Blandings (2013–2014): Season 2, Episode 7 - Custody of the Pumpkin - full transcript

Oh, no!

Beach? My Lady?

Frederick?!

Aunt, please,
I have a bit of a head.

God knows, you don't have to tell me
that!

If you wish to retain what little
you have left of it,

explain the truncated trousers.

Yeah. Well, I thought,
I might run faster.

Than what?

Than I would if my trousers
were the usual length.

It was a wager, you see.



Oh! Catsmeat ordered this great jug
of Rigor Mortis, and I...

Drank it all. No, no, no!
Not all of it!

Good grief! Most of it. Oh.

I shouldn't wish you to think
that I'm neglecting you.

But out of season, there is still
combat to be had with Stinker!

So, please... please excuse me.

Clarence!

I can stand it no longer!

Freddie must be married!

There is no other lawful way
to dispose of him!

I have selected
Felicity Parsloe-Parsloe.

And I have rung Sir Gregory
to discuss the matter...

It's like a pantomime!

I mention the word Parsloe,
and he vanishes!



Hey! Why the long face?

Oh, is it?

Oh, no, no, I couldn't...
possibly bore you with all that.

Bet you could if you tried?

Well, it was a fairly orthodox
knees-up at the Pink Pussy.

Cocktails were ingested.

Oofy bet me 50 quid
I couldn't do the 100-yard dash

in under 12 seconds.
And you couldn't?

Not with a duck-billed platypus
jammed down my trousers, no.

That was an intrinsic part
of the wager. The platypus.

I thought I could do it
by streamlining the leggings,

but two seconds into the race,
the ruddy beak came off.

Which was pretty disconcerting.
Not least for the platypus!

Oh, no, he was stuffed. As am I.

Ah, Guv'nor. This is, erm...

Niagara Donaldson.
I generally answer to Aggie.

No, no, no good,
can't get that at all.

Niagara. Like the big waterfall.

Heavens! That must have caused
raised eyebrows around the font.

My father's American.
Well, somebody has to be.

This is all very stimulating,
but I fear I have other business.

Please forgive me.

Stuffed?

Oh, yes... Oofy's after me
for 150 quid.

Harvest festival, McAllister!

Ah...

Is she bigger than Sir Gregory's,
do you think?

Sir Grigory's gourd'll be a mickle
sproogy bairn compared to hir.

I named hir Desdemona.

Yer dinnae thunk the name improper?

Good Lord, no! Hah!

I just met a charming young woman,
named after a natural wonder.

Cheops...
No, that was man-made. Erm...

Niagara? No, no, something
more exotic. Stromboli.

Hello, everyone!

My, that pumpkin!
She's really bonny. Isn't she?

Guaranteed to kick Stinker
into a cocked hat, wouldn't you say?

I would.

I'll counsel ye nae to be
over-familiar wi' his Lordshup, hen.

And beware the bairn-faced loon.

So, you are enjoying the university,
Miss Parsloe-Parsloe?

Yup.

Fascinating.

Felicity, lovely gardens here
at Blandings.

Why not take a squint?

Yup.

Charming girl.
Can we not beat about the bush?

You reckon there's a match to be
made. Your nephew, my niece.

Mm-hm. Fact is, Constance, your
nephew couldn't find his backside

with an illustrated guidebook!

Your niece is unusual.

Damned attractive.

To other unusual girls, possibly.

I'll put up with yours, Sir Gregory,
if you'll put up with mine.

In that case, I have terms.

Name them. Emsworth!

This silly rivalry he insists
on perpetuating!

Pigs. Pumpkins.
It's got to stop.

I wish to enter such competitions
unchallenged by your brother.

Harvest Festival and so on.

I want to win!

I shall leave Felicity
here for the rest of the day.

Yes, please do.

I'm sure all this can be arranged
to our mutual satisfaction,

without difficulty.

Good afternoon.

No difficulty at all.

Beach! You didn't see me!

Very good, sir.

Beach, did you see Mr Frederick?
No.

Because he told you
that you didn't.

Did he remember to tell you
that you also didn't see

the young woman that he was dragging
by the hand?

No. So you are at liberty to tell me
about her.

Who is she?

She is Miss Niagara Donaldson,
your Ladyship.

Donaldson?
Doesn't sound terribly encouraging.

Define Miss Donaldson.

Her uncle is the gardener,
McAllister, my Lady.

Bring me Lord Emsworth.
Yes, your Ladyship.

Then bring me McAllister.
Yes, your Ladyship.

Can I assist ye, Sir Grigory?

McAllister, is it not? Aye...

