This transcript was automatically generated and might contain errors.

[0:01] Michael Urie: Welcome back to Twits In Love, a steampunk distraction by Tom Alan Robbins.

[0:25] Michael Urie: We left our hero, Cyril Chippington Smythe, trying to extricate himself from the toothy jaws of Alice Witherspoon.

[0:34] Michael Urie: So far, everything seems to be going to plan, but disaster lurks around every corner.

[0:42] Michael Urie: Join us now for Chapter 2, A Beastly Day at the Club.

[0:51] Michael Urie: With great power comes great responsibility, or some such drivel. Noblesse oblige, don't you know?

[0:58] Michael Urie: Nary a hair of Alice Witherspoon had I seen for lo these many days.

[1:03] Michael Urie: One assumed that she and Binky were thick as thieves, plotting to murder the firstborn males unto the tenth generation, and so on.

[1:11] Michael Urie: Bentley had come to the rescue, and I was in his debt.

[1:16] Michael Urie: Nevertheless, there are some boundaries that a chap simply can't cross if he is not to be a serf in his own home.

[1:23] Michael Urie: Bentley, where is the new waistcoat I ordered from Borgin and Botts?

[1:27] Dakin Matthews: I'm sorry, sir. Was that a waistcoat? I took it for a pillow sham. The colour was so unusual.

[1:35] Michael Urie: The colour is perfect. I have it on the best authority that everyone will be wearing lavender by abdication Sunday.

[1:42] Dakin Matthews: It is unsuitable, sir.

[1:45] Michael Urie: Coming from Bentley, calling something unsuitable is the equivalent of a normal person lifting a leg and urinating on it.

[1:51] Michael Urie: I suppose I should have run a purchase like this past him first, but a chap has to stand up for himself from time to time.

[1:58] Michael Urie: I have detected a disturbing tendency in you lately to pass judgment on my apparel, Bentley. Am I imagining it?

[2:06] Dakin Matthews: I could not say, sir. I have no imagination. I merely note that your club has very specific rules about one's colour palette,

[2:15] Dakin Matthews: and that lavender, or indeed any shade of purple, fails to clear the bar.

[2:20] Michael Urie: Times are a-changing, Bentley. I am the new wind that, uh, uh, sweeps away something or other.

[2:29] Michael Urie: Or the new broom? Something new and, uh, sweepy.

[2:34] Dakin Matthews: And presumably lavender?

[2:36] Michael Urie: Well, bring forth the vest in question.

[2:39] Dakin Matthews: It is at the cleaners, sir.

[2:41] Michael Urie: Is it indeed? I glared at him suspiciously, but as he has no conscience, my efforts were in vain.

[2:47] Dakin Matthews: Will you be lunching at the club?

[2:49] Michael Urie: I imagine so, unless it's impossible mutton. I detest impossible mutton.

[2:55] Dakin Matthews: If sir would place his arms in the sleeves.

[2:58] Michael Urie: Dressing for the club is like donning medieval armour.

[3:01] Michael Urie: The girdle, the underclothes, the stockings, the shirt and pantaloons, then the waistcoat, the jacket and sash,

[3:09] Michael Urie: and finally, the brooches and the shoes. The horrible shoes.

[3:15] Dakin Matthews: Breathe deeply, sir. The toes will grow numb in a moment.

[3:20] Michael Urie: Why? That is what I ask myself. What purpose do these thumbscrews for the feet serve?

[3:27] Dakin Matthews: Fashion follows its own logic, sir.

[3:30] Dakin Matthews: I have heard it speculated that impractical shoes demonstrate superiority.

[3:35] Dakin Matthews: One is too rarified to walk quickly, one will be waited for.

[3:42] Michael Urie: Goodness, I'm late. Carry me to the car.

[3:46] Michael Urie: Goodness, I'm late. Carry me to the car. There's a good man.

[3:51] Dakin Matthews: Bentley hoisted me as if I were a kitten and glided to the garage where my chariot awaited.

[3:58] Michael Urie: This week, it was a literal chariot drawn by six mechanical horses.

