Blackadder's Christmas Carol

Melchet:
Greetings of the season to you, Blackadder! May the Yule log slip from your fire and burn your house down!

Lord Edmund Blackadder:
HA! Got him with my subtle plan!

Baldrick:
I can't see any subtle plan!

Lord Edmund Blackadder:
Baldrick, you wouldn't see a subtle plan if it painted itself purple and danced naked on top of a harpsichord, singing "Subtle plans are here again!"

Lord Edmund Blackadder:
I trust Christmas brings to you its traditional mix of good food and violent stomach cramp.

Ebenezer Blackadder:
My, what a jolly young girl.

Baldrick:
Yeah, pity she nicked all the presents.

Ebenezer Blackadder:
My what a jolly fellow.

Baldrick:
Looked like a fat git to me.

Ebenezer Blackadder:
Yes Baldrick, but if one peels away the layers of a 'fat git' you'll probably find a...

Baldrick:
Thin git!

Ebenezer Blackadder:
Baldrick, I want you to go out and buy a turkey so large you'd think it's mother had been rogered by an omnibus.

Frondo:
What news of the foul Marmydons?

Cmdr. Edmund Blackadder:
Scattered to the nine vectors, m'lord.

Frondo:
And the Sheepsqueezers of Splatticon Five? Have they been suckcreamed as a Qvarnbeast's nobbo?

Cmdr. Edmund Blackadder:
Well they're dead, if that's what you mean.

Pigmot:
Plus Commander, did you vanquish the Nibblepibblies?

Cmdr. Edmund Blackadder:
No, my lord Pigmot, I did not vanquish the Nibblepibbles because you just made them up.

Ebenezer Blackadder:
I'm afraid the only way you are likely to get a wet kiss at Christmas, or indeed at any other time, is to make a pass at a water closet.

Ebeneezer Blackadder:
In fact, there is something in your stocking, Baldrick, something I made for you.

Baldrick:
Ah, well that's the best kind of gift, Mr. B. What is it?

Ebeneezer Blackadder:
It's a fist. It's for hitting people with. (Punches Baldrick) And the great thing is, you can use it again and again! (hits Baldrick again)

Baldrick:
It's a bit of a tiddler ain't it?

Ebenezer Blackadder:
Yes but size isn't important my friend. It's not what you've got, it's where you stick it!

Baldrick:
Mr. B! Where's the milk of human kindness?

Ebenezer Blackadder:
It's gone off, Baldrick. It stinks.

Ebeneezer Blackadder:
I am not at home to guests!

Prince Albert:
I flatter myzelf ve are llather special guests, sir.

Ebeneezer Blackadder:
Oh, of course, I must apologize! It isn't often that one recieves a Christmas visit from two such distinguished guests.

Prince Albert:
Ah, zo you llecognize us at last!

Ebeneezer Blackadder:
Yes! Unless I'm very much mistaken, you're the winner of the 'Round Britain Shortest Fattest Dumpiest Woman Competition. And for her to be accompanied by the winner of this year's Stupidest Accent Award is really quite overwhelming.

Baldrick:
I've been helping out with the workhouse Nativity play.

Lord Edmund Blackadder:
Oh, of course. How did it go?

Baldrick:
Well, not very well. At the last moment, the baby playing Jesus died!

Lord Edmund Blackadder:
Oh, dear! This high infant mortality rate's a real devil when it comes to staging quality children's theatre. What did you do?

Baldrick:
Got another Jesus.

Lord Edmund Blackadder:
Oh, thank goodness. And his name?

Baldrick:
"Spot." There weren't any more children so we had to settle for a dog instead.

Lord Edmund Blackadder:
Oh, dear. I'm not convinced that Christianity would have established its firm grip over the hearts and minds of mankind, if all Jesus had ever said was "woof!"

Baldrick:
Well, it went all right until the shepherds came on. See, we haven't been able to get any real sheep, so we had to stick some wool...

Lord Edmund Blackadder:
On some other dogs!

Baldrick:
Yeah. And the moment Jesus got a whiff of them, he's away! While the angel's singing "peace on earth, good will to mankind," Jesus scampers across and tries to get one of the sheep to give him a piggy-back ride!

Lord Edmund Blackadder:
Scarcely appropriate behavior for the Son of God, Mister Baldrick! Weren't the children upset?

Baldrick:
No, they loved it! They want us to do another one at Easter. They want to see us nail up the dog!

Edmund Blackadder, Esq.:
Shall I begin the Christmas story?

George, the Prince Regent:
Absolutely, as long as it's not that terribly depressing one about the chap who gets born on Christmas Day, shoots his mouth off about everything under the sun, and then comes a cropper with a couple of rum coves on top of a hill in Johnny Arab land.

Edmund Blackadder, Esq.:
You mean *Jesus,* Sire...?

George, the Prince Regent:
Yes, that's the fellow! Keep him out of it. He always spoils the X-mas atmos!

Mrs. Scratchit:
Ah, Mr. Ebenezer! I was wondering if you had perhaps a little present for me...? or had found me a little fowl for Tiny Tom's Christmas...?

Ebenezer Blackadder:
I've always found you 'foul,' Mrs. Scratchit - and more than a little! As for Tiny Tom's Christmas: he can stuff it up his enormous muscular backside.

Ebenezer Blackadder:
Cork it, fatso! Don't you realise that this is the Victorian Age, where apart from Queen Piglet-Features herself, women and children are to be seen and not heard!

Prince Albert:
Queen Piglet-Features!

Ebenezer Blackadder:
Yes! "Empress Oink," us lads call her. The only person in the kingdom who looks dafter than her is that stupid Frankfurter of a husband. "The Pig and the Prig," we call them. How they ever managed to produce their one hundred and twelve children is quite beyond me. The bed-chambers of Buckingham Palace must be copiously supplied with blindfolds!