You know... McAllister,

you should consider
coming to work for me.

You might find me more...
appreciative.

Let me give you my number.
Let's see... Ah, yes.

So.

You've writ it on a five-poon note.

Really? Oh, yes.

Better hang on to it, then.

Freddie might well propose to her!

God knows, he'd propose to a cushion
if it had tassels on it

and succumbed to his vacuous
conversation!

If McAllister is her uncle,
imagine her father!

Do you really want him sitting
next to you at dinner,

breathing on your cheese,
trifling with your cigars

and gargling your brandy? Oh...

I shall explain this one last time.

I have identified a highly
appropriate girl for Freddie.

Her name is Felicity Par...

Felicity.

Felicity Felicity?!

She has acquired at the university

a very interesting personal style...

As long as she doesn't
dress like a man and smoke a pipe.

McAllister, my Lord.
Remember you are an Emsworth!

Ah, McAllister, there you are!
Jolly good!

Her Ladyship...

erm... feels...

I struggle to describe quite
how her Ladyship feels.

Lovely morning. Yup.

There is really no gentlemanly way
to say this,

so I shall just have to say it.

Everglades.

I know that is not quite correct,
but you know of whom I speak.

Niagara? Precisely.

McAllister. It has to stop.

What has to stop, my Lord?

The friendship with my son,
Frederick. WHAT?!

You did not know?

Oh, my dear fellow,
Frederick and Miss Great Lakes.

They're sweethearts.

Yon clockwork cretin shall nay
lay his fickle finger

upon the fragrant person
o' ma niece.

I take your point of view.

But the fact is, McAllister, Miss
Grand Canyon's visit to Blandings

probably has to be curtailed.

She's no' visiting -
she's ma tenant.

I thought she was your niece?
She's ma niece AND ma tenant!

She pays me twa poon a week.

Twa poon? Oh, does she?
Good heavens!

What if I were to offer you,
erm, three poon?

By which I obviously mean
four poon.

It is nae the remuneration, my
Lord. It is the prunciple. Oh!

I warn ye, if there's any further
attempt

to remove Niagara from my dwelling,
I shall resign ma post!

My dear fellow, you clearly can't do
that. No. Consider Desdemona.

Yae consider her!

Moreover, if I find yir poonstrick
son canoodling with ma niece...

I shall suspend him fae rafters
like a flutch o' bacon.

Oh!

Who is Desdemona?!

Oh, Connie, do you never pay
attention to the names that matter?

She is my PUMPKIN!

Directly after my interview
with McAllister,

I went to the greenhouse to inspect
her, and her skin was wrinkling.

It's like the terrible climax
of Ryder Haggard's She in there!

Can you not see that alliance
with this Niagara Donaldson

besmirches the honour
of the Emsworths? Oh!

If you are ever to exert
even the slightest authority

over this family, you must assist me
with Felicity Parsloe-Parsloe!

For a minute there, I thought you
said... Yes, I did.

In a moment you'll have forgotten,
so it is of no consequence.

A hallmark, I find,
of our general conversation.

Felicity.

Pretty name.

I say, old boy, you haven't seen
a corking little redhead

about the place, have you? Nope.

Threepwood, F.

Parsloe-Parsloe, F.

Oh! Ha!

Oh! You met Felicity.

Good. Erm... Be quiet! Oh.

All undergraduates are the same.

They wear extraordinary clothes
and try to unsettle people.

She'll grow out of it
once she's married.

To you. Gah!

You shall consent to this union,
Freddie!

Would you not die in battle
for the honour of the Emsworths?

Yes. I would.

Infinitely preferable to a life
of sharing the marital toothbrush

with a girl called Parsloe-Parsloe!

Don't talk rot! Marriage is
not about sharing anything.

It is about property and succession.

Stop howling like an impaled baboon!
Think about your duty!

Miss Parsloe-Parsloe,
do you need a light for that pipe?

Glass of port, Mr Frederick? Er...

Lubricates the brain.

I mean, you've seen the girl, Beach!

She clearly cranks the starter
with a motion

that's not factory-approved.

And I'm supposed to ask
her to marry me!

Is Miss Donaldson aware
of your intention to propose, sir?

No, no! Wrong girl!

Aunt C's putting the heavy roller
on me to pop the question to...

Beach.

You're a ruddy genius!

Right question.

Wrong girl!

I might have known it!

Erm, hello, erm, Parsloe.

I'm taking a very strong line on the
protection of my pumpkin, Emsworth.

Trespass again
and you'll find yourself in custody.

What? What? You've been warned!

Hasn't your sister bothered
to speak to you?