[4:03] Michael Urie: Won't they goggle at the club when I clatter up in this?

[4:07] Dakin Matthews: Where do I sit?

[4:09] Dakin Matthews: I believe you are meant to stand, sir.

[4:12] Michael Urie: In these shoes? Not bloody likely.

[4:14] Dakin Matthews: You could sit on the floor of the chariot with your legs folded.

[4:19] Michael Urie: Not very heroic, what?

[4:21] Dakin Matthews: Perhaps not, sir. I did advise against the chariot, if you recall.

[4:25] Michael Urie: You forget yourself, Bentley. I am the master of my... something or other.

[4:31] Michael Urie: Now, prompt me up and punch in the address of the club. There's a good fellow.

[4:37] Michael Urie: As I clattered up one street and down another, clutching desperately to the sides of my chariot,

[4:42] Michael Urie: I strove for a look of benign condescension.

[4:46] Michael Urie: The hoi polloi parted in front of me.

[4:49] Michael Urie: One particularly threadbare group tried to slow my progress by shouting and waving placards,

[4:55] Michael Urie: but mechanical horses are illiterate, and they were forced to dive out of the way.

[5:02] Michael Urie: Upon arriving at the club, my chariot was blocked by C. Langford Cheeseworth,

[5:09] Michael Urie: who was descending from a jeweled palanquin carried by eight turbaned golems.

[5:14] Michael Urie: Don't dawdle, Cheeseworth. Some of us have places to be.

[5:18] C. Langford Cheeseworth: Give one a moment, won't you, Cybil?

[5:21] C. Langford Cheeseworth: These beastly shoes keep catching on each other and twipping one.

[5:27] Michael Urie: Sorry, old trout. I sympathize. Oh, how I miss the embroidered slippers of last season.

[5:34] C. Langford Cheeseworth: You mustn't regret the past. It gives you wrinkles.

[5:38] Michael Urie: I noticed another crowd of discontented-looking townsfolk standing across the boulevard with more placards.

[5:45] Michael Urie: I was able to make out one sign which stated,

[5:48] Michael Urie: No bread, no peace.

[5:52] C. Langford Cheeseworth: What do you suppose that's about?

[5:54] Michael Urie: Apparently, they are devotees of wood.

[5:58] C. Langford Cheeseworth: And they lack that particular comestible?

[6:01] Michael Urie: Presumably.

[6:02] Michael Urie: Well, there are any number of other foodstuffs.

[6:04] Michael Urie: If there is a shortage of bread, let them eat impossible mutton, for example.

[6:09] Michael Urie: I can certainly have my share.

[6:12] Michael Urie: There's no pleasing some people. It's all spite and envy.

[6:18] Michael Urie: See you inside, dear boy.

[6:20] Michael Urie: I stepped gingerly from my chariot and teetered to the brass-bound door of Twait's,

[6:26] Michael Urie: the club of the Chippington smiths since time immemorial.

[6:30] Michael Urie: Lovingly patched and polished, nothing had changed since my great-grandfather's time,

[6:35] Michael Urie: including Evans, the doorman.

[6:39] Michael Urie: Good morning, Evans.

[6:41] Evans: Good morning, sir.

[6:42] Michael Urie: Did you notice the new chariot? Rather spiffy, don't you think?

[6:45] Evans: Yes, sir. I thought so last week when Mr. Attenborough had it.

[6:49] Michael Urie: What? That chariot?

[6:51] Evans: Yes, sir.

[6:52] Evans: Last week?

[6:53] Evans: Yes, sir.

[6:54] Michael Urie: Damn!

[6:55] Michael Urie: Listen, Evans, call the manufacturer and have it picked up. I'll find another way home.

[7:00] Evans: Of course, sir. I fear our announcement failed to reach you this morning.

[7:05] Michael Urie: Oh? What announcement is that?

[7:08] Evans: Amendment to the dress code, sir. Hats now required.

[7:12] Michael Urie: I glanced around the entry hall and noted the plethora of fanciful headgear.

[7:17] Michael Urie: Drat! Look here, Evans. I will visit the haberdasher first thing tomorrow morning.

