Jeeves and Wooster s02e05 Episode Script

This is a big day for the last of the Woosters, Jeeves.
Indeed, sir? The Drones are electing a new chairman of the dining committee.
Today is the last day for nominations to be in.
Is the post much sought after, sir? Much sought after, Jeeves? Suffice to say that five out of the last seven chairmen have had to spend time in the jim-jam clinic after their periods in office.
The rigours and responsibilities of the post, sir? Partly, but mostly the fact that every wine merchant within gargling distance of the metropolis is so keen to get the Drones' order that cases of their most treasured vintage go astray and end up at the chairman's private residence.
The ways of commerce are exceedingly odd, sir.
That's not to mention wine tastings, trips to the vineyard and the slap-up dinners at Château Plonk.
Am I to infer, sir, that you might be offering yourself for election? Your inference is slap on the button and leading by a length in the final furlong.
I have the ear of Oofy Prosser and he has the ear of the nominations committee.
Save the congratulations for later.
But as the French might say, it's dans le sac.
I'm sorry about this, sir.
Can you hear them? It would be difficult not to.
Women and children are huddled in frightened groups as far north as Grosvenor Square.
The committee's on the warpath about this, I can tell you, sir.
Yeah! - What are you cheering about, Barmy? - I've finished miles ahead of you fellows.
What? What? Some more, chaps? It's beginning to sound quite professional, Oofy.
We're playing at Barmy's Aunt Hilda's place this weekend, it's her silver wedding anniversary.
Is Barmy's Aunt Hilda Spanish? Spanish? No.
Why are they playing Lady Of Spain? The only other tune we know is Barnacle Bill The Sailor.
Ah.
Not the sort of thing for a silver wedding, you mean? We didn't think so.
Of course, we haven't seen Barmy's Aunt Hilda.
Well, I was sort of hoping to chance on you, Oofy.
It's about the chairmanship of the Dining Committee.
- The election? - Yes.
I was What I'm trying to get at is this.
How about edging yours truly onto the list of candidates? - I've had experience - Absolutely impossible, Bertie.
Is this Oofy Prosser I hear, saying no, no, no, to his oldest and dearest friend, Bertram Wilberforce? There's nothing I can do, Bertie.
Ever since that scandal about Horace Pendelby Davenport and the three tons of Gorgonzola, it's been written into the committee rules that no one with a criminal record may offer himself for election.
A criminal record? Weren't you up in front of the magistrate for stealing a policeman's helmet? Yes.
He fined me £5, but It all counts, Bertie.
I'm sorry.
Why, if it isn't Pauline Stoker.
Well, well, well, Bertie Wooster.
- What are you doing here? - You know, this and that.
Back and forth.
I sort of live just round the corner.
- Am I glad to see you.
- Likewise, old prune.
- Are you in London for long? - No.
Just for the day.
Buying the wedding dress.
That's charging ahead, you and Chuffy? Of course it is.
- But, Bertie - Steady on.
There's somebody been following me all day.
Following you? You mean as in following you? A man with a big ginger beard.
Perhaps he wants to borrow the price of a razor.
Don't look now.
He's just come round the corner.
He's stopped.
He's pretending to look in a window.
- Why can't I look? - All right, look now.
No, he's gone.
Bertie, would you do me a terrific favour? What a spiffy apartment, Bertie.
Jeeves, we shall be going down to Chuffnell Hall for a few days.
Very good.
Good afternoon, Miss Stoker.
- Hiya, Jeeves.
- I trust Mr Stoker is well? When they invented the phrase rude health, they didn't know it would get as rude as my father.
Miss Stoker's got a bit of a problem, Jeeves.
I'm sorry to hear that, miss.
Some fella keeps following her around.
Much as one might disapprove of such a course of action by a gentleman, one is scarcely surprised.
- Why, Jeeves, you old smoothie.
- Thank you, miss.
So I've been deputed to act as bodyguard.
I'll go to Chuffnell in Miss Stoker's car.
