Wodehouse in Exile Page #7

---

The name is Wodehouse.

May I ask what the charge is,

Inspector?

The charge is treason.

A charge of which I suspect

the entire French bloody nation

might well be guilty.

The prefect of Paris has ordered it.

You are not taking my husband

anywhere, you disgusting little men!

Excuse me.

You will hear from the

British Government on this question.

Winston Churchill. Heard of him?

I seem to remember

he was about the only person who

gave your bloody General de Gaulle

a place to sleep in 1940.

Come back here at once!

This man is not a traitor!

You will hear from me!

Oh, F*** the French!

Je ne will pas

get off the bloody line!

I do not move! I talk!

You loathsome little frog!

You bastards!

Major Malcolm Muggeridge.

British Intelligence Office.

I demand to know why this British

subject has been detained.

In the name of

the British Government!

'We keep Wodenhorse.'

You cannot keep this man in prison.

There will be a diplomatic incident.

I am serious.

'Is Monsieur Widdenhose well?'

He's fine.

'He does not look well to me.'

'I think if we have him examined

by a doctor he would say

'we should put him

in a hospital for... a few days.'

Perfect diplomatic compromise.

Talleyrand would have been

proud of you.

Please make sure

it is a nice hospital.

'So long as I do not have to talk

to his wife again,

'I am yours for ever, Monsieur.'

Merci. Au revoir.

How's the novel?

Ah! Well, it's seen me

through the war.

All I need is a publisher.

That's all a novel needs.

You send it out into the world

like a young chap going off

to boarding school.

As soon as I've

convinced the public

I am not a raving fascist,

I'm sure all will go well.

What on earth is this place?

This is the only hospital

they could find.

A maternity ward.

Isn't it extraordinary?

I started the war

in a lunatic asylum

and I am ending it

in a nursing home!

Well, we'll get you out.

Churchill did send a note to them,

apparently.

He's not your biggest fan,

but he doesn't want to give you

to the French.

Was it Waugh who called him

a second-rate radio personality?

Or was it me?

I'll go back to London

for a few days.

Get some official letters.

Sort these blighters out.

I'll get in touch

with your stepdaughter.

Daughter.

Sorry, daughter. I am sure Leonora

has some good political contacts.

She'll help us

get the Cussen report out there.

Perhaps I could bring you some

tobacco, food parcels.

We would love news of Leonora.

We haven't heard for ages.

We'll have dinner when I come back.

Ah! Cheer up, Malcolm. We're buying.

If it wasn't for you, I'd still be

in that blasted maternity home.

I'm glad you're out, anyway.

Did you manage to track down Leonora?

I...

This is very hard to say.

I'm so fond of you both.

I'm afraid I discovered

that Leonora...

She went in for an operation.

All well, Leonora?

Just fine. Fine.

A minor operation.

And I'm afraid she died

under the anaesthetic.

I thought she was immortal.

I'll leave you.

As soon as I know more about

Cussen's report, I'll tell you.

I am so, so sorry.

Why this? Why this

on top of everything else?

Is there a God?

Why could he let this happen?

I don't understand.

I just don't understand.

Thank you, sir. Thank you.

Are you all right?

I don't know, Malcolm.

I really don't know.

I suppose with all the awful things

that've happened...

I don't know.

I suppose I think they can't

do anything worse to us than that.

No. Although...

Don't tell me. They have?

I tell you, Malcolm,

walking the plank might come as

a blessed relief,

after losing Leonora.

She would have sorted

all this out, you see.

She knew about politics

and all of that.

One of the reasons I adopted her

as my own was I just...

I loved her.

What have they decided?

Well... As we expected,

they've cleared you of treachery.

Thank God for that!

I hope some of them will apologise

for all the things they said.

Yes, this is the difficult bit.

The government line is that you

will not be prosecuted.

And they have made that public

in answer to

a House of Commons question. But...

I don't think they will ever make

the Cussen report public.

But... that is absurd.

That means everyone will think

Plum did something wrong,

even though he didn't.

He has been cleared.

Why can't we tell the world?

I did something foolish, I suppose.

Oh, you're a complete idiot. Everyone

in the Western world knows that.

It is the secret of your success.

But you are not a traitor.

You haven't got the background

knowledge to be a traitor.

All you did was make a few jokes.

I thought British people

were supposed to

keep their sense of humour

in times of crisis.

Or did that go out of the window

along with everything else?

In war, truth is the first casualty.

Who said that?

Stop being so bloody brave, Plummie.

I can't bear it.

Did they say why?

To do with this fellow Mackintosh.

I shouldn't be telling you this.

Classified. But...

It seems they think he may

have been a collaborator.

Or he may have been one of ours

who was turned.

I have no idea.

He left England

because of some homosexual scandal

and turns up in Boulogne

just before the war started.

Who knows what he is?

He's told all sorts of obvious lies,

about being mistaken

for someone called Mackenzie

who was known to be pro-German.

But don't believe Mr Mackintosh.

He was cosy enough with the Nazis.

He spent the war translating

German marching songs

and a couple of anti-Semitic books.

German marching songs, eh?

Well, I never.

Until they decide what to

do with him,

it appears the file will

remain top secret,

with his name blanked out.

Once again, I am so sorry.

I'm not forbidden to return

to England, I suppose.

I cannot see why you should be.

You have to show them.

You have to let them know you're

not going to lie down under this.

I think dignified silence

will be my policy.

My novels seem to be

all right over in America.

Shall we see if they'll have us?

I am obviously not welcome

in the land of my birth.

You mustn't let them browbeat you,

Plummie!

I will do what I will do,

my darling.

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Can it get worse after what

happened to Leonora?

Of course it can.

Sunt lacrimae rerum and all that.

If the classics have taught me

one thing it is that Fate is

always waiting for you with

the stuffed eel-skin.

But you can't let them

see what life does to you.

That's the only way to survive it.

To shut up.

Which is what, after all this,

I propose to do.

There is a certain dignity

in silence.

I do not wish

to speak about this any more.

You have been so kind to us.

And now, if you will excuse me,

I will go back and write.

About creatures of the night such

as bats, cats and Constable Potter.

Those of us who care will try

and set the record straight.

I know, Malcolm. Thank you.

You won't ever succeed now.

Not until we too are dead, I suspect.

But thank you for even

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes