All language subtitles for jeeves.and.wooster.s01e04.1080p.bluray.x264-deimos_track4_[eng]

Oi! Change?

Thank you so very much! Thank you!

Thank YOU.

Good morning, Mr Wooster.

- What?! What's the time?
- Ten past nine, sir.

Ten past nine?!

- Is the building on fire?
- Not that I've been informed, sir.

Mr Fink Nottle
is here to see you, sir.

Jeeves... I'm not awake!

I've not had my tea,
and yet you bring me Fink Nottles.

Is this a time for any kind
of Nottle?

The gentleman did say
it was urgent, sir.

He lives in the country. He gets
overstimulated when he's in London.

Tell him I'll see him
at the Drones at 12:00.

Very good, sir.

Taxi! Taxi!

- I'm terribly sorry!
- It's all right. Happens all the time.

Drones Club, Dover Street, please.

Mrs Travers to see you, sir.

Tell Mrs Travers I'm out, and
I'll deal with her in the morning.

Bertie, you old ass!
Wake up! It's time you were dressed.

I've got a job for you.

Does your master
always lie about like this, Jeeves?

Mr Wooster was detained at a business
meeting until late last evening.

Business meeting?

How do you mean a job?
Why a job? What sort of job?

You'll enjoy it. You've heard of
Market Snodsbury Grammar School?

Never.

It's a grammar school.
In market Snodsbury.

The prize giving takes place
next Wednesday.

Thank you, Jeeves.

You are going to give away
the prizes.

Me?

- What do you mean? Me give prizes?
- I mean you give prizes.

The vicar was going to do it

but he's strained a fetlock
and had to scratch his nomination.

No, Aunt Dahlia. No, no, no, no.

Me give prizes?
Make a speech? Ha-ha-ha-ha!

Don't start gargling now.
This is serious.

- I was laughing derisively.
- Well, don't!

Well, no! I will not do it.
That's final. I will not do it.

You WILL do it, young Bertie,

or you'll never darken my doors
again, and you know what that means.

No more of Anatole's dinners
for you.

- Oh, now look here...
- No...

Not another bite
of Anatole's cooking do you get,

if you refuse this simple
easy pleasant job.

But you have to be a frightful nib
to give away prizes.

When I was at school it was
some Prime Minister or other.

That was Eton! At Market Snodsbury
anyone in spats impresses us.

Why don't you get Uncle Tom?
He's got spats.

Because, Bertie, quite soon now
I've got to sidle up to Uncle Tom

and break the news that
I need a cheque for 500 pounds off him,

for Milady's Boudoir.
By August 3rd at the latest.

The Boudoir on the rocks again,
is it?

Until you have run
a weekly woman's magazine,

you don't know what rocks are.

You remember me losing all
that money at baccarat in Cannes?

Don't I just!
The casino wanted to put up a plaque.

That wasn't Uncle Tom's money,
surely?

No, but it was money he'd given me
to pay Milady's Boudoir's bills.

Oh, lor'!

So if you think
that I'm going to ask him

to put on the top hat
and the lavender gloves

and distribute prizes at the
Market Snodsbury Grammar School...

Yes, I see what you mean.

I shall give you today
to set your affairs in order

and expect you
at Brinkley Court tomorrow.

You'll enjoy it! Ha-ha-ha!

I can't understand Gussie Fink Nottle
being in London, Jeeves.

Until now he's remained glued
to the country surrounded by newts.

- Morning, Jarvis.
- Good morning, sir.

Newts, Jeeves. Those lizardy things
that charge about in ponds.

The aquatic members of
the family Salamandridae

that constitute the genus Molga.

Yes, they're the chaps. Anyway,
he used to keep them at school.

I believe young gentlemen
frequently do, sir.

He retired to the depths
of the country

and gave up his life
to these dumb chums.

He thought he could
take them or leave them

alone and then he found
that he couldn't.

It's often the way, sir.

- Morning, Molly.
- Morning, sir.

He didn't say what he wanted, did he?

