Blackadder

Blackadder:
This is the Jane Harrington?

Percy:
Yes.

Blackadder:
Jane "Bury Me in a Y-Shaped Coffin" Harrington?

Percy:
I think there may be two Jane Harringtons -

Blackadder:
No, no... Tall, blonde, elegant.?

Percy:
Yes, that's her.

Blackadder:
Goes like a privy door when the plague's in town? Come on, get on with your shot. You'll get over her. [pause] I did. [another pause] So did Baldrick, actually.

Percy:
I'd like to meet the Spaniard who can make his way past me!

Blackadder:
Well, go to Spain. There are millions of them.

Blackadder:
What is your name, boy?

Kate/Bob:
Kate.

Blackadder:
Isn't that a bit of a girl's name?

Kate/Bob:
It's short for [pause] Bob.

Blackadder:
Tell me, young crone, is this Putney?

Young Crone:
[cackling] That it be! That it be!

Blackadder:
"Yes, it is," not "That it be". And you don't have to talk in that stupid voice to me, I'm not a tourist! I seek information about a Wise Woman.

Young Crone:
The Wise Woman? The Wise Woman?!

Blackadder:
Yes. The Wise Woman.

Young Crone:
Two things, my Lord, must ye know of the Wise Woman. First... she is a woman! And second... she is...

Blackadder:
Wise?

Young Crone:
[normal] You do know her, then?

Blackadder:
No, just a wild stab in the dark - which, incidentally, is what you'll be getting if you don't start being a bit more helpful! Do you know where she lives?

Young Crone:
'Course.

Blackadder:
Where?

Young Crone:
'Ere. Do you have an appointment?

Blackadder:
No.

Young Crone:
Oh... you can go in anyway.

Blackadder:
Thank you, young crone. Here is a purse of monies... [she tries to grab it] which I'm not going to give to you. [walks in]

Dr Leech:
It isn't every day a man wakes up to find he's a screaming bender with no more right to live on God's clean earth than a weasel!

Kate/Bob:
You'll make a lovely bridesmaid Baldrick. Pity me that I have no actual girl chums because we were so poor in our house we couldn't afford friends.

Blackadder:
It is strangely in keeping with the manner of our courtship that your maid of honour should be a man.

Baldrick:
Thank you very much my lord.

Blackadder:
Well, I use the word man in an as broad as possible sense because we all know God made man in his own image. It would be a sad look out for Christians around the globe if God looked any like you, Baldrick.

Lord Flashheart:
Thanks, bridesmaid, like the beard. Gives me something to hang onto! And Melchie! Still worshipping God? Last thing I heard he started worshipping me! A-HAHAHAHAHA! Nursie! I like it firm and fruity! Am I glad to see you or did I just put a canoe in my pocket?

Lord Flashheart:
I have a plan! And it's as hot as my pants!!!

Blackadder:
Yes. To you, Baldrick, the Renaissance was just something that happened to other people, wasn't it?

Blackadder:
Right, good morning team. My name is Edmond Blackadder, and I'm the new minister in charge of religous genocide. Now, if you play straight with me you'll find me a considerate employer, but cross me and you'll soon discover that under this playful, boyish exterior beats the heart of a ruthless...sadist...maniac!

Blackadder:
[seeing Percy's abnormally wide new neckruff] You look like a bird who's swallowed a plate.

Percy:
It's the latest fashion, actually. And as a matter of fact, it makes me look rather sexy!

Blackadder:
To another plate-swallowing bird, perhaps. If it was blind and hadn't had it in months.

Percy:
I think you may be wrong!

Blackadder:
You're a sad, laughable figure, aren't you, Percy? Baldrick, what do you think of Percy's new ruff?

Baldrick:
Four!

Blackadder:
What?

Baldrick:
Some beans and some beans is four!

Blackadder:
No, now we've moved on - from advanced mathematics to elementary dress making. What do you think of Percy's new ruff?

Baldrick:
I think he looks like a bird who's swallowed a plate, my Lord.

Blackadder:
No, that's what I think. What do you think? Try to have a thought of your own; thinking is so important. What do you think?

Baldrick:
I think thinking is so important, my Lord.

Percy:
[on his new neckruff, which is extremely small] The fashion today is towards the tiny.

Blackadder:
In which case, Percy, you must have the most fashionable brain in London.

[Queenie wishes to see Lord Farrow, who has supposedly been executed]

Blackadder:
Percy, this is a very difficult situation.

Percy:
Yes, my lord.

Blackadder:
Someone's for the chop. You or me, in fact.

Percy:
Ah, yes...

Blackadder:
Let's face facts, Perc: it's you!

Percy:
[nervously] Except, ex-cept... I may have a plan!

Blackadder:
[dryly] Oh, yes...

Percy:
Yes, eh... How about if we get Lord Farrow's head and body and we take it to the Queen. Except, ex-cept... just before we get in, we start shouting and screaming, and then we come in saying "We were just on our way when he said something traitorous, and so we cut his head off in the corridor just to teach him a lesson!"

Blackadder:
Pathetic! Absolutely pathetic! Contemptible! Worth a try! Where did we put the head?

Percy:
It's on a spike in traitors cloister.

Blackadder:
But that's where the Queen's gone! If she sees his head on a spike she'll realise, HE'S DEAD!

Blackadder:
Look at this, what is it?

Baldrick:
I'm surprised you've forgotten my lord.

Blackadder:
I haven't forgotten, it's a rhetorical question.

Baldrick:
Nah, it's a potato.

Blackadder:
To you, it's a potato. To me, it's a potato. But to Sir Walter bloody Raleigh, it's fine carriages, luxury estates and as many girls as his tongue can cope with! He's making a fortune out of the things: people are smoking them, building houses out of them... they'll be eating them next!