You bring the luggage down in mine.
Very good, sir.
You look as if you could use a drink, old girl.
- I could.
- Hang onto your hat.
In two shakes of a dog's tail, you shall be rocked in the cradle of a Bertram special.
One doesn't like to intrude, old former fiancee, but you don't seem the usual effervescent Stoker P.
Is it this bearded geezer? - No, not really.
It's Chuffy.
- Oh? I thought everything was ooja-cum-spiff.
Well, it is, but Chuffy's got this terrible pride, you see? He'll only marry me if he can support me in the style I'm accustomed to.
Which, as your esteemed parent owns three quarters of Chicago, with a fair proportion of Illinois thrown in, is a bit difficult.
But Daddy was going to buy Chuffnell Hall from him and turn it into a hotel.
- He'd have had lots of money.
- Was going to buy Chuffnell Hall? There's a problem, something called planning permission.
Whatever it's called, Daddy can't get it.
- A bit difficult, that.
- Well, yes, but I may have a solution.
They don't want a hotel there, but apparently they wouldn't say no to some sort of medical establishment and I've found this distinguished old medical bird who could run it for us Oh, my God.
I'm meant to be having lunch with him in five minutes.
You sure this old medical bird won't mind there being an extra beak to feed? He's expecting Daddy to be there anyway.
That's the trouble.
Daddy isn't too keen on the sanatorium idea.
He had his heart set on a hotel.
On the morning in question, the Earl of Slough awoke to find that during the night - Yes, Delia.
- The Stokers are not here yet, Roderick.
Delia, I manage to snatch five minutes' continuing work on my memoirs and you interrupt me to inform me of an event which has not happened.
I know, Roderick, and I'm awfully sorry, but it is so important.
Not to me, Delia.
I have no wish to bury myself in the country.
There is no question of you burying yourself, Roderick.
Sir Wensley Doggett has not buried himself and he's got a clinic in Switzerland.
People say he might get a peerage next year.
Nonsense.
Doggett is a quack, Delia.
I'll thank you not to mention his name in any sort of conjunction with mine.
They're here.
Do be nice to them, Roderick.
We're here to see Sir Roderick.
Thank you.
Sir Roderick is expecting you.
It's, er It's not Sir Roderick Glossop, is it? Yes.
Why? Oh, my hat.
Miss Stoker and Mr Wooster to see you, milady.
Miss Stoker, how nice.
- Mr Wooster.
- What ho, Lady Glossop.
- I didn't know you knew one another.
- Oh! Yes.
However, Sir Roderick will be with us directly.
- He's working on his memoirs.
- Really? I thought my ears were burning.
Do sit down, won't you? - A glass of lemonade, Miss Stoker? - Thank you.
- Mr Wooster? - Rather.
Yes.
I really look forward to the old lemonade before luncheon.
I had thought, Miss Stoker, that your father would be with you.
Yes, I know.
He's really sorry he couldn't get here.
Well, no matter.
We shall see him later today when we come down to Chuffnell.
Forgive me.
Forgive me, Miss Stoker.
Mr - Wooster.
- What ho, what ho.
The old bad penny, you see? What are you doing here? This is jolly.
You all being old friends and everything.
Boy, that'll go in my diary as one of the great lunches of my life.
I don't know.
I thought it all biffed along rather well, considering.
- What had you done to those people? - I was once engaged to their daughter.
Ah.
We must be out of gas, Bertie.
No, I'm pretty sure these things run on petrol.
Oh, Bertie, do something.
You're going to stop, are you? It's all smoky in there.
- What's that? - That's the engine.
- Right.
That's interesting.
- I think you'll have to push, Bertie.
It's getting dark, Bertie.
Can't we go any faster? Bertie, look, there's a public house up ahead.
Come on, Bertie.
Of course we don't get many visitors, but you're very welcome to the two little rooms we have got.
Now, there's one there and the other one is here.
The bathroom's down the hall.
- They'll be just fine.
- Good.
Bertie? - Hello? - Lucky old Chuffy can't see us now, eh? Lucky, why? Well, you know how suspicious and jealous he is.
He'd probably tear you limb from limb.
Good morning, Miss Stoker.
Good morning, sir.
Ah, Jeeves.
Miss Stoker's car broke down, Jeeves.
In Wiltshire.
I surmised that something of the kind had taken place.
Mr Stoker was enquiring after you at the hall.
Oh, lordy, you didn't tell him I was with old sweet cheeks here? When he saw me, miss, he leapt to that conclusion himself.
- Was he cross? - I could not say.
A dark hue suffused his cheek and he attempted to kick a passing cat.
Erm I'd better get back to the yacht and explain things.
After all this time, he still thinks Bertie and I are madly in love.
My dratted engagement to Pauline Stoker seems to dog the footsteps.
Indeed it does, sir.
It only lasted two days and I was unconscious most of the time.
I recall it with great vividity, sir.
I felt it a benison that the young lady's father objected to the union with such fervour.
Me, too.
I don't know what I could have been thinking of.
Foreign travel often liberates emotions best kept in check.
The air of North America is notoriously stimulating in this regard, as witness the regrettable behaviour of its inhabitants in 1776.
Oh? What happened in 1776, Jeeves? I prefer not to dwell on it, if it's convenient to you, sir.
Oh.
All I'm saying is, I wish old man Stoker could forget that I was ever engaged to his daughter.
Chuffy, too.
He doesn't know I was with Pauline last night? I could not say, sir.
I did not see Lord Chuffnell last evening.
- Ah, Bertie, good to see you.
- What ho, Chuffy.
I hope you don't think it an awful crust, me arriving like this.
What? No, no, no, no, no.
My casa is your casa, what.
I say, Bertie, I don't suppose Jeeves would butle for us tonight, would he? I'll ask him.
Only old Birdwood had to retire.
We couldn't afford to replace him.
Still, I suppose once you've sold the old pile, you can employ an army of butlers.
I want to play.
Hello, young Seabury.
I want to play croquet.
You said I could play the next time you played.
Yes, that's absolutely true, but I'm playing with Mr Wooster.
You remember Mr Wooster? - What ho.
- He can watch.
I'm good at croquet.
There you are, Seabury.
Come along.
Time for your maths class.
- I want to play croquet.
- Maths first.
- Oh, hello, Bertie.
- Hello, Myrtle.
Good to see you again.
It's on a knife edge at the moment.
If he can get planning permission, old Stoker will take this heap off my hands in return for vast amounts of oof.
And I'll be engaged to his beautiful daughter.
It's not going to be a hotel now, I understand.
Pauline met this woman called Glossop.
She's keen to turn it into a sanatorium with her husband running it.
He's here staying at the local hostelry? Stoker? He's on his yacht in the harbour.
- No, I meant Glossop.
- Yes, he's at the hotel.
- Why, do you know him? - Yes.
I was engaged to his daughter Honoria once.
Oh, Bertie, is there any girl you haven't been engaged to? Well Everyone here yet, Jeeves? The Stokers have not yet arrived, sir, but Sir Roderick and Lady Glossop are in the drawing room.
Oh, Lord.
Well, better go and face the music, I suppose.
This room will do wonderfully well for your office, don't you think, Roderick? Oh, yes, perfect.
Possibly.
Possibly.
I shall of course retain my consulting rooms in Harley Street.
So many of my patients rely on me.
It must be a fascinating life, Sir Roderick.
It has its rewards, Mrs Pongleton.
The Marchioness of Clapton said to me only last week What ho.
Wooster.
- Here we are again, what.
- You two know each other, I believe.
We do indeed and what's more Would you like a glass of sherry, Bertie? Mr J Washburn Stoker, Miss Stoker and Master Dwight Stoker.
- Stoker.
- Ah, good evening.
Evening.
Dwight.
Darling.
You know everyone, I believe.
My sister, Mrs Pongleton.
Sir Roderick and Lady Glossop.
Oh, and Mr Wooster.
- What in Hades is he doing here? - Oh, you know.
The usual sort of thing.
Is that the one you were engaged to? Dwight.
- He was engaged to my daughter, too.
- What? Well, you know, an engagement here, an engagement there.
Let's all go into dinner, shall we? - It's Dwight's birthday tomorrow.
- And how old is the dear little fellow? - He's nine.
- I'm gonna have a swell party.
I do hope you can come, Seabury.
Oh, yes, he'd love to come.
We've got this troupe of black-faced minstrels doing the entertainment.
I bet you've never had minstrels at a birthday party before.
- I hate minstrels anyway.
- Oh, yeah? Minstrels Roderick, do tell them about the Duke of Tooting.
- Duke of Tooting? - Yes.
Oh, yes.
The old Duke had a minstrels' gallery at the family seat, Tooting Hall.
Every night at dinner, he used to excuse himself, creep up to the gallery and drop boiled sweets on the guests below.
Everyone knew it was him, but had to pretend not to.
The family had to call for me eventually.
Bertie once dropped a blancmange on the Bishop of Woolwich, while we were at Oxford.
On a bishop? Fair's fair, Chuffy.
It wasn't really meant for the bish.
It was meant for Boko Fittleworth, but from above they look very similar.
I do not find this funny, Wooster.
Well, no, you had to be there, really.
He looked up to see what was happening, tripped over the steps and fell straight into the Cherwell.
- At least it washed off the blancmange.
- Happy days, happy days.
You didn't say that when they arrested you.
- Arrested? - A boyish prank.
And this is the sort of man you choose as a friend.
Yes.
I know, but he means well.
- He was fried to the tonsils at the time.
- Do you mean intoxicated? Means well? A man who makes a mockery of the church.
A jailbird.
A drunkard.
A womaniser.
- Oh, now, come.
- A womaniser, sir.
- He deceived my daughter, too.
- He was young.
Do you know your so-called friend spent last night at a hotel with your fiancee? Daddy! More soup, anyone? - Do you deny it? - It wasn't the way you make it sound.
- I'm sure it was all perfectly innocent.
- Innocent! Don't you care? I mean, I'm sure nothing untoward happened.
How do you know that? How dare you? - Pauline - You just take me for granted.
Either that man leaves your house immediately or I do.
Look, this is my house and I'll have whoever I like in it.
- Then it can stay your house.
- You don't love me.
Pauline, you don't understand.
If you think I'd let my daughter marry a man who consorts with criminals, you do not know the middle west of America.
- But, Mr Stoker, the sanatorium.
- I never wanted a sanatorium anyway.
Come on, Dwight.
I think you can clear the soup now, Jeeves.
Very good, madam.
I suppose one ought to be prepared for one's past to return now and again, strike one a nasty blow on the mazard.
Indeed, sir.
Our least deed, like the young of the land crab, wends its way to the sea of cause and effect as soon as born.
Oh, quite, but it hardly seems fair that it should also strike the mazards of one's chums.
This ancient matter of the blancmange and the bishop has come back to haunt poor old Chuffy.
Do you hear music? Of a sort, sir.
If I'm not mistaken, it comes from up ahead there.
I wonder why these minstrel fellows blacken their faces in order to play the banjo and sing songs, Jeeves.
It's said to originate with the entertainment got up on the cotton plantations of the New World by the slaves employed on those facilities, in order to express joy and happiness at their lot.
An unlikely contingency, one surmises, bearing in mind their situation.
Dashed odd that these fellows should be playing Lady Of Spain, too.
That's the only tune the chaps at the Drones know.
Thank you, Bertie.
- Who's in there? - It's me, Barmy.
What on earth are you doing here? We're here to play at my Aunt Hilda's silver wedding party.
- What are you playing on the beach for? - Practising.
It's meant to be a surprise.
