All language subtitles for jeeves.and.wooster.s04e06.720p.bluray.x264-ingot

Ha! Do you ever feel like
throwing open the window

and shouting that the world
is a wonderful place, Jeeves?

Erm... No, sir.

Dancing in the street,
scattering petals on passers-by?

Only infrequently, sir.

Then you've never been threatened
with marriage by Madeline Bassett

only to be saved at the bell
by the unspeakable Roderick Spode.

They make an... interesting couple,
don't they, sir?

Let us hope
the engagement stays the course.

It's only got to stay until Saturday,
Jeeves.

We have dispatched the toast rack.

On Sunday, Madeline will awaken
as Countess of Sidcup

and be out of Bertram's hair.

I trust that your optimism is justified,
sir.

You're being a wet blanket.
I'm going to the Drones while you pack.

Very good, sir.

Thank you.

- Ah! What ho, Bertie.
- Tuppy. I haven't seen you in an age.

- I've been busy.
- Coming to Totleigh?

No. Why?

The wedding.
Madeline Bassett and Spode.

No. Not since Barmy and I bombarded
him with turnips at one of his rallies.

- I'm sorry you won't be able to join us.
- I couldn't anyway.

- Far too busy with Plumbo-Jumbo.
- Plumbo-Jumbo?

It's a good name, isn't it?
My idea. I've sunk all my money into it.

- You haven't got any money.
- Well, all my father's money.

He's going to make me a fortune.

Now, I've come across this inventor
chappie, name of Wifflingham.

One thing he's been working on
is this machine.

It not only clears drains but it coats the
pipes with a secret mixture while it does.

So they never get blocked up again.

I put my advertisement in all the papers.
I'm just waiting for the work to flood in.

Is that a joke?

Is what a joke?

Are you all right, sir?

You wanna take more care, dancing
about in the middle of the street.

- I thought you were a goner.
- I blasted well nearly was.

Oh, it's you, Wooster.

Hello, Reggie.

- Do we know him, Jeeves?
- I fear so, sir.

His name is Brinkley. Perhaps you'd
come into the Ganymede for a whisky.

Well...

So this is your famous Ganymede.
Jolly nice place.

Good of you to say so, sir.

You have to be a butler to be a member?

Quite so, sir.

You haven't seen the hon sec, have you?
I can't find the fella anywhere.

- I'm afraid not, Brinkley.
- What a do, eh?

Don't miss the emergency meeting.

Who is that blighter?
Is he a valet or a butler?

Not now, sir.
An uncle in the grocery business died

and left him a house
and a comfortable sum of money.

- You employed him once, if you recall.
- I did? What as?

It was during
that uncomfortable period, sir,

when we'd had a disagreement
about your trombone playing.

Good grief. He got drunk and burnt my
cottage down. Now he's a landed gent.

Scarcely that, sir. He has a small
establishment in Totleigh-in-the-Wold,

coincidentally enough.

- There is something I ought to tell you.
- Tell away, Jeeves.

The purpose of the emergency meeting
to which Brinkley referred

was to discuss the theft
of the Ganymede Club book.

- Theft, Jeeves?
- Yes, sir.

It's been stolen? The book in which
you've written down my eccentricities

for the amusement of Ganymedians?

Not only yours, sir,

but the idiosyncrasies
of all the gentlemen's gentlemen.

And not for their amusement, sir, but as
a guide to those seeking employment.

The penalties for omitting any details
are severe, sir.

You know what that blasted book
invites? Blackmail, that's what.

Now you say the blasted thing's stolen.

What'll be the upshot?
Ruin. That'll be the upshot.

I'm sorry, sir.

It's not an expression I often use,
Jeeves, but... tuh!

Very good, sir.

Good Lord. Ginger Winship.

Bertie. Nice to see you.

- Are you here for the wedding?
- By-election. I'm standing for Parliament.

No! But you're an absolute idiot, Ginger.

I know. But it's a safe seat. I didn't
really want to but my fiancee insisted.

- She said I should carve out a career.
- Yes, well, they're like that. A drink?

No. My fiancee says
drink hardens the arteries.

- My arteries could do with hardening.
- She has me on a reducing diet too.

Good God.
Sounds just like Florence Craye.