He confided in me to the extent
that he's enamoured of a young lady

but that she makes him nervous, sir.

Well, are we surprised?
Look at the life he's lead -

I don't suppose he's even spoken
to a girl in five years.

What a lesson this is to us, Jeeves.

In life you can shut yourself up in
a country house and stare at a newt tank

or you can be a dasher with the sex -
but you can't do both!

- It's a sad reflection, sir.
- Did Gussie mention this girl's name?

She's a Miss Bassett, sir.
Miss Madeline Bassett.

Well, I'm dashed.
I'm positively dashed, Jeeves.

Indeed, sir?
Is she an acquaintance of yours?

Absolutely. Her father is the beak
who fined me five pounds.

I must confess
that until you told me this

I had definite doubts about Gussie's
chances. But now hope begins to dawn.

He's the sort of chap
Madeline might scoop up with a spoon.

This is indeed good news, sir.

I wouldn't go so far as to say
she actually writes poetry

but when a girl suddenly asks you
out of a clear blue sky,

if you don't think that
the stars are God's daisy chain...

.. Well, you do begin
to wonder, Jeeves.

Indeed, sir.

Ooh!

Not out, I'm afraid...

In by a mile.

Ahem! What ho, Gussie!

Oh, hello, Bertie.

So what's all this
about you and Madeline Bassett?

- I didn't know you knew her, even.
- I didn't. Not until I met her.

She was staying near my place in
Lincolnshire the week before last.

Her dog had got a thorn in its foot,
and I got it out for her.

So love at first sight, eh?

Yes. Oh, Bertie! Life would be
so much simpler, if we were newts!

Yes, well, I've said the same thing
myself a hundred times.

Do you know
how the male newt proposes, Bertie?

He stands in front of
the female newt vibrating his tail

and bending his body
in a semi circle.

- No!
- Yes. Like this...

Well, it's a change
from champagne and flowers.

- Now, Gussie...
- I say! I say!

It's about time someone came up with
something better than the foxtrot!

Ha-ha-ha-ha! This'll turn
a few heads at Quag's tonight!

Madeline has gone to stay in the
country. I don't know what to do!

Well, follow her, of course.

I can't plonk myself
on a lot of perfect strangers.

- So you don't know these people?
- Their name is Travers.

At Brinkley Court in Worcestershire.
Gussie, your troubles are at an end.

This very afternoon you will travel
there as an honoured guest.

You don't mean you know
these Traverses?

THEY are my Aunt Dahlia.

But what do I do when I get there?

If you knew Brinkley Court
you wouldn't ask that.

The place is soggy with atmosphere.

- I got engaged three times at Brinkley.
- Really?

No business resulted,
of course, but...the fact remains.

Thank you so much, Bertie.

"On consulting engagement book
deeply regret am unable to come down

so am sending
my friend Augustus Fink..."

- Nottle.
- "Nottle to enjoy your hospitality instead.

He well-known in Lincolnshire
as distributor of school prizes,

so there isn't any need for me now,
is there?

Toodle-doo,
your loving nephew Bertie."

Excellent!
MEN: Heave-ho, Gussie!

♪ 47 ginger-headed sailors

♪ You can bet you'll hear them
When they hail us ♪

I stake everything on propinquity,
Jeeves.

At the moment, Gussie
is a mere jelly when in the presence

but ask yourself
how he'll feel in a week

after he and she have been taking
sausages out of the same dish

day after day
at the breakfast sideboard.

- Golly, Jeeves!
- Sir.

Here's an instance of how
you have to think of everything.

- You heard me mention sausages?
- Sausages? Yes, sir.

Take down a telegram, Jeeves.
I must warn Gussie without delay.

He has to create the impression
in this girl's mind

that he's pining away
for love of her.

This cannot be done
by wolfing down sausages.

- Ready?
- Indeed, sir.

"Fink Nottle, Brinkley Court,
Market Snodsbury.

Lay off the sausages. Bertie."

- Very good, sir.
- No, no, wait a sec.