[7:22] Evans: Sorry, sir. Club rules.

[7:24] Michael Urie: Oh, well, this is most upsetting.

[7:27] Evans: We do have some loners, sir.

[7:30] Michael Urie: That's all right, then. Trot one out.

[7:32] Evans: Evans reached into the coat check and produced a bonnet that resembled a giant tea cozy.

[7:38] Michael Urie: Oh, don't you have something more stylish?

[7:42] Evans: If the loners were too fashionable, there would be no incentive to purchase a hat of your own, would there, sir?

[7:49] Michael Urie: Oh, it smells of urine.

[7:51] Evans: I'm afraid the club cat has taken a fancy to that one.

[7:55] Michael Urie: And I have to wear this at all times? No respite?

[7:59] Evans: Rules, sir. Without them, all would be fire and flood.

[8:03] Evans: We have a hatter on call.

[8:05] Evans: There is an extra charge, but of course such trifling sums are beneath your notice.

[8:10] Michael Urie: Rogers, the maitre d' had been seating me in the dining room since I was in knee pants.

[8:16] Michael Urie: He and Evans were identical models, but I could always distinguish Rogers by a tiny repair on his left ear.

[8:24] Michael Urie: A souvenir of the riots of 04, when the last breeding pair of beef cattle were stabbed to death by club members,

[8:31] Michael Urie: insisting on the tradition of the Sunday roast.

[8:35] Rogers: Good morning, sir.

[8:36] Michael Urie: Rogers, what's the bill of fare today?

[8:39] Rogers: Impossible mutton, sir.

[8:41] Michael Urie: Is it? Blast! Any chance of a Welsh rare bit?

[8:45] Rogers: We have a Guatemalan rare bit, sir, but I really can't recommend it.

[8:50] Rogers: If your objection to impossible mutton is based on the rumour that it contains human flesh,

[8:55] Rogers: I assure you that it was denied most vigorously by the manufacturer.

[8:59] Michael Urie: No, it's the taste I object to. Or rather, the aftertaste.

[9:04] Michael Urie: There's a tang of petroleum jelly that I know some people love, but I can't seem to scrape it off the old tongue.

[9:10] Rogers: I understand, sir.

[9:11] Michael Urie: Tell the waiter with the bread basket to stay within my gravitational orbit.

[9:16] Michael Urie: By the by, there's a small mob outside that seems keen on acquiring some bread.

[9:21] Rogers: I'm afraid not, sir. Club policy. Table for one?

[9:28] Michael Urie: Wouldn't that be paradise.

[9:30] Michael Urie: Now, I'm meeting my uncle Hugo.

[9:33] Michael Urie: There he is, the bullet-headed old gent waving from behind that potted palm.

[9:39] Michael Urie: My uncle Hugo was what is known as a serious man.

[9:42] Michael Urie: This meant that he knew his net worth to the penny and disapproved of anyone enjoying anything.

[9:50] Michael Urie: He wore a tiny black silk top hat that perched on his shiny dome like a sparrow on a monument.

[9:57] Michael Urie: What on earth is on your head?

[9:59] Michael Urie: Loner. Didn't get the message. What's that you're sporting?

[10:03] Michael Urie: They call it a fascinator. I'm assured it is quite the thing.

[10:08] Michael Urie: Oh, how does it stay on? Glue?

[10:11] Michael Urie: You look like a damned organ grinder's monkey.

[10:15] Michael Urie: I might be insulted if I knew what an organ grinder was. Or a monkey.

[10:20] Michael Urie: Monkeys are, or rather were, oh damn the great extinction.

[10:25] Michael Urie: I take it they ground their prey's organs into some sort of paste before consuming them?

[10:30] Michael Urie: I will not be baited into attempting to educate you. I am not Sisyphus.

[10:36] Michael Urie: Even if you were, they have medication for that now.

[10:39] Michael Urie: Sit down before you fall down. Death before dishonor.

[10:43] Michael Urie: Death before dishonor.

[10:44] Michael Urie: What ridiculous shoes.

[10:46] Michael Urie: They're the latest thing, uncle. Everyone is wearing them.

