All language subtitles for Heavy Weather (1995)

Ah, Beach.

Your whiskey, Mr Galahad.

Good man, Beach.

Do you happen to know where my sister is?

Lady Constance is in the drawing room, sir.

Alone?

Yes sir.
Soda, sir?

No thank you Beach,
I think for what's ahead of me...

Tell me Beach,

who was the chap who did
the "far, far better thing"?

Sydney Carton,
going to the guillotine, sir.

Oh, well.

Always someone with more
to lose, I suppose.

No risk of my brother Clarence
butting in, is there?

I think not, sir.

His Lordship is with the Empress.

Coast clear, your Lordship?

Coast clear!

- Commence the operation, your Lordship?
- Yes?

Commence, ah...

- commence!
- Look, I say!

- I wonder if I'm the right sort of chap
- Carbody!

- Car-mody, your Lordship.
- What!

My name is Carmody.

I don't care what your name is.
Commence!

How did he do,
how did he do?

15 seconds, my Lord.

In my opinion, not good enough.
They could have poisoned the pig by then.

You hear that, Pirbright? Not good enough!

Huh?

Pilbeam knows, you see?
Pilbeam is a...

- Is a...
- Private invetigator, milord.

Argus Enquiries Agency.

Huh!

I've hired him to watch
for any move from Parsloe,

I'm telling you the man
will stop at nothing

to get that gold medal, so!

What do we call it?

Vigilance, my lord.

Vigilance, Pirbright!
Understand?

Oh, aye!

You cannot be vigilant lying down there!

No, milud!

Where's Carbody?

Carmody, milord,
Hugo Carmody!

Good heavens, you fool!
Come out of there!

You could be infecting the Empress!

May I remind you, my lord, that I am
supposed to be your secretary!

Doesn't stop you carrying germs.

Pirbright, get him out of there.

I resign!

- Aargh!
- I resign!

I resign!

I resign!

Never liked the fellow.

Not sound on pigs.

Good heavens,
what's the matter with Hugo?

He seems terribly upset.

I don't like the way
that man smiles at you.

Oh Ronnie!
Don't tell me you're jealous of Hugo!

I'm jealous of everyone, you know I am.

Well you mustn't be,
you did promise me you'd try!

I know, I know.

It's just that I love you so much
and I'm just so dashed...

short.

You're just the right height.

And...pink.

My favorite color.

You're a precious little pink
cherub and I love you.

You really do?

Of course I do.

I wish you didn't have to go away.

Oh, can't he find
another best man?

Oh I can't let old George down.

- It'll only be for one night.
- I know.

But I'm scared of this place,

it's so big and old.

Yes, I suppose it is a fairly
decent-sized old shack.

I've never really given the thing
much thought before.

But there's nothing in it
to scare anyone.

There's your Aunt Constance
for a start.

Look, if Aunt Constance gives
any trouble while I'm away

you have my permission
to punch her in the eye!

I cannot believe that your proposal
is a serious one.

Yes, Connie, it is.

You really expect me to give my blessing
to a marriage between my nephew,

and a chorus-girl?!

Sue is a very beautiful chorus-girl.

Galahad, I am not a snob.

Oh Connie, you are.

I know my nephew's station in life,

and I know hers.

And never the twain can
meet in matrimony.

Why not? After all,
it was very nearly

the twain of myself
and Sue's mother.

I don't want Ronnie to make
the mistake I did.

You mean the mistake you
would have made

if you hadn't been
shipped off to South Africa.

And anyway,

your early life, or even later life,
is not a model I could recommend others to follow.

Which brings us right back

to my memoirs.

You really mean to publish
that shameful book?

I have an advance
from Mammoth Publications.

They can't wait for the copies
to roll off the press.

You remember dear old
Lady Wensleydale's opus,

"Sixty Years Near The
Knuckle in Mayfair"?

Over 100,000 copies they've sold,
be chicken feed compared to this.

You realize we will lose
every friend we have?

A small price to pay for giving the world
a great work of literature.

Galahad,

I appeal to your better nature.

Connie I don't have one.

At the very least you will agree to excise
all mention of Sir Gregory Parsloe!

- Sir Gregory Parsloe?
- Yes.

He features in some of the juiciest bits.

Let me read you about what happened
after Buffy Bango's party

at the Club Bohemia in '92.

"Young Gregory, needless to say,
was absolutely..."

...do not wish to hear.

At the next election, Sir
Gregory is planning to stand

as the Conservative
and Unionist candidate.

Wouldn't put money on it.
You'd best agree to my terms.

I cannot give this marriage my blessing.

They don't want your blessing,
what Ronnie wants is his money.

He can't marry without it.

Clarence is his trustee.

You have told Clarence not to pay up,
and Clarence is afraid of you.

Afraid!
Of me?

I may influence Clarence
in some ways, yes.

But only because
he needs me to.

He needs you to let him
give Ronnie the money.

If I do, you will agree
not to publish the book.

For those two,
I will make the supreme sacrifice.

I cannot speak for Ronald's mother,
you realize that.

Speak for yourself.

By the time Julia gets home, they will,
with any luck, be spliced.

It's against my judgement,
my beliefs, and my principles.

- In other words, it's a deal.
- Yes.

He can't do this to me!
It's monstrous!

He's taken the advance,
he can't back out now.

He's returned the advance, Lord Tilbury.

I don't want the advance,
I want the profits from the book!

Er, I mean, uh,

I want the public to have the book.

He won't get away with this.

The "Honorable" Galahad Threepwood
will learn he's met his match.

Authors!
They won't get the better of me.

The certainly do not,
Lord Tilbury.

What else?

I have the new editions of our weekly
papers, if you'd like to peruse them.

Aye.
Tiny Tots.

That should soothe
the jangled nerves.

Read me "Uncle Woggly's Advice
To His Chicks".

"Uncle Woggly To His Chicks"

"Well, Chickakiddies,
how are you all?"

"Minding what Nursie says
and eating your spinach?"

"This week, Uncle Woggly is going
to put you onto a good thing."

"We all want to make a spot
of easy money, don't we?"

"Well here's the low down,
straight from the horse's mouth."

"All you've got to do
is to get hold of some mug"

"and lure him into betting"

"that a quart whisky bottle holds
more than a quart of whisky."

"Sounds rummy, what?"

Who wrote this?

Who wrote it?

Well it's usually the Reverend
Aubrey Sellick.

He wrote that?!?

Reverend Sellick is on holiday,
Lord Tilbury.

In his absence,
Mr Bodkin is deputizing.

Who is it?

Monty Bodkin, milord.

Come in, Bodkin.

Good morning,
good morning, good morning.

Nice day.

- Never mind the day.
- Right ho.

- Don't say "right ho".
- Right ho.

I wondered if you'd had a chance
to look at my Uncle Woggly.

A little of it.

Perhaps you'd be good enough
to read it to me.

From...

- there.
- Right ho.

Oh yes,
jolly clever, this.

"First you fill the bottle."

"This gives you your quart."

