All language subtitles for jeeves.and.wooster.s02e03.720p.bluray.x264-ingot

Have you ever noticed
a rummy thing about life, Jeeves?

No, sir.

Just when you're feeling
at your most braced about things,

something comes along
and gives it to you in the neck.

- Very true, sir.
- Mmm.

Still, there you are, I suppose.

Well, dash it, Jeeves.
I know you're disappointed.

No, no, sir.

I wanted to go to Antibes, too.

Hardly the same thing, is it?

Westcombe-on-Sea.

I'm sure it will be most agreeable, sir.

Mind the doors, please.

I mean, what can Aunt Agatha want,
Jeeves?

I could not say, sir.

It's not like her to lash out on a telegram
for me.

Indeed not, sir.

The last time she sent a telegram,
it was to a dog.

A dog, sir?

I was looking after McIntosh for her.
The poor chap had gone off his feed.

She sent a telegram from France saying,

"Eat up.
Mummy will be back on Tuesday.”

- Did the animal's appetite improve, sir?
- Not noticeably.

He ate the telegram, though.

Good afternoon, sir.
Welcome to Westcombe.

Ah, Bertie. At last.

You look very unhealthy.

Hello, Aunt Agatha.

Westcombe will be good for you.

So much better than spending your time
in stuffy London nightclubs.

- Yes, but...
- Come along, Bertie.

Now, Bertie. I have met just the girl
I should like to see you marry.

But I don't want to get married.

Her name is Aline Hemmingway,
a nice, quiet girl.

Oh, so different to those bold girls
one meets in London nowadays.

- Well, I like bold girls.
- Stop interrupting, Bertie.

Her brother is curate
at Chipley-in-the-Glen in Dorset.

We've become great friends.

But I'm young.

And he tells me that they're connected
to the Kent Hemmingways.

I want to enjoy life.

You should be breeding children, Bertie.

- I say, dash it, Aunt Agatha.
- Oh, be quiet, Bertie.

Ah, here they are.

Aline, dear, Sidney,
I want you to meet my nephew,

Bertie Wooster.

Such a surprise. I had no idea
he intended coming to Westcombe.

How do you do, Mr Wooster?

- How do you do?
- Welcome to Westcombe, Mr Wooster.

- Welcome.
- Oh, thank you. Yes.

Sidney, doesn't Mr Wooster
remind you of Canon Blenkinsop,

who came to Chipley
to preach last Easter?

Yes. Yes.
The resemblance is most striking.

The Hemmingways have kindly offered
to show you Westcombe, Bertie.

The municipal gardens,

first laid out in their
present form in 1907,

provide a haven of peace and tranquillity
for the weary traveller.

Here the spirit may be refreshed
by an abundance of flora...

I'm for it this time, Jeeves.

I trust not, sir.

I don't pretend to be Sherlock Holmes
or anything,

but I took one look at Aline Hemmingway
and said to myself,

"Bertie, that girl plays the organ
in the village church.”

An ear for music is often a blessing

whiling away the long winter evenings
around the family hearth, sir.

There isn't going to be any whiling.
Not with me and Miss Hemmingway.

- Very good, sir.
- Have you ever seen a floral clock?

- I've not had that pleasure, sir.
- Well, don't.

Have nothing to do with floral clocks.

If a friend says, "One more floral clock
can't do you any harm,” be firm.

I shall do as you recommend, sir.

- I wonder if I might crave a boon, sir.
- Crave away, Jeeves.

A family matter requires my presence
in the metropolis tomorrow.

Jeeves, you're not going to leave me
alone with the Hemmingways?

I shall be back by tea time, sir.

A niece of mine
has contracted an unfortunate alliance,

and the mother has asked
that I might reason with the child.

- Oh, very well, Jeeves.
- Thank you, sir.

- Will that be all, sir?
- Yes, that's all.

Sidney. Have you got the bags?

Why, Aline, there's Mr Wooster.

What-ho, Reverend. What-ho,
Miss Hemmingway. Mustn't keep you.

Bertie.