[10:50] Michael Urie: I suppose if everyone cut off their big toe, you'd do it too.

[10:55] Michael Urie: The shoes would certainly fit more easily.

[10:58] Michael Urie: You're late. I've ordered your mutton.

[11:01] Michael Urie: Have you? How kind.

[11:04] Michael Urie: That rather used up uncle Hugo's conversation for a spell.

[11:08] Michael Urie: We sat awkwardly, stealing furtive looks around the dining room and rolling bread into tiny balls.

[11:15] Michael Urie: Rogers paced about the dining room with his gong.

[11:19] Rogers: The North American beaver has been declared extinct.

[11:23] Rogers: Polls indicate that the vast majority of the population was unaware of its existence.

[11:29] Rogers: In business news, the price of human organ futures rose 5% this morning,

[11:34] Rogers: with kidneys up 6% and livers up 3%.

[11:37] Rogers: Hospitals are swamped as speculators rush to sell in a bull market.

[11:42] Michael Urie: I say, Rogers, these pronouncements are rather gruesome.

[11:45] Michael Urie: Isn't the news of the day usually a little more upbeat?

[11:48] Rogers: Sales in the dining room have fallen off, sir,

[11:51] Rogers: and research has shown that when customers are fearful and anxious, they spend significantly more.

[11:57] Michael Urie: Do they? Carry on, then.

[11:59] Rogers: Yes, sir. Allow me to mention that the smallpox has reappeared in Asia.

[12:06] Rogers: The end is nigh. Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.

[12:12] Michael Urie: The waiter brought two steaming platters of mutton-like slices, swathed in something glutinous.

[12:21] Michael Urie: I sighed inwardly.

[12:24] Dakin Matthews: Something wrong with your mutton?

[12:27] Michael Urie: Sorry, I thought I sighed inwardly.

[12:31] Michael Urie: I slid my mutton around the plate and hid slices under my beyond-lettuce squares.

[12:37] Michael Urie: My uncle attacked his meal like it owed him money,

[12:41] Michael Urie: and didn't speak again until he had wiped the plate clean with a slice of bread.

[12:46] Michael Urie: He sighed and sat back in his chair.

[12:50] Michael Urie: So, you're wondering why I asked you here today.

[12:54] Michael Urie: It wasn't for the pleasure of my company.

[12:57] Michael Urie: It was not. Next week is your birthday.

[13:01] Michael Urie: I don't want a big party.

[13:04] Michael Urie: I plan no party of any kind.

[13:07] Michael Urie: You are reaching the age stipulated in your trust,

[13:10] Michael Urie: at which your assets revert to you entirely without restrictions.

[13:14] Michael Urie: Oh, but I still get my allowance?

[13:17] Michael Urie: No, you get everything.

[13:19] Michael Urie: But not my allowance?

[13:20] Michael Urie: Try to focus. There will be no need for an allowance.

[13:23] Michael Urie: You will possess the entire contents of the trust.

[13:27] Michael Urie: And what is that?

[13:28] Michael Urie: Great thundering cats, do you have no inkling of what is in your trust?

[13:33] Michael Urie: Should I?

[13:34] Michael Urie: Yes. You thundering idiot.

[13:37] Michael Urie: You will be one of the richest men on the planet.

[13:40] Michael Urie: You have a responsibility.

[13:42] Michael Urie: To do what?

[13:43] Michael Urie: To preserve it. To invest it wisely.

[13:47] Michael Urie: To pass it on to the next generation.

[13:50] Michael Urie: Not really sure I want a next generation.

[13:52] Michael Urie: Lot of bother. Children and so on.

[13:55] Michael Urie: Yes, well, there's plenty of time for that.

[13:58] Michael Urie: Right now, I need you to grasp the seriousness of the situation.

[14:02] Michael Urie: Who's been running things up to now?

[14:04] Michael Urie: The lawyers and financial managers of the trust.

[14:08] Michael Urie: Can't they keep doing what they've been doing?

[14:11] Michael Urie: Well, yes, I suppose so.

[14:14] Michael Urie: Problem solved.

