Jeeves and Wooster, Season 1

[his first line]

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

Eustace Wooster:
Now, touching at lunch, you very decently were going to volunteer to stand us...

Bertie Wooster:
Can’t be done, I’m afraid. I’ve got to have lunch with our Aunt Agatha.

Eustace Wooster:
Oh... not the nephew-crusher.

Aunt Agatha:
Bertie.

Bertie Wooster:
Aunt Agatha.

Aunt Agatha:
It is young men like you who make a person with the future of the race at heart despair.

Bertie Wooster:
Oh. Right.

Bertie Wooster:
Jeeves, I have to make one thing crystal clear.

Jeeves:
Yes, sir?

Bertie Wooster:
I am not one of those fellows who become absolute slaves to their valets.

Jeeves:
[as if shocked] No, sir.

Bertie Wooster:
Just as long as we understand each other.

Jeeves:
Perfectly, sir.

Lady Glossop:
Do you work, Mr. Wooster?

Bertie Wooster:
What, work? As in honest toil, you mean? Hewing the wood and drawing the old wet stuff and so forth?

Lady Glossop:
Quite.

Bertie Wooster:
Well... I've known a few people who worked. Absolutely swear by it, some of them.

Bertie Wooster:
You bally well are informed, Jeeves! Do you know everything?

Jeeves:
[hesitates] I really don't know, sir.

Jeeves:
Pardon me for asking, sir, but are you proposing to appear in public in those garments?

Bertie Wooster:
Well, certainly, Jeeves. What — a bit vivid, do you think?

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

Bertie Wooster:
[having just finished playing "Forty-Seven Ginger-Headed Sailors"] Really speaks to me, that song, you know, Jeeves.

Jeeves:
I'm sorry to hear that, sir.

Bertie Wooster:
I can be chilled steel, you know!

Bobbie Wickham:
Mr. Blumenfield's a fearfully important Broadway producer. I've got to read Mummy's play to him after lunch. I can't read to him in a restaurant.

Bertie Wooster:
Yes, but why does he want jam roly-poly and oysters?

Bobbie Wickham:
Oh, he doesn't. That's for his son. Apparently Mr. Blumenfield always banks on his verdict. He says an eight-year-old child's intelligence is exactly equal to a Broadway audience's.

Tuppy:
Guess what? I'm going to the opera tonight.

Bertie Wooster:
Opera, Tuppy?

Tuppy:
Cora's singing in the, um, Barber of Figaro.

Bertie Wooster:
Is that the one about the pyramids?

Barmy:
Sounds like it, by the name.

Tuppy:
I've never been to the opera before. Would you like to come with me, Bertie?

Bertie Wooster:
Ahh, well…. [They eventually see Le nozze di Figaro, a k a The Marriage of Figaro.]

Bertie Wooster:
Tell me, Jeeves, were you always like this, or did it come on suddenly?

Jeeves:
Sir?

Bertie Wooster:
The brain, the gray matter. Were you an outstandingly brilliant child?

Jeeves:
My mother thought me intelligent, sir.

Bertie:
Well, can't go by that. My mother thought me intelligent.

Bertie Wooster:
[about the song "Good Night, Vienna"] I mean, fancy writing a song about saying good night to a whole city. I mean, you may as well say, "Good Afternoon, Manchester" or "Fancy Bumping Into You, Basingstoke."

Jeeves:
Yes, sir.

Bertie Wooster:
Or "I Didn't See You at the Club Last Night, Cleethorpes."

Rupert Steggles:
I'm going inside. This fresh air is getting into my lungs.

Bertie Wooster:
You look positively animated, Jeeves!

Jeeves:
[straightening his jacket] I'm sorry, sir.

Jeeves:
The boy is a flyer, sir.

Bertie Wooster:
How do you know?

Jeeves:
I happened to be pursuing him this morning with a view to fetching him a clip on the side of the head.

Bertie Wooster:
Great Scott, Jeeves! You?

Jeeves:
The lad is of an outspoken disposition, sir, and had made an opprobrious remark respecting my appearance.

Bertie Wooster:
What did he say about your appearance?

Jeeves:
[coldly] I do not recall, sir. But it was opprobrious.

Bertie Wooster:
You know what Kipling said. The f. of the s. is much more d. than the m.

Jeeves:
[waking him up] Good morning, Mr. Wooster.

Bertie Wooster:
What? What's the time?

Jeeves:
Ten past nine, sir.

Bertie Wooster:
[irritated] Ten past nine!? Is the building on fire?

Jeeves:
Not that I've been informed, sir, no.

Bertie Wooster:
I can't understand Gussie Fink-Nottle being in London, Jeeves. Till now he's always remained glued to the country, completely surrounded by newts.

Jeeves:
Sir?

Bertie Wooster:
[speaking to doorman] Morning, Jarvis. [turning again to Jeeves] Newts. You know, Jeeves, those little lizard-y things that charge about in ponds.