"PS - also avoid the ham."
Yes, that should do it.

Ahem.

I say, as a matter of interest,
what are you doing? I merely ask.

I'm sorting through these clothes, sir.

These are for repair
and these for discarding.

Wait a second...
This white mess jacket is brand new!

I assumed it had got
into your wardrobe by mistake, sir.

Or else that it had been
placed there by your enemies.

I will have you know, Jeeves,
that I bought this in Cannes.

- And wore it, sir?
- Every night. At the casino.

Beautiful women used to
try and to catch my eye.

Presumably they thought
you were a waiter, sir.

Now look here, Jeeves...
(DOOR BELL)

Excuse me, sir.

MAN: Telegram for Mr Wooster.

- Telegram for you, sir.
- Well, read it, Jeeves. Read it.

"Deeply regret my foot! Consider
your conduct the frozen limit.

What do you mean by planting
your loathsome friends on me like this?

Who is this Spink Bottle?

Deeply regret Brinkley Court
a hundred miles from London,

as unable to hit you with brick.
Come this instant.

Angela broken off engagement
with your other friend Glossop.

Love, Travers."

- I say, Jeeves.
- Sir.

My cousin Angela has broken off
her engagement with Tuppy Glossop.

So I gather, sir.

Well, we shall have to go down there
at once.

Aunt Dahlia is all of a twitter
and my place is at her side.

- Very good, sir.
- This comes as a great shock, Jeeves.

Tuppy and Angela. It always
seemed like the paper on the wall.

- Life is full of sadness, Jeeves.
- Yes, sir.

Still, there it is.

What is it about
uncles and aunts, Jeeves?

I really couldn't say, sir.
I mean, with one's parents...

..after a few preliminary skirmishes
over sago pudding and stewed rhubarb

one settles down to a sort of
amicable, if humdrum relationship.

- But aunts, Jeeves...
- Very true, sir.

They don't even know
the word humdrum.

Amongst the grim regimen
of my aunts

Aunt Dahlia stands alone
as a real sportsman.

- I mean, look at my Aunt Agatha.
- Indeed, sir, yes.

- And Aunt Julia!
- Quite, sir.

- And Aunt Charlotte!
- Oh!

She sent me that bitter postcard
of Little Chilbury War Memorial,

when I refused to take
her frightful child to lunch.

Aunts are noted for
their strong opinions, sir.

It's a distinguishing mark
of the breed.

But it's the things they say, Jeeves!

Aunt calling to aunt like mastodons
bellowing across primeval swamps.

But swamp or no swamp, Jeeves,
we must hie to Brinkley Court.

We have a duty to Cousin Angela.
A cousin in need is a cousin indeed.

Very true, sir.

(HORN)

- Hello, Bertie.
- Oh, Angela, old thing.

Mummy's in the library.

Right.

- Hello, Aunt Dahlia.
- Ah, Bertie!

Anatole and I were just going
over his wonderful menu for dinner.

For you, Mr Wooster, I added a dish.

Your favourite timbale de riz
de veau toulousaine.

Will it on, Anatole old friend.
Will it on!

Oh, I will it, Monsieur Wooster.
Have no fright!

Right-ho. Mm.

- Bertie...
- Dearest A.

Oh, Bertie, decent of you
to rally round.

I don't know whether
I'm on my head or my heels.

It's a bad show,
my dear old flesh and blood.

When Tom finds out that that blasted
Glossop is making Angela unhappy,

he'll very likely blow a gasket.

The trouble is Tom's just had
a demand from the income tax people

for an additional 58 pounds.

He says he's ruined,
and what will become of us all

under the iron heel
of the red menace?

If it weren't for Anatole's cooking,
I doubt if he'd bother to carry on.

- What did Angela and Tuppy row about?
- Sharks.

Or rather one particular shark.

You remember that brute
that went for the poor child

- when she was aquaplaning in Cannes?
- That shark! I remember talk of it.