"Then you shove the cork in
and turn the bottle upside-down"

"and you'll find that there's a sort of
bulging-in part at the bottom."

"Well, slosh some whisky into that
and there you are."

"Because the bottle is now holding more
than a quart, and you scoop the stakes."

Oh you're not worried about
its not being accurate?

Because I had it on
the highest authority

from an old boy called
Galahad Threepwood.

Galahad Threepwood!

Lord Emsworth's brother.

Well I can tell you
Galahad Threepwood was a

great man about the
metropolis at one time,

and you can rely absolutely...

What the devil do you mean,
you imbecile!

Putting that tripe
in Tiny Tots!

You don't like it?

Wrong tone, do you think?

Wrong tone!

Mothers all over Britain

are reading that balderdash
to their children!

You probably cost us
10,000 subscribers.

Yes, by Jove,
I see what you mean.

Could quite easily cause
alarm and despondency.

Well I can only say
I'm sorry.

You can only say you're sorry?

You can get to blazes
out of my employ!

Well that sounds like the sack.

Don't tell me what you're
getting at is the sack?

Out!

Aren't you gone yet?!

The fact is...that for
private and personal reasons

I particularly wanted to
hold on to this job for a year.

Have you met a girl called
Gertrude Butterwick?

Won't bother you with
the whole story now, but

unless I remain in your employment
until the middle of next June,

my life will be a blank and
all my hopes and dreams

GET OUT!!!

Pip-pip.

He got it
from Galahad Threepwood.

Well I'm not beaten yet.

If Threepwood thinks he's safe in...

Blandings Castle,

he doesn't know
Lord Tilbury.

Monty!

Hugo!
What brings you to these commercial parts?

Chasing a job, old chap.

- What brings you?
- Just been chased from one.

You don't mean you
had a job?

You're rolling in the stuff.

That's got nothing to do with it.
There are wheels within wheels.

I'm off to the Drones.

- I'll join you.
- Good-o.

Did I hear you were at Blandings?

Yes, I was Lord Emsworth's secretary.

- Been fired?
- Resigned.

- On account of the swine.
- Milady Constance?

Not exactly, no.

I say...

Hugo, when did
you leave Blandings?

Couple of days ago?

I wonder if Fate has just
tapped my shoulder?

- You don't mean you're going to apply for the job?
- Well why shouldn't I?

I'll telephone my Uncle Gregory,
get him to put in a word.

Sir Gregory Parsloe? Whoo hoo,
I'd forget about that, Monty.

Well he and Emsworth are neighbors,
used to get on like a house on fire.

Ah, how long since
you've been there?

Few years, I suppose.
What's blown up since then?

In one short and very
repellent word...

pigs.

- More, Sir Gregory?
- More?

Oh yes, more.
Much, much more!

Old Emsworth's in for
a shock this year.

This year, that gold medal
will be mine.

More, Pirbright, more!

- Pardon, m'lud?
- More!

Excuse me, milord?

Lady Constance requests that
you would step up to the tree

and have
a word, milord.

- A word?
- Yes, milord.

What about?

Her Ladyship did not
confide in me, milord.

Have I done anything, Beach?

Not to my knowledge, milord.

Now look at the bright side.

I shall stand at the altar next to George
and pick up some tips when you and I get married.

- If we ever do.
- Of course we will.

Uncle Clarence has said
I can have the money.

What can possibly go wrong?

- I don't know, I just...
- Well then don't be so...

you know...

begins with an 'M'...
Mmm...

Morbid.
Morbid!

There's no need for it.

Goodbye, Sue.

Goodbye, Ronnie.

Beg pardon.
On watch.

His Lordship's orders.

Why did he smile at you?

- Oh, Ronnie!
- Sorry! Sorry!

I'm not jealous, I'm not!

Ronnie.

Oh, for goodness sake, Clarence!

You're all pig!

- What?
- Well look at you!

And it's nearly lunchtime!

Oh!

You mean I should wash my hands.

And your face.
And change your clothes.

And your shoes!

You really are worse
than a baby, you know.

Goodbye Aunt Constance,
Uncle Clarence.

- Goodbye, Ronnie dear.
- Goodbye.

Very sweet, that Smith girl.

Her name is Brown.

I remember her mother.

Galahad took me to the Tivoli
when she was singing there,

little bit of a thing
in pink tights

with the jolliest smile
you ever saw.

How did her song go?

Tum, tum,
tumpty tum. Or,

was it,

Umpty dumpty,
tiddly pum?

Oh, never mind
how it went.

The only thing I have to say
about Miss Brown's mother

is that I wish she'd
never had a daughter.

- Now Clarence,
- Yes, Connie.

I have some good news for you.

I had a telephone call this morning
from Sir Gregory Parsloe.

The only possible good
news from Parsloe

is that he has decided
to run up the white flag

and admit the Empress
is champion pig.

You are a perfect imbecile
about Sir Gregory.

He rang, not about pigs,

- but about his nephew.
- Nephew? What nephew?

- Young Montague Bodkin.
- Who?

- You remember him.
- No.

- He was here often enough as a boy.
- Oh.

Sir Gregory asked me,
as a personal favor,

to engage him as
your new secretary.

Well I'm dashed,

the nerve of the man!

And I said I'd be delighted.

- What?
- I said I'd be delighted.

- You don't mean you've done it?
- Certainly!

You're letting a nephew of Parsloe's
loose in Blandings Castle

two weeks before
the Agricultural Show?

He arrives tomorrow

by the 2:45.

Now...

wash and brush up!

It's time for lunch.

Ah, Miss Brown.

While Ronnie's away
you must make yourself at home.

I believe,
in the servant's hall,

there are some gramophone
records of music hall turns.

I'm sure Beach would
allow you to borrow them.

Oh yes, I remember
young Bodkin well.

He's Parsloe's nephew.

Well yes but, shouldn't have thought
the sort of fellow to nobble a pig.

Well believe me,
I shall be watching him.

Oh yes,
tell Pirbright to lurk as well,

disguised as a tree
or a pail of potato-peel, eh?

Clarence?

I thought I told you to
wash and change for lunch!

What a curse meals are!

If people would only stick to drinking,
doctors would very soon be out of business.

Did I ever tell you
about old Freddy Parson, the Hedgehog?

Hedgehog?

Freddy Parson lived almost entirely
on Scotch whisky.

In the year '98, he was staying
with his brother Eustace, in France.

Eustace was a teetotaler.

He had a very lazy chef,

who found a squashed hedgehog
and served it up for lunch.

Eustace, the teetotaler, turned Nile-green
and was on the danger list for a week.

Old Freddie, on the other hand,
being healthily pickled with alcohol,

not only did he thrive on the dish,

he had it served up cold the next day!

Clarence!

Monty Bodkin! Monty Bodkin!

No Bodkin shall
get the better of...ah!

Hello, Miss Smith.
Excuse me.

Must prepare for lunch.
My sister, you know.

See you at the...

in the...

Hope so.

- Gally.
- Sue, dear girl, join me.

Did I hear the
name Monty Bodkin?

Yes, Connie has engaged him
as Clarence's secretary.

He's coming here tomorrow.

Monty's coming here?

Oh Gally, what a mess!

My dear child,
what's the matter?

Ronnie's the matter,
you know how jealous he gets.

But where does Monty Bodkin
come into it?

He'll drive Ronnie crazy.

He'll come bouncing in and talk of old
times and probably kiss me on the cheek.

And he'll let it all out.
That's Monty, he's bound to.

Sue, my dear girl, I'm stuck in
the middle of a thick pea-souper.

- Let what all out?
- That I used to be engaged to him.

Ronnie will never
believe it's all over.

Oh Gally, you know
what Ronnie's like.

What am I going to do?

Ah.

Don't forget,
the 2:45.

It'll get you back here
before Ronnie arrives from Norfolk.

No-one will ever know you've gone,
and Connie is lunching out today.

Thank you Gally,
you do get wonderful ideas.

Been in many a scrape myself. Don't fall
for young Monty all over again, will you?

Don't be silly,
we're just like old friends.

- Bye, Gally!
- Bye, dear girl!

Bye!

Yes?

- Blandings Castle?
- Eh?

- Blandings Castle!
- You can't be.

This is Blandings Castle.

- What?
- Eh?

May I speak with
the Honorable Galahad Threepwood?

With Gally?

May I speak with him?

Yes.

If you like.

Don't have to ask me.

You do see, don't you,
Monty darling?

- "Monty darling"
- Monty!

Don't worry Sue, when I
get down to Blandings

we'll be perfect strangers.
We must, I know.

It seems so rotten,
deceiving Ronnie...

Got to get used to that.
Secret of a happy and successful marriage.

Isn't life rummy?

Here are you and I, lunching
together like the dickens,

just as if two years
had never passed.

- Well they have passed.
- Oh, I know, I know, I know.

And all the time you're planning
to get hitched to Ronnie Fish

while I am heart and soul in favor of
an early union with Gertrude Butterwick.

- What?
- Butterwick.

- Butterwick. B for blister, U for ukulele,
- You mean you're engaged too?

Well, sort of on appro.

- You mean she can't make up her mind?
- Oh, she can, yes.

- Her father can't.
- Why not?

Well he's a very queer bird.

The first thing he did when
I asked for his daughter's hand

was to ask me
how I earned a living.

- That must have been a bit of a shock.
- It was.

And a still greater one when he went on
to add that the wedding bells

would never ring out
unless I got a job

and held onto it for a year.

Oh you poor lamb,
how perfectly awful!

Ghastly!
I couldn't believe the fellow was serious.

He was.

Somehow I've got to scoop her in.
She's quite the angel, absolutely.

Snag is, I've already
had one false start.

I made rather a bloomer
in the Uncle Woggly department.

So I've got to hold this
Blandings job for a year.

Oh I think you'll be able to.

- Do you really?
- Yes!

I gather the old boy's gone porcine.

I've been reading up about pigs;
I know all sorts of interesting facts by heart.

Well then you'll have no trouble at all.

Oh, you've cheered me up, young Sue.

You always did.

You never fail to spot the bluebird.

Look, I don't want to hurry you
but my sands are running out a bit.

My train goes at 2:45, pip emma.

You're going to Blandings today?

- On the 2:45?
- That's right.

- But I'm going back on the 2:45.
- Well that's fine, we'll travel together.

- But we mustn't!
- Why not? Nobody's going to see us.

I must get back to the flat to pick up
some things. We'll meet on the train.

Pleasant chap to Market Blandings,
cold aloofness from there on.

Waiter!
L'addition!

Hello! Mr Bodkin!

Lady Julia.

Fancy running into you.

- Didn't I hear you were in Biarritz?
- I was.

I've come home.
Sit down, Mr Bodkin.

Right. Yes.

Thank you.

- So. Where are you bound for, Mr Bodkin?
- What?

Oh, um.
Market Blandings.

Lord Emsworth's taking me on
as his secretary.

Really? I wasn't aware that
you were in need of a position.

Oh, uh.
Wheels within wheels.

Ah. How cosy.

I hear everything's much
the same at Blandings?

Well, perhaps you consider
much the same to be

an earthquake, an upheaval,
and a social cataclysm?

I beg your pardon?

My son is at Blandings,
and with him,

a chorus-girl by
the name of Brown,

who he proposes to marry.

No.

I assure you.

A chorus-girl.

Named Sue Brown.

You don't know her by any chance?

No.
Oh, no. No.

At least that simple name,
Sue Brown,

doesn't sound like a girl who'd
bring a breach-of-promise action

- when the thing is broken off.
- Broken off?

Are you thinking of
breaking it off?

Oh yes, of course.

You seem very concerned.

No, it just occurred to me,

it might be a bit difficult,
I mean,

Ronnie's a very determined sort of chap.

He inherits it from his mother.
Ha ha!

I should think, Ronnie must be enjoying it
at Blandings, Lady Julia.

I beg your pardon?

I say,
I hope your son, Ronnie,

must be enjoying the green
countryside at Blandings.

He likes it green.

I beg your pardon,

are you Lady Julia Fish?

I am.

My name's Sue Brown.

Well, well, well.
Fancy that.

Quite a coincidence, Mr Bodkin.

Oh quite.
Most.

We were just talking about you,
Miss Brown.

And now, of course,
I recognize you.

Ronald did send me a photograph.

Charming.

So, I'm losing a son
and gaining a daughter

- and you're the daughter, eh?
- Yes.

You did tell me you had not
met Miss Brown?

Definitely not. Certainly not.
Far from it. Not at all.

Well you've met her now.
Mr Bodkin, Miss Brown.

- How do you do?
- How do you do?

Well, how very fortunate this is.

Miss Brown, we have the journey

for you to tell me
all about yourself.

(noisily singing
Wedding March)

There's something about a wedding.

Puts a man in a mood.

A mood?
For what, sir?

A wedding!

Oh.

Thank you, Voules.

Hello, Ronnie.

Hello, mother.

- I sort of thought you were in Biarritz.
- I was.

But I'm back.

Would you like to come
to the library for a little talk?

Uh, mmm.

Isn't it time I dressed for dinner?

I think that can wait.

I say.

Lord Emsworth?

- Sorry I missed you when I arrived.
- You're not the bishop.

- No.
- I thought the bishop was coming to dinner.

- Is he?
- Isn't he?

- I don't know.
- Well I don't know.

You'd better ask my sister.

So.

Who are you?

I am Monty Bodkin, milord.

- Bodkin?
- Your new secretary.

Sir Gregory Parsloe's nephew.

- Parsloe's nephew! You're him.
- Oh yes.

And may I say, milord,
how very glad I am to meet you.

- You may not know what a passion I have for pigs.
- Ah!

- For pigs!
- Oh yes indeed.

- For many years, my favorite pages of the treausred EB...
- What?

Encyclopaedia Brittanica...

- have been those devoted to P-I-G.
- What?

Pig.

As I'm sure you're aware, there are
thirteen breeds of pig recognized in Britain,

the most popular and generally useful
type is the Large White,

which fattens readily, producing
an excellent bacon carcass.

