Jeeves and Wooster

[greeting the Glossops before trying to prove his sanity]

Bertie:
What ho, what ho, what ho?

Bertie:
Yes! And, of course the old devil himself. Yes, he really put one up on the uncle didn't he? Thanks to Jeeves's masterpiece. What a wheeze!

Muriel:
Darling, this is a friend of mine, Mr. Wooster. Mr. Wooster I'd like you to meet my husband, Mr. Worple.

Bertie:
Husband? Huh! What rot!

Bertie:
And if *that* doesn't leave me without a stain on my conscience, then I don't know *what* it doesn't leave me without a stain on.

Jeeves:
Am I to infer sir that you might be offering yourself for election?

Bertie:
Your inference is as always slap on the button and leading by a length in the final furlong, Jeeves.

Jeeves:
Travel is highly educational, Sir.

Bertie:
I cannot do with any more education, Jeeves. I was full up years ago!

Bertie:
He wants to marry Myrtle Snap?

Jeeves:
Precisely so, Sir, but Mrs. Snap refuses to consider such a venture while Sir Roderick's daughter remains unmarried. In a colourful turn of phrase she stated that specific and scarcely to be anticipated meteorological conditions would have to take place in the infernal region before she would share a home with Miss Honoria.

Bertie:
No. No no no no no. No, seriously and definitely no. I'm prepared to do many things for you, Aunt Dalia. But putting on earrings and a frock and pretending to be an American lady novelist is not among them. Besides, I've got a mustache.

Aunt Dahlia Travers:
For a lady novelist, that's a positive asset.

Bertie:
[upon entering the New York apartment and finding only Jeeves] Jeeves, where is everybody - Bicky? The Duke of Bicky?

[first lines]

Bertie Wooster:
Ah, Jeeves, how was the little chap this morning?

Reginald Jeeves:
Distressingly willful, sir.

Bertie Wooster:
Ah well, we must look on the bright side, Jeeves. We must think of the untold goose we have done ourselves by nannying the beast until Aunt Agatha has finished her inspection of the continent.

Reginald Jeeves:
True, sir. Um, pardon me for asking, sir, but are you proposing to appear in public in those garments?

Bertie Wooster:
What? Certainly, Jeeves. What, a bit vivid do you think?

Reginald Jeeves:
Not necessarily, sir. I am told that Mr Freddy 'He's a Riot' Flowerdew often appears on the music-hall stage in comparable attire, but...

Bertie Wooster:
No, no, no. No, no, no. No buts, Jeeves. I happen to think very highly of them.

[last lines]

Reginald Jeeves:
Shall I run your bath, sir?

Bertie Wooster:
Thank you, Jeeves, yes.

Bertie Wooster:
Oh, Jeeves.

Reginald Jeeves:
Yes, sir?

Bertie Wooster:
Those plus-sixes, Jeeves. Get rid of them, will you.

Reginald Jeeves:
Thank you, sir. It will be a wrench at first, but you'll feel better for it.

[Bertie is driving all-out to the hall to avert disaster]

Reginald Jeeves:
[shouting over the engine and the wind] Your pardon, sir?

Bertie Wooster:
[shouting] What is it, Jeeves?

Reginald Jeeves:
The speedometer indicates that we are traveling in excess of 90 miles per hour!

Bertie Wooster:
Good lord! Is that all?

[accelerates]

[Bertie has been caught red-handed]

Aunt Agatha Gregson:
Bertie! I want an explanation!

Bertie Wooster:
Well...

[Jeeves enters, disguised by a trench coat, fedora, and huge fake moustache]

Reginald Jeeves:
All right, Scotland Yard. I'm looking for one Bertram Wilberforce Wooster.

Aunt Agatha Gregson:
Scotland Yard!

Bertie Wooster:
Uh, that's me.

Reginald Jeeves:
Then I'm arresting you, Bertram Wilberforce Wooster, in connection with the use of an illegal golf club. Will you come quietly?

Bertie Wooster:
[under his breath] Brilliant! That is brilliant!

Reginald Jeeves:
Now, none of that, if you please, sir! This way.

Aunt Agatha Gregson:
[as he leads Bertie out] Scotland Yard! Oh, the shame of it!

Chuffy:
She must have had a wonderful time being engaged to you. What on earth made her except you I wonder?

Bertie:
I once consulted a knowledgeable pal. And his theory was that the sight of me hanging around like a loony ship awoke the maternal instinct in woman. There may be something in this.

Aunt Agatha Gregson:
As long as you have kept him well away from theatrical circles.

Bertie:
Theatrical circles?

Aunt Agatha Gregson:
As I instructed you in my letter.