Well, Angela was telling
the story last night,

her eyes shining her little hands
clasped in girlish excitement.

And what do you think
that blasted Glossop did?

He sat there like a lump of dough,
and when she finished he said,

"Probably a flatfish. Harmless -
no doubt he was trying to play."

- Oh, I say...
- Exactly. I mean Angela has pride.

She's sensitive.

She told him he was a fool and an idiot
and didn't know what he was talking about.

Strong words.
Yes, I can see why you needed me.

Yes. Or rather not you...

- ..but Jeeves.
- Jeeves?

That wonderful brain of his.

No, no, no, no.
Aunt Dahlia, I'm sorry no.

Jeeves is not the only one
with a brain.

On this occasion I am your man.

What-ho, Tuppy.

Oh, hello, Bertie.

You've heard of this business,
I suppose - me and Angela?

Yes, some little friction,
I gather, in re Angela's shark.

Angela had been most offensive,
the little squirt.

I merely seized the opportunity
to get a bit of my own back.

- Offensive?
- Most offensive!

Just because I let fall
a casual remark

to the effect that I wondered what
Anatole was giving us for dinner,

she said I ought not to be
always thinking about food.

But you still love her don't you?

I'm not saying I don't love her...
little blighter!

I love her passionately but...

..that doesn't alter my opinion
that she needs a kick in the pants.

- Tuppy, old man!
- It's no good saying Tuppy, old man!

Well, I DO say Tuppy, old man!

One is shocked.
One raises the eyebrows.

Where is the fine old chivalrous
spirit of the Glossops?

Well, where is the sweet gentle
womanly spirit of the Angelas?

Telling a chap he's getting
a double chin!

Now, be fair, Tuppy.

Remember the time you said her new
hat made her look like a Pekinese?

Yes, well... It did make her
look like a Pekinese.

But that wasn't vulgar abuse,
just sound constructive criticism.

The only way to work the thing might
be to tip her off in an indirect way

that I'm prepared to open
negotiations.

Tuppy, I've got it!

There is one infallible method
of indicating to a girl that you love her.

- Don't eat any dinner tonight.
- What?

It would be impressive. She knows
how devoted you are to food!

- I am not devoted to food!
- No, no, no, no. Of course not.

All I meant was that if she sees you
push your dinner away un-tasted

she will realise your heart is aching
and she'll suggest blowing the all clear.

Look, I have a healthy appetite,
that's all!

- Food qua food means nothing to me.
- No, no, no, no. Of course not. No.

- Push away a dinner cooked by Anatole?
- That's right.

- It's pretty extreme, that.
- The extremer the better.

- It will be agony.
- Well, not for long.

You can slip down tonight when
everyone's in bed and raid the larder.

Oh, yes. Yes...

- I see. I could, couldn't I?
- Yes.

I expect there's something cold
there.

THERE IS something cold there.
Steak and kidney pie.

We had it for lunch today.
One of Anatole's ripest. Ooh...

It was a masterly pie, Bertie.
You should have seen it!

Not too much kidney. Just enough
to give it that touch of bite.

And lashings of steak.
Good steak too...

- Tuppy!
- What?

Oh, right. Yes, right.

Pushed away, it shall be.

Terrific idea, Bertie.

♪ Bom ba bom da dee dum

♪ Da dee da dum da

♪ Da da dee da da dee dum

♪ Bom ba bom ya dee da dee da ♪

Thank you, Jeeves.

Psst!

Pssst!

Psssst!

What-ho, Gussie!

I like your nerve! Bounding about
the place saying, "What-ho, Gussie!"

It was a dastardly act to crawl out of the
prize-giving-act and shove it off on me!

My dear old Gussie, just think
of what it's going to do for you!

You'll be up on the platform,
a romantic, impressive figure,

the what-you-call-it of all eyes!

Madeline will see you
in a totally new light.

- Oh, will she?
- Course she will.

Fink Nottle,
the newts' friend she knows.

Fink Nottle, the dogs' chiropodist
she also knows.

But Fink Nottle the orator, the man
of affairs - it'll knock her sideways.

- Do you think so?
- Sure of it.

I suppose it might be all right.
But she seems so aloof, so remote.

Especially when I see her sideways.

Have you ever seen her sideways,
Bertie? That cold pure profile?

It takes all the heart out of one.

Well, she needs to be softened up,
sweetened.

I've been thinking. You'll be pleased
to hear I have a plan.

♪ Mm mm mm mm mm

♪ Mm mm hm hm mm

♪ Ba bee da dee dum boo

♪ Ba dee da da...♪

Be so good, Jeeves as to shove that
black thing back in the wardrobe

and bring me my white mess jacket
with the brass buttons.

Oh, good heavens, sir.

It was most remiss of me but I fear
I omitted to pack the garment.

I know you did, Jeeves. But I didn't.

You'll find it in the other wardrobe.

Very good, sir.

The rift between Tuppy and my cousin
Angela appears to be serious, Jeeves.

Indeed, sir.

Well, I've had rather
a stunning idea, Jeeves.

I've been in conference with Mr
Glossop, and everything is taped out.

Indeed, sir.

Jeeves, I'm sure that
nothing is further from your mind,

but you have a way of saying,
"Indeed, sir"

which is like a feudal sense
of what is fitting

preventing you from substituting
the word, "Says you!"

- I'm distressed to hear this, sir.
- So you should be.

- Correct it.
- Very, good, sir.

I have taken steps in the matter
of Tuppy and Angela.

- Indeed, sir.
- Jeeves...

Sorry, sir. Please, continue.

Right this is the plan.

I recommended to Tuppy that
at dinner he lay off the food.

- Sir?
- Tut, Jeeves!

Remember the telegram to Fink Nottle
steering him away from sausages and ham?

Well, this is more of the same thing.

Pushing away the scoff
is a recognised sign of love.

- Nothing elaborate, you see.
- No, sir.

Nothing strange or bizarre
or far-fetched. Just nature's remedy.

It cannot fail to bring home
the gravy. Surely you must see that.

- Well, sir...
- You don't think my scheme will work?

I fear Miss Angela may merely attribute
Mr Glossop's abstinence to indigestion.

I say, Jeeves.
I've just had another thought.

- Oh, I am relieved, sir.
- Help me on with the jacket, Jeeves.

Erm, which way up does it go, sir?

Tom!

You're not starting on about money
for your magazine again are you?

- What are you doing with that gun?
- What...?

Oh... I heard someone creeping
around outside last night.

Tonight I'll be ready for them.

I forbid you to play around
with that gun.

- Blast it, Dahlia...
- Not another word, Tom.

I forbid it!

You know you always shoot
the wrong people.

What do you think you're made up as?

What? The jacket, you mean?

You look like one of the chorus in
Act two of a touring musical comedy.

- Tut!
- What did you say?

- I said, "Tut."
- Say it again, and I'll biff you.

I have enough to endure,
without being tutted at.

Well, quite.

Any tutting required,
I'll attend to myself.

My dear old aunt,
your troubles are over.

The Wooster brain has shifted smooth
into top gear once more.

Oh, no! What have I done
to deserve this?

There is only one course
for you to pursue.

You must go on the Wooster Diet.

The Wooster Diet?
What is all this drivel?

No, no, this is the real Tabasco.

All you have to do is to refuse
your oats at dinner tonight.

Just sit there looking blistered

and wave away each course
with a weary gesture of resignation.

Why? Why should I?

Because I'm prepared to bet, aged A,
that at the conclusion of dinner

Uncle Tom will come up to you
and he will say,

"Dahlia, darling..." -
I take it he calls you Dahlia?

"Dahlia, darling, I noticed
at dinner you were off your feed.

Is anything wrong, Dahlia darling?"

These Traverses sound a pretty
soppy couple of blighters to me.

"Is there anything I can do,
Dahlia, darling?"

To which you will reply,
"Yes, there jolly well is."

Vis, reach for the chequebook
and start writing.