[14:16] Michael Urie: What's for pudding?

[14:19] Rogers: Lapels will be narrower by three millimeters beginning Wednesday.

[14:23] Rogers: Appointments with club tailors can be booked at the concierge desk.

[14:29] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: Do I have the pleasure of addressing Mr. Chippitin Smythe?

[14:34] Michael Urie: You do. I'm glad you find it pleasurable.

[14:37] Michael Urie: Some of my relations tell me it can be a trial.

[14:40] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: I am Ahmed bin Fitzwilliam, the club hatter.

[14:44] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: Ah, just in the nick of time.

[14:46] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: Indeed, sir. The hats distributed as placeholders are painful to contemplate.

[14:51] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: And they smell of piss.

[14:53] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: I think we can do better, can't we?

[14:55] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: Now, what sort of thing did you have in mind?

[14:58] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: I don't know. Some sort of fedora?

[15:01] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: Oh no, sir. That would be most unsuitable.

[15:04] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Why's that?

[15:05] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: It's commonplace. We wouldn't want to be commonplace, would we?

[15:09] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Heavens no.

[15:10] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: What you want is something original.

[15:13] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: Something that will excite envy in all who behold you.

[15:17] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: And you can deliver such a headpiece?

[15:20] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: That is my art, sir.

[15:24] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: I never thought of hats as an art before.

[15:26] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: One of the oldest. After all, what is a hat?

[15:31] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: It's, uh...

[15:35] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: The question was rhetorical, sir.

[15:36] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Oh, well, I would have gotten it in a moment.

[15:39] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: A hat is a crown that is within the means of the poorest among us.

[15:45] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: Yes, it keeps us warm in the winter and shades us from the rays of the summer sun, but these are secondary.

[15:51] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: A hat perched just above the organs of sight is a statement.

[15:57] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: It tells the approaching stranger everything he needs to know at a glance.

[16:02] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: Are you timid? Bold? Sexually confused?

[16:08] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: It's all there in your hat.

[16:11] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: My job is to ascertain your essence and to create a hat that will announce you to the world.

[16:19] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: Here are some examples of my work.

[16:23] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: He held up a golden sombrero with bright red ribbons cascading down the back.

[16:28] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: This was a commission for Rory Badminton Jones, the actor.

[16:33] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: It's rather gaudy, isn't it?

[16:35] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: That is the point, sir.

[16:37] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: Anyone can slide into a room with a piece of felt that says, oh, don't look at me, I'm not important.

[16:43] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: A hat like this says, I don't give a damn what you think.

[16:47] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: I have the confidence to wear this, and if you don't like it, you can love it.

[16:52] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Rather.

[16:53] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: And when they're staring at the fantastical creation on your head, they are not staring at your close-set eyes, your beak-like nose, your lack of chin.

[17:03] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: No, all they see is the hat, and you have merely to bask in its reflected glory.

[17:13] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: I say, I'm in.

[17:14] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: Excellent! Fill out this questionnaire and bring it back to the concierge desk.

[17:18] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: Your hat will be delivered to your home in three days.

[17:22] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: But do I have to wear this hideous thing until then?

[17:24] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: No, sir. I will loan you this sombrero for the duration.

[17:30] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Thank you, sir.

[17:31] Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam: I bid you a good day.

[17:35] Uncle Hugo: Uncle Hugo's sweating pate had turned a deep maroon.

[17:39] Uncle Hugo: He mopped it with his napkin and waved to the waiter.

[17:42] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: At this point, I noticed a rather furtive Binky signaling to me from behind a carving station.

[17:49] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: He widened his eyes and jerked his chin theatrically toward the lobby.

[17:53] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Then he put his hands in his pockets and sauntered, whistling, out the dining room door.

[18:01] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Uh, sorry, Uncle Hugo, I've just seen someone I must have a word with.

[18:05] Uncle Hugo: You'll consider what I've said?

[18:07] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Oh, deeply.

[18:09] Uncle Hugo: Richly.

[18:11] Uncle Hugo: I have sent you a comprehensive list of your holdings.