- Ah. What ho, Aunt Agatha.
- Seen the Hemmingways this morning?

No. I was going to talk to you about that.

They have arranged an excursion for you
to the museum in Ilmouth.

Look. I don't want to go
to any blasted museum!

Bertie!

Kindly restrain your language, Bertie.

The Ilmouth Museum is renowned
for its collection of knapped flints.

Ah, well, that's the trouble, you see.

Only last week the doctor said
I wasn't even to look at a knapped flint.

Don't talk drivel, Bertie.

And stand up straight!

My word, Aline.

What a splendid collection of
arrowheads.

"A collection of flint arrowheads

"found by Mr George Foster
in his garden in Little Ilmouth.

"Presented to the Ilmouth Museum
by his widow, Mrs Maud Foster,

"on the occasion of their wedding
anniversary, October 1922.”

- What a romantic story, Mr Wooster.
- Yes.

Ah, Jeeves, you're back. Thank heavens.

I thought I was going to be
left on my own for ever.

Just me,
Aline Hemmingway and a knapped flint.

I caught the 2:30 train, sir.

- Brandy and soda, Jeeves.
- Very good, sir.

Did you have a pleasant afternoon, sir?

You have a cruel streak, Jeeves.
I hadn't realised it before.

What blighter was it
that invented the bicycle?

The first truly rideable machine
was made by

a Mr Kirkpatrick Macmillan of
Dumfriesshire in Scotland

In 1839, I believe, sir.

Too late to do anything about it now,
I suppose.

I fear so, sir.

Mr Biffen called you up on the telephone
while you were out, sir.

Biffy? Good heavens.
What does he want?

He did not confide in me, sir,

except to say that he's staying
in Westcombe at the Hotel Riviera

and would call on you later.

Well, well, well, well. Old Biffy.

I thought he was stowed away
in Herefordshire,

wearing gaiters and prodding pigs.

It will make a welcome break
from the Hemmingways.

As to that, sir, it occurred to me
that a day at the racecourse tomorrow

might provide a pleasant interlude

and serve as a means of evading the
Reverend Hemmingway and his sister.

Jeeves, the nostrils positively quiver
like an old warhorse scenting battle.

Can you make the arrangements?

I've taken the liberty, sir,
of ordering a hamper and hiring a car.

- Well, this is the life, eh, Jeeves?
- Most agreeable, sir.

Now, you wouldn't get this in Antibes,
Jeeves.

By the by, I didn't ask how you got on
with your niece yesterday.

Not well, I fear, sir.

The young suitor with whom
she had become embroiled,

seems to be not so much inappropriate
as missing. He jilted her, I'd say.

- Ah, these young chaps, Jeeves.
- Very true, sir.

Anyway, what about
Bluebottle for the next?

I think not, sir.

The animal was standing at sixes
at last night's call over,

and has since lengthened to 15-2,

So it seems likely
that something untoward is known.

- Banana Fritter?
- An attractive proposition, sir.

A lively creature, I'm told, and although
light-boned, not lacking in stamina.

Right.

A fiver on the nose on Banana Fritter,
then, Jeeves.

- Well, they'll never find me here, Jeeves.
- I trust not, sir.

Jeeves, after yesterday's splendid day
at the races, I feel lucky.

Are you er... quite comfortable, sir?

Jeeves, I jolly well am, yes.
This might catch on.

In that case, I shall turn to the hotel,
sir, and continue with our ironing.

Oh, did we er... Did we ever hear
from Biffy again, Jeeves?

- Mr Biiffen? No, sir.
- Probably forgotten all about it.

Billy's got the worst memory
you'd ever come across, Jeeves.

Compared with Biffy, I come out as one
of the ten great minds of modern times.

Oi!

- Now...
- Oh, Mr Wooster.

Good heavens. Er... Miss Hemmingway.
Um... I was... I was just looking for you.

Oh, Mr Wooster,

I don't know how to begin.

- Something up?
- Ahem.

The fact is, Mr Wooster,

a most deplorable thing has occurred.

Yesterday I went to the races.

Oh, what an extraordinary thing.
So did I. Did you click?