Bertie, that's positively bright.

When did Jeeves think it up?

I'll have you know Aunt Dahlia that
this scheme is 100% Wooster brain material.

- It's bound to work.
- You know, I think it might.

I'll do it.

I'm dreading sitting
opposite Glossop, Madeline.

Oh, poor Angela,
are you still upset about Tuppy?

- Love is such a heartbreak isn't it?
- Heartbreak? I'm boiling mad!

The man is a blithering oaf!

Oh! It's magnifique!

Tonight will be
the top of Anatole's career.

TOM: Can't keep a penny, nowadays.
Tax on this, tax on that...

No doubt we'll all be paupers!

I said to Dahlia only the other day,

they begrudge you
the very food you put in your mouth.

Then there was that clown Harold
messing about at Hastings,

when he should have been
at Westminster cutting taxes.

You and I paid for the king
to be taught. Oh, yes!

We shouldn't have had
those damned Saxons

walking in as if they owned
the place for a start!

They'll have us begging
in the streets.

I swear to God, they'll have us
begging in the streets!

I remember I was in Jeramba,
whole families there in the streets.

Begging! This is what
this damn government wants!

They do not like my consomme aux
pommes d'amour? It is not possible!

No, no, no.

They will love my timbale
de riz de veau toulousaine.

Voila!

Then look at that Benjamin Disraeli.

Him and his damned book writing
ruination of the Conservative Party.

They're all Reds now!

I saw it coming.
Now we want more. Now, I mean...

That unpleasantness at Runnymede
that was only the beginning.

It's been downhill from that moment
on, in my humble opinion.

Five minutes not more, and along
comes that Oliver Cromwell.

Terrible man with a face
full of carbuncles!

Even when they buried him,
they dug him up again

and put his head on a pike
outside Westminster!

Ha, what good that did!
I blame the Romans.

If Magnus Magnusson had hung on here

instead of pulling out his troops
the moment things got a bit tricky,

the picture today would be
a very different one!

Where did I turn wrong?

What bad articles
did I do when I was small?

Oh, I am finished!

NOOO! No, I say!

I'm not fire resistant!

They wait for Anatole,
they say the nice word

they flag me then making me jealous
and they do this?

They leap.
Well, Anatole can leap too, eh?

In the words of their so called poet
Shakespeare... (SPITS)

"If you wrong us,
shall we not revenge?"

Anatole shall have his revengement.

BERTIE: Right, now I shall take
Madeline to the garden.

And talk to her of hearts that yearn,

intimating that there is one such
on the premises.

Then after about a quarter of an hour
or so, you'll turn up and take over.

By that time her emotions
will be so churned up,

it'll be like leaping
on a moving bus.

The last time I leapt on a moving
bus I hurt myself rather badly.

That was more sort of...
in front of a bus wasn't it?

But what shall I say?

There are hundreds of things
you can say. You can say...

..how you you've often thought that
the stars are God's daisy chain.

- God's daisy chain?
- Mm.

- Do you mind if I take some notes?
- Note away.

God's daisy chain...

And then you can say that twilight
always makes you feel sad.

Why?

That's precisely what she'll ask
you, and then you'll have her.

Your reply will be...that it's
because yours is such a lonely life.

Give her a description of a typical
evening at home in Lincolnshire,

intimating how you pace the meadows
with a heavy tread.

I generally sit indoors
and listen to the wireless.

No, you don't, Gussie. You pace
the meadows with a heavy tread,

wishing someone was there
to love you.

After that, it's easy.
Just grab her by the hands,

tell her you've got something
to say, and say it.

Better have a couple
of quick ones first.

- Drinks, you mean? But I don't drink.
- You don't drink?

- No.
- I didn't know that.

Pity...

Generally, a moderate skinful
on these occasions is of the essence.

I suppose I could have
some orange juice.

Yes, if you think it would help.

It might be a good idea to heave
a bit of a sigh at this point.

Heave...sigh...

Then grab her by the hand
and give her the works.

