Bertie: When you have been a little longer in my employ you will come to understand that all my chums rely heavily on your employer's wisdom and knowledge of human nature in the conduct of their affairs. Not to mention my organisational powers, and just plain... thingness!
Bertie Wooster: Do you think I should play this song for the Glossops tonight, Jeeves? Jeeves: I could not advise it, sir. I have not heard that Sir Roderick is musical. Bertie Wooster: Oh, but Lady Glossop is. Jeeves: There is also that to be considered, sir.
Jeeves: The lad is of an outspoken disposition, sir, and had made an opprobrious remark respecting my appearance. Bertie: What did he say about your appearance? Jeeves: I do not recall, sir. But it was opprobrious.
Bertie: Jeeves, I'm sure that nothing is further from your mind, but d'you know you have a way of saying, "Indeed, sir," which gives the impression that it's only a feudal sense of what is fitting which prevents you from substituting the words, "Says you!" Jeeves: I'm distressed to hear this, sir. Bertie: Well so you should be, Jeeves. Correct it. Jeeves: Very good, sir. Bertie: You began to hear that I have taken steps in the matter of Tuppy and Angela. Jeeves: Indeed, sir. Bertie: Jeeves... Jeeves: Sorry, sir. Please continue.
Bertie is trying to make himself tea. Bertie: Now Jeeves, it says here it's best to use soft water, but that after boiling it may again become hard. Well, I mean, that's ice, isn't it?
Bertie: Jeeves, suppose that you were strolling through the illimitable jungle and you happened to meet a tiger cub. Jeeves: The contingency is a remote one, sir. Bertie: Never mind. Let us suppose it. Jeeves: Very good, sir. Bertie: Let us now suppose that you biffed that tiger cub. And let us further suppose that word reached its mother that you'd done so. Now, what would you expect the attitude of that mother to be? Jeeves: In the circumstances I should anticipate a certain show of disapprobation, sir.
Bertie is dictating a telegram. Bertie: Right, 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. Oh... about the cow creamer, I mean. Anyway, there it is. Toodle-pip! Your affectionate nephew, Bertie. Clerk: Is it a code?
Sir Watkyn Basset expresses a hope that his neice Stephanie will be able to "make something" of Bertie. Sir Watkyn Basset: I'm sure there are many good qualities underneath that, uh... rough exterior. Bertie: Uh, well no, actually...
"Chuffy" Chuffnel: She must have had a wonderful time being engaged to you. What on earth made her accpet you, I wonder. Bertie: Dunno. I once consulted a knowledgeable pal and his theory was that the sight of me hanging around like a looney sheep awoke the maternal instinct in Woman. There may be something in this.
Pauline Stoker: You know, there's a sort of woolly-headed duckiness about you, Bertie. If I wasn't so crazy about Marmeduke, I could easily marry you.
Bertie: I wonder why it's necessary for these minstrel fellows to blacken their faces in order to play the banjo and sing songs, Jeeves. Jeeves: It's said to originate, sir, with the entertainment got up on the cotten plantations of the New World by the slaves employed on those facilities, in order to express joy and happiness at their lot. An unlikely contingency, one surmises, bearing in mind their situation.
Bertie is pretending to be Gussie Fink-Nottle, and is trying to tell a joke to Dame Daphne Winkworth and her four maiden sisters. Bertie: Now, I wonder, has everyone heard the one about the fan-dancer and the performing flea? No, actually, here's a better one. Uh, yes, there are these three deaf chaps on a train, and it stops at Wembley. Charlotte Devrill: What's he doing? Harriet Deverill: Mr Fink-Nottle is telling an anecdote. Bertie: Anyway, there it is at Wembley, and one of the chaps says, "Is this Wembley?" and the other one says, "No, it's Thursday!" Charlotte Deverill: What did he say? Harriet Deverill: He said, "No, it's Thursday." Charlotte Deverill: Not it's not; it's Friday. I know because I changed my library book. Myrtle Deverill: It's a joke Charlotte! Bertie: Thank you. Um, so then the third one says, "So am I. Let's go out and have a drink!" Myrtle Deverill: It's a joke about drink Charlotte! Bertie: No, it's not about drink, it's about, um... Harriet Deverill: But why did the first man bring up the days of the week? Myrtle Deverill: No, the first man is the one who says, "Is this Wimbledon?" Bertie: No, no... Emmeline Deverill: No, that was the second man! Dame Daphne Winkworth: Let Mr Fink-Nottle finish his joke before we judge it! Bertie: Well, that was it, actually. Charlotte Deverill: Is it about tennis, perhaps? Dame Daphne Winkworth: I don't care for jokes about tennis. Harriet Deverill: No, it's subjects about tennis... The old ladies begin to argue about the joke.
Bertie: Jeeves, that is brilliant! Why didn't I think of that? Jeeves: I couldn't say, sir.