Bertie:
Letter?

Aunt Agatha Gregson:
Would you kindly stop parroting my every word, Bertie?

Bertie:
Parroting?

Jeeves:
I am familiar with the name Bassington-Bassington, sir. There are the Shropshire Bassington-Bassingtons the Hampshire Bassington-Bassingtons and, of course, the Kent Bassington-Bassingtons.

Bertie:
Ah, so, the world's pretty well stacked up on Bassington-Bassingtons then.

Jeeves:
Tolerably so, sir.

Bertie:
No chance of a sudden shortage, I mean, ha?

Jeeves:
Presumably not, sir.

Bertie:
[a guest has just loudly criticized America in a New York police station] Oh, I-I don't know, you know, don't you know?

[last lines]

Aunt Dahlia:
This is all your fault, Wooster.

Bertie Wooster:
Me? Well, what have I done?

Aunt Dahlia:
Jeeves. Pack Mr Wooster's bags.

Bertie:
A cousin in need is a cousin indeed!

[a very hungover Bertie opens his front door, to find a smartly dressed man standing there]

Jeeves:
I was sent by the agency, sir. I was given to understand that you require a valet.

Jeeves:
[Bertie Wooster, speechless from the ill effects of a hangover, is approached by valet-applicant Jeeves, who holds out a glass of reddish liquid on a tray] If you would drink this, sir. It's a little preparation of my own invention. Gentlemen have told me they find it extremely invigorating after a late evening.

Bertie:
[Making incomprehensible sounds, Bertie takes the glass and downs the contents, then coughs, shudders, and shakes his head] I say! I...

[Amazed at his rapid recovery, and being able to speak once more, Bertie gets up to examine himself in the nearby mirror]

Bertie:
I say! You're engaged!

Jeeves:
Thank you, sir. My name is Jeeves.

Bertie:
I say, Jeeves, what an extraordinary talent!

Jeeves:
Thank you, sir.

Bertie:
[holding up the empty glass] Eh, could one enquire what...?

Jeeves:
I'm sorry, sir.

Bertie:
No, no, of course not.

Jeeves:
I'm not at liberty to divulge the ingredients, sir.

Bertie:
No, no, no, of course not. Secrets of the guild and all that.

Jeeves:
Precisely, sir.

[Bingo has revealed his love for Honoria to Bertie]

Bingo Little:
We walk together in the gardens most evenings, and it sometimes seems to me there's a look in her eye.

Bertie:
Yes, I know that look. Like a Sergeant-Major.

[Bingo intoduces Bertie to Honoria's younger brother, Oswald]

Bertie:
Well, hello Oswald. How are you?

Oswald:
All right.

Bertie:
Nice place, this.

Oswald:
It's all right.

Bertie:
Like fishing, do you?

Oswald:
It's all right.

[Bingo and Bertie walk on]

Bertie:
Why don't you shove him in?

Bingo Little:
Into the water?

Bertie:
Wake him up a bit.

Bingo Little:
She'd never forgive me. She's devoted to the little brute.

Bertie:
[singing Minnie the Moocher] Ho dee ho dee ho dee ho

Jeeves:
[speaking] Ho dee ho dee ho, sir.

Bertie:
[stumbles a bit at the piano] ...rah di rah di rah

Jeeves:
Rah di rah di rah, sir?

Bertie:
Tee di hee di hee

Jeeves:
Tee di hee di hee, sir.

Bertie:
Yes...hm... I don't mean to be overly critical Jeeves, I mean, I know you're doing your best...

Jeeves:
Thank you, sir!

Bertie:
I just think that perhaps we could dispense with the 'sir' at the end of every line. You know, shows the proper feudal spirit and all that, but I'm afraid if it doesn't play merry hell with the rhythm of the thing.

Jeeves:
I was sent by the agency, Sir. I was given to understand that you required a valet.

Bertie:
But I don't want to be molded! I'm not a jelly.

Aunt Agatha Gregson:
That is a matter of opinion.

Richard 'Bingo' Little:
[about Honoria Glossop] Oh, isn't she wonderful, Bertie - like a tender goddess!

Bertie:
[pausing while playing "Minnie the Moocher" on the piano] Now that is clever, Jeeves.

Jeeves:
Sir?

Bertie:
That part about "the king of Sweden" and "things she was needin'."

Jeeves:
Yes, His Majesty King Gustav appears to have been exceptionally generous to the young lady, sir.

Bertie:
No, I mean, it rhymes, Jeeves.

Jeeves:
Almost, sir.

Bertie Wooster:
[to Jeeves, seeing Lord Pershore collapsed] Someone's been feeding him meat!