If you mean was I successful,
I must answer in the negative.

Oh, Sidney.

I lost my little all, Mr Wooster.

At the racecourse,
I encountered one of my parishioners,

a Colonel Musgrave,
who happened to be holidaying there.

I er... induced him
to cash me a cheque for £100.

Well, a bit of luck, that. Finding someone
to slip it into, first crack out of the box.

I burn with shame at the confession,

but I immediately placed the £100
on Little Demon in the last race.

Little Demon?

Little Demon.

I say, you did have a day out.

The most lamentable feature
of the whole matter

is that I have no funds in the bank.

Oh, my dear chap. Well, say no more.

Um... if you can just dig me out of here?

Oh, yes.

Careful.

Mr Wooster, we can't let you lend us
all this money without any security.

Oh.

No, I insist. You don't know us.

We might be
the most dreadful confidence tricksters.

- No, really.
- No, I insist.

My pearls.

I don't know what they're worth.

They were a present from my poor father.

Now, alas, no more.

I know they must be worth
more than the amount we want.

Oh, dash it!
Look, there's no need for security.

- That sort of rot. Only too happy.-
- Mr Wooster.

We appreciate your confidence in us,
but we cannot permit this.

There.

If you could give me a receipt
as a matter of form.

Receipt? Yes, of course. Erm...

- Shall I?
- Oh, yeah. Yes, er... Hmm.

Hemmingway with two Ms.

Biffy?

Biffy.

- Biffy.
- Bertie.

- Thank God.
- Well, well.

- Don't leave me, Bertie. I'm lost.
- What do you mean "lost”?

I came out for a walk and discovered
I didn't know where I was.

I've been wandering around in circles.

Why didn't you ask
the way to your hotel?

I was going to,
then I realised I'd forgotten it's name.

I'd recognise it if I saw it.
It's got big doors and a sort of roof.

I'd give a shilling to know
the name of that hotel.

You can owe it to me.
It's the Hotel Riviera.

This is uncanny, Bertie,
do you have second sight?

No, it's the address you left with Jeeves.
What are you doing in Westcombe?

Bertie, old man,
I came here to try and forget.

You seem to have managed that all right.

Anyway, I was going to tell you, Bertie,

last year, on the liner going to New York,
I met a girl.

Well, that's interesting, Biffy.
Do you know who I saw at the Drones?

She was wonderful. We used to walk
on the boat deck after dinner.

She was on stage.
She'd saved a few pounds

and was on her way to New York
to see if she could get a job.

Her father owned a milk-walk in
Clapham. Or maybe in Cricklewood.

At least it was either a milk-walk
or a book shop.

Yes, well, easily confused.

I'm trying to make you understand
she came of good middle-class stock,

the sort of wife any man
would be proud of.

- Well, whose wife was she?
- Nobody's. That's the whole point.

I want her to be mine. And I lost her.

- What do you mean? You had a quarrel?
- No, I literally lost her.

Oh. Well, there you are, Biffy.

That's it! That's it. That's my hotel.

Come in, Bertie.
I want to tell you the whole story.

Actually...

- And I shall wear my pearls, Thompson.
- Yes, madam.

Pardon me, madam.
Have you moved them?

Oh.

They've gone.

My pearls have gone!

Someone has stolen my pearls!

I hold you responsible, Mr Bellwether.

You are responsible
for employing your staff.

You are responsible for their honesty,
or lack of it!

We can handle this discreetly,
Mrs Gregson.

Staff will be searched.
There's no reason to call the police.

The police have already been called!

Something has to be done.

Oh, do be quiet, girl!

Telephone for Mrs Chumley-Bassett.

The last I ever saw of her
was in the custom sheds in New York.

We were behind a pile of trunks
and I'd just asked her to be my wife,

and she'd just said she would,

when a most offensive blighter
in a peaked cap

came up to talk about some cigarettes
he'd found in the bottom of my trunk.

It was getting pretty late by then,
so I told Mabel to go on to her hotel

and I'd come round next day
and take her to lunch.

And I haven't set eyes on her since.