Carcass!

Carcass!

Carcass.
That's it, isn't it?

Carcass?

Car-cass!

- Car-cass!
- Lord Emsworth?

Car-cass!!!

I'm sure the old EB said "carcass".

Good evening, Mr Bodkin.
A most pleasant evening.

Might take a little
fresh air before dinner.

Mother!

There are chorus-girls
and chorus-girls.

When you get one like Sue,
there's a lot to be said for chorus-girls.

No, Ronnie, there is not.

They are all painted hussies.

They've got to paint.

Well they needn't huss!

How are you going to trust a girl
who lives on excitement?

Kicking up her beastly legs?

Having affairs with
every man that takes her fancy?

- Not Sue!
- Yes, Sue!

- Wait till you meet her.
- I have met her, thanks.

What?

She was in the train
and introduced herself.

The train?

She was returning from London
on the train.

- I didn't know she'd gone up to London.
- So I imagine.

Then you would not have known
that she was lunching at the Berkeley

with Monty Bodkin.

Monty Bodkin!

Lunching with Monty, and

ogling Monty,

and holding hands
with Monty.

And then when they
were in the train,

they had the effrontery to pretend
they'd never met before!

And now he's here as
your uncle's secretary.

Well! Why do you think that is, hmm?

She put him up to it!

- What?
- To be near her! Oh!

This girl is just like
all the rest of them.

And Ronnie,
you're not a mental giant, I know.

But if you can't see that,

then you may certainly
need to be certified!

- Constance?
- Julia!

- How nice to have you home.
- Carcass.

- Clarence?
- Carcass?

Clarence, where are you going?

Well, I thought,
I just thought...

Not that pig!

You're dressed for dinner.

The Bishop is coming
and Sir Gregory Parsloe.

Parsloe? You never mentioned Parsloe!

Well of course I did,
you never listen to anything!

- Parsloe!
- Clarence! Clarence!

Clarence, Clarence.

What's that?

A paper clip.

A paper clip?

- Where's your other stud?
- I lost it.

- Well you must have a spare.
- Of course I have.

- Well where is it?
- I swallowed it.

Well borrow one!

- Connie!
- Connie.

I need
to speak with you.

Thank you Beach.

Oh.

- Beach.
- Yes, milord.

Have you such a thing
as a spare paper clip?

Paper...clip, milord?

I mean,
you know,

Of course, milord,
I'll fetch it at once.

Carcass! The little blighter called
the Empress a carcass!

And Parsloe's coming to dinner
for Heaven's sake!

What is it they say
about a man's castle?

- They say his sisters rule it, I'm afraid.
- Eh?

What?

- And you agreed to this?
- I had to Julia.

We both have to.

I'm very sorry Connie,

but I certainly do not intend
to buy Galahad off

for the price of having Ronnie
marry any Miss Browns.

You don't mean you're going to
try and stop this marriage?

- I most certainly am.
- But Julia!

This book will alienate
every friend we've got!

They'll say we ought not to
have allowed him to publish it.

Connie,
as far as I'm concerned,

he can publish it until
he is blue in the face.

Bodkin!

Monty Bodkin!

Gregory.

A word.

Ah.

Oh Beach,

I haven't seen Ronnie since
he came back, have you?

Only briefly, miss.

I believe he is still
changing for dinner.

Oh.

You don't know if he's spoken
to his mother, do you?

I believe he has, miss.

Oh.

If I may say so, miss,

I have known Mr Ronald
since he was a boy.

Mr Ronald has always
had a mind of his own.

Don't know what I'd do
without you, Beach.

I'm-I'm very flattered, miss.

Have a cocktail.

Thank you Beach.

- Ah.
- Oh, hello Ronnie.

Did the wedding go well?

Yes, I think so.

Yes, it went very well.

- Thank you Beach.
- Sir.

I heard you met my mother
on the train from London.

Yes, I...popped up
to do some shopping.

And on the train you also
met up with Monty Bodkin.

Yes, Mr Bodkin was on the train.

Nice chap, Monty.

- Known him for years.
- Oh, really?

- Never met him before?
- No.

No.

Shall we join the others?

Yes.

- She can't stop the marriage.
- She will.

I know Julia,
she's entirely self-centered.

- And he'll publish the book.
- Oh yes.

I know Galahad,
he will.

But they'll never
adopt me as candidate.

Not a man with a past.

Never!

As a Conservative and Unionist!

Shhh.

Who's that?

Pilbeam.

Pilbeam?

The private investigator?

- Do you know him?
- Yes. Well, sort of.

- I employed him once.
- What for?

Oh, a delicate matter.

Some letters.

Perfectly innocent, you understand,

but the wrong construction
might have been...

Well anyway,
he retrieved them for me.

Very clever chap.

Really?

I say,

how many copies
of this manuscript?

Only one.

- You sure?
- I'm sure.

He's never really finished
the horrible thing.

He keeps it in his desk

and takes it out

and adds bits to it.

In his desk?

Should be child's play
for Pilbeam.

I dare say,

if I offer him

500 pounds.

I say.

Lord Emsworth?

Good morning, milord.

Eh?
Oh.

It's you.

Right.

I was wondering, your Lordship,

if there's anything
you'd like me to do.

Like, I suppose,

secretarying.

No!

Oh.

Hurr!

- Hurr!
- Just visiting!

I say,

that's a ripping chapter.

Excuse me my man.

How do I get to the Castle?

However you choose, sir.

However you choose.

(mumbles) One-six-four.

Ronnie.

I say, Ronnie?

- I was just coming to see you.
- Oh really?

Want your advice, old chap.

I came here as your uncle's secretary
but he won't give me anything to do.

Just eyes me as if I
ought to be in Sing-Sing.

Already I fear
the Order of the Boot.

Any ideas as to what I could do to
try and warm him up a bit?

Sorry Monty, no.

You'll have to excuse me,
I'm going out.

Hello!

Ah. Hello.

Do you want to go for a walk?

Going shopping.

With Mother.

Hello, Miss Brown.

Hello.

I hate
all of Shropshire.

Is Mr Threepwood in?
Mr Galahad Threepwood?

Mr Galahad, sir?

What name shall I say?

Lord Tilbury.

Very good, milord,
if you will step this way

I fancy Mr Galahad
is in the nursery.

Just along here, milord.

He, ah, must have stepped out, milord.

If you'll wait in here
I will endeavor to find him for you.

Thank you.

Aha!

Oh.

I know you, don't I?

No, don't tell me,
let me think.

Now, you're fatter

and you've aged

a lot.

But you're someone
I used to know.

Now let me think.

Shorty Smith!
No.

Stumpy Whitey!
Nope.

I've got it,
by gad.

Stinker Pyke!

Pyke! That's who you are,
and we used to call you Stinker!

Well, well,
how are you, Stinker?

I would rather you refrained
from using that name.

I can't pretend I ever
cared for it.

Well, all right.
Pyke then.