And we thought we'd give the holidaymakers a treat.
You're taking money for making a racket? Absolutely.
And we've got a job playing on that yacht at a kid's birthday party.
- With old man Stoker? - Do you know him? He's paying us £5.
My mother's going to be thrilled.
She's always saying I should work for a living.
Oh.
- This is odd, Jeeves.
- Sir? A letter or missive.
- Odder and odder, Jeeves.
- Indeed, sir.
Not to say downright rummy.
It's a letter of invitation from old Stoker.
He'd be bucked if I'd mangle a spot of dinner with him on the boat tonight.
Most peculiar, though.
I do not see the point of this at all.
I shall be better employed back in London continuing my memoirs.
We have to try to heal the rift, Roderick, between Lord Chuffnell and the Stokers.
I do not care about the rift.
Besides, it's pointless.
Stoker has retired to his yacht and remains there incommunicado.
It's Lammas Eve tonight, sir.
Don't you be late.
- I beg your pardon.
- We lock up early tonight.
Old Boggy walks on Lammas Eve.
Superstitious rubbish.
Old Boggy, huh.
We don't know any Boggies, do we, Roderick? I say, jolly decent of old Stoker to extend the olive branch like this.
Ahoy, Gypsy Queen.
Ahoy, Jeeves? It is the correct form of nautical address, sir.
The sort of thing they only said in books.
- Who is it? - It's Mr Wooster and his manservant, requesting permission to board, sir.
Come aboard.
Ah.
Ahoy there, Stoker.
Well, well, well.
- Well, fine-looking craft, this.
- Well, we like it.
- Why don't I show you over? - Dashed civil of you.
This is the main saloon, just being prepared for the festivities.
Ah, little Dwight's birthday.
Of course.
- Is Pauline around this evening? - My daughter? She has a headache.
Let me show you one of the staterooms.
- What do you think of that? - Very nice.
Go in.
Have a look around.
Feel the bed.
- Very nice.
- Aha.
Mr Stoker appears to have locked us in, sir.
Good heavens.
What on earth has he done that for? Why can't I go to the party? Uncle Chuffy's had a disagreement with Mr Stoker, Seabury, and we felt I haven't.
No, but you sometimes have disagreements with young Dwight.
I still want to go to his party.
They're so logical at that age, aren't they? - Now, look here, Stoker.
- Wait outside, Jeeves, would you? Very good, sir.
Look here, I know this is trespassing on your time.
- Could you tell me what this is about? - You don't know? - Hanged if I do.
- And you can't guess? Hanged if I can.
Wooster, you spent the night at a hotel with my daughter.
No, no, no, no.
Well, let's just say yes, but There was a time when I was younger, when I would have broken your neck.
- Oh, I say.
- Nowadays I'm more sensible.
I take the easier way.
Good.
- Hey, Jeeves.
- Yes, miss.
- Could I have a word? - Certainly, miss.
This is not the situation I would have chosen personally, but my hand is forced and that's all there is to it.
What are your views on engagements, Wooster? - Engagements? - I prefer them short.
I feel we should put this wedding through as quickly as possible.
Wedding? You are going to make my daughter an honourable woman.
Oh, no, no.
No, no.
Now, look here There are certain formalities, of course, and while these are being tended to, you will be my guest.
That's awfully decent of you.
Now, I must get back to my son's birthday party.
You don't have to go back in there, Jeeves.
I've no quarrel with you.
My place is at Mr Wooster's side, sir.
As you wish.
You're abreast of the latest developments? - Yes, sir.
- He's going to make me marry Pauline.
Miss Stoker related to me an outline of the plan that Mr Stoker had made, sir.
By Jove.
Jeeves, an idea suddenly occurs to me.
It's all very well for Stoker to talk airily about marrying us off, but he can't do it.
Miss Stoker will simply put her ears back and refuse to cooperate.
You can lead a horse to the altar, Jeeves, but you can't make it drink.