[18:14] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Will you read it?

[18:16] Uncle Hugo: Unquestionably.

[18:18] Uncle Hugo: There are no pictures.

[18:21] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Oh, well, then I'll have Bentley read it and give me the gist.

[18:25] Uncle Hugo: Ta-ta. Love to Aunt Herpacia.

[18:27] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: You should call on her. She is incomprehensibly fond of you.

[18:32] Uncle Hugo: Oh, yeah, well, I shall. Tally-ho.

[18:36] Binky: Psst. Cereal. Over here.

[18:40] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Who are you hiding from?

[18:41] Binky: No one. I'm not hiding.

[18:45] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: You're crouching behind a chair.

[18:47] Binky: I...

[18:50] Binky: I'm exercising.

[18:52] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Oh, jolly good. Continue.

[18:55] Binky: He jogged in place for a moment, swinging his arms in random directions.

[19:05] Binky: Death before dishonor.

[19:06] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Ditto.

[19:10] Binky: That's better. My blood is racing.

[19:14] Evans: Did the gentleman wish an appointment with the tailors?

[19:18] Binky: No, thank you, Evans. My valet will see to it.

[19:21] Evans: Very good, sir.

[19:23] Binky: Three millimeters?

[19:25] Evans: Shocking.

[19:26] Binky: I just had all my lapels let out. It's exhausting.

[19:30] Binky: You want to speak to me about something?

[19:32] Binky: His eyes took on a shifty look.

[19:35] Binky: Oh, it's nothing, really.

[19:38] Binky: It's just...

[19:39] Cheeseworth: At that moment, Cheeseworth staggered up, wincing with every step.

[19:51] Cheeseworth: If only they weren't so bloody pointy.

[19:54] Binky: Sorry, old boy. This is a private conversation.

[19:57] Cheeseworth: Those are the best kind.

[20:00] Binky: Pway, continue.

[20:01] Binky: Binky folded his arms and stared at Cheeseworth, frostily.

[20:06] Binky: I have nothing more to say.

[20:09] Cheeseworth: What an enigma you are today, Binky. How have you been, Cheeseworth?

[20:15] Cheeseworth: Tolerable.

[20:17] Cheeseworth: One thought the club might cheer one up, but one might as well be in a wax museum.

[20:24] Cheeseworth: No one in this beastly club ever has the good taste to die.

[20:28] Binky: Care for a wobble of widge?

[20:30] Cheeseworth: Oh, sorry, old boy. I must be toddling off.

[20:33] Binky: Binky?

[20:33] Cheeseworth: Hmph.

[20:34] Binky: Bridge is the opiate of the people.

[20:37] Cheeseworth: One begs one's pardon?

[20:39] Binky: It deadens empathy and distracts from the disillusion of the human race as a species.

[20:45] Cheeseworth: I don't think you're playing it right.

[20:47] Binky: I cannot play games of any kind until all are free. It's frivolous.

[20:53] Cheeseworth: Men does not live by bread alone, dear boy. Without frivolity, life is a barren wasteland.

[21:01] Binky: Nevertheless.

[21:02] Cheeseworth: Ah, very well. Perhaps I'll take in the cockfights.

[21:07] Cheeseworth: Or a beer beating.

[21:09] Binky: Are you passing my way? I could use a ride.

[21:11] Cheeseworth: What happened to your chariot?

[21:13] Binky: It was obsolete.

[21:14] Cheeseworth: So am I, dear boy. So am I.

[21:16] Binky: Come along. I say, room for one more?

[21:21] Cheeseworth: The more the merrier. Avanti!

[21:26] Cheeseworth: Nifty palaquin, Cheeseworth.

[21:28] Cheeseworth: I'm trading it in tomorrow for a camel caravan encrusted with rubies.

[21:34] Binky: These ostentatious vehicles are the opiate of the people.

[21:38] Cheeseworth: I thought Bridge was the opiate of the people.

[21:41] Binky: That too. There's opium everywhere if you know where to look.

[21:45] Cheeseworth: Perhaps you should see someone about your obsession with drugs.

[21:50] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: I say, Binky, you were just about to ask me something.

[21:53] Binky: Was I?

[21:54] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Yes, at the club. You said there was something.

[21:56] Binky: He glanced suspiciously at Cheeseworth and finally shrugged.

[22:03] Binky: Oh well. I wondered if you were going to the country this weekend and whether I might tag along.

[22:10] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Absolutely.

[22:11] Binky: And Alice?

[22:12] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: What ho, that's a bit thick.

[22:14] Binky: Alice Witherspoon.

[22:16] Binky: The Ivory Empress.

[22:18] Binky: The Twofy Tywant.

[22:20] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: You are speaking of the woman I love.

[22:24] Binky: Pardon me, I'm sure.

[22:26] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: She's changed, Cyril.

[22:28] Binky: Been to the dentist, you mean?

[22:30] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: She and I are one now. The struggle has united us.

[22:35] Binky: Look, old man, I think it's a simply beastly idea to bring Alice, but if that's what you wish, I can deny you nothing.

[22:43] Binky: Just don't blame me if the sight of me causes her to flare her nostrils and whinny.

[22:49] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: I am not afraid. I'm going to the country this weekend.

[22:53] Binky: Cheeseworth's house is minutes away from your chateau.

[22:57] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: I'll pop over and watch the fireworks. I'll bring my ward, Pansy.

[23:03] Binky: You've never met her, Cyril.

[23:05] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: I don't believe so.

[23:07] Binky: She's absolutely hubris, but one has a responsibility.

[23:12] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Sounds delightful.

[23:13] Binky: And the palanquin bearers stamped to a halt. Here we are.

[23:17] Binky: Sorry to hurry you along, but those bears won't beat themselves.

[23:22] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Do you bait them personally?

[23:24] Binky: Certainly. I am ruthless.

[23:25] Binky: I attack their execrable fashion sense, their lack of wit, their excess of body hair.

[23:35] Binky: I make those bears weep, I can tell you.

[23:39] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Well, good luck.

[23:40] Binky: Thanks awfully for the lift, Cheeseworth.

[23:43] Binky: Ta-da!

[23:46] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Spot of tea?

[23:47] Binky: No, thanks. Gotta run.

[23:49] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: So we're on for the weekend?

[23:51] Binky: Absolutely. Counting on it.

[23:53] Binky: Pinky averted his eyes and began kicking at the gravel.

[23:59] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: The house is near Little Klimping?

[24:03] Binky: You've been there dozens of times.

[24:05] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: He screwed up his face to indicate heavy thinking and locked his fingers behind his back.

[24:12] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Right. It's near that hydrogen plant, isn't it?

[24:18] Binky: As you well know, yes, you can see it from the dining room window.

[24:21] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Good-o. Until the weekend.

[24:25] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: He sauntered off in a somewhat serpentine manner, eventually reversing direction and hurrying down the street as if pursued.

[24:35] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: As I stepped into the foyer, I saw out of the corner of my eye an unfamiliar houndstooth check skirt whipping around a corner.

[24:44] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: I say, Bentley, who's that?

[24:46] Bentley: No one, sir. Welcome home.

[24:49] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: But I saw someone, didn't I?

[24:51] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: I eyed him suspiciously, but Bentley could give the Sphinx lessons in inscrutability.

[24:57] Bentley: I think not, sir.

[24:59] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Did I see Mr. Wickford Davies departing in a rather eccentric manner?

[25:04] Bentley: You did.

[25:05] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Binky will be joining us in the country for the weekend.

[25:08] Bentley: Very good, sir.

[25:10] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: And Alice.

[25:12] Bentley: I see, sir. I'm not happy about it either. You must be extra vigilant.

[25:17] Bentley: My surveillance is ongoing, sir.

[25:20] Bentley: How is Mr. Wickford Davies' pursuit of Miss Witherspoon progressing?

[25:25] Bentley: They are as two cherries on a single stem.

[25:28] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: I must say, you're a wizard in the Cupid department.

[25:31] Bentley: One does what one can.

[25:33] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: What's in the larder? I'm starved.

