Blackadder

Blackadder:
Leave me alone, Baldrick. If I wanted to talk to a vegetable, I'd have bought one at the market! God, I'm wasted here. It's no life for a man of noble blood, being servant to a master with the intellect of a jugged walrus and all the social graces of a potty!

Baldrick:
I'm wasted too. I've been thinking of bettering myself.

Blackadder:
Oh really, how?

Baldrick:
I applied for the job of village idiot of Kensington.

Blackadder:
Oh. Get anywhere?

Baldrick:
I got down to the last two, but I failed the final interview.

Blackadder:
Oh, what went wrong?

Baldrick:
I turned up. The other bloke was such an idiot, he forgot to.

Blackadder:
Yes, I'm afraid my ambitions stretch slightly further than professional idiocy in West London! I want to be remembered when I'm dead. I want books written about me. I want songs sung about me. And then, hundreds of years from now, I want episodes of my life to be played out weekly at half past nine by some great heroic actor of the age.

Baldrick:
Yeah, and I could be played by some tiny tit in a beard.

Blackadder:
Quite.