Melchett:
Started talking to yourself, Blackadder?

Blackadder:
Yes, it's the only way I can be sure of intelligent conversation around here!

[After Queenie's poor pirate imitation]

Melchett:
[obviously humouring her] I beg your pardon, Your Majesty, but I was hoping to greet the gallant young sailor who hallooed me as I came in. Perchance he has hauled anchor and sailed away?

Queenie:
[giggling] No! It was me!

Melchett:
Majesty! Surely not!

Blackadder:
[to Melchett] You utter creep.

Captain Rum:
Ah, "Courtiers to the Queen"! You're nothing but lapdogs to a slip of a girl!

Blackadder:
Better a "lapdog to a slip of a girl" than a... GIT!

Captain Rum:
You have a woman's legs! I'll wager those legs have never been sawn clean off by a falling sail and swept into the sea before your very eyes.

Blackadder:
Well, neither have yours.

Captain Rum:
That's where you're wrong!

[He pushes away the table he has been sitting at to reveal that he indeed has no legs]

Melchett:
[giving a scroll to Blackadder] Farewell, Blackadder! The foremost cartographers of the land have prepared this for you! [Blackadder unrolls the scroll] It's a... map of the area you'll be traversing. [Blackadder inspects the apparently blank scroll] They'd be very grateful if you could just fill it in as you go along. Goodbye!

Captain Rum:
Truth is, I don't know the way to the Cape of Good Hope anyway.

Blackadder:
Good Lord! What were you going to do?!

Captain Rum:
What I usually do: sail round and round the Isle of Wight until everyone's dizzy and then head for home!

Blackadder:
[smiles] You old rascal. Still, who cares? The day after tomorrow, we shall be in Calais. Captain, set sail for France!

[Everyone cheers. Cut to "The Day After The Day After Tomorrow", when everyone looks less excited.]

Blackadder:
... So, you don't know the way to France either?

Captain Rum:
No. I must confess that too.

Blackadder:
[turns to Percy and Baldrick] Bugger.

[After they inform Nursie her beloved Captain Rum is dead]

Percy:
Don't despair, good woman. He died a hero's death, giving his life so that his friends might live.

Blackadder:
And that his enemies might have something to go with their potatoes!

Nursie:
[tearfully] You mean they put him in the pot?!

Blackadder:
Yes, your fiancee was only a third-rate sailor, but a first-rate second course!

Blackadder:
You're a one, aren't you?! When you should be whispering sweet conversational nothings like "Goodness, something twice the size of the Royal Barge has just hoved into view between the sheets", you don't say a word. But enter the Creature from the Black Latrine, and you won't stop jabbering!

Molly:
He was treating me like a human being!

Blackadder:
Look, if I had wanted a lecture of the rights of man, I'd have gone to bed with Martin Luther!

Baldrick:
What about this priest?

Blackadder:
Tell him to get his sacred backside out of here! And what's more, if he comes begging again tell him I shall report him to the Bishop of Bath and Wells, who drowns babies during christenings and eats them in the vestry afterwards.

[Baldrick leaves and then suddenly is thrown through the bedroom door with a loud crash.]

Blackadder:
What is it, Baldrick?

Baldrick:
It's that priest, he still wants to speak to you.

Blackadder:
And did you tell him about the baby-eating Bishop of Bath and Wells?

Baldrick:
I did, my Lord.

Blackadder:
And what did he say?

Bishop of Bath and Wells:
[entering] He said I AM THE BABY-EATING BISHOP OF BATH AND WELLS!

Blackadder:
Good Lord!

Bishop of Bath and Wells:
You haven't any children, Blackadder?

Blackadder:
No, I'm not married.

Bishop of Bath and Wells:
In that case, I'll skip breakfast and get straight down to business!

[Blackadder must pay back a £1,000 debt to the Black Church, or else]

Blackadder:
[as politely as he can] Tell me, Bishop, let me just "test the water" here, so to speak. Erm... supposing I was to say to you, "I'm a close friend of the Queen's, and I think she'd be very interested to hear about you and Mollie and the wimple, so why don't we just call it quits, eh, Fatso?"

Bishop of Bath and Wells:
I would say, "Firstly, the Queen would not believe you. And secondly, [draws a hot poker] you'll regret calling me 'Fatso' later today!"

Blackadder:
Ah.

Blackadder:
The path of my life is strewn with cowpats from the Devil's own Satanic herd!

[Blackadder enters his house and shuts the door]

Blackadder:
I can not believe it! She drags me all the way from Billingsgate to Richmond to play about the weakest practical joke since Cardinal Wolsey got his nob out at Hampton Court and stood at the end of the passage pretending to be a door

[Baldrick laughs]

Blackadder:
Oh shut up Balders, you'd laugh at Shakespeare comedy

[Percy enters and hugs Blackadder]

Percy:
Edmund! Oh Edmund I have awaited your return!

Blackadder:
And thank god you did, for I was just thinking," My god, I die in 12 hours and what I really need now, is a hug from a complete prat."

Percy:
But fear not, for I have a plan to save the life of my dear, dear friend!

Blackadder:
Look, I'm not interested in your bloody friends, what about me?

Percy:
Do not despair! For I have some small savings carefully harvested from my weekly allowance, set aside against my frail old age. By lucky haps, it is just over a thousand, methinks, and for years has been hidden beyond the wit of any thief, in an old sock...

Percy and Blackadder:
...under the squeaky floorboard...

Percy, Blackadder and Baldrick:
...behind the kitchen dresser.

Percy:
[smiles uneasily] You've seen it, then.

Blackadder:
Seen it, pinched it, spent it! And the same goes for the two farthings Baldrick thinks he's got hidden inside that mouldy potato.

Baldrick:
Oh, bloody hell!

[Percy is surrounded by chemical apparatus. On the table in front of him is a green blob]

Percy:
My Lord! Success! After literally an hour's ceaseless searching, I have succeeded in creating gold! Pure gold! Behold!

Blackadder:
Percy, it's green.

Percy:
That's right, my Lord.

Blackadder:
Yes Percy, I don't want to be pedantic or anything but the colour of gold is gold. That's why it's called "gold". What you have discovered, if it has a name, is some "green".

Percy:
[astonished, picking up the blob] Oh Edmund! Can it be true? That I hold here, in my mortal hand, a nugget of purest green?

Blackadder:
Indeed you do, Percy. Except it's not really a nugget, is it? It's more of a splat.

Percy:
Well, yes, a splat today, but tomorrow - who knows, or dares to dream?

Blackadder:
[dryly] So, we three alone in all the world can create the finest green at will?

Percy:
Just so! Not sure about counting in Baldrick, actually.

Blackadder:
Of course, you know what your great discovery means, don't you, Percy?

Percy:
Perhaps, my lord...

Blackadder:
That, you Percy, Lord Percy, are an utter berk!

[Percy smiles and clenches his fist in the air]

Blackadder:
Baldrick!

Baldrick:
My lord?

Blackadder:
Pack my bags, I'm going to sell the house.

Percy and Baldrick:
What?!

Blackadder:
There's nothing else for it. I mean I shall miss the old place, I know. I've had some happy times here, when you and Percy have been out. But needs must when the devil vomits into your kettle. Baldrick, go forth into the streets and let it be known that Lord Blackadder wishes to sell his house. Percy, just go forth into the streets.

Mr Pants:
[laughing] You've really worked out your banter, haven't you?

Blackadder:
No, not really. This is a different thing; it's spontaneous and it's called wit.

Baldrick:
Have you got a plan, my lord?

Blackadder:
Yes I have, and it's so cunning you can brush your teeth with it!

[Blackadder has just had the Bishop painted in bed with Percy, and is now using it to blackmail him]

Bishop of Bath and Wells:
By the horns of Beelzebub, how did you get me into that position?!

Blackadder:
It's beautifully framed, don't you think? Which is ironic, really, because that's exactly what's happened to you.

Bishop of Bath and Wells:
You fiend! Never have I encountered such corrupt and foul-minded perversity! Have you ever considered a career in the church?!

Blackadder:
No, I could never get used to the underwear.

Blackadder:
Baldrick! Why have you got a piece of cheese tied to the end of your nose?

Baldrick:
To catch mice my lord. I lie on the floor with my mouth open and hope they scurry in.

Blackadder:
And do they?

Baldrick:
Not yet my lord.

Blackadder:
Hardly surprising. Your breath comes straight from Satan's bottom, Baldrick.

Blackadder:
It is said, Percy, that civilised man seeks out good and intelligent company, so that through learned discourse he may rise above the savage and closer to God.

Percy:
Yes, I've heard that.

Blackadder:
Personally, however, I like to start the day with a total dickhead to remind me I'm best!

Percy:
Beshrew me, Blackadder! You're in good fooling this morning!

Blackadder:
Don't say 'Beshrew me', Percy. Only stupid actors say 'Beshrew me'.

Percy:
Oh, how I would love to be an actor! I had a great talent for it in my youth; I was the Man of a Thousand Faces!

Blackadder:
How'd you come to choose the ugly mug you've got now, then?

Percy:
[laughs] Tush, my lord!

Blackadder:
And don't say 'Tush', either! It's only a short step from 'Tush' to 'Hey nonny nonny', and then I'm afraid I shall have to call the police!

Blackadder:
My aunt and uncle, Lord and Lady Whiteadder - the two most fanatical puritans in England - have invited themselves to dinner here tonight.

Percy:
But aren't they the most frightful bores?

Blackadder:
Yep. But they have one great redeeming feature: their wallets! More capacious than an elephant's scrotum, and just as difficult to get your hands on!

Queenie:
Edmund, quick, quick! Melchett's dying! We must do something!

Blackadder:
Well yes, of course. Some sort of celebration!

Melchett:
I assure you, Blackadder, what I drank last night would have floored a rhinoceros.

Blackadder:
If it was allergic to lemonade.

Melchett:
I'm sure we all remember the shame and embarrassment of the visit of the King of Austria, when Blackadder was found wandering naked among the gardens of Hampton Court, singing "I'm Merlin, the Happy Pig!"

[Queen Elizabeth has a lot of good ideas.]

Nursie:
That was another good idea! You are so clever today, you better be careful your foot doesn't fall off.

Queen Elizabeth:
Does that happen, when you have lots of brilliant ideas? Your foot falls off?

Nursie:
Certainly does! My brother, he had this brilliant idea of cutting his toenails with a scythe, and his foot fell off.

Blackadder:
Get the door, Baldrick.

[There is a crash. Baldrick enters, carrying a door.]

Blackadder:
Baldrick, I would advise you to make the explanation you are about to give... phenomenally good.

Baldrick:
You said "Get the door."

Blackadder:
Not good enough. You're fired.

Baldrick:
But my lord, I've been in your family since 1532!

Blackadder:
So has syphilis! Now get out!

[Blackadder notices Percy and Baldrick giggling]

Blackadder:
What is so funny?

Percy:
Well, my lord... while Baldrick and I were preparing the t-turnip surprise... we had a surprise! We came across a turnip... that was exactly the same shape... as a 'thingy'!

Blackadder:
[long pause]... A 'thingy'?!

Baldrick:
A great big 'thingy'! It was terrific!

Blackadder:
Size is no guarantee of quality, Baldrick. Most horses are very well-endowed, but that does not necessarily make them sensitive lovers. I trust you have removed this hilarious item?