Of course she speaks to me!
So, what do you say, man? Yes or no?

Erm... Yes... On the whole...

All right, then. Good.

All you need to do, Emsworth,
as agreed with Connie,

is stop this ruddy nonsense.
Eh? Lay down your arms.

Lay down your pumpkin.

And as for your pig...

wrap her up with a bow
and send her round.

Ah! Erm, Miss Donaldson.

We met but a few hours ago
and we kissed once.

Twice.

Proportionally, that is a 50%
increase in our intimacy.

Now, look...

would you mind awfully

anteloping with me?

Is that a dance?
Erm. There could be dancing.

Oh, you mean will
I run away with you and get married?

OK!

Really?! This is fantastic!

Look, I'm pretty
strapped for boodle.

Do you have a bit of cash
for a couple of train tickets?

That's a slightly worrying question,
Freddie, but, yes, I do.

Top! Meet you at the pigsty.

How romantic!

150%! Hurrah!

Woo-hoo!

My darkest fear, McAllister,

is that Parsloe's ruddy pumpkin
is portlier than mine.

Gah! Yer should fear for yir son.

Truffling roond the dainty
petticoats of ma niece. I warned ye!

Don't concern yourself with
Frederick. He's getting married.

Yes, yes, all settled. To that girl.
Peculiar name.

Niagara? Very possibly.

And ye endorse this marriage?

I do, McAllister. My dear fellow,
it's really no concern of yours.

Let us discuss fertilisers.

Lord Emsworth, the situation is
untenable. I resign yir employ.

Angus. No, you can't.

What about the silky
flesh of Desdemona?

You think on it, mun!
Ach, I'm awa to pack ma bag.

No, no, no. Not Niagula. No. No.

Freddie's marrying
the Parsloe girl.

But he can't do that.
He can't do that!

Clarence?

Clarence? I...
Whatever are you doing that for?

Always showing off.
I suppose it's some sort of bet.

Actually, it's quite simple. I...
Calamitous news!

What? McAllister has resigned.
I am not quite sure how it happened.

I was... Good gracious.

Hullo, Guv'nor.
Now, listen to me, Frederick.

You are not to Parsloe Miss Marry.

Understood? Anybody but her.

Your aunt has a demented ambition
to marry you off to some cushion.

Can I marry Miss Donaldson?

Yes. Absolutely. Whoever she is.

Clarence! Stop squawking my name
like some ruddy

multicoloured... sits up here...
mind your fingers. Parrot.

Thank you. Why are you doing upside
down? Don't answer that, no time.

Moreover,
did you or did you not have some

infernal agreement with Stinker
about me giving him the Empress?

I... I am too angry to listen
and to hear you out.

I am going to my room.

So am I. Well, I said it first,
so yah boo sucks and no returnsies.

Childish. So childish!
Can't hear you. Can't hear you.

You are a child.
Can't hear you. Can't hear you.

I'm not chasing you.
I'm not chasing you!

Oh...

Oh.

Beach.

I've blundered, terribly.
I must speak to McAllister.

He left you this note, my Lord,

advising you of his new position.

Squeaky thing... Uncomfortable
seat... Oil on the trouser cuffs.

Bicycle, my Lord?

Quick as you can!

Angus, how could you?

You! You're sacked. Get lost.

Now, McAllister....

..have a sticky willy.

Go on, have a large one.

Ah, Constable Piper.
Reporting for duty, sir.

Through the bench, I have been able
to secure young Piper

as the pumpkin's personal bodyguard.

Ah! Ah! Be a good fellow,
will you, and cut me down?

Yup.

Oh, God.

Ah, um... Felicity.

Yup.

Do you ever say anything
that isn't a monosyllable?

Occasionally.

Oh!

A little less of a sissy
with a bit of colour in your cheeks.

My entire bloodstream has
congregated in my head. But, look,

I thought you blew the flugelhorn
from the speaking end?

Lord, no.
Perfectly regular embouchure.

And I know how to work
all the valves.

When I come home, I drag up
like this to ward off

all the ghastly bores
my father wants me to marry.

Well, I'll be...
Careful what you wish for, matey.

Ticky, ticky, ticky!

Oh, no. This is not
what it looks like!

You wouldn't hit
a chap in glasses, would you?

Miss Niagara Donaldson?
What about it?

Just checking. I'm going
to have a word with your uncle.

Oh...

Oh.

McAllister?

Oi! Dismount that apparatus.
Are you taking the...

Get off that bike!
My dear fellow...

Don't you "dear fellow" me, mate.
Right. Name.

My name? No, granny's name.

