Original subtitles

When we last saw the Boy Wonder...

he was about to be printed into a horrible human comic book...

and Bruce Wayne was being forced to push the switch...

that would stamp Robin's doom.

What way out?

Frankly, this observer fears there's none.

The answer in just one moment.

But on the street below the doomful scene, trusty Alfred...

per a Batman plan.

Master Robin, Mr. Wayne, sir, do you read me?

Do you read me, sir?

Oh, dear.

Bless my vertigo.

Quick, my humorous robots, exert yourselves.

Conclude this comical charade.

Sorry, Boy Wonder...

I'm doing my very best against this...

infernal robot super-strength.

Mr. Wayne, I know you're doing your best.

- What the devil? - It's Batman.

Unhand Mr. Wayne. Here comes the Batgas.

Robots, now hear this: We who laugh and run away...

live to laugh another day.

- Quickly, Alfred, the Batfan. - Very good, sir.

- Well done, Alfred, and bravely too. - Ha, ha.

You were great, Alfred. You even sounded like Batman.

Small wonder, Master Robin.

That was my own voice, Robin. Remember those lessons in ventriloquism?

Gosh, yes. I should have thought of that.

No, don't blame yourself, Robin.

It's sometimes difficult to think clearly when you're strapped to a printing press.

Joker and his bad luck gang escaped down that secret elevator.

Who cares? Now we've got proof that Joker was back of that counterfeit operation.

"Was" is right, Robin.

I'm afraid all we've succeeded in doing here is frightening him...

- into another criminal endeavor. - Any notion what that might be, sir?

No, but I have an ugly hunch, Alfred.

As part of my charade, I prepared a document appointing Joker as an officer of Gotham Bank.

Unfortunately, in the ensuing melee...

he snatched the document and made off with it.

- Holy bankruptcy. You don't mean...? - Alas I do, Robin.

Under the alias of W.C. Whiteface...

Joker is now the legal vice chairman...

of the board of the Gotham National Bank.

Look, he's got his criminal robots installed as tellers.

Ominous indeed.

Bruce Wayne is chairman of the board of this bank. Can he fire them?

Regrettably not, Robin.

Vice chairman has complete control of personnel according to the charter...

however we could not anticipate such a pass as this.

Well now, it's Batman and Robin.

- Good afternoon, Batman. - Good afternoon.

And what can I do for you? Perhaps a small Batcave improvement loan?

No, thank you.

We're here in search of criminal activity.

Ooh! Ha-ha-ha!

That's priceless, priceless.

Oh, the blind blundering bats are getting funnier and funnier.

Anything amiss, Mr. Flamm?

Nothing, Batman. Mr. Whiteface has this branch in apple pie order.

Holy stomachache, some sour apple pie.

Are you aware that your new tellers are actually a pair of robots?

Oh, well, yes, I did suspect that...

but our customers find them positively charming...

and our mid-day audit was correct to the penny.

Come on, Robin.

That twisted mocking fiend. What's he up to?

All too obvious, he's playing honest to set the stage for a criminal coup...

- that will stagger our imaginations. - Sure, Batman, but what?

That's a good question, Robin, I wish...

Wait a minute, here he comes with that deluded moll of his.

If we play our cards right, perhaps we can cull a clue.

Hello there, Mr. Pasty Whiteface, going somewhere?

Ho, oh! Don't they wish they knew.

We'd better follow them, Robin.

From the look on his face, they're off to rob a church poor box.

Why, you impertinent flying rodent...

Miss Miller and I are off to see my associate...

millionaire Bruce Wayne, on a most important matter. Ha!

Well, well.

It looks like we're getting closer to the heart of this criminal artichoke.

- We could run him in, Batman. - What?

Look at that crazy Joke-mobile.

I bet it violates 50 sections of the Gotham State Vehicle Safety Code.

Don't be foolish, Robin. Far better that we eavesdrop...

on his unscheduled meeting with millionaire Bruce Wayne.

Let's go, Robin, no use hounding these innocent citizens.

Let's take the Batmobile in for a safety check, shall we?

You're right, Batman, it's long overdue.

Good afternoon, sir.

I hope it will be, Alfred. We're expecting callers.

When they arrive, show no emotion, but usher them in.

The next voice you hear will be your own, Mr. Wayne.

Ha, ha. Remember?

BRUCE: But, you see...

I foolishly succumbed to the temptation of speculation...

with the funds of the Wayne Foundation. The results were catastrophic.

Tomorrow is the annual accounting and if I don't have...