The last time I saw you
must have been that night in Romano's

when Plug Basham started
throwing bread about,

became rather over-excited,

and suddenly,
there you were, on the floor,

laid out cold by a dashed
great side of beef!

I can see your face now,
most amusing.

- I really don't wish to...
- Poor old Plug

a fellow who never
knew where to stop.

- Er, Threepwood, I've come...
- I took the whole thing up with him

and he swore he'd never
touch another drop.

About two weeks later,
I met him in the Strand.

"It's all right
Gally, I've done it."

"I've won the battle," he said.

"Splendid fellow!
Was it a terrific strain?"

"It was at first," he said.

"In fact I didn't think I'd be able
to stick it out. Then suddenly,"

"I discovered a teetotal drink"

"which was not only palatable,
but appetizing."

- Absinthe, they call it."
- Absinthe!

"And now I've got that, I don't care
if I never have another drink."

I'm not interested
in your friend Basham.

I'm sorry.

You've come on some
most important errand,

and I'm yarning away,
wasting your time.

Take a seat.

And tell me why you've
bobbed up again, Stinker.

- Don't call me Stinker.
- Sorry, I forgot.

- Now, well, carry on Pyke.
- And don't call me Pyke.

My name

is Tilbury.

Going about under a false name,
I don't like that.

It never fails,

sooner or later you're bound to be found out,
and then you get it all the hotter from the judge.

I remember saying that to Stiffy Vokes
when he was sneaking about London

calling himself Orlando Maltravers.

I call myself Tilbury

because in a recent Honours List

I received a peerage,

and Tilbury is the
title I selected.

Oh, you're Lord Tilbury?

I am.

What on earth did they make
you a lord for, Stinker?

I happen to be the
proprietor of a concern

whose name may be
familiar to you--

The Mammoth Publishing Company.

- Mammoth?
- Mammoth.

Aren't Mammoth the people
I sold that book of mine to?

They are.

Stinker.

I mean Pyke.

I mean Tilbury.

I'm sorry about that.

Let you down,
haven't I?

I see now
why you've come.

You want me
to reconsider.

Well I'm afraid you've had
your journey for nothing.

I will not let
that book be published.

Good heavens!

I can't argue,
I wont do it.

- I have reasons.
- Reasons?

Private and...
sentimental reasons.

It's outrageous!

You've signed...a contract!

And you can't pretend

that you're not in a position
to deliver the book. It's here,

on your desk,

finished.

A book like that
is never finished.

I could add,
and refine,

for the rest of my life.

Now then,

for example,

I see here, I describe
old Parsloe as,

"intoxicated".

Not colorful enough!

He was

um

ah

uh

er

pickled at the gills!

Oh
Threepwood

that is

masterly.

I...

I

beg you,

on behalf of
the English language...

Yes, yes.

I'm sorry it
can't be done.

A masterpiece,

but it can't be done.

Please?

Stinker, that's final.

Don't call me Stinker.

I will not publish.

Awfully sorry, Stinker.

Are you sure I cannot
order you a taxi, milord?

I'll walk.

Pig.

Beg your pardon, milord?

I...

smell...

pig.

Ah yes, that would be
the Empress of Blandings, milord.

The finest pig
in the county.

I love pigs!

What a pig!

Excuse me, milord.

Milord?

The Empress has been
attacked, milord.

What?

Let me out!

Help!

Somebody let me
out of here!

Hello!

You lad, you!
Let me out!

I say, that isn't Lord
Tilbury by any chance?

Well of course it's Lord
Tilbury, who the devil are you?

Bodkin. M Monty Bodkin.

- M Monty...
- Bodkin.

- Bodkin?
- You remember old Monty.

- What are you doing in there?
- Well somebody locked me in!

- Let me out, you blithering idiot!
- Right ho.

- And don't say "right-ho"!
- Right-ho.

- Takes a bit of shifting.

Out you pop.
I say, how did you get in there?

- Somebody locked me in.
- Who would want to do that?

Well I don't know,
I was standing over there,

feeding a
potato to the pig.

You gave a spud to the porker?

You'll be hung, drawn,
and quartered

Old Emsworth will think you
were trying to poison it.

Where is he?

This way, m'lud.

- Oh my God.
- Come on.

Parsloe's man,
it must be.

Take the birch to him!

The lash!

The cat o' nine...

- whatever it is!
- Tails, milord.

'E gone, milord!

You numbskull!

- Pirbright, you didn't lock it!
- I did milord, I did!

Perhaps someone let him out, milord.

- I'll birch the man who did.
- Ooh!

- I'll lash him!
- Huh!

I'll cat o'...

cat o'...

- Nine tails, milord.
- Nine?

Nine and more!

Many, many, more!

Up here, milord?

Not a trace, milord.

What the devil are you
doing here, Bodkin?

I'm Lord Emsworth's secretary.

- Secretary?
- 24 hours after your slinging me out.

A good man isn't long
getting snapped up.

You mean you're

living at the Castle?

For the nonce I am.

I don't mind telling you
I expect to shake up shortly.

So if you're feeling
that we might

make a fresh start,
let the dead past

bury it's dead, and take me back
into the fold, I could report for duty

almost immediately.

- You wish to return to my employ?
- Definitely.

- For a year, if possible.
- A year.

Or twelve months.

- You shall.
- Good egg.

- Provided...
- Oh golly, is there a catch?

Let's try over here.

Oh my God.

Come on!

What's the catch?

Galahad Threepwood

has a manuscript;
I intend to take possession of it.

D'you mean pinch it?

Crudely, yes.

How?

With the assistance of
somebody living in the Castle.

Let's try the ditch.

Excellent lurking place, milord.

You want me to pinch it?

Precisely!

Lord love a duck!

Heavy weather, sir.

I fear a storm.

Are you sure he was
trying to steal the thing?

The papers were actually
in his grasp, sir.

He couldn't have been looking
for note-paper, or something?

No, sir.

But what possible motive
could the little perisher have

for wanting to steal my book?

When Sir Gregory came
to dinner, sir,

I observed him talking
to Mr Pilbeam

in a secluded
corner of the hall.

Mr Pilbeam

is a private investigator.

Give me the low-down
then, Beach.

The motive, the method,
and who done what.

Tonight.

I...

Tonight!

I see, Beach, I see.

They're in it together, eh?

And Pilbeam's their factotum!

Sherlock himself would have to
give you best, Beach.

Very kind of you
to say so, sir.

Well as Robbie Burns said,

"The best-laid schemes of mice and men
gang aft agley."

"And they wee tim'rous beasties
can whistle for their cheese."

- Quite, sir.
- All we have to do

is to ensure the safety
of the manuscript.

I've got it.
You must take it, Beach.

- Me, sir?
- Of course!

- But Mr Galahad,
- What?

suppose Her Ladyship discovered I had it
and requested me to hand it to her?

You're not afraid of
Lady Constance, are you Beach?

Yes, I am sir.

But how is she to know?

She doesn't drop into your pantry
for a chat, does she?

Certainly not, sir.

And at night you must sleep
with it under your pillow.

No risk of her coming to tuck you
up in bed or anything, is there?

No arguments, Beach.
Take it.

Be a man.

PIR-BRIGHT!

- Excuse me!
- Oh I say, Beach. Sorry.

Dashed stupid of me.

Really, I'm most dreadfully...

Oh.

Oh I say, Beach...

Please do not worry yourself sir,
I'm sure the fault was mine.

Shall I take that, sir?

I say Beach, isn't this
that new book of Mr Galahad's?

Is it, sir?

Well you can see it is,
I mean...

Pretty good that,
I should imagine.

Thing I'd very much
like to read.

Couldn't lend it to me, I suppose?

No sir.

No.

No sir.

You won't?

No sir.

I'd give a good deal
to read that thing, Beach.

Indeed, sir?

Ten quid, in fact.

Indeed, sir?

Or rather, twenty.

- Indeed, sir?
- And when I say twenty,

I mean, of course,
twenty-five.

I regret to say, sir,

I am not in a position
to fall in with your wishes.

What ho, Pilbeam.

Bodkin.

I say, Pilbeam.

You're a...a...

whatchamacallit, aren't you?

Private Eye.

I'm an investigator,
Mr Bodkin.

Topping.

You in the mood for a
bit of the stealthy stuff?

You wish to make use of
my professional services?

Yes.

It's about that book
of Gally Threepwood's.

Oh?

I suppose you'll think I'm a silly ass,
but I want to get hold of it.

- No doubt you have your reasons.
- Oh, long story.

Wheels within wheels.

But I want that book.

Beach has got it.

I expect you're used
to pinching things.

I have occasionally been commissioned
to recover articles of value.

Do you consider yourself
commissioned now?

I would for a fee
of one thousand pounds.

- One thousand...
- Pilbeam!

And you!
Whatever your name is.

Come on!

Come on! She's drowning!

Your way, Pilbeam!

Look, the other way!

This is my way!

Don't be a fool, man!

That's his way!

It's his way!

Imbecile! She'll have to be moved

if we can't keep her dry!

We're not keeping dry!

Who cares about you?

Can I enter you
for champion pig?

The other way!

Come on!

Twenty-five quid
for my book?

Yes sir.

I ah,

realize it's an unusual hour sir, but

may I beg to offer you
a glass of port?

Well.

Thank you Beach.

I must say, you make yourself
very comfortable in here.

I endeavor to, sir.

So you think
Stinker Pyke's involved?

It seems that Sir Gregory secured
Mr Bodkin a position on a journal

known as

"Tiny Tots."

Just about his level,
little toad.

Chin-chin, Beach.

This is jolly good port, Beach.

Thank you sir.

So you reckon Bodkin
wants the book for Stinker

so that blighter
can publish it?

I fear that is so, sir.

On top of which,
he knows I have the manuscript.

Hence my request for you
to examine my security.

You feel it would be
safer somewhere else?

Considerably safer, sir.

I indeed wonder,
if perhaps

Mr Ronald?

Thank you sir.

Are you, er,

feeling quite well, sir?

Yes, thank you Beach.

Thank you, sir.

Beach!

Yes sir?

You've known me a long time,
haven't you Beach?

Ever since I was
a whippersnapper?

Yes sir.

Many a sixpence you slipped me
when I was flat.

It was my pleasure, sir.

What's your opinion
of Miss Brown?

Speak freely, please.

My opinion, sir.

Miss Brown...

is a girl
in a million.

- You really think so Beach?
- I do sir.

Oh, thank you Beach.

Thank you sir.

She IS a girl in a million.

Oh, Sue!

Poor old Monty.

How could I even think!

I mean...Monty!

Monty!

Hello!

- You're wet.
- Yes.

By Jove, why?

Poor old Monty!

Well you mustn't stand around like that,
must be dashed uncomfortable.

Yes.

Not to say jolly bad for your health.

- You'd better go and change.
- Yes.

- Can't have you catching cold, old chap.
- No.

- Have a hot bath.
- Right.

Oh Ronnie.

Come in.

I don't know if you know this stuff.

"Rigg's Golden Balm".

Embrocation. Rub it in,

communicates a warm glow.

- Dashed good of you.
- Not a bit.

You're sure it isn't for horses?

Horses?

Rub it on before you've read the directions,
feel like you've been dipped in vitriol.

No no no, that
stuff's all right.

- I use it myself.
- Then have at it!

On...your...chest...

There's something...on your chest.

It looks...

like "Sue".

"Sue".

No.

Not "Sue".

Not "Sue".

S. U. E.

Sarah Ursula Ebbsmith.

- What?
- Sarah Ursula Ebbsmith.

A girl I used to be engaged to.

She died. Pneumonia.
Very sad. Don't let's talk about it.

Oh.

Well.

Bung-o.

Phew.

A dashed near thing.

Oh, hello Ronnie.

Hello.

You can't stay indoors
on an afternoon like this,

- it's simply lovely out there.
- Yes.

Let's go for a drive
in your car.

I don't think I will, thanks.

Well then, let's take
a boat out on the lake.

Not for me, thanks.

- Well come for a walk
- Oh for God's sake, let me alone!

I'm sorry.

I shouldn't have said that.

No, I'm
glad you did.

It's better to come
right out with these things.

I think we might as well
just chuck it, don't you?

Just as you say.

All right.

Well, Mr Bodkin?

Have you considered our proposition?

1000 quid.

It's a set scale of fees.

Can I let you know?

Soon.

I have other clients
seeking my services.

Before dinner.

Right.

Excuse me, Mr Bodkin.

1000 quid.

Ronnie. Here you are.

Been looking for you.

Really, Monty?

Well, here I am.

Tell me old man,
how do you stand with Beach?

- With Beach!
- Well...

Does he feel pretty feudal
where you're concerned?

Would he be inclined to stretch a point
to oblige the young master?

What is all this bilge, Monty?
Come to the point.

I'm coming to the point.

Well be quick about it.

Good shot.

You were coming to the point.

Yes. Right. Well.

Here's the nub on the gist.

You know old Gally's written a book?

There was a young man of Bryn Mawr,

Who carried his drinking too far,

He said, "I'll just have..."

Ah, young woman!

I was looking for you.

Always find this
a depressing time of day,

waiting for the cocktail hour.

Did I ever tell you

that story about old
Puffy Benger and the...

What's the trouble?

Oh Gally!

Oh!

There, there.

So there it is.

If I can get Beach to
give me this manuscript

I can get a job
with old Tilbury

and be in position to marry
the girl I love.

Sarah Ursula Ebbsmith.

Eh?

Oh, no, no.

No not poor dear Sarah.
No, she died.

Tuberculosis, very sad.

You told me it was pneumonia.

- No, tuberculosis.
- I see.

This is a new one.
Girl named Gertrude Butterwick.

- Gertrude Butterwick, eh?
- That's right.

- Fond of her?
- My dear chap.

- I suppose she's crazy about you.
- Oh, deeply enamored.

Of course.
Why wouldn't she be?

Why would she consider
anyone else?

Especially anyone so
small and pink.