Grab...hand, give...works.

- That's all there is to it.
- Thank you, Bertie.

Ahem.

Well, would you, erm...?

Uh, would you like some
coffee...Angela?

No, thank you, Mr Glossop.

Hello, Angela. Hello, Tuppy.

Yes...

Ah, Jeeves! Haven't seen Miss Bassett
around anywhere, have you?

She is, I believe, sir,
in the sewing room.

- Sewing room...
- If you'll allow me, sir.

I trust your dinner plan
was a success, sir?

Howling, Jeeves, as you'll no doubt
be surprised to hear.

Tuppy and Miss Travers are reunited
in the drawing room.

This is indeed good news, sir.

Ill-informed servants' hall gossip

had it that the cook Anatole
had given his notice, sir.

Well, I'm not in a position
to comment on chitchat, Jeeves,

but I suppose
there is always a possibility.

- Anatole is foreign, Jeeves.
- Really, sir?

And therefore, excitable.
I shall bear it in mind, sir.

- The sewing room, sir.
- Thank you, Jeeves.

Ah, Madeline, old thing!
Care for a stroll...? Jolly good.

That dinner tonight...
I couldn't eat any of it, of course.

I felt far too upset.

I don't suppose you noticed,

but I actually pushed away
a whole plate of roast lamb.

For God's sake!

- Oh, Bertie, what a beautiful night!
- Rather!

- All the flowers have closed their eyes.
- Really?

- And all the little stars have woken up!
- Good lord!

Oh, look! The little bunnies!

How still they are!

Yes, yes. They are marvellously
still, aren't they?

Do you know, Madeline,
it's a funny old world.

As a matter of fact...

- Where are you going?
- I thought we were going for a walk.

Oh, I... I thought we had.

(SHE LAUGHS) Oh, Bertie!

Psst! Psst!

Are you there? Gussie? Psssst!

Psst! Gussie!

What are you doing, Bertie?

Er... I thought there was a snake
or... No, maybe not.

I think old Mr Moon
is ever so shy, Bertie.

- He keeps hiding behind the clouds.
- Yes...he does, doesn't he?

Now, Madeline, talking of being shy,

you know, there's an aching heart
here at Brinkley Court.

Ah yes... Life is very sad,
isn't it?

It is for some people, yes.
Take this aching heart, for instance.

This heart that I'm talking about
is aching like billyo.

- You mean...for love?
- Problem is...

..can't quite bring itself
to tell you the posish.

Just as it's about to give you
the SP,

it catches sight of you sideways
and words fail it.

Silly of course, but there it is.

- Don't say any more, Bertie.
- No. Right.

I wasn't going to, actually.
That's about it.

I suspected this at Cannes

when you used to stand and stare
at me without saying a word

but with whole volumes in your eyes.

- No!
- Yes!

A girl always knows...
And then you followed me down here

and there was that same dumb
yearning look in your eyes.

And now you stammer out
these halting words.

No, it doesn't come as a surprise.

But I'm sorry, Bertie,
but I'm afraid it's impossible.

Oh, really?

Oh, well, can't be helped....
Uh, oh, dear.

Life is such a muddle, isn't it?

Yes. Well, yes...I always say that.
Life is such a muddle, I say.

Wait a minute.
Do you mean there's someone else?

But he doesn't care for me.
Well, at least he hasn't said anything.

You see, I was staying
with some friends in the country

and I'd gone for a walk with my dog,

and the poor wee mite got
a nasty thorn in its little foot.

And I didn't know what to do.

And suddenly
this handsome man came along... Wow!

- I beg your pardon?
- Nothing, nothing.

I've just remembered there's a letter
I must write tonight without fail.

Good heavens,
there's Gussie Fink Nottle!

- Where?
- Over...there.

Ah, yes. There he is.

Well, I think I'd better be going in.
Gussie will take care of you.

- Ah, Tuppy, I wanted to see you.
- Oh, yes? Well, I'm here.