Baldrick:
Oh- yes, my Lord.

Blackadder:
Good, because there's nothing more likely to stop an inheritance than a 'thingy'-shaped turnip!

Percy:
Absolutely, Edmund... [looks serious for a moment, then breaks into giggles again] But it was jolly funny!!

Baldrick:
I found it particularly ironic, my Lord, 'cause I've got a 'thingy' that's shaped like a turnip!

Blackadder:
[dismissively] Yes, yes...

Baldrick:
I'm quite fun at parties.

Blackadder:
Are you?

Baldrick:
Yeah, I hide in the vegetable rack and frighten the children!

Blackadder:
[crossly] What fun!

Blackadder:
So, the plan is, when I call for my 'incredibly strong ale', you must pass me water in an ale-bottle. Have you got that?

Baldrick:
Yeah- when you call for ale, I pass water.

[Blackadder is trying to get out of the party]

Queenie:
I know why you want to get out of it, because I remember the last time you had a party. I found you face-down in a puddle, wearing a pointy hat and singing a song about goblins.

Blackadder:
[angrily] Yes, all right! All right! Tonight it is!

Queenie:
[coyly] Oh Edmund, I do love it when you get cross. Sometimes I think about having you executed, just to see the expression on your face!

Blackadder:
[to Baldrick] I wish to quickly send off some party invitations. And to make them look particularly tough, I wish to write them in blood. Your blood, to be precise.

Baldrick:
So, how much blood will you actually be requiring, my lord?

Blackadder:
Oh, nothing much, just a small puddle.

Baldrick:
Will you want me to cut anything off? An arm or a leg, for instance?

Blackadder:
Oh, good lord, no. A little prick should do.

Baldrick:
Very well, my lord. I am your bondsman, and must obey. (sticks a knife down his trousers and begins sawing)

Blackadder:
OH FOR GOD'S SAKE, BALDRICK! I meant a little prick on your finger!

Baldrick:
I haven't got one there!

Blackadder:
If you'd like to help yourself to a legacy- I mean a chair!

Lady Whiteadder:
Chair!? You have chairs in your house!?

Blackadder:
Oh yes.

Lady Whiteadder:
[slaps him twice] Wicked child! Chairs are an invention of Satan! In our house, Nathaniel sits on a spike!

Blackadder:
And yourself?

Lady Whiteadder:
[with a malicious smile] I sit on Nathaniel. Two spikes would be an extravagance! I will suffer comfort this once; we shall just have to stick forks in our legs between courses!

[After hearing the boozers hammer on the door]

Lady Whiteadder:
Edmund! I trust you have invited no other guests?

Blackadder:
Oh, certainly not!

Lady Whiteadder:
Good! For where there are other guests, there are people to fornicate with!

Blackadder:
Err, quite. I'll just go and tell them to... fornicate off.

[Edmund walks in with a pair of false breasts on. Percy makes coughing noises to try and alert him to this fact]

Blackadder:
Sorry, he's sick. Leprosy...of the brain.

Lady Whiteadder:
What he is trying to tell you is that you appear to be wearing a pair of devil's dumplings!

[Blackadder looks down, notices the breasts and places them around his head]

Blackadder:
Oh my god, my ear muffs have fallen down! Would you like a pair, it's getting rather cold?

Lady Whiteadder:
No, thank you! Cold is God's way of telling us to burn more Catholics!

Blackadder:
How are we getting on?

Lady Whiteadder:
Not good. Let us discuss your inheritance.

Blackadder:
Oh good. Drink, first?

Lady Whiteadder:
Drink!? [slaps him twice] Wicked child! Drink is urine from the last leper in Hell!

Blackadder:
This is only water. This is a house of simple purity.

[A drunken Monk bursts into Blackadder's Puritan dinner, vomits in the fireplace and staggers out]

Monk:
GREAT BOOZE-UP, EDMUND! [There is an awkward silence]

Lady Whiteadder:
Do you know that man?

Blackadder:
[looking behind him for another man] No.

Lady Whiteadder:
He called you Edmund.

Blackadder:
Oh, know him! Oh yes, I do.

Lady Whiteadder:
Then can you explain what he meant by "Great booze-up?"

[Very long pause, as Blackadder thinks]

Blackadder:
[haltingly] Yes, I can. My friend is a missionary... And on his last visit abroad... Brought back with him the chief of a famous tribe... His name is Great Boo... He's been suffering from sleeping sickness... And he's obviously just woken... Because, as you heard, "Great Boo's up."

Percy:
[almost suffocating from holding his breath] Well done, Edmund.

Blackadder:
[getting up] And I think I'd better go and visit him. Perce, over to you.

Queenie:
I may have the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the heart and stomach...of a concrete elephant!

Partridge:
Prove it!

Queenie:
Certainly will! [picks up a tankard] First I'm going to have a little drinky...and then I'm going to execute the whole bally lot of you!

Blackadder:
[drunk and singing] "See the little goblin, see his little feet, and his little nosey-wose, isn't the goblin sweet?"

Lady Whiteadder:
[drunk] Luck! Wahey! Get it?!

All:
Uh, no.

Lady Whiteadder:
Oh come on! LUCK! Sounds almost exactly like f-!

[The episode ends]

Melchett:
As private parts to the gods are we: they play with us for their sport!

Melchett:
Let's play a word game.

Blackadder:
Okay, make a sentence out of the following words: Face. Sodding. Your. Shut.

Blackadder:
Were you ever bullied at school?

Prince Ludwig:
What do you mean?

Blackadder:
I mean, all this ranting and raving about power. There must be some reason for it.

Prince Ludwig:
Nonsense. No, at my school, having dirty hair and spots was a sign of maturity.