- Stop at once. - Ho-ho-ho.

Gosh, Bruce, how could you?

Temptation, Dick. A sudden drop in the stock market...

a search for an easy way.

It's ruined stronger men than myself.

So, Mr. Whiteface, what's the point of your gloomy reprise?

Blackmail, Mr. Wayne.

You ungrateful devil. Isn't it enough that Bruce appointed you vice chairman of the bank?

Don't dip your oar in this sordid sea, Dick. You might get besmirched.

All right, it just burns me up. The filthy greed of some people.

As you were saying, Mr. Whiteface?

Imagine my ghastly situation, Mr. Wayne. Legally installed in the bank...

but watched like an insect by that infernal Caped Crusader.

If I misappropriate a dime, the Bat will pounce.

Yes, I can understand for someone of your dubious character...

that might prove annoying.

Yes, my demands, Mr. Wayne:

Unless you want that taped confession sent to the authorities...

you will lure the Dynamic Duo into a trap...

deliver me the lifeless corpse of Batman and the Boy Wonder.

That is impossible.

Bruce Wayne may be a crooked embezzler, but he's not a killer.

- Right, Bruce? - You phrase it well, Dick.

Since the murder of my parents by dastardly criminals...

violence has been anathema to me.

We've been foiled, Joker.

- That guy's a milksop. - Uh-huh.

Very well then, we must be content with our humorous alternate plan B.

- Plan B? - Plan B?

Oh, Brucie pie, yes, yes, yes!

I beg your pardon?

Oh, you're a lucky chap, Mr. Wayne. Ha-ha-ha!

My pretty protégé, Miss Miller, has just consented to marry you.

I'll be faithful forever in my fashion.

I'll love you until the oceans are hung up and dried.

Oh, and by the way, here is the marriage contract.

Oh, let me commend you on your generosity.

The initial settlement is 3 million dollars.

Hello, society editor?

This is Mr. Whiteface of the Gotham National Bank.

Yeah.

I have an announcement which might be of interest.

Oh, darling, you're yummy.

Read all about it. Millionaire Bruce Wayne to wed reformed gun moll.

Banker's pretty protégé.

Extra, extra, read all about it.

Monstrous.

- This alliance all but beggars belief. - Saints preserve us.

And the bride has a record longer than both my arms and both my legs...

stitched end to end.

What's on your mind?

Batman, have you read the dire news about Bruce Wayne?

Love is blind, commissioner. Bruce Wayne is over 21.

I fear there is nothing we can do.

She's a fetching creature, Robin.

Bruce might find it not without certain pleasures.

Holy madness, Batman, I don't dig this.

Bruce Wayne didn't embezzle, that was just a ploy.

Joker's blackmail threat isn't worth a tinker's darn.

Yes and no, Robin. The way I set the caper up...

I'm afraid I couldn't explain that tape...

without compromising our secret true identities.

Gosh, yes. Ouch, I hadn't thought of that.

Luckily for us, however, there's one weak link in this criminal chain.

- Where? - Think, Robin, think.

Rehearse this curious affair from the very beginning.

You should see one gigantic foothold which we haven't even laid a hand on.

A foothold we haven't laid a hand on?

- Gosh, you have me buffaloed, Batman. - I'll give you a hint, Robin.

Our secret weapon is a dead stranger in this Batcave.

Dead stranger in this...

- Holy remote-control robot. - Exactly, Robin.

Joker's Mr. Glee, whom we captured earlier in this adventure.

If we could just solve the secret of his control mechanism...

we'd have the other two robots dancing in our control.

Watch out, Bruce Wayne, for as the Caped Crusaders toil...

a strange meeting takes place in Commissioner Gordon's office.

- Well, Dr. Floyd? - Yeah, yeah, yeah.

It's no doubt, from the symptoms you describe me...

Bruce Wayne is victim from the well-known second childhood syndrome.

Sufficiently so to commit him to some mental institution?

Yeah, yeah, yeah, naturally.

One other vital point, doctor.

How long would you say Mr. Wayne has suffered from this condition?

Well, uh, the incubation period is slow.

Perhaps three months, surely not less than two.

- Saints be praised. - Yes, Chief O'Hara, we're free to act.

Wayne was definitely mentally incompetent when he appointed the Joker to his bank.

So, uh, what do we do?

We have no choice.

The poor fellow's irrational behavior threatens the entire financial structure of Gotham City.

- Chief O'Hara? - Yes, sir.

Alert your Anti-lunatic Squad.

