All language subtitles for Jeeves and Wooster s01e03 Twing.eng

Good night, Vienna

You city of a million...
something or others

La, la, la, la, la, la

La-la, la-la

La-la, la-la, something else

Good afternoon, Jeeves...

Good afternoon, sir.

No, no. That's the song, Jeeves.
And a rum song it is, too.

- l don't know how they think them up.
- No, sir, it is a great mystery.

l mean, fancy writing a song about
saying good night to a whole city.

You may as well say,
''Good afternoon, Manchester'',

or ''Fancy bumping into you,
Basingstoke.''

Yes, sir.

Or ''l didn't see you at the club,
Cleethorpes.''

l take your point.
lf you sang the rest of the lyric,

it might throw light on the matter.

l don't know the rest of the lyric.

l heard it at the cinema
and that's all l can remember. lt goes...

Good night, Vienna

You city of a million...

Or maybe it's thousands.

Some fairly substantial number, anyway.

l wonder if Uncle George isn't thinking of
going off to foreign parts.

Sir?

Well, he's asked me
to ankle round to his club

to discuss some urgent matter or other.
Hmm.

- Morning.
- Good morning, sir.

Lord Yaxley.

Young Lord Yaxley in the dining room,
sir.

But he won't want to be disturbed
at his lunch.

- Well, he did say it was quite urgent.
- Well, off you go.

Thank you.

- What ho, Uncle George.
- Ah, Bertie.

Sit down, sit down.

l don't eat much at midday, l'm afraid.

lt's my stomach lining.

My man in Harley Street says
it's very sensitive. Had your luncheon?

- Yes, thanks, l have. Yes.
- Good.

l got a message that it was urgent.

Oh, it is. Oh, yes.

Yes, yes, yes.

- Ties?
- Like that.

Erm... Bookers in the Burlington Arcade.

Good. Good.

Thank you.

l'm not so old.

So old as what?

Properly considered, l'm in my prime.

Besides, what a young and
inexperienced girl needs is a man of...

weight and years to lean on.

Great Scot, Uncle George,
you're not thinking of getting married?

Yes, confound you,
l am thinking of getting married.

lf your Aunt Agatha
comes sticking her oar in, l'll...

Well, l'll know what to do about it.

A man is as young as he feels.

No, no, no, Jeeves.

Do you know what my Uncle George
is thinking of doing?

Contracting a matrimonial alliance, sir.

Good lord! How did you know that?

Oddly enough, l am acquainted
with the other party in the matter.

The girl?

Yes. But it was from her aunt,
a Mrs Wilberforce who resides with her,

that l received the information.

So who is she, this other person?

A Miss Rhoda Platt, sir, of Wisteria
Lodge, Kitchener Road, East Dulwich.

Young?

Yes, sir.

- The old fat-head.
- Yes, sir.

The expression is one which l would not
have employed myself,

but l do think his lordship ill-advised.

One must remember
that it is not unusual

to find gentlemen of a certain age

yielding to a sentimental urge.

The phenomenon is particularly
noticeable, l understand,

in the United States of America amongst
the wealthier inhabitants of Pittsburgh.

l'm told that sooner or later,
unless restrained,

they always endeavour
to marry a chorus girl.

The high turnover rate of chorus girls

has been a matter
of comment for some time.

- Have you finished, Jeeves?
- Thank you, sir, yes.

Uncle George's manner, as he referred to

Aunt Agatha's probable reception
to the news,

l gather that Miss Platt
is not of the noblesse.

No, sir. She is a waitress.

How is Aunt Agatha
going to take to that?

She's not like me. l'm broad-minded.

lf Uncle George wants to marry
a waitress, let him, say l.

- The rank is but the penny stamp.
- The guinea stamp, sir.

- The poet Burns was writing at a time...
- Never mind the poet Burns, Jeeves.

No, sir.
Expunge the poet Burns from your mind.

l have already done so, sir.

What about the Aunt Agatha?
She will kick, Jeeves.

Very probably, sir.
She is a lady of strong opinion.

(Doorbell)

Yes. That will be the curse of
the Woosters now if l'm any judge.

Aunt Agatha. How nice to see you.

l wish to speak to you, Bertie.

- Oh, quite.
- l'm greatly upset.

l'm sorry to have to tell you
that my brother has gone mad.

- Well...
- He called on me this morning,

announced his intention of marrying
an impossible girl from South Norwood.

East Dulwich, Jeeves informed me.

And pray,
what does Jeeves know about it?

- He's met the girl.
- Has he indeed?

And who is she?

She's a waitress.

A waitress.

First a barmaid at the Criterion
and now a waitress.

Well, the barmaid was 30 years ago,
Aunt Agatha.

She must be dealt with in the same way.

We shall offer her money to release
your Uncle George from her thrall.

Just as you like, but whenever people do
that in books, the girl gets the sympathy.

She draws herself up
and looks at them with steady eyes,

causing them to feel not a little cheesy.

What trash you do read, Bertie.
l sometimes despair of you.

l just think you'll find it dashed
embarrassing offering this girl money.

l am not proposing to do any such thing.

You will undertake the negotiations.

Me?

Certainly.

Here is a cheque for £100.

That should be ample.

The point is that your uncle must be
released from this grim entanglement.

But what if she draws herself up
and looks at me with steady eyes?

lf it's not troubling you too much, Bertie,

l should be greatly obliged
if you would stop dribbling.

Right.

You can get to East Dulwich
in half an hour.

There is a frequent service of trains.

And you will come direct to Pont Street
on your return.

Yes, Aunt Agatha.

Wilberforce?

Madam.

Thank you.

- Ah, good afternoon.
- Ooh! Here at last, are you?

- Eh?
- Do sit down.

Oh, right-ho.

You can't see Rhoda yet.

She's asleep. When you've got flu, you
can't sleep at night sometimes, can you?

- Miss Platt's got the flu?
- That's for you to say.

But while you're here,
l'd like you to take a look at my knee.

Er... What for?

Oh, you are a one!

What do you think?

Well...terrific.

lt's a sort of shooting pain,
just comes and goes.

- And l'll tell you something funny.
- What's that?

Lately l've had the same sort of pain
here at the end of my spine.

l wish you'd take a look.

Er, no, no, no.

No. Um...

Knees, yes, spines, no.

- You're a funny sort of doctor.
- Doctor?

- Aren't you the doctor?
- No.

(Laughs)

Oh, you'll be the death of me!

And me showing you all l've got, too!

Yes, yes. No. l've actually come here
to see Miss Platt.

- What about?
- Nothing, really.

My uncle heard she was seedy.

- Your uncle?
- Yes. Lord Yaxley.

- Oh. You're his nephew.
- That's right, yes.

l expect he's always popping in here.

No. l've never set eyes on him.

Rhoda talks about him a lot,

but she's never so much
as asked him in for a cup of tea.

But er...there's no doing anything with
girls these days, is there?

No. No, no, no. Not much, no.

Well, um... l'd better be tootling off, then.

Oh. Well, l'll show you to the door.

Oh, quite.

l have never heard anything so spineless
in all my life!

Well, l'm sorry. Can a chap say more?

You know, l lost my nerve.

- Could have happened to anyone.
- Not to anyone with a spine.

You will go and see the girl again, Bertie,
and this time you will do as l told you.

But dash it, Aunt Agatha...

And kindly do not use that sort of
language in my presence.

You may go now.

Ah. Um, Jeeves.

No, no. Don't get up.

Look, Jeeves. l know this is
your night off and all that

and normally l wouldn't intrude.

ls Mrs Gregson in good spirits, sir?

No, Jeeves, she is not.

She wants me to go down to
East Dulwich again tomorrow.

l wish someone could
come up with a better idea

for getting rid of Uncle George's folly.

- Ha.
- Have you come up with a corker?

Mmm. Modesty forbids, sir,
but it did occur to me to wonder

whether in your expedition
to East Dulwich,

you encountered the young person's
aunt, Mrs Wilberforce?

Jeeves, l encountered
nothing but Mrs Wilberforce.

lt is Mrs Wilberforce's intention

to continue residing with her niece
after the marriage, sir.

Mmm.

She's a kind-hearted woman,
but definitely of the people.

Should he meet her,
this might give his lordship pause.

You mean if l am to invite Uncle George
and Mrs Wilberforce to lunch tomorrow...

(Jeeves) Precisely, sir.

(Bertie) Jeeves, you've done it again.

(Jeeves) Thank you, sir.

Good afternoon, kitchen

De-da, de-da, de-dum, di-dee

Da-da, dum

So, Jeeves, how did you meet
this Mrs Wilberforce and Miss Platt?

Through a young fellow
of my acquaintance.

Oh, what young fellow?

Colonel Mainwaring-Smith's
personal gentleman's gentleman, sir.

He and Miss Platt had an understanding,

and l accompanied him to
Wisteria Lodge to meet her.

So they broke it off and Uncle George
got her on the rebound.

So what did they quarrel about?

They did not quarrel, sir.

But when his lordship, your uncle,
began to pay his addresses,

she was naturally flattered and began
to waver between love and ambition.

Ah. So if your scheme works
and Uncle George edges out,

it will do your pal a bit of good.

(Doorbell)

Precisely, sir.

My friend Smethurst would regard it

as a consummation
devoutly to be wished.

That's rather well put, Jeeves.
ls that your own?

No, sir. The swan of Avon, sir.

Ah.

Hello.

- Mrs Wilberforce, sir.
- Mrs Wilberforce!

How l'm going to keep a straight face
with you standing behind me saying,

''Can l tempt madam with a potato?''

l shall never know.

l know him, you know.
He's been to tea round at our house.

- Yes. So he told me.
- See you later. Bye.

Oh. Nice place you've got here.

Though l like more pink about myself.

lt's cheerful.
What's that you've got there? Cocktails?

Martini with a spot of absinthe.

Oh, gawd.
Don't you make me drink that stuff.

What that does
to the lining of your stomach.

- Oh, l don't know.
- Well, l do, dear.

And if you'd been a barmaid
as long as l was, you'd know too.

Oh, you were a barmaid?

Was l? For years l was.
When l was younger.

At the Criterion.

There you are, you see. lt's that stuff.
Makes your hands wobble.

Give me a drop of port any old time.

(Doorbell)

Erm...when you were at the Criterion,

did you ever run into
anyone with my name?

Foster? No, dear, not that l know of.

- No, no. Wooster. He's Lord Yaxley now.
- Wooster?!

(Jeeves) Lord Yaxley.

Oh, Bertie, this is...

Maudie!

Piggy!

Oh.

Well, l'm dashed.

Oh.

(Mrs Wilberforce) Oh.

(Laughter and chatter)

- Oh. Beastly shot.
- lt's this cue.

l'm going to speak to the steward about
this.

- Come off it, Oofy.
- You're just a rotten player.

That was a perfect shot,
bridge steady, smoothly back.

(lndistinct)

- Mr Wooster, sir.
- Oh, dash it, Rogers!

(Sighs)

l'm so sorry, sir, but there's a lady
asking for you. A Mrs Gregson.

Ah. l spy aunts.

l haven't had lunch.
Could you tell her l'm not here?

l've told her that, sir.
She's most insistent.

Oh, very well.

Ah. Let me try Bertie's cue.

Ah, yes. That's better, that's better.

Oh.

- Ah, Bertie.
- Hello, Aunt Agatha.

Your uncle is not going to marry the girl.

Not?

Apparently he's been thinking it over
and sees the wisdom of what l told him.

The surprising thing is that he is going
to marry somebody else.

- He is?
- An old friend of his. A Mrs Wilberforce.

A widower of sensible age,
he gives me to understand.

l wonder which of the Wilberforces
that would be.

There are two main branches
to the family,

the Essex Wilberforces
and the Cumberland Wilberforces.

And the East Dulwich Wilberforces.

- What did you say, Bertie?
- Nothing, Aunt Agatha. Really nothing.

l do wish you would speak more clearly,
Bertie.

l've had to tell you about it before.

Ah, Jeeves. l don't know
if you're aware of it,

but this has depreciated your stock
considerably.

l'm sorry to hear that, sir.

You might at least have ascertained
that she was Uncle George's barmaid.

l did, sir.

What?

The young man Smethurst
approached me in the hope

that l might be able to do something
to further his cause with Miss Platt.

There will now be no obstacle
to their union.

Well, that's all fine, Jeeves,
but what about Uncle George?

You've landed him nicely in the cart.

No, sir, if l might take the liberty
of opposing your view,

l fancy Mrs Wilberforce will make
an admirable mate for his lordship.

Oh, no, no, no, Jeeves, think.

You said yourself that Maudie
Wilberforce is definitely of the people.

Sturdy lower-middle class stock, sir.
A much needed injection of fresh blood.

Now, perhaps you'd like to change
before the journey, sir.

l thought you could drive down after
lunch while l take the baggage by train.

What train? What journey?

Why are we packing?

Your uncle has taken Mrs Wilberforce
to meet Mrs Gregson this afternoon, sir.

He's taking her to meet Aunt Agatha?

l think if we were to leave the metropolis
for a while it might be expedient, sir.

Lord Wickhammersley
invited us to Twing

some time ago for the village festivities.

l think we'll go before lunch,
don't you, Jeeves?

Just as you say, sir.

Well?

Well, l'm waiting.

Mummy, please.

l simply want an answer
from your father.

l bitterly regret now
that l was so kind and forgiving

when he lost the Rolls Royce
to Lord lckenham last year.

Oh, it was just a run of bad luck, Drusilla.
l had three kings...

Enough.

As for this latest outrage...

Not in front of the guests, Mummy.

l am sorry if l'm embarrassing
the guests,

but what l have to say
applies equally to them.

There will be no more betting
of any sort in this house.

Oh, l say!

No.

Oh.

Just a few little bets, mmm?

No.

l have said all l intend to say on the
matter.

Oh, jimballs!

(Horn)

- Bertie!
- Bingo!

- What are you doing down here?
- Staying at Twing Hall.

- There's something l want to show you.
- Right-oh.

Come on.

Look inside behind the bar.
Her name is Myrtle.

- lsn't she beautiful?
- She's a tender goddess.

She is, she is. You can see it, can't you?

- What happened to Daphne?
- Daphne?

The one who came after Honoria.

Passing fancy, Bertie,
the folly of one's youth.

- lt was only a week and a half ago.
- Myrtle was in town to see her uncle.

We met on top of a bus. She was...

Hello, Steggles.

- Meet my friend, Bertie Wooster.
- How do you do?

- This is Rupert Steggles.
- What ho, Steggles.

l'm going inside.
This fresh air is getting into my lungs.

- He's staying at Lord Wickhammersley's.
- Snappy dresser.

l wish he wouldn't hang around Myrtle,
she doesn't like it.

l say, Bertie,
do you want to come in on a little flutter?

You interest me strangely, old bird.

One thing we Woosters are positively
dripping with is sporting blood.

Steggles has decided to make a book
on the sports at the village fete.

l say.

l think l can put you in the way of making
a parcel on the mothers' sack race.

Lead on, old scout.

The idea is an attractive one, sir.

Unfortunately, Lady Wickhammersley
has come down strongly

against any form of betting at Twing.

Apparently, l understand,

as a result of his lordship losing the east
wing in a game of shove ha'penny.

- This is bad news, Jeeves.
- lndeed, sir.

lt was only the strongest representations
to the other party involved,

and the passage of a considerable sum
in money that saved the old place.

No, no. l meant about the betting.

l'm so looking forward to the fete
on Monday.

Me too. l love all those races they have.

My favourite is the boys and girls'
mixed animal potato race.

- What on Earth is that?
- lt's wonderful.

You get into couples and each couple
is given an animal noise and a potato.

One of you stands in a fixed spot holding
the potato and making the animal noise.

- Mewing like a cat, or barking like a dog.
- The other one has a bag over his head.

And has to try and find his partner.

l've forgotten what the potato is for.

l'm damned if you could estimate form,
anyhow.

Hugo.

Shh. Quiet.

Oh!

- Got the race card?
- Yes.

- Do you know the wonderful thing?
- Later.

