And also, to some extent, My Man Godfrey (1957).

My Man Godfrey—the original one, starring William Powell—is one film that I’ve been meaning to watch for a long time now, mostly because so many people have told me what a lot of fun it is, and how it seems to have shades of PG Wodehouse in it (an author in whose pursuit I have watched several films, not always with the most satisfying of results).

It did seem to me, within the first few minutes of My Man Godfrey, that there were shades of a Wodehousian sense of humour here.

The film begins at a riverside dump, where a rather ragged, unshaven and tattered Godfrey (William Powell) is among several homeless men standing about when a fashionable high society lady, Cornelia Bullock (Gail Patrick) comes flouncing along, with a formally-dressed man in tow. Cornelia takes one look at Godfrey and tries to get him to come with her. She’s participating in a ‘scavenger hunt’ at a posh hotel, and the first person to bring along a ‘forgotten man’ to the hunt stands to win the prize.