[25:35] Bentley: Would sir care for some pizza rolls?

[25:38] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Rather. I'll just peel off these shoes and cauterize my feet.

[25:43] Bentley: Your uncle has sent a rather large package.

[25:46] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: That's a list of my worldly goods.

[25:49] Bentley: Digest it for me and bring me the...

[25:52] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: No, that's not a good metaphor. Sift it and bring me the lumps.

[25:57] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Well, you know what I mean.

[25:59] Bentley: Of course, sir.

[26:00] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: A shadow passed suddenly before my eyes and I felt a yawning chasm open in my vitals.

[26:08] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Oh, Bentley, it all seems so meaningless. I really feel I can't go another step.

[26:13] Bentley: Did sir neglect to take his antidepressant this morning?

[26:17] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: I can't remember. It's all so foggy.

[26:20] Bentley: Here we are, sir.

[26:22] Bentley: Bentley lifted me gently and deposited me in my favorite armchair before a roaring simulated fire.

[26:29] Bentley: He tipped two tablets into my palm from a vial he took from his vest pocket.

[26:34] Bentley: Take your nice pills and I'll be back with the pizza rolls in a trice.

[26:39] Bentley: There might even be a bit of real chocolate after the pizza rolls.

[26:44] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: I felt a warm glow begin in my toes and work its way upward.

[26:49] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Real chocolate? Where on earth did you find it?

[26:53] Bentley: I have my ways, sir.

[26:56] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: I am all right now. Thank you, Bentley. I don't know how I'd get on without you.

[27:03] Bentley: One feels quite undeserving of such accolades, sir.

[27:07] Bentley: Shall I bring a ramekin of marinara for dipping?

[27:10] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Oh, by all means. Let's have a goddamn bacchanalia.

[27:15] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: As Bentley glided off to the kitchen, I wiggled my toes and gazed into the fire.

[27:22] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: I felt that all was right with the world.

[27:25] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: An impression that would prove to be sadly misguided.

[27:29] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: A near escape from the clutches of existential angst for Cyril.

[27:34] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: But what complications are waiting at the country estate?

[27:38] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Irresistible forces are converging on our hero.

[27:43] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Join us next time for chapter three. A hot time at the old chateau.

[27:49] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Toodle-oo!

[27:51] Lillias White: And now, let us bow down to the gods.

[27:56] Lillias White: Now, let us bow down before the brilliance of our cast.

[28:02] Lillias White: Without whom we would be as dust.

[28:05] Lillias White: Blown hither and yon by the winds of fortune.

[28:09] Lillias White: Michael Urie as Cyril Chippington Smythe.

[28:12] Lillias White: Christian Borle as Cheswick Whitford Davies.

[28:16] Lillias White: Binky to his friends.

[28:18] Lillias White: Dakin Matthews as Bentley.

[28:21] Lillias White: Nick Sullivan as Uncle Hugo.

[28:23] Lillias White: Stephen DeRosa as C. Langford Cheeseworth.

[28:27] Lillias White: Teddy Udane as Rogers and Evans.

[28:31] Lillias White: James Monroe Iglehart as Ahmed Ben Fitzwilliam.

[28:36] Lillias White: And yours truly, Lillias White as a disembodied omnipotent voice.

[28:44] Lillias White: Written by Tom Allen Robbins.

[28:47] Lillias White: Co-directed by Tom Allen Robbins and Dory Berenstein.

[28:52] Lillias White: Produced by Dory Berenstein, Alan Seals, Brittany Bigelow, and the Broadway Podcast Network.

[28:58] Lillias White: General Manager, Beatrice Westby.

[29:04] Lillias White: Press, Marketing, Social Media by Katie Rosen.

[29:08] Lillias White: A Yammer Press Card.

[29:10] Lillias White: Sound Effects Consultant, Eric Wright.

[29:13] Lillias White: Sound Designer and Editor, Brett Ashley.

[29:17] Lillias White: Executive Produced by Liz Armstrong.

[29:21] Lillias White: The Twits series is sponsored by The Gotham as part of the Sound and Light Project.

[29:24] Lillias White: Good day.