All language subtitles for jeeves.and.wooster.s03e05.720p.bluray.x264-ingot

Ah, Jeeves, there you are.

- Sit down. Sit down.
- Good afternoon, sir.

- Observe the time, please.
- Indeed, sir. Not yet half past three.

Perhaps you think it odd that
I'm back from lunch at this early hour.

I did wonder if there had been
a conflagration at the Drones Club.

Did it, Jeeves?
I'm sorry to disappoint you, but no.

I was lunching with
Barmy Fotheringay Phipps

and he mentioned this new song
called Nagasaki.

- Have you heard it?
- I've heard of Nagasaki, sir.

A Japanese prefecture, encompassing
the islands of Tsushima, lki, Hiradoshima

- and, of course, the Goto-retto.
- Yes, yes, thank you, Jeeves.

Apparently that's what the song's about.
I bought a copy.

I now intend to give it a run-through
on the piano.

Is that wise, sir,
so soon after a heavy meal?

I shall ignore that cheap gibe, Jeeves.

- Were there any messages?
- Just one, sir.

Lady Florence Craye telephoned.
She will be calling on you shortly.

Lady Florence Craye? Good heavens!
Well, well, well.

Good. Well...

- Ah, Jeeves, still there, are you?
- Yes, sir.

Jeeves, there was a book
on the little table thing by the sofa.

Was it entitled Strength Through
Willpower by Lady Florence Craye?

- That's the one, Jeeves.
- I placed it by your bedside, sir.

I glanced through it and thought
it might make a remedy for insomnia.

- Would you like me to get it, sir?
- No, I'll get it.

I thought I'd leave it lying about.
She gave it to me.

- Trying to improve my mind, I dare say.
- That seems scarcely possible, sir.

- Yes, well, toodle-oo, Jeeves.
- Goodbye, sir.

Ah, Jeeves, you remember we were down
at Steeple Bumpley last weekend?

- Yes, I do recall.
- Lord Wartletsone's place.

Yes, sir, Lady Florence Craye's father.

Yes. Yes, absolutely. Well, ahem...

Anyway, we're engaged.

Just thought I'd let you know.
To Lady Florence, that is, not her father.

Let me be the first
to congratulate you, sir.

You don't disapprove, Jeeves?

It is hardly my place to say, sir.

I know it's hardly your place to say,
Jeeves. it doesn't normally stop you.

I'm glad to see you're taking it so well.
So...

there it is.

♪ Fellows, if you're on

♪ I will spin a yarn

♪ That was told to me
by able seaman Jones

♪ Once, he had the blues

♪ So he took a cruise

♪ Far away from nightclubs
and from saxophones ♪

- I don't think much of this, Jeeves.
- No, sir.

Barmy's musical prognostications
have come a cropper this time.

Dashed boring song, that's what this is.
I'd better push on to the end, I suppose.

Ah, now, this looks
a bit more promising. Yes.

♪ Hot ginger and dynamite

♪ There's nothing but that at night

♪ Back in Nagasaki
where the fellers chew tobaccy

♪ And the women wicky wacky woo ♪

I knew Barmy hadn't lost his touch.

♪ Oh, Fujiyama, you get a mamma

♪ Then your troubles increase

♪ In some pagoda, she orders soda

♪ The earth shakes,
milk shakes ten cents apiece

♪ They kissee and huggee nice

♪ By jingo, it's worth the price

♪ Back in Nagasaki
where the fellers chew tobaccy

♪ And the women wicky wacky woo

♪ You just have to act your age

♪ Or wind up inside a cage

♪ Back in Nagasaki
where the fellers chew tobaccy

♪ And the women wicky wacky woo ♪

Well, Jeeves,
that's a bit more like it, eh?

Extremely... invigorating, sir.

Yes. That's the word I would have used.
It makes you want to run round the park.

My feelings precisely, sir.

That will be Lady Florence now, sir.

Good afternoon, Lady Florence.

- Ah, Florence!
- Don't.

- Oh. Something up, darling?
- What on earth is this?

- That's a song I bought today.
- Was it you making that awful row?

- I thought it was the milkman.
- The milkman?

- You can't do this when we're married.
- I don't...

Will you stop interrupting? Do you know
that Sir Watkyn Bassett is my uncle?

- Sir Wat... No, I didn't know.
- He is and he has to be stopped.

- Stopped? What...?
- Do be quiet and listen, Bertie.

Sir Watkyn
has written his reminiscences,

recollections of a long life,
he calls them,

and if half of it is true,
his youth must have been appalling.

Sir Watkyn? Surely not?

- A more respectable magistrate...
- Bertie!

It's about people
who are the essence of propriety today,

but whose behaviour in the '90s

would not have been tolerated
in the fo'c'sle of a whaler.

But he's always handing down lectures
on the depravity of youth today.

The book opens with an account

of him and my father
being thrown out of a music hall in 1893.

Good lord! it took a lot for them
to chuck people out of music halls in '93.

The manuscript must be destroyed
before it reaches the publishers.

- How are you going to do that?
- I have no intention of doing it.

- You are going to do it.
- Me?

You may look on it as a test, Bertram.

I will never marry you
if those recollections are published.

- I say, Flossie, old thing...
- Do not call me that.

Oh. Right. Florence.

- What a corking girl she is, Jeeves.
- Sir?

Lady Florence. I don't know who it is,
but does she remind you of anyone?

I wouldn't like to say, sir.

"Biffy Basildon,
now a respected home secretary,

"once succeeded in inserting a jelly

"down the ceremonial britches
of a judge at the Hereford Assizes.

"That was before the occasion
on which he..."

Bertie!

Oh, lord.

- What ho, Madeline?
- Bertie, I must talk to you.

Come here.

"..Wearing only...

"a grass skirt...

"and a guardsman's...

"busby."

That manuscript must be destroyed,
Bertie. You must get it from his safe.

- It's in the study.
- Hold on.

I wasn't told about a safe.
I'm not Sidney the Safe-breaker.

- Oh, Bertie, it's only a little safe.
- Never mind the size of it.

- Why can't Gussie do it?
- Oh, you are silly, Bertie.

Augustus isn't a man of action like you.

Well, you know...

Augustus is a man of intellect.

Hmm...

- What are you doing there?
- Ah, Spode. Um... er...

- Nothing. Nothing.
- You're Wooster, aren't you?

- Yes. I was just, er...
- I remember you.

Oh, good.

Hmm...

Hello, Florence.

- What ho, Stiffy?
- What are you doing here?

I was asked that by Spode and will give
you the same reply. Nothing.

- You don't want a drink, do you?
- Rather. it wouldn't do to let it go off.

- How's Stinker?
- Who?

- Your fiance.
- I don't have a fiance.

If a girl's fiance can't stand up to her
uncle and demand her hand in marriage,

- he has no right to be a fiance.
- I thought he'd done that.

- He did, but Uncle Watty refused.
- That's hardly Stinker's fault.

He didn't put enough backbone into it.

Oh, hello, Gussie.
I've been looking for you.

- What for?
- I've got your script for you.

- What ho, Gussie?
- Hello. I didn't know you were here.

- Oh, yes.
- Gussie's playing Pat

in the Pat and Mike crosstalk act
I'm producing.

Oh, really? Who's playing Mike in this
merry melange of fun?

- Oates.
- Oates?

- You remember police constable Oates.
- Vividly.

He arrested me the last time I was here.

- Come on, Daddy.
- What?

- The gong's just about to go.
- Oh, is it?

Yes, it is.

What's this bus
they keep saying in here?

- After nearly every line, it says bus.
- It's short for business.

That's where Pat hits Mike
with his umbrella.

One thing I want to impress on you,
Gussie.

When socking Constable Oates
with your umbrella,

let him have it
with every ounce of muscle.

I want to see him come off that stage
a mass of contusions.

Stephanie.

Don't I know you, young man?

No. Well, that is to say yes, but...

Oh, blast it!
Won't have time for my sherry.

Dinner, everybody.