Blackadder:
I thought so! And I bet your mother made you wear shorts all the way up to your final year--

Prince Ludwig:
Shut up! Shut up! When I am King of England, no one will ever dare call me "Shorty-Greasy-Spot-Spot" again!

Blackadder:
Ludwig was a master of disguise, whereas Nursie is a sad, insane old woman with an udder fixation!

Queen:
Did you miss me, Edmund?

Blackadder:
Madame, life without you was like a broken pencil.

Queen:
[confused] Explain...?

Blackadder:
Pointless.

Ludwig:
Forgive me, Herr Blackadder. I have been neglecting my duties as a host. Please accept my apple-ogies.

Blackadder:
It takes more than a maniac trying to cut off my goolies to incongweinience me.

Ludwig:
Good. If he had incongwenienced you, I was going to offer you his tongue.

Blackadder:
Believe me, sir, if he had incongwenienced me, you would no longer have a tongue with which to make such an offer.

Ludwig:
Let me assure you, Blackadder, if I no longer had a tongue with which to make such an offer, you would no longer have a tongue with which to tell me that if I had inconwenienced you, I would no longer have a tongue with which to offer you his tongue.

Ludwig:
Ze Master of Disguise vill become ze be Master of ze Vorld! Ha ha ha!

Ludwig:
Ah! Qveen Elizabeth. We meet again!

Queenie:
Um, I don't think so, actually.

Ludwig:
Yes! You remember when you were young, and your father used to take you riding on a magnificent grey pony that you used to kiss and fondle in the stable yard?.

Queenie:
Yes.

Ludwig:
I, I was the tall and attractive German stable lad who held him.

Queenie:
No!

Ludwig:
Yes!

Queenie:
You?

Ludwig:
Uh-huh.

Queenie:
Shorty-Greasy-Spot-Spot?

Ludwig:
NO! NO, NO, NO! You will - all of you - regret the day that you ever mocked my complexion! I shall return and wreak my rewengie!

Ludwig:
(In disguise as Queenie) Now this is a disguise I'm really going to enjoy. If I can just get the voice right.

Blackadder:
[about Pitt the Elder] He's about as effective as a cat-flap in an elephant house. As long as his feet are warm and he gets a nice cup of milky tea in the sun before his morning nap, he doesn't bother anyone until his potty needs emptying!

George:
For me, socks are a lot like sex: tonnes of it about, and I never seem to get any!

Blackadder:
Right. Now all we have to do is fill in this MP application form. "Name"...Baldrick. First name?

Baldrick:
Er... I'm not sure.

Blackadder:
Well, you must have some idea.

Baldrick:
Well, it might be Sod-Off.

Blackadder:
What?

Baldrick:
Well, when I was little and I used to play in the gutter, I used to say to the other snipes "Hello, my name's Baldrick." And they'd say "Yes, we know: Sod-Off Baldrick."

Blackadder:
All right, "Mr S. Baldrick." Now then, "Distinguishing features".... None.

Baldrick:
Hold on. I've got this big growth in the middle of my face.

Blackadder:
That's your nose, Baldrick. Now, "Any history of insanity in the family?"... Tell you what. I'll cross out the "in." "Any history of sanity in the family?" ... None whatsoever. Now, "Criminal record?"

Baldrick:
Absolutely not.

Blackadder:
Oh, come on, Baldrick, you're going to be an MP, for God's sake! Look, I'll just put "Fraud and sexual deviancy".

[Prince George believes William Pitt the Younger to be a schoolboy]

Blackadder:
Mr. Pitt is the Prime Minister, sir.

George:
[in disbelief] Oh, go on! Is he? What, young Snotty here?!

Pitt:
I'd rather have a runny nose than a runny brain.

George:
... Eh?

Blackadder:
Um, excuse me, Prime Minister, but we do have some lovely jelly in the pantry. I don't know if you'd be interested at all?

Pitt:
Don't patronise me, you lower-middle class yobbo! [quietly] What flavour is it?

Blackadder:
Blackcurrant.

Pitt:
EURGH!

George:
I say, Blackadder, are you sure this is the PM? Seems like a bit of an oily tick to me! I remember when I was at school, we used to line up four or five of his sort, tell them to bend over and use them for a toast-rack!

Pitt:
You don't surprise me, sir - I know your sort. Once, it was I who stood in the big, cold schoolroom, a hot crumpet burning my cheeks with shame. But since that day, I have been busy every hour God sends, working to become Prime Minister and to fight sloth and privilege wherever I found it!

Blackadder:
I trust you weren't too busy to remove the crumpet...!

Pitt:
You will regret this, gentlemen! You think you can thwart my plans to bankrupt the Prince by fixing the Dunny-on-the-Wold by-election... but you will be thrashed - I intend to put up my own brother as a candidate against you!

Blackadder:
[smugly] Oh, and which Pitt would this be? Pitt the Toddler? Pitt the Embryo? Pitt the Glint in the Milkman's Eye?

Pitt:
[glares at Blackadder before he starts a journey for the door] Sirs, as I said to Chancellor Metternich at the Congress of Strasburg: "Pooh to you with knobs on!" We shall meet, sirs, on the hustings! [storms out]

George:
I say, Blackadder, what a ghastly squit! He's not going to win, is he?

Blackadder:
No sir, because firstly, we shall fight this campaign on issues, not personalities. Secondly, we shall be the only fresh thing on the menu. And thirdly, of course... we'll cheat!

Vincent Hanna:
And now for the result of our exclusive exit poll, which produced a 100% result for... "Mind your own business, you nosy bastard."

Vincent Hanna:
Prince George, who is described in his party newsheet as "a great moral and spiritual leader of the nation", but is described by almost everyone else as "a fat, flatulent git".

