Wodehouse in Exile Page #3

---

embarrassment soon passes.

"A week later you find you are

only jumping five feet."

"The chief drawback of being

an internee is that

"you are away from home

a good deal."

"It is not pleasant to think

that by the time

"I see my Pekinese again, she will

have completely forgotten me

"and will bite me to the bone - her

invariable practice with strangers.

"And I feel that, when I rejoin

my wife, I had better take

"a letter of introduction,

just to be on the safe side."

Why is this funny? That he

will not recognise his wife?

Does he not like his wife?

It is English humour. It is

why Wodehouse is a famous genius.

I do not understand it.

Apparently, he is writing

some humorous pieces

about life in this camp of his.

Maybe that can be good

for us, Werner.

How?

Get on to the Lagerfuhrer

at Tost and tell him

I have a proposition I wish him

to put to the great Wodehouse.

But Wodehouse is not to know

it comes from us.

This is funny! Very, very funny!

The chaps seem to enjoy it.

I really did enjoy it.

It reminded me of my time as a guest

of His Majesty's government!

This passage - when you are being

driven away from Loos prison.

"Summing up my experience

as a gaol bird,

"I would say that a prison is all

right for a visit,

"but I wouldn't live there

if you GAVE me the place.

"On my part, at any rate,

there was no moaning at the bar

"when we left Loos and..."

You read this bit. Please.

"I was glad to go.

"The last I saw of the old Alma

Mater was the warder

"closing the door of the van

and standing back

"with the French equivalent of,

"Right away!"

"He said, "Au revoir" to me,

which I thought a little tactless."

Just because we are at war,

it does not mean we cannot laugh.

My view entirely.

You like this room for writing?

It's very kind of you to

give it to me.

It's... er... it's a padded cell.

Rather appropriate, really.

What you write. About the camp.

It is very funny.

Very, very funny.

Like Bertie Wooster and Jeeves. No?

Well...

You should broadcast these writings.

Well... I'm rather... tied up here

at the moment.

Indeed.

But soon I think you will be free.

Will I?

You are almost 60, Herr Wodehouse.

The German government has no quarrel

with old age pensioners.

Well...

They seem to have quarrelled with

almost everyone else.

Most amusing.

So you might... contemplate

broadcasting to America.

If you were let out.

I gave an interview to

the Americans, didn't I?

That seemed to be all right.

I do worry about the Americans.

And they seem to be rather

worried about me.

There is a war on.

And war is not a pleasant business.

Indeed not. I think, on the whole,

I'm against it.

I also.

So he has taken the bait.

We keep the Gestapo out of it. Yes?

They are not interested.

I wouldn't want him

to be too compromised.

I'm fond of the old boy.

He's like a child.

My dear Plack, the whole point

of the exercise is that this man

is a loyal Englishman saying that

not all Germans are swine.

I am assuming that is what

he will say.

He will not talk

about unpleasant things.

He does not like to

talk about unpleasant things.

So he will not make his time

with us seem too unpleasant.

Which will make us popular

with the Americans.

Look at all this!

He is a hero to them!

They like to accentuate the positive.

Beware the leg break, Grant.

I think as he made the ball, Plum,

he may have a clue as to

how it behaves.

We old codgers have it easy,

don't we?

There's some... there's some other

camp further down the road.

I hear ghastly things about it.

Don't want to

think about things like that.

Nobody does, Plum. Bowl up, eh?

Is Mackintosh fielding

or is he doing botanical research?

I don't know WHAT he is or WHO

he is. But I don't like him.

I have no objection to grammar

school boys

unless they pretend to be

something else.

Wadhosen?

Widhoose. Werdhowz. Weidhiss.

Whatever you choose to call me,

I am here.

You are to be released.

Is this to do with being 60?

I'm only 59-and-three-quarters.

What are you going to put down?

Bowler seized in mid over?

I shall miss you chaps.

We'll miss you too, old boy.

Who's going to make us laugh?

Who's going to give us good advice?

Who's going to get such bloody

wonderful food parcels?

And share them out, what's more?

You must pack. Now.

Also Mackintosh.

You also are released.

Didn't I tell you boys?

I was 60 last week.

What's going on here, Mackintosh?

Don't worry, "chaps".

I'll look after the greatest English

comic writer since Shakespeare.

Look, I don't know what your

involvement is in all of this,

Mackintosh, but if you do anything

to harm Plummie Wodehouse,

when this war is over and we

are back home, I will find you

and push your teeth

down your throat.

Who knows what will happen

when the war is over, old bean.

Maybe jolly old England won't be

there any more, "old chap".

Pip-pip, you fellows!

My God! I can't believe this!

Plum Wodehouse,

as I live and breathe.

What can I do for you boys?

How extraordinary meeting you here,

Werner. I haven't seen you since...

Since Hollywood.

Where they paid you millions for

sitting around and doing nothing.

What an extraordinary coincidence!

The name's Mackintosh.

I've been released at the same time

as Mr Wodehouse!

Nice for Plum to have another

British fellow along. Indeed.

Everyone in America has been

campaigning for Plum's release.

Good to hear it.

I'd love to know if there's any

chance of seeing Ethel again.

Ethel! My God!

My favourite Englishwoman!

Mine too.

I'm sure we can organise it.

I can organise most things.

It's been a big press effort.

That New York Times piece has made

you even more famous than you were.

We must think of a way of

putting you in touch

with the great American public.

Perhaps you could broadcast.

Over the radio.

Well, why not?

I understand quite a few

British POW's have gone on air

to tell their people

they're all right.

And you'll try and find Ethel,

Werner, will you?

Naturally. Naturally.

I suppose it would let my American

readers know I'm OK.

I suppose.

We have had a communication from

someone who is called Werner Plack.

From the Foreign Ministry.

I think I know that name.

We used to know

a Werner Plack in Hollywood.

He was an absolute sweetheart.

He was your sweetheart?

If only, darling.

He is an absolute dish.

Could you get him for me?

You mean,

you mean on the telephone?

For you, Mrs Wodehouse, anything.

You are our favourite enemy alien.

It seems your husband

may be released soon.

Well, you are obviously very

famous in Germany, Wodehouse.

Yes, isn't it strange?

One would have thought they had

no sense of humour at all.

Is zis a sausage, mein freund?

Exactly.

You really should ask if you

can get on the radio as well.

Oh, as I say, I'm not a writer.

Though I have written things.

I'm not really a writer.

In the sense of going

right down deep into life.

I'm just a musical comedy man,

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes