Funny / Thank You, Jeeves

• Bertie has been informed by his landlord that he must, by popular demand, either cease his attempts to learn to play the banjolele, or take himself and 'that infernal din' elsewhere.
  'Complaints, it would seem, have been lodged by the Honorable Mrs. Tinkler-Moulke of C-6; by Lieutenant Colonel J. J. Bustard (DSO) of B-5; and Sir Everard and Lady Blennerhassett, of B-7. All right. So be it. I don't care. We shall be well-rid of these Tinkler-Moulkes, these Bustards, and these Blennerhassetts. I leave them without a pang.'
• "I mean, if you're asking a fellow to come out of a room so that you can dismember him with a carving knife, it's absurd to tack a 'sir' on to every sentence. The two things don't go together."
• This exchange:
  Bertie: And you love this, um... [laughs] ...excuse me, this Marmaduke?
  Pauline: I'm dippy about him, Bertie. Don't you just worship the way his hair sort of fluffs up at the back?
  Bertie: My dear girl, I have better things to do than go about staring at the back of Chuffy's head.
• When a drunken Brinkley turns up at Chuffy's front door, as covertly witnessed by Bertie:
  Chuffy seemed to explode like a paper bag. I could follow his mental processes, if you know what I mean, pretty clearly. Ever since that unfortunate episode at the cottage, when the girl he loved had handed him the mitten and gone out of his life, I imagine he had been seething and brooding and sizzling and what not like a soul in torment, yearning for some outlet for his repressed emotions, and here he had found one. Ever since that regrettable scene he had been wishing that he could work off the stored-up venom on somebody, and, by Jove, Heaven had sent this knocker-slamming inebriate.
  To run Brinkley down the steps and up the drive, kicking him about every other yard, was with the fifth Baron Chuffnell the work of a moment. They passed my little clump of bushes at about forty m.p.h., and rolled away into the distance.

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