If Batman won't help us, we'll do it ourselves.

Bring in millionaire Bruce Wayne in a straitjacket.

Yes, sir.

Well, I think we have his wavelengths analyzed.

Shall we give it a spin?

- Ready, Robin? - Ready.

Mr. Glee, in the name of justice, I summon you back to life.

Rise, please.

Holy Frankenstein, we've done it.

Now the fun begins, Robin. With Joker's nasty robots at our command, we'll...

- Alfred here. - Yes, Alfred?

It's Chief O'Hara, sir.

He wishes to see Mr. Wayne on a matter of urgency.

Tell him to wait, Alfred.

I'll be right back, Robin. Meanwhile, here's the plan.

- Hello, chief. - Wrap him up, boys.

- Chief O'Hara, what's the meaning of this? - It's a court order, Mr. Wayne.

Don't worry, you'll have a nice long rest in Happy Acres. Come on, boys.

I'm a personal friend of Commissioner Gordon!

What? Bruce taken off in a straitjacket?

I observed it myself, Master Robin.

Holy stewpot, and I've just transmitted Batman's orders...

- to those robots at the bank. - Indeed.

- This blow does seem ill-timed. - We haven't a minute to lose.

- Quick, Alfred, put on your trusty Batman suit. - Roger.

I believe that's them ahead, Master Robin.

It's them, all right. First I'll give that wagon a little touch of Batray.

- Good shot, Master Robin. - Thanks, Alfred.

Now for the super-powered Batmagnet.

With any luck, we'll latch onto the metal buckles of that straitjacket.

- Good thinking. - Are you okay?

Yes, I rolled with the fall. Now get me out of this overly tailored jacket.

- Your spare Batsuit, sir. - Thank you, Alfred.

I'll be back in a moment.

Quickly, Robin, to the Batmobile.

The medical findings, my dear Mr. Whiteface.

Bruce Wayne was not of sound mind when he appointed you to this position.

- Vacate these premises at once. - Fraud, frame-up!

Joker, never mind, we've still got me and Brucie.

Hey.

My dear wife, Josephine, I've been looking for you everywhere.

So that's your game, aiding and abetting attempted bigamy.

Holy wedding cake, wait till we tell Bruce Wayne.

- You creep, I'm not your wife. - What?

Have you forgotten our honeymoon at Niagara Falls?

Oh, boy, he's following our secret orders perfectly.

Why, you mechanical moron, what's gotten into you?

Help, stick-up!

Empty your purse, madam. Hand me the contents.

Your wallet, sir, or a bullet between your eyes.

What is this madness? Am I dreaming?

Joker, our robots must be getting orders from someplace else.

- Ooh. - Don't look at us, Joker.

We just dropped in for that small Batcave improvement loan that you mentioned...

but in view of the strange criminal activity that seems to be transpiring here...

- Let's whack them up, Batman. - Good idea, Robin.

Robots, Boff and Yock and Glee, reprogram, ignore all previous instructions.

Get the Dynamic Duo.

Wow, we're double-crossed.

That's the trouble with robots, Robin.

They lack even the most minimal sense of loyalty.

Now let's conclude this ugly little charade, shall we, Robin?

Get them.

Ugh. Where am I?

You're about to start a journey you should know well by now, Joker: up the river.

Here's the biggest joke. It was all a bluff, Joker.

We didn't have one darn thing on you until you ordered those robots to try to kill us.

Fantastic, Boy Wonder, what incredible brain work.

Batman, if ever you see Bruce Wayne, tell him...

Tell him it might have been fun.

I'll tell him.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Ah, stand clear, everyone.

I declare Herr Wayne's mental recovery is complete.

Capital.

Uh, without doubt, the bump on the head...

when he accidentally fell from the paddy wagon...

restored him among us sane peoples.

- Thank you very much, doctor. - Yeah, yeah, yeah.

If only I could make a similar examination of the head...

from the Fledermaus Mensch.

- The what? - The Fledermaus Mensch.

How's your German, Dick?

Fledermaus Mensch.

- Why, that's German for Batman. - Right you are, old chum.

What wonders there must be in the Fledermaus Mensch's head.

Oh, I don't know.

Oh, come now, Bruce, don't joke. The brain of Batman, oh, miraculous.

I'll make you a bet, doctor.

If you were to have the opportunity to study Batman's brain...

with all its myriad flaws...

I think you'd find it not terribly unlike my own.

Mother of mercy, get the smelling salts. Mr. Wayne is having a relapse.