Bertie... Bertie...

What?

Now, Bertie. Now.

What do you mean, now?

- I can't just go...
- Go on, Bertie.

What are you doing here?

- Er... dinner.
- Dinner? This isn't the dining room.

Isn't it? Oh.
I thought I could smell tapioca.

The dining room's over there.

You can't miss it.
There are people having dinner in it.

Oh, right.

Even the black shorts
that my followers wear are symbolic.

- Symbolic?
- Certainly.

They signify the brevity of our patience
with present-day political apathy,

and black is symbolic of the fact that
so inefficient is our industrial structure

that my suppliers ran out
of all the other colours.

- I say. How interesting!
- Shall we leave the men to their port?

Thank you, Bertie.

- Did you get it?
- Of course I didn't get it!

He can get it tonight.
I've got the combination.

- I'm not going to go wandering...
- Just remember Naseby.

- I don't know him.
- The Battle of Naseby!

- Where did you go to school?
- Eton, and we didn't do safe-cracking.

- The Battle of Naseby, 1645.
- Yes?

That's it.
1-6-4-5 is the combination of the safe.

- Will that be all, sir?
- Yes, that'll be all, Jeeves.

Or rather, no. You couldn't pop down
to Sir Watkyn's study, could you?

You'll find a safe there,
just a little one.

No, sir.

- Oh, dash it all, Jeeves.
- Will that be all, sir?

- You're a hard man, Jeeves.
- But a free one, sir,

and it is my ambition
to remain in that state.

Good night, sir.

I say!

What are you doing?!

How dare you question my motives?

Sir Watkyn asked me
to fetch some things for him.

- With a sledgehammer?
- He'd forgotten the combination.

- I'll go and fetch him.
- No!

- I know the combination.
- We don't want...

The combination? Of the safe?
Do you really, Wooster?

- Certainly, but I...
- I hope that we can talk together,

- man to man, Wooster.
- I can.

I don't know
how you're going to get up to that level.

You say such amusing things, Wooster.
May I call you Bertie?

- No.
- All right.

- You were trying to steal the manuscript.
- Manuscript? No!

Well, yes. Watkyn repeats stories
about me in there.

They'd ruin my political career.

It isn't all a bed of roses
trying to be a dictator, Wooster.

- Why don't you give it up, then?
- I can't. How can I?

People expect it of me. My mother...

I'm not standing here all night listening
to you talking about your mother, Spode.

- Let's get this safe open.
- Yes. Of course, Wooster, you're right.

- Clever of you to know the combination.
- Move the torch so I can see.

Now, wait a minute...

- Some battle or other...
- Battle?

Yes. The date of the battle
is the combination.

- Ah. Trafalgar?
- No.

- Hastings?
- Yes! No, like Hastings.

- Hastings, mason, raisin...
- I don't recall a battle of raisin.

Perhaps it was in the grape war.

- That was a joke, Spode.
- I haven't got time for jokes, Wooster.

- Waterloo?
- Ah... no.

- Get up, Wooster.
- What?

- Out of the way.
- Oh, right.

The time for talking is past.

You're sure about this, are you, Spode?

Please don't interrupt me.

Sorry.

- Stand back.
- Oh, don't start all that again.

Milksop!

Argh...!

Good evening, sir.

- What's going on?
- Burglars.

Call the police.

But it's absolute balderdash, Bertie.
I mean, listen to this.

"Sure and begorra, I don't know what's
after being the matter with you, Michael."

What on earth does this
"what's after being" stuff mean?

Dear old Gussie,
that is how people think Irish people talk.

- Stinker!
- Bertie!

I didn't know you were here.

I hear all is not moonlight and roses
between you and Stiffy.

No. I've come up
to try and reason with her.

I don't know that reason
is what's called for.

You know, I blame this government.

The criminal classes
are getting out of control.

What I want to know is,
did they steal my manuscript?

Get them working on the land.
That's the answer.

They ruined my safe. What's the good
of having a safe if you can't open it?

- This will soon be open, Sir Watkyn.
- Is this far enough from the house?

This is fine, sir. My brother-in-law at
the quarry told me all the doings of that.

- Mr Pinker to see you, Miss Byng.
- Hello, Stiffy.

Tell Mr Pinker I'm not at home,
Butterfield.

- Come on, sweetie.
- Stiffy!

Where's the matches?

- Shouldn't you take cover, Oates?
- Don't worry about me, Sir Watkyn, sir.

- She won't speak to me, Jeeves.
- Most distressing, sir.

- What do they want of us, Jeeves?
- A question that has often been asked.

- What was that?
- I could not say, sir.

It's still here.

- Great stuff, that dynamite, isn't it?
- A bit charred.

- Only round the edges though.
- Bang!

I'm going to get it into the post
before anyone else can try anything.

Spode...

Boom...

I refuse to have any more to do
with this degraded buffoonery,

and when I see Stephanie,

I shall tell her she cannot play fast
and loose with human dignity like this.

Hello, you two. How's it going?

- Well, er... what was that bang just now?
- It was just Oates fooling about.

Oh. Well, Gussie's having one or two
minor reservations about the sketch.

Really, Gussie? I am surprised.

I thought you'd be so good for this.

- Well, perhaps so.
- Let me go through the script with you.

Show me where your problems are.

It occurs to me to wonder, sir, whether
a surge of popularity among the villagers

might not encourage Miss Byng
to regard you in a more favourable light.

I don't think the villagers give me much
thought from one Sunday to the next.

If you were to perform
at the village concert, sir,

and receive the acclaim of the masses,

Miss Byng could be swept along
in its wake.

What a wonderful idea, Jeeves!

I could sing Asleep In The Deep.

A fine song, sir,

and one that has redeemed the faltering
career of many a bass baritone.

I was thinking of something, however,

which would give full play
to the robuster side of your nature, sir.

A hunting song, perhaps, with its poetic,
yet manly evocations of the merry morn

and steaming horses.

I can't see it, Jeeves.

Even if Stinker is a hit
with this hunting song,

I can't see that Stiffy's
going to fling herself into his arms.

Possibly not, sir, but it might make him
more resolute.

Ah, you mean that if he does make a hit,

he might look Sir Watkyn in the eye
and make him wilt?

- The theory is a tenable one, sir.
- It's more than tenable. It's a pip.

Right, well we must strain every nerve
to see that he does make a hit.

- What are those things people have?
- Sir?

- You know, opera singers.
- You mean a claque.

That's the one.
He must be provided with a claque.

It'll be your task, Jeeves,
to drop a word here, stand a beer there,

until the whole community
is impressed with the necessity

of cheering Stinker
until their eyes bubble.

- I can leave this to you?
- I shall attend to the matter, sir.

Where's Wooster?

- Bertram, you've got to do it now.
- Do it? I can't!

Uncle Watkyn has put it out to be posted.

You must get it
before Butterfield goes to the post office.

- Well...
- And destroy every page of it.

Everyone's relying on you.

- Ah, Bertie...
- Gussie...

You know, Stephanie really makes
a lot of sense sometimes.

- She also has extraordinary sensitivity.
- Yes.

- What are you doing with that parcel?
- Parcel?

- There.
- Oh, that.

Oh, that's not a parcel, Gussie.
Well, no, it is a parcel, but...

Anyway, I can't stand here talking
about parcels. I'm off for rehearsals.

- Jeeves, I've got it.
- Sir?

Sir Watkyn's manuscript.
We have to destroy the dratted thing.

- Yes, sir.
- Right, well... er... yes...

"Recollections Of A Long Life."

Honestly. Well, um...

Er... yes...

Gah...

- Jeeves, light the fire.
- Very good, sir.

Burn the thing. That's the way.

One page at a time, sir?

Good lord! Er... yes.

Well, perhaps two. Oh, heavens.
Jeeves, this is going to take an eon.

Perhaps we should leave it until
we have more time at our disposal, sir.

Jeeves, you're right.
We'll decide what to do with it later.

Now, normality, Jeeves,
that's the thing, normality at all times.

Ahem. Your jacket, sir...

Oh, goodness, yes, jacket. Yes.

Sure and begorra!

Sure and begorra! Sure and begorra!

- Oh, you're here at last, are you?
- Some of us have duties, miss.

Your duty is to get to rehearsal on time,
Constable Oates.

We'll start from the top of page two.
Get on stage, Oates.

Gussie, you start.

Sure and begorra,

how are you after getting on
with that new glass eye of yours, Mike?

- Is that dog secure, Miss Byng?
- Never mind about the dog.

♪ A-hunting we will go,
a-hunting we will go

#A-hunting we will go...

♪ A-hunting we will go ♪

- Is that it?
- No. That's just the first verse.

It goes on... ♪ A-hunting we will go... ♪

Well, Stinker, I'm not altogether sure
Stiffy's going to go for this.

You start off, "A-hunting we will go,
a-hunting we will go,"

and just as the audience is keyed up,
you repeat, "A-hunting we will go."

There will be disappointment.
Fruit will be flung.

- You think so?
- Oh, sure of it.

No, no, no, no, no. Can't you make
some attempt at an Irish accent, Oates?

Well,
I'm sorry to be telling you this, Pat,

- but it's an absolute failure.
- But how is that, now?

Yes? What is it?
God! These interruptions!

What ho, Stiffy?
We wanted to have a word with you.

You'll have to wait.
All right, Gussie, darling.

Oates, do that speech again.

Sure, and it's got no hole in it
as I can see through.

- Go on!
- And tell me, Mike...

No, no.
You've missed out the business, Gussie.

- Oh, the umbrella, you mean?
- Absolutely.

Oh, all right.

- Ow!
- Bartholomew.

- Here!
- What's the matter?

This gentleman just hit me
with his umbrella!

Don't be so stupid, Oates. That's bus.
Gussie, darling, show him, will you?

- Again?
- Put a bit of muscle into it this time.

Ow! Aah!

Ah! No! Get off!

He had no right to arrest Bartholomew.
I've had to sack him, of course.

- From the sketch?
- Yes.

Stephanie just told him there and then.
He was still tangled up in the scenery.

She was absolutely fearless.

The man's an oaf anyway.

- Uncle Roderick will do it much better.
- What?

A deeply disturbing thing has happened.

Earlier today, I prepared my manuscript
for dispatch

to Messrs Riggs and Ballinger,
the publishers.

I placed it on the hall table
in the normal manner,

but Butterfield unswervingly asserts
that when he went to collect the letters,

there was no parcel among them.

I believe that the parcel has been stolen.

Who would want to steal
your manuscript?

Bertie, you had a parcel
when I saw you in the hall earlier.

- No, I didn't.
- Yes, you did, you ass.

Yes, yes, a parcel, you mean?

Yes, yes, that's quite right.
Well done, Gussie.

Nothing to do with this, though. Ahem.

What parcel was this, Wooster?

Oh, nothing special.
The usual sort of brown-paper affair.

A bit of string, suspicion of sealing wax,
that's all. You know.

I'm going to search this room, Wooster.

If I find what I'm looking for, I will put
you in the charge of Constable Oates.

- I say, now, look here...
- I am fully aware

that there are people who wish
to prevent my work being published.

Ah, Jeeves, Sir Watkyn seems to think
that I have swiped his memoirs.

- Indeed, sir?
- Well, tell him I haven't.

This drawer appears to be locked.

Ah, yes, well, I wouldn't worry
about that one. It's locked.

I rather fancy that this might be
the key you are looking for, Sir Watkyn.

It was in the pocket of the suit
you wore for rehearsal, sir.

Well, whatever's in there,
I don't know anything about it.

I don't know what it is, so I couldn't.

It's empty!

- Did you find it, Daddy?
- No, I did not.

Someone's got it, though,
and I shall not rest until I find it.

I removed the parcel this afternoon, sir.
I thought it best.

It certainly was, with Sir Watkyn
on the rampage. It's in a safe place, eh?

- Oh, indeed, sir.
- Well, hang onto it till we get to London.

- Very good, sir.
- We'll dispose of it there.

- So, you've done it?
- Rather.

- And it's destroyed?
- Yes. Yes, absolutely.

Well done, Bertie. Well done.

I say, Florence,
there's a lovely moon tonight.

- Moon?
- Out there, you know, as in moon.

- I wonder if you'd like to go for a walk?
- No.

Four o'clock in the morning,
the cockerels start to crow.

Never a bit of sleep do I get after that.

Faith and begob!
Isn't that a terrible thing, Mike?

But wasn't I after
getting the better of him, Pat?

- You did?
- I did.

Now, sure, and I...
l bought the birds myself.

I keep them in my garden now.
Let them keep him awake.

Never do that again, Fink-Nottle!

- I do that after every joke.
- Oh, no, you don't.

It's all right, Uncle Roderick.
He has to do it. It's part of the fun.

Fun?

I'll talk to you about it later.
That's all for today.

- Mrs Blackett?
- Yes?

Look, Stiffy, we've got to get
this Gussie thing straight.

What Gussie thing?
Mrs Blackett, off you go.

You know perfectly well
what Gussie thing, Stiffy.

For reasons into which we need not go,

you have treated Augustus Fink-Nottle
as a plaything.

- It's got to stop.
- All right, Mrs Blackett, you can start.

You know that if sand is put in the gears
of the Fink-Nottle-Bassett romance,

Bertram Wooster is going to face
the fate worse than death, viz. marriage.

You want me to turn off the fascination,
release him from my clutches?

- Attagirl.
- Well, I can't, not yet.

There's a job I want him to do first.

Stiffy!

I'm only surprised
you haven't turned professional, Gussie.

- Really?
- It's not only your talent.

You have an air of self-confidence
about you.

- Um... excuse me, Stephanie.
- Oh, hello, Stinker.

All eyes are drawn to you.

I've been trying to speak to you,
Stephanie.

Yes, Harold, what is it?

I'd like to sing at the concert.

Sing? You?

We have a very full programme already.
What do you think, Gussie?

- Well, um...
- All right. We'll think about it later.

Ah.

Now, to get back
to what we were talking about, Gussie,

the little thing I want you to do
with Constable Oates...

Well, he's still got Bartholomew
in custody.

- Afternoon, miss.
- Good afternoon.

- That's all for today.
- Thank you, postman.

Mr Ballinger, I thought you'd like to know

that manuscript we thought was lost
has turned up.

Sir Watkyn Bassett's memoirs.

None of that umbrella stuff tonight,
Fink-Nottle!

- I've got to! Stephanie said I've got to!
- Humph!

♪ Me-me-me-me-me... ♪

How appropriate.

Ladies and gentlemen, once again,
it is my pleasure to welcome you

to the annual
Totleigh-in-the-Wold concert.

And now, to play the violin for us...

- Constable Oates...
- What do you want?

I feel it my duty to warn you, Officer,

that there is the likelihood of a
disturbance in there during the evening.

- A disturbance?
- You ought be on hand to quell unrest.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Your rector would just like to show
his profound gratitude

for the cheer he knows you'll give
for his performance this evening.

- Oh, no! My umbrella!
- I've warned you!

Perfect!

Thank you, Winnie Blackett.

What a treat!

And now, ladies and gentlemen,
a pair of old favourites,

your friends and mine
from the Emerald lsle, Pat and Mike.

Ah, top of the morning to you, Michael,
and how are you today?

Oh, sure, I'm well enough, Patrick.

I'm looking for a cap that I can wear
when I'm riding my motorcycle.

And can you not buy a cap
to wear on your motorcycle?

Devil if I can, Pat. None of the shops
sells one with a peak at the back.

- Gussie, go on!
- Did I see you walk down the street...?

Well, now, er... Pat,
it's time for me to be on my way.

I'm after looking for some oil
for my motorcycle.

Oil, is it? Can you not be after
getting some from the garage?

Well, no, Pat. It's got to be special oil.

It's for my rear lamp, you see,
so it's got to be red.

Hit him, Gussie! Hit him! Go on!

What?

And now, ladies and gentlemen,
our curate, the Reverend Harold Pinker,

to entertain us with a hunting song.

O hearken to the merry horn
upon this jolly hunting morn.

Over break and over thorn,
a-hunting we will go.

♪ A-hunting we will go,
a-hunting we will go

♪ Pull up your socks and chase the fox,
a-hunting we will go

♪ A-hunting we will go,
a-hunting we will go

♪ Pull up your socks and chase the fox,
a-hunting we will go

♪ Oh! A-hunting we will go,
a-hunting we will go

♪ Pull up your socks and chase the fox,
a-hunting we will go

♪ A-hunting we will go,
a-hunting we will go... ♪

I think he's gone. Bertie, do you think
you could get me some brandy?

- You mean orange juice?
- I mean brandy, about a bucketful.

Large brandy for Mr Fink-Nottle.

- Soda, Gussie?
- No.

- You are sure about this, are you?
- Yes, I am.

Chin-chin.

Ugh! What appalling muck!

Like vitriol!
How can you drink this for pleasure?

What are you drinking it for?

I've heard it nerves you
for frightful ordeals.

The ordeal is over, Gussie.

Oh, no, it isn't. Spode's after me
because I hit him with my umbrella.

Also, I've got to break
into a police station and steal a dog.

- Say that again.
- I've promised Stephanie

I'll go to Oates' cottage for her dog.

Gussie, you can't do that.
You'll get 30 days in the jug.

For Stephanie's sake, I'd do a year.

There's no chance of my being caught.
Oates is watching the concert.

- Are you sure?
- I saw him myself.

- Well, all the same...
- Stephanie wants me to get her dog,

and I'm going to do it.

"Gussie," she said to me,
"Gussie, you're such a help."

I intend to be worthy of those words.

Ugh!

Goodbye, Bertie.

Ah, Jeeves, so,
what did you make of the crosstalk act?

To my chagrin, sir,
I missed that part of the entertainment.

I was, however, in place with my claque
for Mr Pinker's hunting song.

- How was that?
- Well, sir, I can only say

that I enjoyed it more
than Constable Oates, who was nearby.

- Didn't care for it, eh?
- No. When Mr Pinker finished,

he said he could abide no more
and was going home.

What?

- Do you know where Oates' house is?
- Yes, sir.

Oates will be sitting on Gussie's chest
slipping the cuffs on him.

- Bertie?
- Stiffy?

What are you doing here? You're meant
to be producing that entertainment.

I thought it was going rather well.
There's nothing more I can do.

I see, so, having lured Gussie
into de-dogging Constable Oates,

you're going to sit here
hoping he'll do it?

Well, let me tell you
that Oates is at home.

- No!
- Come here, you blighter!

I know who you are!

- Flee!
- Come here, you!

I rather fancy
that may be the little fellow now, sir.

Here comes Bartholomew.

Come on, Bartholomew!

Time to be leaving, I think.

I hope I'm man enough
to admit when I've been wrong.

Gussie has obviously...

No!

- I fear the worst, sir.
- Jeeves, I think you're right.

I'd never give you any odds
on Gussie as a sprinter.

- Stop! You there!
- Oh, Bertie!

- I'm surprised, Jeeves.
- Indeed, sir.

One only wishes one had advance notice
of this kind of form.

Mr Fink-Nottle's ankle work
was convincing.

It was, wasn't it?

Perhaps one should have had a wager
on this, sir.

- Yes. He should do it at a canter.
- Indeed he should, sir.

Come on, now. It's a fair cop.

What one has not borne in mind, Jeeves,
is that Mr Fink-Nottle is a fathead.

Oates is not
one of Gloucestershire's brightest,

but he's smart enough
to stand under a tree.

- Get down, now.
- Perhaps I might intervene, sir.

- Intervene, Jeeves?
- Ahem.

Oh, I see what you mean.

If you'd care to look the other way,
sir...

Get down from that tree!