Vincent Hanna:
Master William Pitt the Even Younger, no votes, are you disappointed?

Pitt the Even Younger:
Yes, I'm horrified! I smeared my opponents, bribed the press to be on my side, and threatened to torture the electorate if we lost! I fail to see what more a decent politician could have done!

Blackadder:
[opens the door to find that Pitt is behind the door] Well, well, well, if it isn't the Lord Privy Toast-rack! Pull up a muffin, sit yourself down!

Pitt:
You don't like me, do you, Mr. Blackadder?

Blackadder:
[triumphant] Well, nobody likes a loser.

Pitt:
Oh... Then that must be why nobody likes you.

Blackadder:
[caught offguard] What?!

Pitt:
You lost the vote - your monkey obligingly voted for us.

Blackadder:
Oh, God... If you want something done properly, kill Baldrick before you start!

Pitt:
You're beaten, oink... [refers to Prince George for the next segment of his statement] ...And you and your disgusting master have 24 hours to get out!

Blackadder:
24 hours is a long time in politics. [prepares to close the door] Good day.

Pitt:
[Blackadder stops bringing the door to close when Pitt halts him briefly] Also... I get so lonely and confused... I've written a poem about it... Maybe you'll understand... "Why do nice girls hate me? Why---"

Blackadder:
[starts forcing Pitt away] Now get out, you nauseating adolescent! [Pitt walks off when he is forced] Piss off! [shuts the door]

Blackadder:
How could I have been so stupid?! Goodbye Millionaires' Row, hello Room 12 of the Budleigh Salterton Twilight Resthome for the Terminally Short of Cash!

Blackadder:
I've got a plan so cunning, you could put a tail on it and call it a weasel!

George:
Tally-ho, Blackadder! You look has happy as a man who thought a cat had done his business on his pie, but it turned out to be an extra big blackberry!

Blackadder:
This is the worst moment of my entire life. I've spent my last penny on a cat-skin windcheater, and I've just broken a priceless turnip. [there is a loud banging at the door] And now I'm about to be viciously slaughtered by a naked Tunisian sock merchant! All I can say, Baldrick, is this: it's the last time I dabble in politics!

Prince George:
[waking suddenly] Oh, Blackadder! BLACKADDER! [Blackadder walks in]

Blackadder:
Your Highness?

Prince George:
What time is it!?

Blackadder:
Three o'clock in the afternoon, sire.

Prince George:
[relieved] Oh thank God for that, I thought I'd overslept!

Blackadder:
I trust you had a pleasant evening, sir?

Prince George:
Well, no, actually. The most extraordinary thing happened. Last night I was having a bit of a snack at the Naughty Hellfire Club, and some fellow said that I had the wit and sophistication of a donkey.

Blackadder:
Oh. An absurd suggestion, sir.

Prince George:
You're right, it is absurd.

Blackadder:
Unless this was a particularly stupid donkey.

Johnson:
(places two manuscripts on the table, but picks up the top one)Here it is, sir: the very cornerstone of English scholarship. This book, sir, contains every word in our beloved language.

Prince George:
Hmm.

Blackadder:
Every single one, sir?

Johnson:
(confidently) Every single word, sir!

Blackadder:
(to Prince) Oh, well, in that case, sir, I hope you will not object if I also offer the Doctor my most enthusiastic contrafribblarities.

Johnson:
What?

Blackadder:
Contrafribblarites, sir? It is a common word down our way.

Johnson:
Damn! (writes in the book)

Blackadder:
Oh, I'm sorry, sir. I'm anus-peptic, phrasmotic, even compunctious to have caused you such pericombobulation.

Johnson:
What? What? WHAT?

Blackadder:
[about the dictionary] It's the most pointless book since "How to Learn French"... was translated into French.

Blackadder:
Baldrick, where's the manuscript?

Baldrick:
You mean the big papery thing tied up with string?

Blackadder:
Yes Baldrick, the manuscript belonging to Dr. Johnson.

Baldrick:
You mean the big batey fellow in the black coat who just left?

Blackadder:
Yes, Baldrick, Dr. Johnson

Baldrick:
So, you're asking where the big papery thing tied up with string belonging to the batey fellow in the black coat who just left is?

Blackadder:
Yes, Baldrick, I am... and if you don't answer, then the booted bony thing with five toes at the end of my leg will soon connect sharply with soft, dangly collection of objects in your trousers. Now... for the last time, Baldrick... where is Dr. Johnson's manuscript?

Baldrick:
On the fire.

Blackadder:
On the *what*?

Baldrick:
The hot, orangy thing under the stony mantelpiece.

Blackadder:
You've burnt the dictionary?!

Baldrick:
Yep.

Blackadder:
We are going to go to Mrs. Miggins', we are going to find out where Dr. Johnson keeps a copy of that dictionary, and then you are going to steal it.

Baldrick:
Me?

Blackadder:
Yes, you.

Baldrick:
Why me?

Blackadder:
Because you burnt it, Baldrick!

Baldrick:
But then I'll go to Hell forever for stealing.

Blackadder:
Baldrick, believe me: eternity in the company of Beelzebub, and all his hellish instruments of death, will be a picnic compared to five minutes with me... and this pencil... if we cannot replace this dictionary.

Shelley:
Oh lovelorn ecstasy that is Mrs Miggins, wilt thou bring me one cup of the browned juices of that naughty bean we call coffee, ere I die?

Mrs Miggins:
[giggles] Oh, you've a way with words about you, Mr Shelley.

Byron:
To hell with his fine talking; COFFEE, WOMAN! [coughs] My consumption grows ever more acute and Coleridge's drugs are wearing off!

Mrs Miggins:
Oh, Mr Byron, don't be such a big girl's blouse.