Eh?

You shall have her.

Really?

Beach hasn't got the manuscript,
he gave it to me.

You'll find it in the chest
of drawers in my room.

Take the damn thing
if you want it.

- My dear old boy!
- Go!

Go now, take your
chance of a life and go!

Right-ho!

Excuse me, Gally.

What's the matter with him?
Oh it doesn't matter.

It's you I want to see.

Sorry Gally, not in the mood
for billiards, I'm just off...

Just off be damned!
You stay here and listen to me.

You may only go when I've knocked
some sense into your dotty head!

Well, if you've got it, that's fine!

Sorry, old sleuth.

I'm afraid it means
you won't get your fee.

Oh please, don't worry.

I hope you've
hidden it carefully.

Under the bed in my room,
right up against the wall.

- That should be fine.
- Yes.

And, what are you
going to do with it?

I'm taking it down to
the Emsworth Arms tonight,

to a fellow by the name of Tilbury.

- Not Lord Tilbury?
- That's right.

- Do you know him?
- Know of him.

Now it all adds up.

Lord Tilbury wants to
publish the book!

- Spot on.
- I bet he'll give you a pretty big reward.

Oh I'm not asking for money.

He's promised me a job if I can
get the manuscript for him.

Are you leaving here then?

I expect the sack
any moment.

It was Tilbury
locked in the potting-shed.

If old Emsworth knew it was me
who flung wide the gates

he'd throw me
out in a second.

Dare say you're right.

Galahad!

Where on earth
are you taking me?

You still think Sue Brown
loves Monty Bodkin?

The evidence I have
convinces me she does!

Evidence! Precisely, Julia!
Sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-sh!

Voila.

Did you ever see
a more devoted couple?

A young man can kiss a chorus-girl.

It does not mean he has to marry her.

Very well then, Julia,

I have something to
say which I fancy

might interest you.

It isn't, by any chance,
that if their marriage is stopped,

you will publish
your Reminiscences?

It is.

Publish away.

Julia, one moment.

Well?

You are the relict of the late
Major-General Sir Miles Fish,

C.B.E., late of the
Brigate of Guards?

I have never denied it.

When Sir Miles married you, he was
a respectable, even a stodgy, Colonel.

When you first met him,
you even thought him slow.

Believe me, Julia,
when I knew dear old Fishy Fish,

while you were poisoning governesses' lives,
he was the reverse of slow.

His jolly rapidity
was the talk of London.

Gally!

- You haven't...
- See chapters 3, 11, 16, 17,

and 21.
Especially...21.

Excuse me. I have a little
business with the young folks.

Excuse me Lord Emsworth.

May I have a word?

Oh, Gally.

I think you're wonderful.

Careful,
he'll be jealous of me next.

There's no need to rub it in.

Now hear this you young poop.

He is not a poop.

Allow me to recognize
a poop when I see one.

- You must guard that manuscript with your life.
- Ah.

To lay their hands on it, your mother and Lady Constance
would descend to the level of beasts of the field.

Young Monty Bodkin is after it too and
Monty Bodkin is an A-1 snake in the grass.

He wants to give it to the publisher, Lord Tilbury,
who I used to know as Stinker Pyke.

- Uncle Gally!
- What is it?

Bodkin?

Bodkin?

Bodkin?

Sorry Beach.

Have you seen Bodkin?

I'm very sorry sir,

I'm not aware of
Mr Bodkin's whereabouts.

Thank you Beach.

Ah! There you are!

You bloodstained Bodkin!

- Oh hello.
- Never mind "Oh hello".

I want that manuscript of
mine and I want it at once.

I haven't got your
bally manuscript.

- Don't lie to me, young Bodkin.
- I'm not lying to you.

- Pilbeam's got it.
- Pilbeam?

I told the foul, double-crossing
little blister where it was,

and he went off and
squealed to Lord Emsworth

about me letting old Tilbury
out of the potting shed,

and Lord Emsworth sent
for me and fired me,

and while I was out of
the way, being fired,

he nipped up to my room
and sneaked the thing!

Pilbeam!

Ah, Mr Pilbeam.

Lady Constance was
asking for you.

Her Ladyship is in
the drawing-room.

I'll tell you what,

bring me a bottle
of champagne first,

and I'll look into the matter.

Champagne, sir?

Champagne.

Steady, Pirbright!

Steady!

It's all right,
my beauty.

As soon as she's settled,
you repair that roof.

We'll have you back in your boudoir
before bedtime, you adorable girl.

Sit down, Mr Pilbeam.

Now then, Mr Pilbeam,
about that book.

I cannot understand what you
have been doing all this time.

Sir Gregory told me
you were enterprising.

You seem to have as much
enterprise as a...

- slug.
- Exactly.

As a slug.

Less.
I've known some quite nippy slugs.

You've not even found out
where the manuscript is.

Oh!

Haven't I?

Well?
Where is it, then?

Has my brother
given it to someone?

- He gave it to Beash.
- Beash. Beash?

- Think he means Beach.
- Beach?

I will see Beach at once.

Oh, fat lot of good
that's going to do you.

A fat, fat, fat lot of good!

Forgive the personal
question Mr Pilbeam,

but are you slightly
intoxicated?

A little blotto.

I had a bottle of champagne
on an empty stomach.

Are you interested in Mr Pilbeam's
stomach, Julia?

I am not.

Let's waive your stomach,
Mr Pilbeam.

Why would it do us a "fat lot of good"
seeing Beach?

Because he hasn't got it.

He gave it to Ronnie,

Ronnie gave it to
Bonty Modkin,

Pilbeam took it

from Bonty Modkin,

So you mean,
you have the manuscript?

Yes Connie!
I have!

Then in the name of goodness,
where is it?

Ahhh...
now that's telling!

Mr Pilbeam, I insist on knowing
what you have done with it.

Kindly let us have no more
of this nonsense.

Oh.

Oh it's like that, is it?

Well let me tell you, Connie,
that I don't like your tone.

- Tone?
- Tone!

Being insulted!

I got that manuscript in
somewhere you won't find it,

I was going to let you and Tilbury
bid against each other for it

but now it's going to Tilbury.

- Tilbury?
- Tilbury?

You mean Galahad's
publisher, Tilbury?

Well I certainly don't
mean Tilbury Docks!

You see, Connie?

You see?

It's always your tone!

My tone?

Ugh...

I engaged him
in good faith, you know.

You engaged him
to steal my manuscript.

But not to commit to Tilbury!

We should never have trusted him
when we saw that moustache.

Mr Pilbeam?

Mr Pilbeam?

I saw, Pilbeam old chap.

Have you got a headache?

Would you care for
some bicarbonate?

Oh this is nonsense,
I'm going in.

- Where is he?
- He's gone!

The little smuggler's flown!

Now look here, Lord Tilbury,

you're a fair man at heart,

Bodkin!

I say Lord Tilbury,

about that manuscript,

I'm getting it.

Chap called Pilbeam
telephoned me.

He's bringing it here.