Rockmetteller 'Rocky' Todd:
[walking down a New York City street, composing poetry and spotting a neon diner sign where the final two letters have burned out] Wait a minute - din! The din of the city. The city without pity.

[Madeline knocks on her father's study door, planning to announce her engagement]

Sir Watkyn Bassett:
Come in!

[she opens it]

Sir Watkyn Bassett:
Madeline, my dear, what can I do for you.

Madeline Bassett:
Daddy, there's something I have to tell you...

[She goes in, closing the door. Nothing can be heard for a few moments, until... ]

Sir Watkyn Bassett:
[from within] Bertie Wooster? NOOOOO! Oh, dear God, Madeline, not that!

Bertie:
You can't be a successful dictator *and* design women's underclothing.

Jeeves:
No, sir.

Bertie:
One or the other. Not both.

Jeeves:
Precisely, sir.

Bertie:
The problem is, I've forgotten that jolly useful word you unearthed.

Jeeves:
Sir?

Bertie:
The one that always reduces Spode to a quivering mass of apology. I have a feeling I may need it.

Jeeves:
You are referring, I think, sir, to "Eulalie."

Bertie:
Eulalie, that's it! I wish you'd tell me what it meant. I mean, I have no complaints, but it's a bit like holding up a bank and not knowing whether your gun is loaded or not.

Jeeves:
I fear I'm not at liberty to disclose the details, sir. You may rest assured, however, that the weapon is loaded.

Augustus 'Gussie' Fink-Nottle:
Oh, don't talk rot, Spode!

Roderick Spode:
I am not in the habit of talking rot!

Augustus 'Gussie' Fink-Nottle:
Well, I must say you're doing dashed well for a beginner.

Madeline Bassett:
[to a party guest] Augustus is such a strong man. Strong - and silent.

Augustus 'Gussie' Fink-Nottle:
[runs into the room, trying to escape from Roderick Spode] Ahhhhhhh!

Bertie:
Have you ever seen a floral clock, Jeeves?

Jeeves:
I have not had that pleasure, sir.

Bertie:
No, well, don't. Have nothing whatever to do with floral clocks. If a friend says, "Just one more floral clock can't do you any harm," be firm.

Jeeves:
Did you have a pleasant afternoon, sir?

Bertie:
You have a cruel streak, Jeeves. I hadn't realized it before. What blighter was it that invented the bicycle?

Jeeves:
The first truly rideable machine was made by a Mr. Kirkpatrick MacMillan of Dumfriesshire in Scotland in 1839, I believe, sir.

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

Jeeves:
I fear so, sir.

Lady Glossop:
One of my most treasured memories is of Irving playing Hamlet at the Lyceum.

Bertie:
Really? Who won?

Madeline Bassett:
I think he's having a brain storm.

Aunt Agatha Gregson:
What with?

Bertie Wooster:
Otherwise tomorrow I'm the chief mourner at my own wedding.

Reginald Jeeves:
Foreign travel often liberates emotions best kept in check, sir, and the air of North America is notoriously stimulating in this regard, as witness the regrettable behaviour of its inhabitants in 1776.

Bertie Wooster:
What happened in 1776, Jeeves?

Reginald Jeeves:
I prefer not to dwell on it if it's convenient to you, sir.

Jeeves:
[on the telephone, anonymously calling the local police] 'Tis Old Boggy. He be abroad tonight. He be headed for the railway station.

Jeeves:
A telegram for you, sir.

Bertie:
[in the bathtub] Oh, well, you'd better read it, Jeeves.

Jeeves:
Very good, sir.

[clears throat]

Jeeves:
"Come immediately. Serious rift Madeline and Self. Unless you come earliest possible moment prepared lend every effort reconciliation, wedding will be broken off. Reply, Gussie," sir.

Bertie:
Hmm, well, these are deep waters, Jeeves. There is only one thing that I can say now with any certainty, and that is that Gussie has made an ass of himself again.

Jeeves:
There is that possibility, sir.

Bertie:
Have you got your telegraph pad handy?

Jeeves:
Yes, sir.

Bertie:
Right, well send this.

Jeeves:
[clears throat to indicate readiness to receive dictation]

Bertie:
"Fink-Nottle, Totleigh Towers, Totleigh-in-the-Wold, Gloucestershire. Yes, that's all very well. You say 'come here immediately,' but how dickens can I? Relations between Pop Bassett and self not such as to make him welcome Bertram. Would hurl out on ear and set dogs on. What serious rift? Why serious rift? Why dickens? What have you been doing to the girl? Reply, Bertie."

Stephanie 'Stiffy' Byng:
Bertie, I think you're a pig!