You're under arrest.

I can wait here all night, you know.

Good Lord, Jeeves!

I thought it the safest way
to avoid unpleasantness, sir.

It's safe to descend now, sir.

Ah, thank you, Jeeves.

Yes, Mr Ballinger.

Yes. I will see that Sir Watkyn gets
your message as soon as possible.

Goodbye, sir.

Do you know what it is, Bertie,
to have the scales fall from your eyes?

- Oh, yes. Happens all the time.
- They have fallen from mine,

and I'll tell you when it happened.

It was when I was in that tree,
gazing down at Constable Oates

and hearing him describe the situation
as a fair cop.

In a flash, love died.

- Whose love?
- Mine, you ass! For Stephanie.

I still admire her enormously, of course,

but, you know,
I feel I need someone less exciting.

- Stiffy!
- Stiffy is a fine person, Gussie,

admirably suited to someone
who won't mind her landing him,

on the whim of a moment,
in one of our prisons,

but the girl for you
is obviously Madeline Bassett.

It'll be a pleasure for me to weigh in
with a silver egg boiler

or whatever you suggest
as a wedding present.

Ladies and gentlemen...

A most remarkable thing has happened.

I've just been informed
that the manuscript of my memoirs,

which I thought had been lost,
has arrived at my publisher's office.

I cannot imagine
what could have caused the delay,

but it makes this a day of celebration.

Thank you.

Bertie!

- I... l simply cannot understand it!
- Well, I can.

I understand it perfectly.

- You funked it.
- No, no. I... l mean...

Perhaps you think I didn't mean
what I said. Well, I did.

- Well, yes.
- Our engagement is over.

- Oh, now, Florence...
- I consider I've had a very lucky escape.

That seems to be that, Bertie.

- Quiet, please.
- Oh, look.

I wish to announce that Miss Stephanie
Byng and I are getting married.

- Now, look here...
- Quiet, please.

The wedding will take place
on September 3rd...

- I must protest!
- Sir Watkyn, please.

...and you're all invited.

Oh, isn't he wonderful?

Oh!

My Stinker! isn't he wonderful? Oh!

- Jeeves?
- Yes, sir?

- That parcel has arrived in London.
- Yes, sir.

- Well, did you send it?
- Yes, sir.

- Hah!
- I acted for the best, sir.

You do know that Lady Florence
has broken off our engagement?

In my opinion, sir,
and I'm sorry if this causes you distress,

you and Lady Florence
are not ideally matched.

Her ladyship is of a highly arbitrary
and determined temperament, sir,

- quite opposed to your own.
- Oh, indeed, Jeeves.

I'm very grateful for your opinion,

but I must say that what I had in mind
from you was abject quivering apology.

This is very sad, Jeeves, but I'll have
to think seriously about your future.

Are you a footman or an ostler?

I trust that is not alcohol I smell.

Drunkenness may be de rigueur
in some houses,

but I should be sorry
to see it take hold here.

- My lady.
- Read these. They're an introduction

- to the Theosophical Society.
- Thank you, my lady.

- Yes, Lady Florence.
- Well, I've thought about your future,

and I think it should continue
in the vein of your immediate past.

- I owe you an apology, Jeeves.
- By no means, sir.

Remember me asking if Lady Florence
reminded you of anyone?

- I do, sir.
- I've just realised who. My Aunt Agatha.

The comparison
is perhaps a felicitous one.

I was in the service of the young lady's
father, Lord Wartlestone,

during which time I had opportunity
to study her ladyship.

Her cognomen in the servants' hall
was Lady Caligula, sir.

Fink-Nottle!
Hit me with an umbrella, would you,

you miserable little newt lover?

- I'm going to tan you!
- Gussie seems to live for excitement.

Indeed, sir, he does seem to attract
the attention of the rougher element.

But to revert to the manuscript, sir,

in my opinion, Lady Florence
has overestimated

the danger of people being offended
at being mentioned in Sir Watkyn's book.

Many respectable old gentlemen are by
no means averse to having it advertised

that they were wild in their youth.