Yes.
The point I wish to make, Lord Tilbury,

is that Mr Pilbeam would
not be in possession of it

had I not had it first.

Therefore in fairness it seems to me our
agreement still holds, what do you say to that?

No.

No.

No.

You don't mean no.

I do.

You fat, double-crossing warthog.

Warthog?

She seemed happy when
we moved her, didn't she?

Aye, m'lud.

Cheese!

There she is,

chomping away,

happy as a...

God bless my soul.

What's that she's eating, Pirbright?

Can you see what she's eating?

Pirbright.

Pirbright.

It looks like...paper.

Great chunks of paper!

Cor!

The vet!

Get the vet!

- The vet?
- The Empress has eaten Galahad's book!

Galahad's book?

The Empress has
eaten Galahad's book!

Is this eaten,
all of it?

Do I not speak English
or are you all barking mad?

Eaten the book!

I'll be...
adopted as a Conservative candidate!

And I can stop Ronnie
marrying that girl!

Oh Clarence!
What a clever pig!

Eaten the book?

Yes. I heard it from the vet.

He was having a quick one
when they phoned him from home.

He had to rush up to the
Castle straightaway.

Good Lord.

Though how a book could have got
into a pig sty, I can't imagine.

Excuse me.

Yes sir?

I'm looking for Lord Tilbury.

I believe His Lordship's
in the garden, sir.

Right.

I thought you were
bringing the manuscript here!

No no no, too risky.
For safety's sake I couldn't do that.

But of course, as soon as you write
the cheque I'll tell you where it's hidden.

Why, you surely don't
expect me to...

- pay, before...
- It's your choice,

I have other customers.

Take it or leave it.

I really think you might trust me.

1000 pounds.

Very well.

Make it to "cash",
if you don't mind.

Cash.

I can't imagine that
you're afraid of pigs.

What on earth do
pigs got to do with it?

Pigs

love me.

Oh.

She's all right.

The vet says it will
do her no harm at all.

Might even be
beneficial roughage.

Oh I can't believe that
would have suited her.

There's his clothes, you see.

- Bound to contain...
- Yes, yes, yes Clarence.

Now, come and sit down.

We'll let her rest here for a bit, then
we'll take her back to her proper home.

Now, Clarence?

We need to make absolutely sure

that you are determined
to be firm with Ronald.

Yes.
Who?

Ronald.

Ronald!

Your nephew, Ronald!

Connie!

Tone?

Now that the manuscript
has been destroyed,

there is no longer any reason for this
unsuitable marriage to be tolerated.

When Ronald asks you
to release his money,

You will, of course, refuse.

What?

- Refuse.
- Eh?

- Refuse. Do you...

Yes Beach, what is it?

I beg your pardon, your Ladyship,

but there is a telephone
call for Lord Emsworth.

For Clarence? Who is it?

A gentleman who describes
himself as, "a friend".

Thank you.

Lord Emsworth?

Yes, Lord Emsworth speaking.

I've reason to believe, Lord Emsworth,
that some time this evening,

an attack is to be made upon your pig.

- What.
- An attack upon your pig.

- This evening?
- This evening.

- What time, this evening?
- Any time now.

- Goodbye, Lord Emsworth.
- No! Don't...

Don't go!

Oh good

heavens!

BEACH!!!

Clarence, what on
earth's the matter?

Where's Parsloe?

Sir Gregory left the house
a little while ago.

He wished to take a walk.

- What!
- And you must dress for dinner!

BEACH!!!

You rang, milord?

BEACH!!!

And called, milord?

Beach, there's not a moment to lose.

I've just heard there's to be
an attack on the Empress

and it's Parsloe, Parsloe,
of course it is.

Oh, for goodness sake, Clarence!

Tell Pirbright to get out there
and take a stout stick.

If Parsloe gives trouble,
he is to THUMP HIM HARD!

Hard.

Clarence!
Are you out of your mind?

Bodkin!

Bodkin, no.
There's a cheque for 1000 pounds in there.

I know.

Bodkin!

You'll pay me
2000 pounds?

Oh, I've got
packets of money.

I'm simply ill
with the stuff.

I'll write you a cheque now,
if you'll give me a job.

I want to be
an assistant detective.

You shall be.

- For a year.
- For 2000 pounds,

- five years, ten years, whatever you want.
- A year, that's all.

A job for a year.

It's yours.

Oh!
Glorious dawn!

Oh wondrous dreams fulfilled!

Butterwick's her name.

Gertrude Butterwick.

- It wasn't Parsloe.
- No m'lud.

- Same blighter you caught before.
- Aye m'lud.

- And you're sure he's locked up secure this time.
- Aye m'lud.

Leave him there overnight, then

hose him down and
send for the constable.

Right Connie,
about this...

- Oh. Hello, Pirbright.
- Sir.

Now, Connie.
About this marriage,

I suppose you've been
nagging and bullying

poor old Clarence so that he
doesn't know where he is?

Not at all, Galahad.

I'm sure Clarence understands perfectly
well which is the right thing to do.

- Clarence!
- Clarence.

I want you to take a
good look at this girl.

What do you think of her?

Charming.

Charming.

So does Ronnie get his money,
or doesn't he?

Ah.

- Connie seems to think...
- Oh...

- damn Connie!
- Galahad!

Er, may I say something?

It's only this:
I'm awfully sorry to upset everyone,

but Ronnie and I are
motoring to London tonight,

- and we're going to get married tomorrow.
- What?

We decided it was the
best thing to do,

then we feel that
everything will be all right.

Oh, and Ronnie has the Empress
in the dicky of his car.

What?

And what Ronnie thinks he'll do
is take her joy-riding.

Joy-riding?

All over England.

I don't believe it.

He thought you might not,
so he's waiting in the drive.

Ronald!

Ronald!

I'm afraid it's no good
shouting at him.

Of course it isn't. What you want
to do is give a formal promise

before witnesses
to cough up that money,

then you can write out a cheque
for honeymoon expenses,

But then the Empress
can go back to bed.

Clarence,

Clarence, you are
not to do this.

I certainly am
going to do it.

Does this miserable pig mean more to you
than your nephew's whole future?

Of course it does.

Anyway, what's wrong
with his future?

He's going to marry
this nice little girl.

She'll look after him.

Bravely spoken, Clarence.

Oh don't go Julia, Connie,

surely you can't drag yourself
away from a happy scene like this.

Why it's like that thing of Kipling's,

how does it go now?

"We left them all in couples,"

"a-dancing on the decks."

"We left the lovers loving,"

"and their parents signing cheques."

Write clearly, Clarence.

The date is June the 14th.

When?

What?

Hello Beach.

Mr Galahad.

What have you been up to then?

I have been paying
a visit to the sty, sir,

to ascertain that the Empress
had taken no harm

from her disturbed evening.

- Remorse, eh?
- Sir?

Needed more than one to get
that porker in the car.

Don't worry Beach,
your secret is safe with me.

You have fought the good fight.

I hope they kissed you.

The young lady did, sir.

Good night Beach.

Good night, sir.

Let me out!

Please!

Someone let me out!

Let me out!