- Has Angela come clustering round yet?
- No, she has not.

Oh, that's very odd.

She must have noticed
your lack of appetite.

Lack of appetite?
I'm as hollow as the Grand Canyon.

Be brave, Tuppy. Think that cold
steak and kidney pie in the larder.

You've brought that up just as I've
managed to stop thinking about it!

Why don't you just buzz off,
Wooster!

Right.

Hello, Aunt Dahlia!

How dare you show your face in here?

Aunt Dahlia, if I
may say something,

- you seem somewhat pipped.
- PIPPED?

Stand fast, because pretty soon

Uncle Tom will be along here
full of sympathy and anxious enquiry.

- Do you know where my husband is?
- He was here at dinner.

I know he was here at dinner,
you nincompoop!

He is now in his study
his face buried in his hands

groaning about civilisation!

Any chance I had of getting
the money off him has now gone.

- Eh? Why?
- Because Anatole has given notice.

- What?
- ANATOLE HAS GIVEN NOTICE!

As a result of
one of your drivelling schemes!

- Good heavens...
- It's no good saying, "Good heavens".

Well, yes, you're upset
and that's understandable, certainly.

Certainly, this is a nasty jar
for one and all.

The only nasty jar there is,

is the one I'm going to put
your remains in!

Now, Aunt Dahlia, don't do anything
hasty because I can fix everything.

Don't you dare try
one of your lunatic schemes!

Aaah!

(SCREAMS)

- Something amiss, Jeeves?
- Mr Fink Nottle is feeling unwell, sir.

Everybody's been very kind.

No complaints to make.
No complaints at all.

I wish the world was a newt!

But how could anything go wrong?
All he had to do was...propose.

So one would be disposed
to imagine, sir.

However, upon finding himself alone
with the young lady he lost his nerve.

In such circumstances, gentlemen
frequently talk at random, sir,

saying the first thing
that enters their head.

This in Mr Fink Nottle's case
would seem to have been the newt -

its treatment in sickness
and in health.

- Bad, Jeeves.
- Yes, sir.

How long did he go on
talking about newts?

According to Mr Fink Nottle,
he supplied Miss Bassett

with very full and complete
information, sir.

- Very bad, Jeeves.
- Indeed, sir.

He was observing that newts differ
from salamanders in the shape of the tail,

and that a marked sexual dimorphism
prevails in most species,

when the young lady rose and said
she she would go back to the house.

- And then?
- She went, sir.

- Oh... Difficult, Jeeves.
- Yes, sir.

I'll have to burnish the brain to see
if I can't find a way out of this.

I'm sure Mr Fink Nottle
will be most grateful, sir.

- Will that be all, sir?
- Yes, thank you, Jeeves. Yes.

One moment my fine chap,
Mrs Travers.

I can take a few smooths
with the rough, it's true.

But you do not play larks against me
on my food!

I do not remain no longer
in this house.

No, no! I buzz off
and do not stay planted!

It's a matter of principle.

(GROANS)

(STOMACH GROWLS)

(FLOORBOARD CREAKS)

(CREAKING)

(STOMACH GROWLS)

Oh, ze English!
Animals for ze food, huh?

Curse of my lives, ze English.
I will tell them!

No, no, no!
I do not remember my knives!

(FLOOR CREAKS)
(HE SNORES)

Aaargh!
Aaargh!

(SCREAMING)

He's gone mad!

He's gone mad! Anatole has gone mad!

Mr Glossop, what are you doing?

Mama, Mr Glossop likes to have
a few meals during the night.

It keeps him going till breakfast!
(HE GRUNTS)

I no crazy, Mrs Travers. You be
nice-nice to Anatole, Anatole be...

You just drop those knives, Anatole.

And what are you doing
with that gun, Tom Travers?

Nothing, my dear.

(SCREAMING)

Zis is ze end.
Anatole, HE IS DEFINITELY DEAD!

This is all your fault, Wooster.

Me?

What... What have I done?

Jeeves...

Pack Mr Wooster's bags.