- Guess where l got it from.
- Later. Shhh!

(Coded knock on door)

- l got it from Myrtle.
- Yes, yes, yes.

Right. Oh, you can still smell
her scent on it. See?

No, thank you, Bingo.

Can we get on?

Right. Um...

The girls under-12 egg-and-spoon race.
Any thoughts about that, Jeeves?

Last year's winner, Sarah Mills,
is the favourite, sir.

- What are her chances?
- l haven't seen the gallops, of course,

but l understand little Sarah
carries a beautiful egg.

- She...
- (Creaking)

(Knock on door)

Bertie.

He's not here.

Jeeves!

lt's Lady Cynthia, sir.

We thought you were your mother.

She's too busy giving Daddy
his evening lecture.

Rupert Steggles thinks
you're forming a syndicate.

What rot!

- Can l join?
- Absolutely.

Thank you.

We were just going through the card.

- Right.
- Carry on, Bingo.

- Mothers' sack race.
- Now, you know something about that.

A gift from Mrs Penworthy,
the tobacconist's wife.

She told me that she'd won three times
at fairs in Worcestershire.

She only moved here a few weeks ago,
so no one knows about her.

- Risk a tenner each way, Jeeves?
- l think so, sir.

Er... Fathers' hat-trimming contest.

Mmm. A very speculative event, sir.

Married couples' three-legged long jump.

l cannot advocate
any large-scale dispersement.

Ah, Mr Wooster.

Ah. What ho, Jeeves.

- l hoped l might find you here, sir.
- You look positively animated, Jeeves.

l'm sorry, sir.

l have information
regarding the choirboys' handicap, sir.

The probable winner of that event
is even now under the roof of Twing Hall.

Harold, sir, the pageboy.

l don't see it, Jeeves,
he's practically circular.

- The boy is a flier, sir.
- How do you know?

l was pursuing him
this morning with a view

to fetching him a clip
on the side of the head.

Great Scot, Jeeves! You?

The lad made an opprobrious remark
about my appearance.

What did he say about your appearance?

l do not recall, sir.
But it was opprobrious.

l attempted to correct him, but he
out-distanced me by yards and escaped.

This is sensational.
We are sure, are we, Jeeves?

Hm.

Oi!

- (Clatter)
- That sounds like the off now, sir.

(Bertie) l say, Jeeves.

Mr Wooster.

Mr Little, Mr Widgeon.

What in God's name
are you doing there?

- We are...
- Er...

We...

(Clears throat)

The gentlemen had expressed an interest
in horticulture, my lady.

l was enlightening them
as to the life cycle of the earthworm.

Essential, l've always felt, for a proper
understanding of the subject.

Oh.

Oh, l see. Very well, then.

- Do carry on.
- Thank you, my lady.

Observe, gentlemen,

the distended saddle on this specimen.

What ho, Steggles.

- Hello, Wooster.
- Morning, Myrtle.

- Mr Wooster.
- Might l have a word?

Now, then, touching on
the choirboys' 100-yard handicap,

l'd like to place a small bet
on Harold Harmsworth.

- The fat boy.
- Well...

We're quoting um...18-1 at the moment.

18-1 . There you are.

To win. Ante post.

£20 to win?

Do you know something?

Know something? No. Why?

No, no, no. l just er... l just like the name.

Harold. Harold Harmsworth.
Got a sort of ring to it, don't you think?

Well, l think it has, anyway.

Yes, yes. Never mind about that.

Thank you.

- Good shot, Bingo.
- Thank you, Bertie.

You're looking very doleful.

Myrtle went to the cinema
with Steggles last night.

Oh, yes. You know what Kipling said,

''The F and the S
have much more D than the M.''

- Really?
- Well, Jeeves, what do you think?

Well, if l might paraphrase the poet, sir,

l think we should be valiant
but not too adventurous.

But was the poet's ball in the bramble,

200 yards from the green,
surrounded by trees?

He made no mention of it, sir.

Perhaps l can suggest
that a spade-mashie on to the fairway

would be the intelligent shot.

- Oh, l agree.
- Leaving us with a pitch onto the green.