Byron:
Be quiet, sir! Can't you see we're dying!?

Mrs Miggins:
Don't mind my poets, Mr B.; they're not dead, they're just being intellectual.

Blackadder:
Mrs Miggins, there is nothing intellectual about wandering round Italy in a big shirt trying to get laid!

Blackadder:
Now, Baldrick, go to the kitchen and make me something quick and simple to eat, would you? Two slices of bread with something in between.

Baldrick:
What, like Gerald, Lord Sandwich had the other day?

Blackadder:
Yes, a few rounds of geralds.

[Blackadder has fallen asleep rewriting the dictionary]

Baldick:
Mr Blackadder, time to wake up.

Blackadder:
What time is it?

Baldrick:
Monday morning.

Blackadder:
[Panicking] Monday morning? Oh my god, I've overslept! Where's the quill? Where's the parchment?

Baldrick:
I dunno. Maybe Doctor Johnson has got some with him.

Blackadder:
WHAT?!

Baldrick:
He's outside!

Blackadder:
[Screams in horror] AAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

[Johnson enters]

Johnson:
Are you ill, sir?

Blackadder:
No, you can't have it! I know I said Monday, but I want Baldrick to read it. Which, unfortunately, will mean teaching him to read, which will take about 10 years. But time well spent, I think, because it is such a very good dictionary!

Johnson:
I don't think so.

Blackadder:
Oh God, we've been burgled! ... What?

Johnson:
I think it's an awful dictionary full of feeble definitions and ridiculous verbiage. I've come to ask you to chuck the damned thing in the fire.

Blackadder:
Are you sure?

Johnson:
I've never been more sure of anything in my life, sir.

Blackadder:
I love you, Doctor Johnson, and I want to have your babies. [They embrace, before a random woman appears behind Johnson] Oh, I'm sorry. Excuse me, Doctor Johnson, but my Auntie Margery's just arrived. [Turns around - Baldrick now has a dog's head] Baldrick? Who gave you permission to turn into an Alsatian?! [Baldrick waves] Oh God, it's a dream, isn't it? [Johnson, Baldrick and Auntie Margery dance out of the scene, a la sugar plum fairies] It's a bloody dream! Doctor Johnson doesn't want us to burn his dictionary at all.

Blackadder:
Baldrick, fetch the manuscript.

Baldrick:
Manuscript?

Blackadder:
Yes, the big papery thing tied up with string.

Baldrick:
What, like the thing we burnt?

Blackadder:
Exactly like the thing we burnt.

Baldrick:
So you're asking for the big papery thing tied up with string, exactly like the thing we burnt.

Blackadder:
Exactly.

Baldrick:
We burnt it!

Blackadder:
So we did. Thank you, Baldrick; seven years of my life up in smoke. Your Highness, I wonder if I might have a moment.

Prince George:
By all means. [Blackadder leaves the room]

Blackadder:
[from outside, horrified] OH GOD, NO! [re-enters the room, calmly] Thank you sir.

Dr Johnson:
Burnt, you say? That's most unfortunate. A burnt novel is like a burnt dog...

Blackadder:
OH SHUT UP!

Baldick:
Mr Blackadder, time to wake up.

Blackadder:
What time is it?

Baldrick:
Monday morning.

Blackadder:
[Panicking] Monday morning? Oh my god, I've overslept! Where's the quill? Where's the parchment?

Baldrick:
I dunno. Maybe Doctor Johnson has got some with him.

Blackadder:
WHAT!

Baldrick:
He's outside!

Blackadder:
AH- Hang on. If we carry on like this, you're going to turn into an Alsatian again.

Blackadder:
I believe, sir, that the Doctor is trying to tell you that he is happy because he has finished his book. It has apparently taken him ten years.

Prince George:
Yes, well, I'm a slow reader myself.

Blackadder:
Leaving already Doctor? Not staying for your pendigestatory interludicule?

Dr Johnson:
No sir show me out!

Blackadder:
Certainly, anything i can do to facilitate your velocitous extramurilisation

Blackadder:
Morning, Mrs Miggins.

Mrs Miggins:
Bonjour, monsieur.

Blackadder:
[disgusted] What?

Mrs Miggins:
Bonjour, monsieur. It's French.

Blackadder:
So is eating frogs, cruelty to geese and urinating in the street. But that's no reason to inflict it on the rest of us!

Mrs Miggins:
But French is all the fashion! My coffee shop is full of Frenchies, and it's all because of that wonderful Scarlet Pimpernel!

Blackadder:
The Scarlet Pimpernel is not wonderful, Mrs Miggins. There is no reason whatsoever to admire someone for filling London with a bunch of garlic-chewing French toffs, crying "Oh-la-la" and looking for sympathy all the time just cos their fathers had their heads cut off! I'll have a cup of coffee, and some shepherd's pie.

Mrs Miggins:
Oh, we don't serve pies any more! My French clientèle consider pies uncouth!

Blackadder:
I hardly think a nation who eats snails and would go to bed with the kitchen sink if it put on a tutu is in any position to preach couthness!

Frenchman:
[bows] Ah, bonjour, monsieur.

Blackadder:
Sod off!

[Blackadder walks into the kitchen, picks up the cat and kicks it into the air]

Baldrick:
Oh, sir! Poor little Mildred the cat, what's he ever done to you?

Blackadder:
It is the way of the world, Baldrick. The abused always kick downwards. I am annoyed, and so I kick the cat, the cat [loud squeak] pounces on the mouse, and finally, the mouse--

Baldrick:
Argh!

Blackadder:
--bites you on the behind.

Baldrick:
And what do I do?

Blackadder:
Nothing. You are last in God's great chain. Unless there's an earwig around here you'd like to victimize.