You mean she wasn't at the hotel?

Well, probably she was, I don't know.

You don't mean you never turned up?

To put it in a word, by the time I'd done
heavy explaining about the cigarettes,

I'd forgotten the name of the hotel.

- It's all right. You could make enquiries.
- No, I couldn't make enquiries.

The fact is I'd forgotten her name.

Dash it! How could you forget her name?
You told it to me a moment ago.

- Muriel or something.
- Mabel. It's her surname I'd forgotten.

But half a second. You must have told
her your name, she could trace you.

Exactly. She knows my name and where
I live, but I haven't heard from her.

I suppose when I didn't
turn up at the hotel,

she thought I'd changed my mind
and dumped her.

Go round the side.

This is absolutely disgraceful!

Superintendent, I am a taxpayer.

I request the police
to investigate a simple crime

and what response do I get? None!

It so happens that my late husband

was a good friend
of your chief constable.

Now will you do your duty
and arrest that girl?!

An extraordinary ruckus
going on out there, Jeeves.

Indeed, sir.
Mrs Gregson has lost her pearls.

Really? Pearls, eh?

- That's a bit of a coincidence.
- Sir?

The Reverend and his sister
leaving her pearls with me.

- Good news, Mr Wooster.
- Wonderful news.

I'm able to repay the money
you so generously lent me.

- Well, that's good, isn't it?
- We're so relieved.

If you could just let us
have my pearls back.

- We have the receipt.
- Of course. Jeeves, the pearls.

So, had a bit of luck, eh?
Not on the gee-gees, I hope.

Ah, there you are.

Thank you.

Oh. I'm...

I'm sorry, Mr Wooster.
It... it doesn't seem to...

Jeeves! The pearls have gone.

- Good heavens, sir.
- Whatever can have happened to them?

Whatever could have happened to them?

Echo answers, "Whatever, sir?”

This is a most serious development,
Mr Wooster.

Well, yes.

A poor parson is scarcely in a position
to bear such a loss.

No, no. I can see that.

The pearls were valued at some £3,000,
Mr Wooster.

What a ghastly coincidence. Aunt Agatha
and I both losing pearl necklaces.

Not entirely a coincidence, sir.

I suspected that something was amiss

when I saw the Reverend Hemmingway
selling tips at the racecourse yesterday.

Selling tips? Oh, what rot.
Men of the cloth don't sell tips, Jeeves.

You're allowing your imagination
to go overboard. What am I going to do?

Write out a cheque for £3,000, sir.

Meanwhile, if you can engage them
in conversation for as long as possible,

I think I may be able to effect a solution.

Mr Wooster. I trust you have searched
the innermost recesses of your heart?

Yes, I bally well have.

And the innermost recesses
of my bank account.

I'm sure you will find your reward in
heaven.

No chance of anything a bit earlier,
I suppose?

Sergeant. A moment of your time.

Oh, Mr Wooster.

I feel so guilty.

You have shown
a humble and contrite heart, Mr Wooster.

Well, it's what we Woosters
are known for.

Oh, er... Don't go.

Oh, we must, Mr Wooster.

Are you sure you won't have a snifter?

I have to get back to
my flock by tomorrow.

Shearing time, is it?

Most amusing, Mr Wooster.

I was just saying that the Hemmingways
ought to stay for a drink.

We really have to go.

Your jewel case, Miss Hemmingway.

It's only an empty box.

Nevertheless, miss.

- Oh.
- Now we really must go.

Ah. Miss Hemmingway, I believe.

If I might suggest a course of action,
Sergeant,

you may find it worth your while to
examine the contents of that jewel case.

This?

- Well, it's empty.
- Just an empty box.

I'll just take a look, then.

All right. Allow me, Aline.

- What's going on?
- Jeeves!

- It's the pearls.
- All right, Soapy.

- The game's up.
- Oh, gawd.

I said he couldn't be
as gormless as he looked.

You'll be charged with
obtaining money by deception,

and the theft of a pearl necklace,
the property of Mrs Agatha Gregson.

Prop... What do you mean...
These are Aunt Agatha's?