Ah, yes, but we Woosters are made of
sterner stuff. Hand me my No.2 iron.

Very good, sir.

Thank you, Jeeves.

Very good, sir.

Thank you, Jeeves.

- Say that again.
- Well, part of the secret l've found,

is not to close my eyes till l'm almost
at the top of the back sweep.

Very interesting.
That's £2.10 you owe me.

l'll just get some change in the bar.

Wait here for five minutes.

- Come on.
- One, two, three.

One, two, three.

So where did it come down, Jeeves?

- l'm not altogether certain that it did, sir.
- ls it still in the air? Bit of a hefty hit, eh?

Yes, sir. l fancy that our next stroke
may pose us some small difficulty.

What a ridiculous place to leave a tree.

Right.

Yes. l think um... l think stroke
and distance don't you, eh, Jeeves?

Just shin up there and get it for me,
will you?

l say, Jeeves,
isn't that Harold the pageboy over there?

Yes, sir. l believe he comes here
caddying on his days off.

The few shillings he earns
buys food to supplement his diet.

Well, whoever owns that club he's
ruining isn't going to be too pleased.

l enjoyed the game, Steggles.

Me, too.

Hey! You!

Hey!

(Bertie) l dun't see that it affects us.

l put us all on ante post
for this very reason,

so we have nothing to lose
by Harold's form becoming known.

- lt affects us if he doesn't start at all!
- What do you mean?

Jeeves said Steggles may try to nobble
him before the race.

No. Good lord!

There's all sorts of ways
of nobbling favourites in racing novels.

ln Pipped At The Post, Lord Jasper outs
Bonny Betsy by bribing the head lad

to slip a cobra into her stalls
before the derby.

l can't imagine
where Steggles is going to get a cobra.

You wouldn't like to stand guarding
Harold, Freddie?

No fear. What are the chances
of a cobra biting Harold, do you think?

Well, from the look of Harold,
it's the snake l'd be worried about.

(Vicar) So as we look around
the valley of our lives,

do we like Ezekiel see
nothing but dry bones?

Do we like Ezekiel doubt the lord's
capacity to animate these bones?

Do we doubt the Lord's
miraculous powers?

Do we shake our heads when the Lord
asks us, ''Can these bones live?''

Or...do we with the lord's help...

Agh!

Do we with the lord's help...

- (Screams)
- ..put breath back into these bones?

lt is up to us, isn't it?

ln the name of the father,
and the son and the Holy Ghost, Amen.

(Screams)

(Hymn begins)

(Screaming drowns hymn)

(Singing fades)

- Someone put a beetle down my back!
- Nonsense.

l felt it wriggling.

Disgraceful behaviour of these
choirboys. Very enjoyable service.

l have warned you about this before.

- Jolly good, Vicar.
- So glad.

Splendid, splendid.

From this moment,
you cease to be a member of my choir.

Go!

Miserable boy.

l don't want to be in your rotten choir,
anyway.

Those bets, old boy.

- l'm afraid you lose your money.
- What do you mean?

lf l recall them, the race rules read,
''Open to all those members of the choir

whose voices haven't broken
for the second Sunday in Epiphany.''

Members of the choir, you notice.

- Well, of all the...
- Pity you didn't opt for the starting price.

l always think SP is the only safe way.

And they talk about the purity of the turf!

A most ingenious young gentleman,
Mr Steggles, sir.

Bally swindler, you mean.

lt now seems for this afternoon's sports

we rely entirely on Mrs Penworthy
in the mothers' sack race.

- Not entirely, Jeeves.
- lndeed, sir?

l've entered Bingo in the 80-yards dash
for mature gentlemen.

Mr Little, sir?

l can't seem to buck him over Myrtle,

and a win on the field
does wonders for impressing the ladies.

lf l may say so, sir, l think that when
the organisers use the word ''mature'',

they are in fact using it
as a euphemism for elderly.

Quite. So he'll obviously start
as favourite.

Now if we put say 50 crowns
on Bingo to win,

well, the syndicate
can take Steggles to the cleaners.

lf l may also say, sir, l think that Mr Little
is bound to start at such short odds...

Oh, tush, Jeeves!
A faint heart never won...lots of money.

£50 on Mr Little to win.

l fear, sir, that even so substantial
an investment as £50

will yield little more than pennies.

All right, then, make it...£100.

l still believe, sir...

(Fairground music)

Everything's under control, my dear.

Not too hard. Hildy, not too hard.

- Everything all right, dear?
- Yes.

Fine. Now...

Hildy!

Blast!

Entry is closed for all events in ten
minutes.

Come along, please.

There's a rise in the ground
to the right of the track,

so stay in lanes 1 or 2,
all the way, Mrs Penworthy.

- What's the going like, Jeeves?
- Good to firm, sir.

lt will suit Mrs Hodges,
she likes to feel the ground.

l'm not afraid of no Mrs Hodges.

Oh, no, no, no. Of course not.

Rubbish, she is.

Thank you. Roll up, roll up.

- Three shies a penny.
- Three shies a penny.

- lt's Myrtle. Don't look.
- What are you telling me for, then?

- Look at her, Bertie.
- You told me not to.

She walks in beauty, Bertie.

- Why don't you go and speak to her?
- Oh, l couldn't. Could l? l will.

All couples for the three-legged race,
report to the starter's table now.

Cynthia. Starter's orders.

- Take over, Mavis.
- Right-ho, Cynthia.

We've backed a winner on this one,

and what's more, Mr and Mrs Puckeridge
are completely incorruptible.

(lnaudible)

(Cheering)

On your marks.

Get set.

Go!

(Cheering)

Ooh.

l say. Wooster, old chap,
could l crave a boon?

Anything, sir.

l hear Steggles is making a book on the
sports. Would you place a bet for me?

- Hugo.
- Oh! Oh.

What are you doing with that money?

l was just asking young Wooster here
to buy me a slice of Eccles cake.

Any Eccles cake that you require, Hugo,
l will go.

Come.

(lnaudible conversation)

Here. l'll show you.

Vicar.

- Thank you, my dear.
- Thank you, Vicar. Good luck.

Ah, Wooster, my dear fellow.

l must say, l'm delighted at the way
you young chaps

are throwing yourselves into the spirit
of our festivity.

- Nothing l like better, Vicar.
- Even Rupert Steggles.

Between ourselves,
l've never thought of Rupert Steggles

as the sort of chap who'd put himself out
to further the enjoyment of others.

And yet, twice in the last half-hour,

l have seen him escort Mrs Penworthy
to the refreshment tent.

Mr Wooster, l...

Excuse me. Sorry, sorry.

Excuse me.

Sorry. Um...

Er, excuse me. Er, this hat.

Mrs Penworthy's.
Mrs Penworthy is that hat, isn't it, Doris?

- Yes. She was here with Mr Steggles.
- Steggles.

Did you serve any drink?

No, it was the food, wasn't it, Daisy?

l thought it must be for a party.
Four of them pork pies, he bought her.

And three pieces of fruitcake.

And then she had two servings
of the trifle after the ice cream.

On your marks.

Get set, go!

(Cheering)

(lndistinct)

You seem very interested
in the mothers' sack race, Mr Wooster.

What? No.

Well, that's to say yes. Erm...

Development of the thoroughbred,
you know.

Thoroughbred?

Right, Jeeves, the hour approaches.

£100, Mr Little, on the nose.

£100.

Really.

£100, Bertie?

Bingo, l want to show you
another dead cert.

Well done, Mr Donkin.

- And now, Miss Watson.
- Thank you, Vicar.

Only four competitors hit the bell so far.

Oh. Sorry.

Oh, dear!

l don't know what to...

l think we shall have to cancel the event.

This is rapidly turning into a rout.

- You're our last chance, Bingo.
- Suppose l lose, though.

You can't possibly lose.
Your youngest competitor is 65.

And his bunions were playing him up
this morning.

You can get a bet on for me, Cynthia.

- All right, Daddy. But don't tell Mummy.
- Don't tell Mummy what?

Three shies, darling, thank you.
Thank you.

Here you are, Hugo. lt will do you good.

(lnaudible conversations)

Pssst!

