surprised, Jeeves?

Shut away in Lincolnshire, surrounded
by newts and orange juice,

surely even the strongest whim
would wither on the vine.

A lesson to us all, sir. Was the musical
entertainment a success, sir?

From our point of view, Jeeves,
a blinder.

Gussie will shortly be banished
to his room a broken and rejected man.

♪ Do you get the wind up
when the organ plays

♪ How do you feel
when the parson's done the deal?

♪ Ever so goothie-goothie-goothie
goo-thie ♪

isn't he marvellous?
He's just like Jack Buchanan.

He is like Jack Buchanan.

Yes...

I love Jack Buchanan.

Gertrude says he's like Jack Buchanan,
Charlotte.

Oh, is he?

Telegram for Mr Fink-Nottle.

Thank you, Tom.

Telegram for Mr Fink-Nottle, Meadows.

His singing was bad enough before, but
with the added magic of stage fright...

- It's an absolute calamity, Bertie.
- I know. I heard it.

- No, you don't understand. They love it!
- What?

You hear of people being lionised.
I wondered what it was like. Now I know.

Gussie? But he was making
the most frightful row.

The whole grisly crew think it was
wonderful and Gertrude's all over him.

Well, that's it, Jeeves. We're finished.

- She loves his golf and his singing.
- He's got a telegram too.

Who'd be sending telegrams to Gussie?

- Go on.
- Go on what?

- Open it.
- I can't. It's addressed to Gussie.

Well, it's probably for you.

- Go on.
- No, Catsmeat.

- The code of the Woosters restrains me.
- Well, it wouldn't restrain me.

The code of the Woosters is more rigid
than the code of the Catsmeats.

A Wooster cannot open
another's telegram.

Pardon me for intervening, sir,

but perhaps it would alleviate
the ethical pressure

if I were to open the communication
and read it out.

Sterling notion, Jeeves.

It's from Miss Bassett, sir.

"Letter received. Cannot understand
why not had reassuring telegram.

"Sure you concealing accident terribly
serious, fever, anxiety. Fear worst.

"Unless hear from you soon,
will arrive by earliest train.

"Love. Kisses. Madeline."

Well, that's...

- Gussie, I've got to talk to you.
- Sorry, Bertie, I haven't got time.

There's a lovely full moon.
Gertrude and I are going for a walk.

I'm going to get a muffler. Oh, remember
pestering me to write to Madeline?

Well, I wrote to her this afternoon.

- Why are you looking like a dying duck?
- Because I wrote to her for you.

- What do you mean, for me?
- I said you were indisposed.

- Something about a horse.
- A horse?

You do the most extraordinary things,
Bertie.

Anyway, it really doesn't matter,

because what I said in my letter
was everything was off.

- Off?
- I've broken the engagement.

I've been feeling for some days now

that Madeline, although
a nice enough girl, just won't do.

My heart belongs to Gertrude.

Bye, Bertie.

Housebreaking during the hours
of daylight is a serious offence, sir.

I have to get that letter
before Madeline reads it.

You don't have to be involved.
Just start the car.

Very good, sir.

- Right, then, bye.
- Bye, Sam.

Come on, Pansy.

Madeline, breakfast.
We can do the flowers later.

Leave the sitting room for now,
Jane. I'm just going in.

Oh...

- Good morning, Madeline.
- Good morning, Hilda.

There's no letter from Augustus again.

I'm so worried, Hilda. I think I shall go
down to Deverill by an earlier train.

If there isn't a letter, all it means
is that that other fellow, Wooster,

is fed up with having Gussie
dictate letters to him.

- He's dippy about you, isn't he?
- He loves me very very dearly.

It's a tragedy.

I can't describe to you, Hilda,

the look of dumb suffering in his eyes
when we meet.

- My photograph!
- What?

It's not on the table. It's gone!

I expect Jane smashed it. She smashes
everything that isn't made of iron.

I'll go and ask her.

Oh, quiet, Pansy.

What's the matter, you silly ass?

Pansy

Jane says she... Hilda!

Oh, Hilda,
what are you doing with that gun?!

- There's a damned man behind the sofa.
- No!

All right, you,
come out with your hands up.

- No, you don't!
- Ah!

Stop, thief!

Sir, over here.

Oi! You stop where you are, my lad!

Come back here!

We don't want no trouble.

It's Bertie!

Come back here!

- Oh, Bertie!
- I'll get you yet! You won't get far!

Morning, Constable.

Yes...

Mr Wooster, this is a most horrible crime
of which you stand accused.