I took the liberty of abstracting them
from Miss Hemmingway's luggage, sir.

- That's illegal, that is!
- Come along.

I'll have the law on you,
leading a girl on like that.

Come along.

"Don't worry about this one”, you said,
"it will be easy.” You never listen to me.

Let me get this straight, Jeeves.

They've stolen Aunt Agatha's pearls,
and then stolen them again from me?

Indeed, sir. The Reverend Hemmingway

Is a confidence trickster
known as Soapy Sid.

He and his wife work their way
along the south coast every year.

- Wife? What wife?
- The lady calling herself Aline, sir.

I think you may be wrong there. Aline
Hemmingway was keen to marry me.

Mrs Hemmingway was responsible
for removing the pearls from their case

while you were writing
a receipt for her, sir.

Good Lord.

Good Lord!

I mean to say good lord, Jeeves.

Well, I shall enjoy this.

- Mrs Gregson...
- I am asking you to arrest the girl.

- There is no evidence...
- Evidence! Search her room.

What ho, Aunty.

We have searched her room.
There is nothing...

And stand up straight.

Is that the way they teach you to stand
in the police force nowadays?

- Anything I can do, Aunt Agatha?
- Yea. You can leave.

I have enough to bear
without your imbecilities.

Your chief constable should hear of this.
What is your name?

There's something
the matter with that girl.

Remorse. She stole my pearls.

Do you refuse to give me your name?

Pearls. Well, that's a coincidence.
These aren't the little chaps, are they?

No, of course not.

Where...

I got them from your friends,
the Hemmingways.

The Hemmingways? The Hemmingways?

How did they come into
the possession of the Hemmingways?

They jolly well stole them. That's how.
They are jewel thieves.

- No, no, no, no, nO.
- Yes, yes.

You do realise that if you'd succeeded
in getting me to marry that girl,

I'd have had children who would have
sneaked my watch while on my knee.

- Now, Bertie...
- I'm not a complaining sort of chap,

as a rule, but I must say that in future,

you might be a bit more careful how you
go about egging me on to marry females.

Sir?

The engagement
is announced between Charles Edward,

only son of Mr EC Biffen and Mrs Biffen,

of 11 Penslow Square, Mayfair...

It's busy!

And Honoria Jane Louise, only daughter
of Sir Roderick and Lady Glossop,

of 6B Harley Street, W1.

Honoria!

Indeed it is, sir.

What on Earth is Biffy doing
getting engaged to Honoria Glossop?

I could not say, sir.

There probably are fellows
who get engaged

to this Glossop menace and like it,

tough, hearty chaps with strong chins
and glittering eyes,

but Biffy's not one of them.

Assuredly not, sir.

Will that be all, sir?

Er, yes.

Right ho, Jeeves.

What ho, Biffy.

- Congratulations are in order, I hear.
- Thanks.

Bertie.

Still here, old fruit.

Oh, nothing.

- Is it true you were engaged to Honoria?
- It is.

How on Earth did you manage
to get out...

I mean... What was the nature of the
tragedy that prevented your marriage?

Biffy, old mate, as man to man,
do you want to haul out of this thing?

Bertie, old cock,
as one friend to another, I do.

How the dickens did you get into it?

It just sort of happened. You know
how it is when your heart's broken,

you get absent-minded and cease
to exercise proper precautions.

- Yes, I know.
- I want you to tell me the procedure.

- You mean for sort of edging out?
- Exactly.

- I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings.
- Of course not.

But what do you recommend?

Sir Roderick discovered there was
a modicum of insanity in my family,

So the old boy came out to dinner
to give me the once-over

and Jeeves arranged things so he went
away convinced I was completely off it.

I see.

The trouble is
there isn't any insanity in my family.

Really?

Just my luck. I've got the whole Glossop
clan coming to lunch with me tomorrow.

Maybe they want to test me
the same way they did you.

- The whole tribe of them? Honoria too?
- The whole lot.

Good Lord.

Biffy, I tell you what,
I'll roll up to that lunch.

If he finds out that you're my pal,
he might forbid the banns right away.