Who sounds like Florence Craye?

Ah, Florence. Ginger was telling me about
this beautiful, highly intelligent girl

he's got engaged to.

- Harold is engaged to me.
- Ah, well. That explains it.

You're down for Madeline's wedding?

Good. You can do some canvassing
for Harold while you're down here.

- Well...
- Good. Come on, Harold.

You've got your meeting in ten minutes.
You too, Bertie.

Mrs McCorkadale?

Ladies and gentlemen.

Well. Erm...

As you know...
Well, of course, perhaps you don't.

Well, anyway, it's true. There's
a by-election in Totleigh-in-the-Wold.

Hear, hear!

Thank you.

Oh. My name's Winship, by the way.
Harold Winship.

And I'm... well, sort of... standing.

I'm your... What do you call it?
Erm... Candidate.

Oh, as a Conservative, of course.

I mean, if you'd like to vote for anybody,

I'd be, well, jolly grateful
if it was, well, me, don't you know?

Thanks awfully.

How'd it go? Not that it matters.

Winship hasn't got an earthly.

Take my word for it, cocker.

Phone your bookie now. Get your money
on the Labour candidate,

Mrs McCorkadale.

He just stood there saying, "Er..."

It didn't much matter. You couldn't
hear him more then five feet away.

Bertie's exactly the same.
Mumble, mumble, mumble.

- I say...
- I think he's got a nice speaking voice.

Nice?

Put your knife and fork down straight
if you've finished. Don't slump.

As father of the bride to be,

I must say that I look forward to Saturday
being one of the happiest days of my life.

The happy couple.

Marriage is an honourable estate.

But in the 20th century,
it has fallen into some disrepute

due to the question of overpopulation.

It is my intention to introduce a bill

forbidding anyone earning less than
£500 a year to have children.

At £500, he can have one child,
at £1000, he can have two,

£1500 three, and so forth.

Something up with the bath?

The water appears reluctant to drain, sir.

Oh. Got the plug out, have you?

That was amongst the first things
I thought of, sir.

I exchanged words with Brinkley earlier
at Mr Winship's election rally.

- Yes, I noticed.
- I was perturbed by his manner.

- Oh. What did he say?
- He advised a bet on Mrs McCorkadale.

It was the easy, insolent way he said it,

as if he knew he could profit from
something that isn't common currency.

Oh...

I'm here
to introduce your new candidate.

Ladies and gentlemen, my own elevation
to the peerage debars me from standing

but there are others
to carry on my great work.

My design
for a giant, collapsible Channel bridge,

first to tempt the unsuspecting foreign
hordes, then to hurl them into the waves,

is well under way.

Hear, hear.

A most slimy creature
called Brinkley.

He has this book in his possession

which he says contains information
about useful indiscretions

on behalf of my opponent
in this election, Mr Winship,

which, if made public,

will be certain to make the worst
impression on the voters of Totleigh

and, as he put it,
make it a walkover for me.

Ha! He's asked me for money
for the book.

- What did you do?
- Sent him away with a flea in his ear.

But I thought it only proper
to let Mr Winship know.

The moaning minnies will try to tell us
that these measures are too radical,

too bold, but I have to say to them,
Rome may have been built in a day,

but it took only a trumpet
to bring down the walls of Jericho!

I should now like to present to you
the face of modern Conservatism,

my good friend, your candidate,
Gerald Parsnip.

Harold Winship.

Erm...

Nothing seems to be happening.

What ho, all.

You're no good at drains, I suppose?

- Good Lord, no.
- Every sink in the place blocked solid.

- Looks like a job for Plumbo-Jumbo.
- What-o what-o?

Well, this pal of mine...
chum of a pal, actually,

has a machine for this sort of thing.

I don't know if we want machines. These
drains go back 200 years, you know.

The Gentle Giant, they call it.

- Who do?
- This pal of a chum of mine.

The other way round, rather.

I can't possibly come to Totleigh.
Spode would tear me limb from limb.

No, he won't. It's your big chance.
You can come in disguise. Right.

Pardon me, sir.
I have some disquieting news.

- Brinkley's trying a spot of blackmail.
- Yes, sir.

I don't see what harm he can do.

What if he should try to sell the contents
of the book to the local newspaper

and if in consequence
Mr Winship should lose the election?

I imagine democracy
would survive the blow.

Lady Florence has informed Mr Winship
that if he does not win the election

their engagement will be at an end.

Good God. You mean
Florence will again be roaming the land

thirsting for confetti
and a three-tiered cake?

- Indeed, sir.
- She may turn her attention to me.

It seems most likely
under the circumstances.

This is serious. We shall have
to steal that book back from Brinkley.

You should have heard them, Madeline.
The applause, the cheers.

If I were contesting this constituency,
McCorkadale wouldn't get one vote.

You can't.
You're in the House of Lords now.

I know, I know. Not one vote.

What in God's name is that?

Are you the gent
what sent for Plumbo-Jumbo?

- Don't I know you?
- Couldn't say, guv. Shouldn't think so.

Not unless you happen to be
in the plumbing game, like.

Cor, strike a light!

- It's me, Tuppy.
- I know it's you, you fool.

Let's get out of here, Jeeves.
We've got a burglary to commit.

I'm here as a fellow member
of the Ganymede Club, Brinkley.

I have reason to believe you have
absconded with the club book

which, as you well know,
is strictly against the rules.

Come along.

- You had no right to remove that book.
- Business is business, Reggie.

I did heavy betting on McCorkadale.
I have to protect my investment.

I'm not obliged to anyone
but meself, Reggie.

You swore an oath.

I spotted a burglar
climbing into an upstairs window.

I removed his ladder
so he had no means of escape.

An intruder!

- Out of the way, please, sir.
- Move, Reggie!

This way, sir.

I think we can slow down now.
There's no one after us.

I shall feel more secure with
the Ganymede book safely locked away.

Then take it back to the house and lock it
away. I'm going to catch my breath.

Very good, sir.

I'm sorry, Ginger. I didn't, erm...

I suppose this seems a bit odd to you,
Bertie. I love Magnolia.

No. Pull yourself together.
You're meant to love Florence.

Oh, Bertie. The trouble is, you meet
this girl with a perfect profile,

curly hair and a willowy figure
and, "Bingo," you say.

"This is the one. Accept no substitutes,"

little knowing you're linking up
with a sergeant major

with strong views on discipline.

Florence is firm, I grant you.
She's resolute.

- She's a nag.
- No, she offers advice.

If only I'd looked a little further.

I'd have found the kindest, sweetest,
gentlest girl that ever took shorthand.

I allude to Magnolia Glendennon.
She's my secretary.

Sorry, but there's a snag here.
I suspect you've spotted it.

- Florence.
- Well done.

It's all right. I'm going to get Florence
to break our engagement.

- No, no, Ginger. Let's not be hasty.
- I'm going to lose the election.

How? Voters of Totleigh would vote for
a bunny rabbit if it wore a blue rosette.

- You don't know about Brinkley.
- Brinkley and the Ganymede book?

- Oh, you do know.
- Mm-hm.

That book contains
damaging stuff about me.

If it was revealed, it would hand
the election to Mrs McCorkadale.

I've given Brinkley a hundred quid,
and he's getting the book for me.

I'm going to send it to the Totleigh Argus
Reminder with instructions to publish.

Well, I have bad news for you.
Jeeves has the book.

Well, that's good.
He can take it to the Argus Reminder.

Sorry. To Jeeves, that book is sacred.
He'd never let it out of his hands.

- You could persuade him, Bertie.
- Well, I doubt it, Ginger.

I'll do my best, of course.

How long is this going to take?

There you are, you see.
You can't rightly say, guv, can you?

I mean, how long's
a piece of haddock, like?

Right, sir. Here we go, ladies and gents.

Is that all?

There you are. You see?

Bertie?
What did Jeeves say about the book?

No go, I'm afraid, Ginger.

- Very well.
- What do you mean?

You'll see.

- What are you doing in here?
- Ooh. I wasn't, er...

- Oh, it isn't, er...
- Who are you, anyway?

I was, er... l was just coming to see you.

What for?
What's that book you're carrying?

It's a book. I'm carrying it.

- Bring it here.
- Oh, it's nothing. I, er...

Don't palter with me, man. Bring it here.

- Did you write this?
- What if I did?

- Did you or didn't you?
- Oh, all right.

It's most interesting. You can't use
real people's names, though.

- Oh, no. I know.
- Trying to add verisimilitude?

- Uh?
- Look here. What's your name?

- Mr Brinkley.
- Look here, Mr Brinkley.

What on earth is that noise?

What do you mean
the book's gone?

- Here we are, sir.
- You don't understand, Jeeves.

Mr Winship wants it published so he can
lose the election and not marry Florence.

- Who could have taken it?
- Mr Brinkley, I dare say, sir.

But I don't think we need to worry
on that score.

Lord Sidcup's eloquence on behalf of
Winship is having such a marked effect

that I doubt that revelations
by Brinkley or anyone else

could do any more
than dent his majority.

Really, Jeeves? Are you sure?

Well, that's wonderful.

The way forward for this country, out of
the slough of despond it has fallen into,

is through public ownership of mines,
railways, road transport,

electricity generation
and all other essential services.

Don't let my opponent frighten you
into thinking otherwise.

Thank you.

Well, I've listened to Mrs McCorkadale

and er... erm...

To be quite honest, I'm convinced. I think
you should all jolly well vote for her.

Harold!

Oh, Ginger! You were wonderful.

Ladies and gentlemen. Please...

Silence!

I have... an announcement to make.

Oh, Bertie...

- How could he, Bertie?
- What ho. I didn't see you there.

How could Harold give up the election
in that cowardly manner?

- Er... Well...
- What is wrong with men today?

- Well...
- Perhaps I misjudged you.

- Perhaps you're no worse than the rest.
- Oh, no. I am. Much worse.

I'm going to give you one more chance.

- I don't deserve it.
- No, perhaps not.

Fate has ordained it. You may
announce our engagement, Bertie.

Bertie? Come in here, Bertie.

Well, this is good news indeed, Bertie.

I have absolutely no intention
of marrying Florence Craye.

What are you burbling about?
I was referring to little Madeline Bassett.

I'm not engaged to her. Little Madeline
Bassett is engaged to Spode.

- We're assembled here for the wedding.
- Do be quiet, Bertie.

Lord Sidcup and Madeline
no longer intend to marry.

He feels that because of popular demand

he must renounce his title
in order to enter politics.

Well, I don't see
what that's got to do with it.

It would appear
that Sidcup's only attraction for Madeline

was the prospect
of becoming Countess of Sidcup.

That gone, she would prefer
to cast her lot in with you.

Well, she can't.

She's not one of the girls
I had marked down for you, of course,

but she does show
remarkable determination

for one so soppy.

Perhaps there's more to her
than meets the eye.

The dinner gong has sounded, sir.

Don't even mention food, Jeeves.
Who was that fellow with the circles?

You are perhaps thinking of
the Florentine poet Dante Alighieri, sir,

who, in the first part
of his Divina Commedia

is conducted by Virgil
through the nine circles of hell.

That's the chap. Well, those fellows
he bumped into had it easy.

- One could take issue with you there.
- Were any of them engaged to Florence?

The poet makes no mention of it, sir.

Or condemned to stand trembling
at the altar steps

while Madeline Bassett advanced
on the arm of her father?

Indeed not, sir.

It had to happen to somebody one day,
I suppose. And it happened to me today.

Fate has dealt me the royal flush, Jeeves.

I'm engaged to Madeline Bassett
and Lady Florence at the same time.

Oh. Oh, dear, sir.

There's nothing I can do.
You brought it on yourself.

I know, I know.

It's no joke for a girl
who wants to be Countess of Sidcup

to have the fellow say,
"April fool. All you'll be is Mrs Spode."

- She'll still be Lady Spode.
- But only a baronet's wife.

Hardly the same thing.

Added to which, you land me with
that lunatic Wooster as a son-in-law.

I know, I know. But you've seen
these people, Watkyn.

When I speak, a hush falls.

Then a little murmur of interest.
Then... a mighty roar of approbation.

They need me, Watkyn.
The people need me.

Oh, it's you.

Hello, Spode. Good Lord. There you are,
what. Hello, Sir Watkyn. Splendid.

You know, Watkyn,
I simply cannot make it out.