Jeeves:
Ah, yes, sir. The aquatic members of the family Salamandridae that constitute the genus Molge.

Bertie Wooster:
Yes, they're the chaps.

[about Gussie's reported romantic interest in Madeline Bassett]

Bertie Wooster:
Well, I must confess, Jeeves, that until you supplied this information, I had definite doubts about Gussie's chances. But now, hope begins to dawn. He's just the sort of chap that Madeline Bassett might scoop up with a spoon.

Jeeves:
This is indeed good news, sir.

Bertie Wooster:
I wouldn't go so far as to say she actually writes poetry, but when a girl suddenly asks you out of a clear blue sky if you don't think that the stars are "God's daisy chain," well, I mean, you do begin to wonder, Jeeves.

Jeeves:
[clears throat] Indeed, sir.

[about the white mess jacket]

Jeeves:
I assumed it had got into your wardrobe by mistake, sir, or else that it has been placed there by your enemies.

Bertie Wooster:
I will have you know, Jeeves, that I bought this in Cannes!

Jeeves:
And wore it, sir?

Bertie Wooster:
Every night at the Casino. Beautiful women used to try and catch my eye!

Jeeves:
Presumably they thought you were a waiter, sir.

Bertie Wooster:
Aunt calling to aunt like mastodons bellowing across primeval swamps.

Bertie Wooster:
Tuppy, old man!

Tuppy Glossop:
It's no good saying "Tuppy, old man"!

Bertie Wooster:
Well, I do say "Tuppy, old man"! One is... one is shocked; one raises the eyebrows! Where is the fine old chivalrous spirit of the Glossops?

Tuppy:
Well, where is the sweet, gentle, womanly spirit of the Angelas? Telling a chap he's getting a double chin!

Bertie Wooster:
Now be fair, Tuppy. Remember the time you told her that new hat made her look like a Pekinese?

Tuppy:
Yes, well. Did make her look like a Pekinese. But that wasn't vulgar abuse, just sound, constructive criticism.

[Bertie rolls his eyes]

Bertie Wooster:
Tut!

Aunt Dahlia:
What did you say?

Bertie Wooster:
I said "tut!"

Aunt Dahlia:
Say it again and I'll biff you where you stand. I have enough to endure without being tutted at.

Bertie Wooster:
Well, quite.

Aunt Dahlia:
Any tutting that's required, I'll attend to myself.

Madeline Bassett:
Oh, Bertie, what a beautiful night!

Bertie Wooster:
[humouring her] Rather!

Madeline:
All the flowers have closed their eyes....

Bertie Wooster:
Really?

Madeline:
And all the little stars have woken up. [sees rabbits in the garden, not comprehending that they're only pottery figures] Oh, look! The little bunnies — how still they are!

Bertie Wooster:
Yes, yes, they are marvellously still, aren't they? Yes....

[following Gussie's utter failure to make a good impression with Madeline Bassett]

Bertie Wooster:
But how could anything go wrong? All he had to do was… propose.

Jeeves:
So one would be disposed to imagine, sir. However, upon finding himself alone with the young lady, he confesses to having lost his nerve. In such circumstances, gentlemen frequently talk at random, sir, saying the first thing that chances to enter their head. This, in Mr. Fink-Nottle's case, would seem to have been the newt: its treatment in sickness and in health.

Bertie Wooster:
Bad, Jeeves.

Jeeves:
Yes, sir.

Bertie Wooster:
And how long did he go on talking about newts?

Jeeves:
According to Mr. Fink-Nottle, he supplied Miss Bassett with very full and complete information, sir.

Bertie Wooster:
Very bad, Jeeves.

Jeeves:
Indeed, sir.

Barmy Fotheringay-Phipps:
Mr. Wooster's residence... Where is Mr. Wooster? (Bertie shakes his head and waves his hand at him) He's not at home, sir... I'm Jeeves... What do you mean, "you think not?"... Oh! (he hangs up)

Bertie Wooster:
Well, who was it?

Barmy Fotheringay-Phipps:
Jeeves.

Bertie Wooster:
Well, I don't think I'm going too far, Jeeves, when I say that this just about takes the giddy biscuit!

Jeeves:
We have a duty to look after our ladies and gentlemen, Monsieur Anatole.

Monsieur Anatole:
Look after?! Am I the nursie?! Am I the nursie for the kiddies?! No, this is not kiddies, no no no no no. Kiddies is nice. Kiddies is not stopping with the eats. Kiddies is not saying to other chap, "Poof! We not like you no more! We not eat your comestibles!"

Jeeves:
Since time immemorial, Monsieur Anatole, it has fallen to the Gallic races to bring civilization to the rude northerly provinces of their empire.

Monsieur Anatole:
Mmm-mm, is true. Anatole is civilian. Anatole is nice.

Jeeves:
It hasn't always been easy; sometimes it has seemed impossible. But...

Bertie Wooster:
I was standing on Eden-Roc in Antibes last month, and a girl I know slightly pointed to this fellow diving into the water and asked me if I didn't think that his legs were about the silliest-looking pair of props ever issued to a human being. Well, I agreed that indeed they were and, for perhaps a couple of minutes, I was extraordinarily witty and satirical about this bird's underpinnings. And guess what happened next.

Jeeves:
I am agog to learn, sir.

Bertie Wooster:
A cyclone is what happened next, Jeeves, emanating from this girl. She started on my own legs, saying that they weren't much to write home about, and then she moved on to dissect my manners, morals, intellect, general physique and method of eating asparagus. By the time she'd finished, the best that could be said about poor old Bertram was that, so far as was known, he hadn't actually burnt down an orphanage.

Jeeves:
A most illuminating story, sir.

Bertie Wooster:
No, no, no, no, no, Jeeves, Jeeves, you haven't had the payoff yet!

Jeeves:
Oh, I'm so sorry, sir! The structure of your tale deceived me, for a moment, into thinking that it was over.

Bertie Wooster:
No, no, no, the point is that she was actually engaged to this fellow with the legs. They'd had some minor disagreement the night before, but there they were the following night, dining together, their differences made up and the love light once more in their eyes. And I expect much the same results with my cousin Angela.

Jeeves:
I look forward to it with lively anticipation, sir.

[Bertie is trying to convince a furious Tuppy Glossop that he's had no romantic intentions toward Angela Travers]

Bertie Wooster:
During that sojourn in Cannes, my affections were engaged elsewhere.

Tuppy Glossop:
What?

Bertie Wooster:
My affections. Engaged elsewhere, during that sojourn.

Tuppy:
[angrily] Well, who was she?

Bertie Wooster:
My dear Tuppy, does one bandy a woman's name?

Tuppy:
One does if one doesn't want one's ruddy head pulled off! [approaches menacingly]

Bertie Wooster:
Well, yes, right, yes, well, obviously this is a...a special case. Madeline Bassett.

Tuppy:
[astonished] You're in love with that weird Gawd-help-us Bassett!?

Bertie Wooster:
Well, I don't think you should call her a weird Gawd-help-us, Tuppy. Odd in some of her views, perhaps. One does not quite see eye-to-eye with her in the matter of stars and bunny rabbits. But not a weird Gawd-help-us.

Tuppy:
And you stick to it that you're in love with her?

Bertie Wooster:
It is not twenty-four hours since she turned me down.

Tuppy Glossop:
Turned you down?

Bertie Wooster:
Like a bedspread. In this very garden. So, you'll see, I can't be the chap, if any, who stole Angela from you in Cannes.

Tuppy Glossop:
Well, because your affections were engaged elsewhere...

Bertie Wooster:
During that sojourn.

Tuppy:
Hmm, I see. All right then. Sorry to have troubled you.

Gussie Fink-Nottle:
So, you've won the Scripture Knowledge prize, have you, G.G. Simmons?

G.G. Simmons:
Sir, yes, sir.

Gussie Fink-Nottle:
Yes, you look just the sort of little tick who would.

Bertie Wooster:
So! It appears that you've gone and got engaged to the Gussie.

Angela Travers:
Quite right. We're in love.

Bertie Wooster:
Oh, come now, Angela. Gussie's... Gussie's a splendid chap in many ways. If you've got a sick newt on your hands, well, Gussie's just the fellow to tell you what to do until the doctor comes. But honestly, old thing, you could fling bricks by the half-hour in England's most densely populated districts without hitting one girl willing to become Mrs. Fink-Nottle without a general anesthetic.

Angela Travers:
Well, I thought it would be fun!

Bertie Wooster:
Well, I'm surprised at you, young Angela. No wonder they say, "Oh, woman, woman!"

Angela Travers:
Who do?

Bertie Wooster:
...Well, chaps, supposedly. You know you're potty about Tuppy!

Angela Travers:
For goodness's sake, Bertie, go away and boil your head!

Bertie Wooster:
Well, now, Angela, if you'll permit me to observe…!

Angela Travers:
No!

Bertie Wooster:
Very well, then. I shall say no more. [gets up to leave, then pauses in the doorway] Just... tinkety-tonk!

Jeeves:
Gentlemen who are discarded by one young lady are apt to attach themselves without delay to another, sir. It is what is known as a gesture. My uncle George...

Bertie Wooster:
Oh, never mind your uncle George, Jeeves.

Jeeves:
No, sir.

Bertie Wooster:
Save him for the long winter evenings, eh?

Jeeves:
Just as you say, sir.

Jeeves:
I hope you won't take it amiss, sir, but I've been giving some attention to what might be called the "amatory entanglements" at Brinkley. It seems to me that drastic measures may be called for.

Bertie Wooster:
[sighs audibly] Drastic away, Jeeves. The prospect of being united for life with a woman who talks about "little baby bunnies" fills me with an unnamed dread.