There's something in that.
Awfully sporting of you, Bertie.

Well, when it comes to helping a chum,
we Woosters have no thought of self.

Meanwhile, I'll consult Jeeves.
He's never failed me yet.

♪ Any time you hear the thunder
rumble down

♪ Don't let hope tumble down

♪ Or castles crumble down

♪ If the blues appear
just make the best of them

♪ Just make a jest of them

♪ Don't be possessed of them

♪ At the risk of sounding
rather platitudinous

♪ Here's what I believe
should be the attitude in us

♪ A sunny disposish
will always see you through

♪ When up above the skies are black
instead of being blue

♪ Mr Trouble always
makes our faces long

♪ But a smile will
have him saying so long...

Do you know what I look for in a song,
Jeeves?

Er... not precisely, sir, no.
I have often speculated.

A spot of philosophy, Jeeves.
Something to make you think.

Just you listen to this.

♪ It really doesn't pay to be a gloomy pill

♪ it's absolutely most ridic

♪ Positively sil

♪ The rain may pitter, patter

♪ It really doesn't matter

♪ For life can be delish
with a sunny disposish

Most... heart-warming, sir.

Mind you, there are times when it's
difficult not to be gloomy and pill-like.

Very true, sir.

It is my friend Biffy Biffen.

Old Biffy is in the same posish with
Honoria Glossop as I was a month back.

In short, Jeeves, he needs your help.

I fear that it is hardly my place,
Mr Wooster,

to intervene
in a private matter affecting...

- Oh, come!
- No, sir, I would be taking a liberty.

Jeeves, it's not still the south of France
you're mooning about, is it?

No, sir, I had put the continent
quite from my mind.

Will that be all, sir?

Yes, yes. That will be all, Jeeves.

No, no. No.

It's Biffy, isn't?
What have you got against old Biffy?

I'm sure Mr Biffen has
many fine qualities, sir.

Oh. Very well, then.

If you're not going to save a fellow
creature, I suppose I can't make you.

You'll look silly, when I get old Biffy out
of the soup without your assistance.

I shall try to bear up
under the shame of it, sir.

Yes, well. I'm going back into
that sitting room now, Jeeves,

and I'm going to put in
some pretty tense thinking.

- Very good, sir. Shall I wake you at six?
- Er, yes.

No, no, Jeeves. There will be no need.
The brain will be racing.

As you say, sir.

Yes. Well, then.

The Wooster grey matter
has been well and truly raked, Oofy.

Got to come up with something brilliant,
otherwise poor Biffy is for the high jump.

He'll forget
to turn up at the wedding, anyway.

True, true.

Remember he forgot his name
and had to look it up in the club register?

That's right and nobody would tell him
what letter it began with.

I say, Bertie.

- Hello, Barmy, what are you up to?
- Nothing. Nothing.

I say, Bertie, do you like flowers?

I like nothing better, Barmy,
why do you ask?

Would you like to smell
my buttonhole, then?

- Not particularly, no.
- Oh, go on. it's special.

- Very well.
- But you'll have to stand up.

Right. Would you like to smell
my buttonhole, Bertie?

- Yes. You've said all that.
- Oh. All right.

Well, smell it, then.

I forgot to fill it up. Hang on a minute.

This is what I love about
Bunny's wheezes.

- Good one, is it?
- Terrific.

- I think I'll toddle off home.
- No, you simply have to see this.

Right. Bertie, would you like
to smell my... No.

Would you like to smell my buttonhole?
Yes. Well, smell it, then.

That's very nice,
Barmy, thank you.

Good Lord.

Out of the mouths of babes and whatsit.

Er, Barmy, old thing.

Hello.

Biffy, I just want you to know
that your troubles are at an end.

Good afternoon.

Mr Bertram Wooster, sir.

- What ho, what ho, what ho.
- Bertie.

Biffy, do you like flowers?

- Eh?
- Smell this.

What the devil are you doing?

- I'm all wet.
- Calm yourself, Biffy, old egg.

This was not a jest to pass an idle hour,
this was a demonstration.

Are you suggesting I squirt Sir Roderick?

Absolutely. Squirt him
as he has never before been squirted.

I guarantee that in under three seconds,

the idea will dawn on him that your
presence in the family is not required.

Oh, but I can't...

It's them! It's them. Erm...

Talk to them while I go and change
my shirt. This one is all wet!

Sir Roderick and Lady Glossop
and Miss Honoria Glossop.

Good afternoon, I trust...

It's that Bertie Wooster, Daddy.

What?!

- What ho, Glossops all.
- What are you doing here, Bertie?

Me? I'm just here as a sort of friend
of the accused, as it were.

- You are a friend of Mr Biffen?
- Old Biffy. Yes.

Known each other for years. He asked
me to join you mangling a spot of lunch.

I say, it's a long time
since we met, though.

Nevertheless, I remember you
most distinctly, Mr Wooster.

- Has there been some sort of accident?
- Oh, no, no. Nothing serious.

Old Biffy just had some sort of fit or
seizure, and knocked over the table.

Fit?

Or seizure. Foaming at the mouth.

Oh, Bertie!

Sorry. I had to go and change my shirt.

I got all wet, you know.

Are you working, Bertie?

Working?!

The last time we met, you told me
you were thinking about getting a job.

Oh, yes. Well, still thinking.
Still thinking away.

Ah.

Erm... like flowers,
do you, Sir Roderick?

Flowers?

You know, like Biffy's got
in his buttonhole.

Let Sir Roderick have a sniff, Biffy.

I don't want to.

Daddy's thinking about
buying Charles's place in Herefordshire.

- If Mr Biffen will agree to sell.
- He will.

Did you get that place from your uncle?

Yes.

Unhappy memories for Biffy, that place.

Oh, really? Why is that?

It was Biffy's old Uncle Harold who used
to read Shakespeare to his rabbits.

I see.

Not that I've got anything
against Shakespeare myself.

I'm never happier than when curled up
with the works of the old chap.

- Are you a theatre lover, Mr Wooster?
- Oh, rather.

One of my most treasured memories

is of Irving playing Hamlet
at the Lyceum.

Really? Who won?

Why don't we all go to the theatre
tomorrow night?

Oh, yes. I thirst for culture, Mr Biffen.

Ditto, ditto. Yes. Anyway, to return to
Sir Roderick and flowers, Biffy...

- Eh?
- Flowers.

- Sir Roderick, he likes them.
- Whatever is the matter?

Let Sir Roderick
sniff your buttonhole, Biffy.

Well, go on, Biffy, do it.

I can't, Bertie, I can't.

You can. Be brave. Do it.

- What are you doing?
- He's gone mad.

Bertie!

- Oh, Bertie. You are an old silly.
- Eh?

It's heartbreaking for you, Bertie,
and I'm touched,

but my parents would never hear of it.

- Hear of what?
- It would be better if you got a job, even.

My dear, old Honoria, I'm quite in a fog.

Come on, Bertie.

Trying to make Biffy look more
of an idiot than nature intended,

Just so you'll be in with a chance again.

No, no, no, not

They make a nice display, don't they, sir?

Ha! Don't talk to me
about flowers, Jeeves.

I now know how a general feels when
he plans some great strategic movement

and his troops let him down
at the eleventh hour.

Biffy would not squirt the squirter,
Jeeves.

A somewhat fascinating young
gentleman, Mr Biffen, sir.

The worst of it is that I've got to go
to the theatre with them tomorrow,

and Honoria seems to think
that I'm aching to marry her again.

Indeed, sir.

Dash it, Jeeves,
you are positively heartless!

I'm sorry to hear of
Miss Glossop's misapprehension, sir,

but as to Mr Biffen, surely Mr Biffen
has only himself to blame

If he has entered upon matrimonial
obligations which do not please him, sir.

Oh, you're talking absolute rot, Jeeves.

You know as well as I do
that Honoria Glossop is an act of God.

You may as well blame a fellow
for getting run over by a truck.

Besides, he was in no position to resist,
he'd lost the only girl he ever loved.