Erm, Rosalind Elspeth.
What's your name?!

Lord Emsworth. Erm...
Baptised Clarence, 9th Earl.

At school, I was called Fathead.

You're the Earl of Emsworth,
are you, sunshine?

I was never called "sunshine".

Give up your real name, chummy,
or I'm putting the cuffs on you.

He's Lord Emsworth.

Are you saying
you'll vouch for this man, sir?

I tended his park for 20 year.
I'll vouch for the fool.

Right, well,
we'll say no more about it.

Oh. He's taking my bicycle.

McAllister.

Your delightful niece,
whose name inevitably escapes me,

she isn't going to marry Frederick.
No. No. In fact,

she just punched him in the face,
so, you see, it's all wonderful.

You can come back!

I took Sir Grigory's stucky wully.

Did it touch your lips?

It did not.

Well, I am sure
we may consider you untainted.

Angus, what do you say?

Desdemona, there's still time
to present her to the festival.

Ah! Oh, good gracious.
My dear fellow, oh, oh,

you are one in a million. Oh, yes!

Between the two of us, we could make
a very passable panda bear.

I don't suppose
you want to get married, do you,

and all that sort of rot?

Perfectly ghastly
prospect for all concerned.

But it seems to be required.

So, hold the nose
and think of England?

Do you feel up to it?

Yup.

"Yup"? Is that your monosyllable
of choice? Yup. Yup.

Well, so be it.
Jolly old bombs away.

Should we kiss...
I don't think that's necessary. No.

There could be tickling, though.

Ticky. Ticky.

Ticky, ticky, ticky, ticky!

Ah! Beach.

Advance warning. We may be preparing
the castle for an event.

A marquee may be required. What?

I did not speak, your Ladyship.

And I heard you not doing it.
Out with it.

I was... perusing Society Spice,
your Ladyship, and I encountered

some intelligence which I felt
obliged to confide in Lord Emsworth.

I am uncertain if he has grasped
the significance of it.

All right, Beach! Orf you go!

I am in command of the information!

I have rectified everything.

I have re-engaged McAllister.

Moreover, Beach has found out
the queerest thing.

Nicaragua is the sole heiress
of Hiram K Donaldson,

"The Biscuit King".

Yes. She stands to inherit
millions of dollars.

Isn't that extraordinary?
In fact, there she is now.

Going for a walk with some
sort of suitcase.

Do you want a bit and all, Jimmy?

Harvest Festival in an hour.

Thought I'd come
and collect Emsworth's pumpkin,

as I'm entering it for competition,
with my own.

They're both my own, de facto.

We also must fix
surrender of the pig.

Yes... Um...

Felicity, you're amusing
but extremely strange.

You shall not marry Freddie.

Clarence, you're an imbecile,

but I love you.

Too kind. Be quiet.

I shall not see you parted
from your pumpkin or your pig.

Constance, think what you're doing!

No other man of rank will consent
to the burden of Freddie Threepwood.

Damn it, woman, we had a deal!

Sir Gregory, you're an old friend
that I like and admire,

but I wouldn't trust you
as far as I could spit a weasel.

Hurrah for Aunt C!
Be quiet. Freddie.

Emsworths all,

back to the house.

Ha! Ha ha ha!

Beach, did you find a jug?

Aha!

Right! Now, the secret
of a really stiff Rigor Mortis

is plenty of yellow Chartreuse.

Angus! Angus! Oh, my dear fellow!

Good heavens. First prize, Desdemona!
First prize!

Hurrah!

Here you are, Beach.

This'll put lead in your little
propelling pencil. McAllister?

Please apologise to your niece
for my allowing my face

to get in the way of her fist.

If she returns to Blandings,
I'd like to see her again.

Please?

Freddie?

You know that trouser business?
How much do you owe?

Oh, erm... Doesn't matter, just get
my chequebook. In fact, no, wait.

You know those silly songs

that you always play that
irritate me so much? Mm.

Will you play one now?

♪ Here am I, going quietly bonkers

♪ And cos why

♪ I'm dreaming of you

♪ Well, love's no joke

♪ When either is a bloke like me

♪ A-goin' quietly bonkers

♪ Love, they said
Heavens above, they said

♪ It's a heaven an' all

♪ Well, if this is
what they call heaven

♪ For the love of Mike

♪ What's the other place like? ♪

Do you know what I call this, Connie?

Capital?

I call it capital.

♪ The way things are
I feel a proper Charlie

♪ Till I know that you

♪ Are going quietly bonkers

♪ Going quietly bonkers

♪ Going quietly bonkers too. ♪