In all my years on the bench,

I've never been called upon
to preside over such a case as this.

That such a crime could be perpetrated
in Wimbledon in broad daylight,

will bring a shudder
to every right-thinking person.

Have you anything to say
in your defence before I pass sentence?

- Well...
- He did it for love, Your Honour.

For what?

Love. I am not ashamed to say it.

And who, my dear, are you?

My name is Madeline Bassett.

I am the unworthy object
of this gentleman's adoration.

He's a very lucky young man,
Miss Bassett.

Not so, Your Honour.
I am betrothed to another,

but Bertie has gone on worshipping me,
outwardly gay and cheerful,

inwardly gnawed by a ceaseless pain.

Go on.

I ought to have given him
my photograph long ago,

but I thought it would be too painful
for him, Your Honour,

a sad reminder of all that he had lost.

- No, no...
- Be quiet!

I see now that I was wrong, Bertie.
You found the strain too great to bear.

You had to have it, whatever the cost,

so you stole into the house and took it.

You're a very fortunate young man,
Mr Wooster,

to have this girlie speak up for you.

The case is dismissed.

Oh...

- Now, look here, Madeline...
- You must be brave, Bertie.

I have to go to Augustus now.
He needs me too.

Someday, another girl will come into
your life and you will be happy.

When we are both old and grey,
we shall laugh together over all this.

Laugh, but I think
with a tear behind the smile.

How sad life is.

You betcha.

Fetch the car, Jeeves.
She's going to Deverill Hall.

- We've got to get there before her.
- Very good, sir.

- Why, Mrs Gregson!
- Oh, Madeline!

- You're not going to Deverill, are you?
- I most certainly am, child.

- You'll pardon me saying so, sir...
- What is it, Jeeves?

The needle on the speedometer indicates

that we are travelling
at 85 miles to the hour, sir.

Good lord! Is that all?

I'd like to alert you
to the smell of burning, sir.

- Burning, Jeeves?
- I'm sure it's of no consequence.

That's not burning. That's the smell
of hot oil and pounding pistons.

The ideal running temperature
of an engine...

I'm so glad you could come, Agatha.

Just in time to announce
the engagement, I think.

- Oh, Mummy.
- Bertie? He is engaged?

Such a delightful boy.

To Gertrude?

- A very parfait genteel knight.
- Abstemious.

There must be some mistake.

- Talented.
- Oh, no, no.

- Intelligent.
- Surely not!

Ah, Gertrude, I hoped I'd find you...

Gussie, you're all right!

- Madeline!
- Pardon me, Madeline.

Would you not touch Bertie in that way?
He doesn't like it.

- Bertie? What do you mean, Bertie?
- It's all Bertie Wooster's fault.

What is happening?
Is this man not Bertie Wooster?

Of course he's not Bertie Wooster!

- Gussie, what have you been doing?
- He said he was going to marry me.

Madeline, I can explain!

Oh, what a journey we had.
We completely...

Claude! Claude!

- Girl, will you stop crying?
- There, there...

if he's Fink-Nottle, who's the other one?

Ah, what ho, Deverills all?

Claude! Claude!

I've been such a fool!

Of course I'll marry you.

- Let's leave right away.
- Oh. Right.

Pardon me, Mr Potter-Pirbright,

but I wonder
if I might borrow your moustache?

Sorry I missed lunch but I had to pop up
to Wimbledon to see Madeline.

She's well, very Madelinish,
if you know what I mean.

Bertie!

Ah.
Aunt Agatha, this is a surprise.

I want an explanation, Bertie.

- An...
- And I want it now.

He said he was Mr Fink-Nottle.

- The thing is, Aunt Agatha...
- All right. Scotland Yard.

- I'm looking for one Bertram Wooster.
- Scotland Yard?

- That's me.
- I am arresting you, Bertram Wooster,

on charges relating to the possession
of an illegal golf club.

- Will you come quietly?
- That is brilliant!

Now, then, less of that.
Let's have no funny business.

I can't endure it!

Oh, the shame of it!

- What a wheeze, Jeeves.
- I'm glad to have been of service, sir.

You know, Jeeves,
if someone were to come to me

and ask if I'd join a society
whose aim was the suppression of aunts

or who will see to it
that they're kept on a short chain

and not permitted to scatter desolation
on all sides,

I'd reply, "Wilberhulme..."
if his name was Wilberhulme,

"Wilberhulme, put me down
as a foundation member.

I'm sure such a society
would not be lacking for subscribers, sir.