Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

And you might take a look at this evening's Gotham City Times.
But I don't know your secret. I don't even know who you are.
Penguin becomes son-in-law of the commissioner.
Man the Batradarscope.
Why, Barbara would never consent to marry that scoundrel.
Hush, hush, sir.
Come on, coach her on her lines.
To the Batmobile.
Well, then I apologize.
- Move it, preach. - I beg your pardon?
We'll have you out as soon as we can Bat-pick this lock, Alfred.
So tonight is Dick Grayson's night...
I expect we haven't seen the last of her.
You can't imagine such bliss.
Really, Penguin, all that waddling around you do...
However, our purpose here is quite serious.
Very well.
Roger.
It's Alfred's emergency belt-buckle Batcall signal.
you may find yourself in hot water.
Yes, chief.
His umbrellas are closed.
It's a Bat-alert Buzzer connected to the phone in the Batcave as in our other cars. Let's go.
- You'll do what? - I'll...
What does it say?
What was that about the Gotham City Times?
Guess who this is. Hwah, hwah, hwah!
before the Dynamic Dunderheads put the snatch on me.
I'll marry you. Just leave my father alone.
so she can see what'll happen if she doesn't cooperate.
This? Me?
Ha, ha! I must call him at once and thank him.
Of course, we could always borrow a hairpin from Batgi...
Trust Penguin to have a surefire recipe for pigeon pie. Hwah, hwah, hwah.
We badly need the money for our summer camp.