As far as I can see,
he's without any attraction at all.

Intelligence? No. Looks? No.

Efficiency? No.
When one considers all his defects,

one only supposes Madeline is marrying
him in the hope of reforming him.

- No, no. You see...
- Be quiet, Wooster.

Let me tell you something, Wooster.

If you disappoint little Madeline's hopes,

I shall be waiting for you.

Right. Well, toodle-pip.

Ooh!

Why, Bertie. Are you saying
good morning to the flowers?

- Er... yes, that's right.
- Oh, Bertie. We were always soul mates.

Really?

No, no, Bertie. Don't kneel to me.

You've waited so long and so patiently,

and at last tomorrow
you are to get your reward.

- Tomorrow?
- The ceremony was arranged anyway.

Daddy says we can't afford
to cancel it and do it all over again.

- Ah, Brinkley.
- This is a bit of an 'ow-do-you-do.

I was on my way to see you to demand
the return of the Ganymede Club book.

I haven't got it. I wish I did.
I'm trying to get it off Florence.

Lady Florence has the book?

She thinks I wrote it. Thinks it's a novel.

Why are you so anxious to retrieve it?

Now Spode's standing,
I needed to scupper him.

My bet's on McCorkadale,
no matter who's against her.

But there's nothing in the book
to harm Sir Roderick.

The Eulalie business is out of date
since he sold the lingerie shop.

Eulalie nothing.
Don't you know about, er...

Well... I'm not about to tell you, am I?

It's only gone in recent,
though it happened years ago.

Didn't know it was in the book meself
till I happened to glance through it.

She calmly informs me that
the execution day is tomorrow, Jeeves.

What am I going to do? I can't step out of
this room without a woman collaring me.

Fortunately, neither has got wind
of my engagement to the other yet.

No, it's on a knife edge, I tell you.

- Jeeves?
- Sir?

Oh, I'm sorry, sir.

I was cudgelling my brains as to how
to retrieve the book from Lady Florence.

I'm afraid that compared with my
imminent marriage to Madeline Bassett

and subsequent imprisonment
on charges of bigamy,

together with the probability of Spode
doing unspeakable things to me,

the whereabouts of the club book
is but a pimple on the face of the moon.

Very good, sir.

But I've only just heard that the book
may contain sensitive information

concerning Lord Sidcup, which might be
used to persuade him to resume his title

and so pave the way
for a reunion with Miss Bassett.

Oh. Now don't toy with me, Jeeves.
Don't give a condemned man false hope.

It's not that Eulalie business again,
is it?

- No, sir. Something recently inserted.
- Really?

Oh, Jeeves. Jeeves, I'm sorry.
I should have had faith.

I'm not myself.
Madeline Bassett's been on my mind.

The prospect of being linked

to a girl who would put her hands over
my eyes and say, "Guess who?"

Has given my morale a wallop.

I understand. Very unpleasant.

What Lady Florence might do is beyond
imagining. Well, we must get that book.

- Bertie.
- What? Oh, Madeline.

- What are you doing in here?
- Just looking for my socks.

Why would you look for your socks
in Florence's room?

Florence's room?
Oh, where am I? I feel faint.

I must say, Florence. This engagement
of Bertie's makes me very happy.

Well, er... I'm glad that you're pleased.

Are you all right, Bertie?

- Where am I?
- I told you. You're in Florence's room.

- What I want to know...
- Who are you?

- Bertie!
- What are you doing in my room?

- Who?
- Why is he lying on the floor?

- He's having a brainstorm.
- What with?

Why come into my room
to have a brainstorm?

The poor darling
doesn't know where he is.

But you do, presumably.
What are you doing here?

- Well, I saw him come in and...
- Aaahh!

- Bertie!
- He's making a lot of noise.

What he needs is peace.
If I could ask you to leave him with me.

He must come with me.
After all, he is my...

Aaaahhh!

Remember Bertie and I are...

Aaahh!

Where does it hurt, Bertie darling?

Do not address Bertie
in that overfamiliar tone, Madeline.

I don't see why she shouldn't.
She is, after all...

Aaaahhh! The agony, the agony...

- It's getting worse.
- Perhaps I can be of assistance?

Oh, Jeeves. Have you ever
seen him like this before?

With increasing frequency,
I regret to say.

We should loosen his collar.

I hardly think such drastic measures
are called for. if you'd allow me.

Can you walk, sir, if I assist you?

Oh... Er...

Aaaaahh! Jeeves...

He recognises you.
He didn't know who I was and I'm his...

Aaaahh! I do apologise, sir.
You trod on my toe.

- Sorry, Jeeves.
- Just hold on, sir.

We'll get you your tablets.

By George, Jeeves, that was a close call.

- Did you find the book?
- Madeline came along before I found it.

I can't risk it again. You do it.

I couldn't engage in anomalous activities
in any house in which we are guests.

Oh, come, Jeeves.

♪ Laugh, I thought I should have died

♪ Knocked 'em in the Old Kent Road,
have a banana ♪

Tuppy?

Oh, sorry, gents.
I was just looking at your pipes.

- Tuppy, it's me, Bertie.
- Bertie!

Sorry. I really do get rather carried away.
I wonder if I were to go on stage.

Pardon me for interrupting
but a notion has come to me.

Well, that's the best news I've...

Yes, Jeeves.
Tuppy, come in here a minute, will you?

Have a seat, old man. Drink?

- Jeeves, a brandy for Mr Glossop.
- What's going on?

Now, Tuppy. We have a little job
that we'd like you to do.

Job? What job?

What are you doing up here, Constable?

Sir Watkyn ordered me to patrol the
house to guard the wedding presents.

No, no, no!

- What was that, Mr Butterfield?
- That'll be Mr Wooster's room.

In your role as Mr Plumbo-Jumbo,
you have access to all the rooms.

Steal the book
while everyone's at dinner.

I won't steal it at all.

As insurance, I could send Lady Florence
a telegram demanding her in London.

There you go. Can't say fairer than that.
Get that sent off now, Jeeves.

Don't bother. I'm not going to do it.

Very well. Jeeves, pop down
and ask Sir Roderick to come and see us.

No! But... that isn't cricket, Bertie.

I'm sorry, Tuppy. Desperate times
call for desperate measures.

Pour Mr Glossop
another desperate measure, will you?

Oh. Pardon me, Lady Florence.

- Mr Brinkley. Good afternoon.
- It's about my book, Lady Florence.

I've been reading it with great interest.
You have a forthright, muscular style.

I just wondered, er...
if I could have it back.

And a brilliant use of
different handwriting for each chapter

to reinforce the concept
of the multiple narrator.

Multiple... Yeah. Yes. I just thought...

Pardon me, Lady Florence.
A telegram for you.

Oh. Thank you, Jeeves.

What a nuisance. I have to go to London
to see my publisher this evening.

- What I'd like to do is, er...
- Goodbye, Mr Brinkley.

Oh! Ooh... Who are you?

My friends...

The Totleigh-in-the-Wold by-election
for which I'm standing

is merely a beginning.

Sir Watkyn, sir,
I have apprehended two intruders, sir.

No, that's the Jimbo-Jambo man.

Plumbo-Jumbo, sir.

What were they doing
in Miss Florence's bedroom?

He's got my book! Give it here!

You! You are the man who ruined
my Earls Court rally throwing swedes!

Turnips. Doh!

Do you know
what I'm going to do to you?

No. He's our only chance
of fixing the plumbing.

But he's only made it worse
so far with that Dumbo-Crambo.

Plumbo-Jumbo...

I'll butter you all over the lawn.

Then I'm going to dance
on the fragments in hobnail boots.

The blasted window, Spode!

Ah!

I'll get it, Sir Watkyn.

- Any luck, Jeeves?
- Oh, indeed, sir.

If you were to say the word Celia to Sir
Roderick, it will have the desired effect.

Celia. You couldn't tell me more,
I suppose? Rules of the Ganymede?

Just so, sir.

So I just say the word Celia.
Spode becomes putty in my hands,

reclaims his title and marries Madeline.

- I think it extremely likely, sir.
- Right.

- You?
- Yes, me, sir.

I want you to give up this stupid idea
of standing for Parliament.

Oh. You want me to give up
this extremely stupid idea

of standing for Parliament, do you?