Sh.

- Your Aunt Agatha's not here, is she?
- Good lord, no.

lt's all right, Maudie.

- We went to see her.
- Oh, it was awful.

Well, you're quite safe down here.

Now, tell me, Bertie,
is the vicar about anywhere?

Absolutely. He's er... He's over there.
Why?

Want to get the banns read,
as a matter of fact.

Before she catches up with us.

Come on, Piggy.

Jeeves, could you hang on to this
while l'm doing the race?

With great pleasure, sir.
May l introduce Beryl, sir?

Beryl, this is Mr Little.

l say.

Mr Little is the gentleman
who is going to win the 80-yards dash.

Oh, l'm so looking forward to the race,
Mr Little.

- Richard's the name.
- l know you'll win.

Well...

Good luck.

Richard.

Oh.

My friends call me Bingo.

Sorry.

(Starter) The mature gentlemen's race
is about to begin.

Assemble at the start, gentlemen.

Please.

- l say, Jeeves, have you seen Bingo?
- That's Mr Little coming up to the start.

l shall watch this one from the tape.

Very good, sir.

On your marks.

Get set.

Go!

Come on, Bingo!

Mr Little.

Richard.

Bingo.

(Applause)

lf you'll just drink this, sir.

This is the end, Jeeves. Everything we've
worked and prayed for. £100, Jeeves.

The darkest hour
is proverbially just before the dawn, sir.

(Bingo) l say, Jeeves.

- Have you seen Beryl?
- Not since the race, sir.

l have to find her, Jeeves.
What a wonderful girl.

Yes, sir.
Would you care for your jacket, sir?

Thank you, Jeeves.

Thank you. Thank you.

How could he lose, Jeeves?

That fellow who won,

Charlie Bembo, was old enough to give
Bingo's grandmother the glad eye.

(Sniffs) Mr Steggles.

Excuse me, excuse me.

Excuse me.

Betting slips?

No. l...

You may catch the train to London,
Mr Steggles. Your things will be sent on.

As for your ill-gotten gains...

they will go towards
the new church roof.

(Hubbub)

- lt can all be arranged, Lord Yaxley.
- Thank you so much.

- Goodbye, Vicar.
- Goodbye.

Goodbye, Vicar.

Ah, Vicar. A little something for the fund.

How kind.

Oh, thank you.

Well, you'll bally well pardon me
for saying so, Jeeves,

but you seem to have landed us
in a complete mess.

- All right, was it, Mr Jeeves?
- Beautifully judged, Beryl, thank you.

- Now, see you later in the Five Crowns.
- All right, Mr Jeeves. Bye-bye.

Yes, er...probably none of my business,
Jeeves,

but may l ask you what you were
thanking that young lady for?

l have a confession to make, sir.

Oh, yes?

l requested the girl Beryl to shout at
Mr Little at the strategic moment.

You did what, Jeeves?

l surmised that Myrtle
is a large-hearted girl,

who would sympathise
with a gallant loser.

But Bingo doesn't care a fig
about Myrtle. lt's all Beryl now.

Sir, l must confess
that where the fair sex is concerned,

Mr Little is rather quicker out of the gate
than even l had imagined.

So you ruined the syndicate
just for Bingo.

Not quite, sir. The syndicate
is well into profit, l'm happy to say.

Profit, Jeeves! Every single thing we
backed

was either scratched, axed, nobbled,
or fell at the first fence.

- We lost £100 on Bingo alone.
- Ahem.

What do you mean, ''Ahem''?

ls that an ''ahem'' of remorse, Jeeves?
l hope so.

l'm afraid l couldn't bring myself
to place the bet on Mr Little, sir.

What?! Jeeves, l distinctly told you...

- You mean we didn't lose the £100?
- lndeed not, sir.

l took it into my head to put, what
l believe is called in racing parlance,

a bundle on Charlie Bembo at 15 to 1 , sir.

15 to...

Jeeves.

A further safeguard
was to collect our winnings

before l informed Lady Wickhammersley
of Mr Steggles's activities.

Jeeves, you're a wonder.

Thank you, sir.

We do our best.

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