In my recent conversation with the young lady, sir, I did not receive the impression that she was antagonistic to the arrangement.
Her attitude was influenced by the thought that in contracting a matrimonial alliance with you, she will be making a gesture of defiance at Lord Chuffnell.
- Scoring off him, you mean? - Yes, sir.
What a damned silly idea, Jeeves.
The girl must be cuckoo.
Feminine psychology is admittedly odd, sir.
The poet Pope - Never mind about the poet Pope.
- No, sir.
There are times one wants to hear about the poet Pope - and times one doesn't.
- Very true, sir.
The point is, if that's the way she feels, then I'm a pipped man.
Yes, sir.
Unless Unless? I was wondering, sir, whether it might not be best to obviate all unpleasantness by removing yourself from the yacht.
What a tragedy, Jeeves.
What a tragedy.
After all these years, that superb brain of yours has come unstuck at the edges.
The matter might be easily arranged, if you're agreeable, sir.
- You mean this is not mere gibbering? - I think not, sir.
We have three requirements.
Firstly, a pair of tweezers.
Next, a sheet of paper, sir.
Indeed, sir, I'm inclined to think that your removal from the general vicinity of Chuffnell Regis is to be advised.
I believe, sir, that there is a train to London at 20 minutes past ten.
- Good heavens, Jeeves.
- Thank you, sir.
- But you said we needed three things.
- Indeed, sir.
While at liberty, I ventured to purloin this.
And what is this, Jeeves? Boot polish, sir.
Oofy.
Oofy, old sport, I'm in a bit of a jam.
I need to borrow your headgear and jacket.
- What for? - Stoker's after me.
- He's got me prisoner on the boat.
- I say.
# Lady of Spain, I adore you # Right from the first time I saw you # My heart has been yearning for you # What else could any heart do? # Good night.
If he recognises me, I'll jump over the side.
- Splendid evening.
- Good night.
- Thank you so much.
- Thank you.
Good night.
Thank you.
I wonder how you get this blasted stuff off your face.
- Butter.
- Butter? That's what Barmy says, anyway.
- Gone! - I tried to reason with him, sir.
- But nothing would dissuade him.
- Where has he gone? He swam ashore.
It is my conjecture that he has gone to catch a train to London.
He's not going to get out of his responsibilities as easily as that.
On the other hand, it is possible he may return to Chuffnell Hall.
I could try the station, but how could I go back to the hall? It might be managed by stealth, sir.
You mean creep up to his bedroom? Merely a proposal, sir.
- And nab him where he lies.
- Precisely, sir.
It would be a famous victory were you to extract Mr Wooster from under their very noses.
You're right.
You're right.
But what if anyone saw me? - If I might make a suggestion, sir.
- Go ahead, Jeeves.
In operations of this type, particularly if they are of a nocturnal nature, it is often thought necessary to resort to camouflage.
- Hey.
- Exactly, sir.
A blackened face will conceal one from all but the must assiduous searcher.
Sort of melt into the darkness.
Yes, sir.
By jiminy, Jeeves, I'll do it.
I'll look for him at the station.
If he's not there, I'll know where to find him.
Thinks he can make a fool of J Washburn Stoker, does he? I'm sure we'll be able to talk to Mr Stoker.
He's a reasonable man.
No, he isn't.
He's made his mind up.
I was really looking forward to those minstrels.
Yes, it would have been nice, Seabury, dear.
Never mind.
You'll see the minstrels another time.
I won't.
You never let me have minstrels on my birthday.
You like the minstrels, do you, Seabury? They're fun.
They sing and do tap-dancing and one of them tells jokes.
Roderick has an awfully fine voice.
- Really? - Oh, yes.
He was greatly in demand when he was younger.
- Can he tell jokes? - No.
Er well.
It's no good.
You have to black your face.
Well, I certainly Come on, Jeeves.
Put some beef into it.
- Very good, sir.
- Wooster's not getting away with this.
Thinks he can play fast and loose with my daughter, does he? Are you coming with me, Jeeves? I think it would be more appropriate if I waited here, sir.
Right.
And I'll be back with Wooster.
I'll be glad when that last train's gone and I'm safe home tonight, Cedric.
Yes.
Oh, my God.
- 'Tis Old Boggy.
He's here.
- I'll call the police.
Why, it was horrible.
A face glaring at me through the window.
It was 'orrible, 'orrible.
# I'm singing in the rain # Just singing in the rain # What a glorious feeling # I'm happy again # Don't you know the tune? - Of course I know the tune.
- Well, you're a rotten singer, then.
Seabury, you mustn't be rude.
What a very forthright little chap he is.
'Tis Old Boggy, he be abroad tonight.
He be heading for the railway station.
Come on, Dennis, we've got a supernatural.
I'm going to call for reinforcements.
Remember what happened last Lammas Eve.
You go and start the car.
# I'm singing, just singing in the rain # What ho.
- What about jokes? - Jokes? Minstrels tell jokes.
It might be better than your singing.
Yes, very well, jokes.
Ah, yes, now for this joke, you have to imagine that I am two people.
- What do you mean? - Two people.
Person A and person B.
Get on with it, then.
Person A says, "My wife's gone to the East Indies.
" And person B inquires, "Jakarta?" Whereupon person A ripostes, "No, she went by boat.
" Is that meant to be a joke? Jakarta, you see, is the capital city of Java.
Only person B was under the impression that what person A I think you tell rotten jokes, you can't sing and you look completely stupid.
Seabury.
Get out! And stay out! I have every intention of so doing.
Fine.
What ho, what ho.
- Good God.
- No, only B Wooster.
You're no doubt wondering what is the explanation for all this.
No, no, one doesn't like to pry.
I was endeavouring to entertain Master Seabury by dressing as a minstrel.
Oh, what went wrong? Seabury was unappreciative.
For once in my life, I lost control.
- I cuffed him round the ear.
- And Chuffy threw you out? He did indeed.
Mr Wooster, we have had our differences in the past No, no, I feel a distinct warming towards you now that you managed to give little Seabury one or two on the spot indicated.
Only one, I regret to say, but it was a good one.
Seems to bring us closer together, eh? However, the burning issue of the hour is how we are going to get this stuff off our faces.
- Barmy says one needs butter.
- I can't go back to my hotel in this state.
I can't get on a train without them setting the police on me.
We could try in the village.
We could take my car.
There was a black face with 'orrible staring eyes.
Just a minute.
It's him.
He's back.
Tell them we've got an emergency.
He's vanished.
Where do you think he's gone? Quick, in the car.
- I haven't finished my drink yet.
- Can't help that.
- Who's got my banjo? - Is there another way out, Barmy? Can't stop here or we'll be late.
Where can we find butter in this godforsaken place? I say, Aunt Hilda will have butter.
You have an aunt nearby? No, no, but Barmy Fotheringay-Phipps does.
Er Chuffnell Parva.
The other way through the village, I think.
There's two of them now.
Turn round.
Turn round.
Steady on, Dennis.
Sorry, Uncle Ted.
Not so fast, now, Dennis.
I hates the devil and all his works, Uncle Ted.
Very commendable, Dennis, but this is a new car.
They've set the police on us.
I barely touched the lad.
This must be it.
Steady, Glossop.
Hilda's parties are always commendable.
Are you going to dance? Nobody's asked me yet.
You mind your manners, Dennis.
We're dealing with the upper crust.
- They don't understand about Boggies.
- All right, Uncle Ted.
Ladies and gentlemen, dear friends, you all know my nephew, Cyril Fotheringay-Phipps.
Two creatures, you say? - With blackened faces.
- And 'orrible staring eyes.
There are no creatures in this house, my good man.
- He and his London pals - There they go, Uncle Ted.
got together and formed a band.
And so it is my proud privilege to present the Dover Street Jazzomaniacs.
