Jeeves: A telegram for you, sir.
Bertie: [in the bathtub] Oh, well, you'd better read it, Jeeves.
Jeeves: Very good, sir.
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!
[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...
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]
[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?