Bertie:
A pig, maybe, but a shrewd, level-headed pig, a pig who was not born yesterday and who has seen a thing or two.

[a constable chases Bertie into the Drones Club]

Constable:
Where is he?

Rogers, Drones Porter:
Who, sir?

Constable:
[sees the door behind him] Right.

[He moves to open it]

Rogers, Drones Porter:
I wouldn't go in there, sir.

Constable:
Oh, no?

[He opens the door... ]

Cyril 'Barmy' Fotheringay Phipps:
BLUEBOTTLE!

Member:
Where?

[All the members throw their rolls at the constable; he goes down under a barrage of bread and falls backward into the corridor]

Bertie:
[on Gussie] Any message for him?

Roderick Spode - 8th Earl of Sidcup:
Yes. Tell him I'm going to break his neck.

Bertie:
Break his neck, right. And, if he should ask why?

Roderick Spode - 8th Earl of Sidcup:
He knows why. Because he is a butterfly, who toys with women's hearts and throws them away like soiled gloves!

Bertie:
Do butterflies do that?

Roderick Spode - 8th Earl of Sidcup:
Are you trying to be funny?

Bertie:
It's about time some publicly-spirited person told you where to get off. The trouble with you, Spode, is that just because you've succeeded in convincing a handful of half-wits to disfigure the London scene by going about in black shorts, you think you're someone. You hear them shouting "Hail, Spode!" and you imagine it's the voice of the people. That is where you make your bloomer. What the voice of the people is actually saying is, "Look at that frightful ass Spode swanking about in footer bags! Did you ever in your life see such a perfect perisher?"

Bertie:
[after insulting Spode] Spode, I know your secret!

Roderick Spode:
Eh?

Bertie:
I know all about...

[blanks]

Roderick Spode:
You know all about what?

Bertie:
Uh... Euphimol! Uh, uh...

[as Spode advances menacingly, Bertie falls backward. Gussie smashes an oil painting over Spode's head. Spode turns to Gussie, breathing fire, and Bertie smashes a vase on his head. They both flee the room. Outside, Jeeves watches, perplexed, as Gussie runs out, followed by Bertie]

Bertie:
Eucalyptus!

[as Spode chases them down the hallway, Jeeves sighs and writes on a slip of paper]

Bertie:
Euripedes! Eucharist! Europe! Euphonium? Uh, eu-, eu-, eu...

[as they run past Jeeves, he holds out the paper]

Bertie:
Thank you!

[Spode corners them against a locked door]

Roderick Spode:
Now...!

Bertie:
[reads the slip] Eulalie!

Jeeves:
If one were to "get the goods" on Mr. Spode, as the underworld phraseology has it, he would be rendered a negligible force.

Bertie:
Well, yes. But we haven't got anything on him. I don't even know where we'd look.

Jeeves:
I was thinking of the Junior Ganymede, sir. It is a club for gentlemen's personal gentlemen in Curzon street.

Bertie:
A club? What, you mean like White's?

Jeeves:
Of a similar nature, sir. The surroundings are more comfortable, however, and the members less Bolshevik.

Bertie:
And you're a member?

Jeeves:
Oh, indeed, sir. And Mr. Spode's personal attendant is likely to be a member also, and would naturally have confided to the secretary a good deal of information to be included in the club book.

Bertie:
The club book?

Jeeves:
Under rule eleven, all members are required to provide the secretary with full information about their employer, sir. This not only provides entertaining reading, but also provides a warning to those seeking employment with those gentlemen who fall short of the ideal.

Bertie:
Did you tell them about me?

Jeeves:
Oh yes, sir.

Bertie:
What, everything? The night I came home from Pongo Twistleton's birthday party and mistook the standing lamp for a burglar?

Jeeves:
That episode is a particular favorite with members, sir. They like to have these things to read on wet afternoons.

Bertie:
[at the telegraph office] To Aunt Dahlia: I say, look here. This is absolutely impossible. Not to say out of the question. Spode has already threatened yours truly. Sorry and all that. About the cow creamer I mean. Anyway, there it is. Toodle-pip. Your affectionate nephew, Bertie.

Bertie:
I cannot do with anymore education, Jeeves! I was full up years ago!

Bertie:
Right. "To Aunt Dehlia: Um, I say, look here, this is absolutely impossible. Not to say, out of the question. Spode has already threatened yours truly. Sorry, and all that. Oh, about the cow creamer, I mean. Anyway there it is. Toodle-pip. Your affectionate nephew, Bertie."

Telegraph operator, uncredited:
Is it a code?

[last lines]

Bertie Wooster:
Jeeves, you're a wonder.

Reginald Jeeves:
Thank you, sir. We do our best.