Oh, my God.
Don't be afeared, nephew.
Old Boggy has sought out the ideal place to conceal himself.
You mean some of them creatures up there is not Boggies? Some of them's as human as you or me.
The question is, which ones? Wooster! Here! Arrest them all! With all due respect, Mr Stoker, you could hardly think of allowing your only daughter to marry a gentleman as eccentric as Mr Wooster.
Hold hard, Jeeves.
Nor would a sanatorium be likely to thrive were it to become known that not only the owner, but the chief physician, had been arrested with blackened faces and charged with occasioning a breach of the peace.
It will ruin me.
Well, I'm not buying that goddamn house anyway.
That would seem to be a pity, sir.
If you would let me give Lord Chuffnell your assurance that you would buy his house and you will allow him to marry your daughter, I'm sure that he could persuade the magistrate to take a lenient view of your parts in this sorry affair.
How can you be sure of that, Jeeves? I think you will find, sir, that Lord Chuffnell is in a unique position to effect such a persuasion.
These are serious charges.
But I'm inclined to believe that you, Alfred Trotsky, and you, Frederick Aloysius Lenin, were led astray.
You are discharged.
But as for the rest of you, Boko Disraeli, Oofy Lloyd George, Barmy Lord Tennyson, and the rest, not only have you been guilty of a breach of the peace of considerable magnitude, but I also strongly suspect that you have given false names and addresses.
You are each fined the sum of £5.
I say! Quiet, Dr Crippen! I don't think there was any need to describe me as eccentric, Jeeves.
It was a word Mr Stoker would readily understand and disapprove of, sir.
It was essential that matters be brought to a speedy conclusion.
- I appreciate that - meet some strange man.
Spend the night at a hotel and you're not jealous.
Why should I be jealous? Bertie spent the night in his car.
- You don't know that.
- I do.
I saw him.
- What do you mean? - I saw everything you did in London.
- I followed you.
- That creature in the ginger beard.
- I thought it rather suited me.
- How dare you! You trust me so little you have to follow me about all day.
You worm! But you were just complaining that I trusted you too much! That's a totally different thing.
To care about me is one thing.
To put on a false beard and trail after me Yes, well, that bit of your little scheme seems to have gone rather agley.
Oh, I hardly think so, sir.
I imagine the young couple will spend much of their happily-married lives in a state of similar emotional turmoil.
- Well, wouldn't do for me, Jeeves.
- Indeed not, sir.
Pauline, Chuffnell, I was just saying to my good friend Sir Roderick here, we all ought to go down to the yacht and open one or two bottles of champagne.
Champagne? To celebrate the purchase of Chuffnell Hall.
And your engagement.
Oh, Daddy.
It all seems a bit chancy to me, Jeeves.
Not entirely, sir.
The essential goal was to demonstrate to Mr Stoker that an innocent man can sometimes come close to a criminal record.
How did you know he'd be arrested when you sent him ashore? It is often profitable to study local folklore, sir.
It seemed unlikely that with his face blackened, Mr Stoker would get very far on the night Old Boggy is said to walk.
Old Boggy is believed to knock on innocent persons' doors and, when they answer, to pull them down to hell by their garters.
Garters, eh? What a mine of information you are, Jeeves.
- Thank you, sir.
- That all went off quite well, I thought.
You'll pardon me for saying so, Mr Prosser, but it raises considerable difficulties for the Drones Club dining committee.
- The dining committee? - Rule 27 A, sir.
No member with a criminal record may offer himself for election.
Good God, you're right, Jeeves.
We've all got criminal records now.
I imagine, sir, that a further emendation of the rule book might be indicated.
In which case, I might still conceivably be persuaded to stand, Oofy.
Jeeves, I find it hard to believe that you thought it worth your while to get half the members of the Drones into the dock to ease my way onto the dining committee.
The methods were perforce draconian, sir, but the stakes were high.
The diminution in the wine bill each month should mean a considerable saving in the housekeeping.