- Yes, I do.
- You should have said so before,

you snivelling little wet.

Do you know
what I'm going to do to you?

Yes, yes. I'm accustomed
to your threats of mindless violence.

The first thing you will be aware of
is your teeth rattling down your throat.

I have just one thing to say to you,
Spode. Celia.

Celia?

Yes. Celia.

Or was it Delia? No, it was Celia.

Oh.

Oh, Celia.

Oh...

- So, let's hear no more of it, Spode.
- I'm sorry, Wooster.

- Apologies are just not good enough.
- No, I know. I'm sorry.

Oops. There I go again.

Just look to your behaviour in the future.

Wait a minute. Wait a minute.

Now look here, Spode...

- What about Celia?
- Er... Well...

You don't know anything about Celia,
do you?

Well, erm... It's a... It's a girl.

Ah! You don't know
anything about Celia.

If you did,
you couldn't prove anything.

Now, look here.

You!

Aahh... Ooh.

Mrs Gregson...

Oh, dear...

- You can get proof in London?
- I believe so.

- And be back by morning?
- I will do my best.

- Go, then, on wings of whatsit.
- Very good, sir.

Otherwise, I'm chief mourner
at my wedding.

Where are you, Jeeves?

Take it like a man, Wooster.

Jeeves! Ha!

Bertie, I really am most annoyed.

That telegram purporting
to come from my publisher was a hoax.

- Good Lord.
- The time wasn't wasted, however.

- I was able to think about our wedding.
- Oh, good.

St Margaret's, Westminster, I think.
Don't you? Yes.

Well... er...

Of course, Daddy will expect the
reception to be at the Park Street house.

Ha, ha. Now, do you...

Bertie! You mustn't see me.

Why did she say
that you mustn't see her?

Did she say that? I thought
she said the dress looked... seamy.

Seamy?

Yes, that's why she's rushed into her
room, I expect. To take a few seams out.

Bertie, can you stop drivelling for one
moment and tell me what is going on?

Oh, all right, dash it.

Very well. Madeline and I
are going to get married.

No. Madeline is going to marry
the Earl of Sidcup.

She's given him the bum's rush and I'm...

She's... marrying you?

Yes. In about half an hour.

What?

Wooster!

Where's that blasted chum
of a pal of a friend of yours?

How should I know?
Spode chased him off.

His thing's still running.

- Switch it off, Bertie.
- I...

You've made it worse,
you blithering idiot.

You'd better get off to the chapel.
Roderick's going to be your best man.

What?

So you are not the groom
after all, m'lud?

- No. He is.
- I am.

Perhaps not, sir.

Jeeves. Did you...?

Perhaps Sir Roderick would be
kind enough to come into the vestry.

What for?

Celia...

He spent his youth in the Antipodes
in straitened circumstances.

Those circumstances
improved dramatically overnight

and Sir Roderick was strongly suspected
of nobbling Celia in a kangaroo race,

a sport to which our Australian cousins
are attached.

- That was the actual Celia?
- No, sir.

But I felt the likeness was sufficient
to deceive Sir Roderick.

It's gratifying, sir, that Miss Bassett
bore the end of your engagement so bravely.

Bravely isn't the word.

As soon as she heard there was a chance
she could still make Countess,

she dropped me like a hot pimento.

I can't help feeling bad for Lady Florence
in spite of her assault on my topper.

That is hard to forgive, sir, but a lady
will express heartbreak in different ways.

What on earth is she doing
with Brinkley?

I persuaded Sir Watkyn that Brinkley
could restore the faith of local electors

in the Conservative party.

He'll be adopted as candidate.

The mixture of prominent novelist
and rising Parliamentarian

was too heady
for Lady Florence to resist.

Of all the callous, heartless,
unfeeling women, Jeeves.

Precisely, I'd say.

- Thank you, Jeeves.
- I endeavour to give satisfaction.

Dearly beloved. We are gathered
together here in the sight of God

and in the face of this congregation...

...to join together this man
and this woman in holy matrimony.

Which is an honourable estate,

instituted of God
in a time of man's innocency...

To signify unto us
the mystical union of...

Wooster!

Look what you've done, Wooster!

Why? Why?

Wooster!

Wooster!