How is this, sir?

Apparently he fell in love with a girl
he met on the boat going to New York.

They parted at customs, arranging
to meet the next day at her hotel.

The next day, the only thing he could
remember was that her name was Mabel.

Clean forgotten her hotel, everything.

You can't go scouring New York
looking for a girl called Mabel.

I appreciate the difficulty, sir.
I did not know of this before.

I don't suppose
anyone knows of it except me.

Did you say that Mr Biffen
was arranging a theatre party

- for Sir Roderick and Lady Glossop, sir?
- And Honoria.

If I might suggest, sir,

the new entertainment at the Palace
is reputed to be well worth a visit.

Well, yes. We'll never get tickets for
that, it's an absolute riot, I've heard.

- What's the thing called?
- Woof Woof!, sir.

If you were to leave it to me, sir.

I may have some small influence,

which would enable me
to acquire the necessary tickets.

But he's travelling incognito

because he smuggled his St Bernard

through the customs
and they're on his trail.

How romantic. I'll do anything
for a man with a St Bernard.

♪ Woof, woof

♪ He digs inside, it makes you sing

♪ Woof, woof, it's more darting

♪ Than the starting upon the wing

♪ It's the call of nature

♪ To lovers every day

♪ It'll can make rate your

♪ Movie hero, down to zero

♪ Woof, woof, it comes sounding

♪ Through the pounding of your heart

♪ Woof, woof

♪ Doting mothers
can't keep lovers far apart

Hey, girls, here comes Lady Ermintrude.

Has she got anyone with her?

Anyone with a St Bernard?

I didn't see any St Bernard,

but she's got a man with her.

Oh, no!

Yes, and he's certainly made me go
woof, woof!

It's her.

He's absolutely gorgeous.

♪ Woof, woof

♪ Chaps in blazers just amaze us
with their spark

♪ Woof, woof... I

Mabel! Mabel!

It's me, Biffy.

Mind my leg.

Biffy. Biffy!

Mabel, I looked everywhere for you.

Mabel.

Biffy.

Right across the orchestra pit.

That all sounds highly satisfactory, sir.

Did you know Mabel was in the show?

Oh, yes, sir. I happen to be acquainted
with the future Mrs Biffen.

Ah, so you know all about that business
in New York?

Yes, indeed, sir. It was for that reason

that I was not altogether
favourably disposed towards Mr Biffen.

I mistakenly supposed that he had been
trifling with the young girl's affections.

But when you told me the true facts,
I endeavoured to make amends.

He certainly owes you, Jeeves. But how
did you know the girl in the first place?

She is my niece, sir.

Good heavens, Jeeves!

Yes, indeed, sir.

- Was that the doorbell, Jeeves?
- It certainly gave that impression, sir.

- Who could that be at this time of night?
- I shall endeavour to ascertain, sir.

I wish to see Mr Wooster, Jeeves.

I regret to say that Mr Wooster is asleep,
Mrs Gregson.

Oh, how very thoughtless of him!

What is the matter with young people,
Jeeves?

I can't say, madam.

I have heard
that another of Mr Wooster's friends

has disgraced himself at the theatre
this evening.

Most unfortunate, Mrs Gregson.

However, this does mean that the
Glossop girl is once again on the market.

Would you kindly tell Mr Wooster

that I am willing to overtook his conduct
at Westcombe-on-Sea,

to help him bring matters with Miss
Glossop to a satisfactory conclusion.

I'm sure that Mr Wooster
will be most grateful, madam.

And so he ought to be.

I shall call again first thing.

I shall tell Mr Wooster, madam.

That was Mrs Gregson, sir.

I heard, Jeeves, hence the packing.

- Are we embarking on a journey, all?
- We are, Jeeves.

The train for Antibes leaves in an hour.
We are going to be on it.

If Aunt Agatha
thinks I'm going to wait around

and see Honoria Glossop
lead me trussed,

stuffed and garnished with bacon
to the altar, Jeeves, well...

she's got several other thinks coming.

Very good, sir. if you'll allow me
to complete the packing, sir.