Blackadder:
[about the Scarlet Pimpernel] What has this fellow done, apart from pop over to France to rescue a few aristocratic toffs from the ineffectual clutches of some malnourished, whinging lefties, taking the opportunity while there, no doubt, to pick up some really cheap wine and some of their marvellous fruit flans?! Has everyone forgotten?! We hate the French! We fight wars against them! Did all those men die in vain on the fields of Agincourt?! Was the man who burnt Joan of Arc simply wasting good matches?! [the bell for service rings] Ah, his Royal Highness, the Pinhead of Wales, summons me. And you know, I almost feel well disposed towards him today. Utter chump though he may be, at least he's not French!

Prince George:
[wanting to come to France] I want to look my best for those fabulous French birds!

Blackadder:
Sir, the women currently favoured in France are toothless crones who just cackle insanely.

Prince George:
Oh, ignore that, they're just playing hard to get!

Blackadder:
By removing all their teeth, going mad and aging forty years?

Prince George:
Like I said! The little teasers!

Blackadder:
The Ancient Greeks wrote in legend of a terrible container in which all the evils of the world were trapped. How prophetic they were. All they got wrong was the name. They called it "Pandora's Box", when, of course, they meant "Baldrick's Trousers".

Baldrick:
It certainly can get a bit whiffy, there's no doubt about that!

Blackadder:
We are told that, when the box was opened, the whole world turned to darkness and misfortune because of Pandora's fatal curiosity. [to Baldrick] I charge you now, Baldrick: for the good of all mankind, never allow curiosity to lead you to open your trousers. Nothing of interest lies therein!

Blackadder:
[about to head to France to rescue an aristocrat] If I don't make it back, please write to my mother and tell her I've been alive all the time, I just can't be bothered to get in touch with the old bat!

[Instead of France, Blackadder and Baldrick go down to Blackadder's quarters]

Blackadder:
Right! Stick the kettle on, Balders.

Baldrick:
[confused] What, aren't we going to France?

Blackadder:
Of course we're not going to France; it's incredibly dangerous there!

Baldrick:
But how are you going to win your bet?

Blackadder:
As usual, Baldrick: by use of the large and wonderful thing between my ears.

Baldrick:
Oh, your nose.

Blackadder:
[annoyed] No, Baldrick, my brain. All we need to do is lie low here for a week, go to Mrs Miggins, pick up any French toff, drag him through a puddle, take him to the ball and collect our thousand guineas!

Baldrick:
But what if the Prince finds us here?

Blackadder:
He couldn't find his flybutton, let alone the kitchen door!

[A week later]

Blackadder:
Well, Baldrick. What a very pleasant week. We must do this more often.

Baldrick:
Yes, I shall certainly choose Revolutionary France for my holidays again next year.

[There is a loud banging from upstairs]

Baldrick:
What do you think that was?

Blackadder:
Well, if I was feeling malicious, I would say it was the Prince, still trying to put his trousers on after a week.

[Upstairs, the Prince struggles around with his trousers on his head]

Blackadder:
Would you like to earn some money?

Comte de Frou-Frou:
No I wouldn't. I would like other people to earn it and then give it to me. Just like in France in the good old days!

Blackadder:
Yes, but this is a chance to return to the good old days!

Comte de Frou-Frou:
Oh how I would love that. I hate this life; the food is filthy! [Points at his dinner] This huge sausage is very suspicious. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was a horse's wi-

Blackadder:
Yes, yes, all right.

Comte de Frou-Frou:
Have no fear, the Scarlet Pimpernel will save us!

Blackadder:
Ha! Some hope - he's the most overrated human begin since Judas Iscariot won the AD31 Best Disciple Competition.

Blackadder:
Am I jumping the gun, Baldrick, or are the words "I have a cunning plan" marching with ill-deserved confidence in the direction of this conversation?

Baldrick:
They certainly are, sir!

Blackadder:
Well, forgive me if I don't do a cartwheel of joy. Your record in this department is hardly 100%. So what is it?

Baldrick:
We do nothing.

Blackadder:
Yup. It's another world-beater!

Baldrick:
No, wait. We do nothing... until our heads have actually been cut off.

Blackadder:
And then we... spring into action?

Baldrick:
Exactly! You know how when you cut a chicken's head off, it runs round and round the farmyard and then out the gate?

Blackadder:
[haltingly] Yyyyyyyeah...?

Baldrick:
Well, we wait until our heads have been cut off, then we run round and round, out the gate, and escape! What do you think?

Blackadder:
My opinions are rather difficult to express in words, Baldrick. So perhaps I can put it this way... [tweaks Baldrick's nose]

Blackadder:
If I don't think of something, tomorrow we die - which I have to tell you, Baldrick, I have no intention of doing! I want to be young and wild, and then I want to be middle-aged and rich, and then I want to be old and annoy people by pretending that I'm going deaf!

Baldrick:
I couldn't sleep when I was little.

Blackadder:
You still are little, Baldrick.

Baldrick:
Yeah, well, when I was even littler, see, we used to live in this big haunted hovel. Every night, my parents were troubled by a visitation from this disgusting ghoul. It was terrible. First there was this unholy smell, and then this tiny, clammy, hairy creature would materialize in the bed between them. Strangely I could never see it myself.

Blackadder:
[absolutely disgusted] Yyyyyes... Tell me, Baldrick, when you left home, did this repulsive entity mysteriously disappear?

Baldrick:
That very day.

Blackadder:
I think then that the mystery is solved. Now, either you leave me alone to think of a plan, or tomorrow we meet our maker - in my case, God; in your case, God-knows... but I'd be surprised if he won any design awards.

[After the Prince is nearly blown up by an assassin]

George:
I must say, Blackadder, that was a close shave! And unexpected as well! I mean, why on earth would an anarchist possibly want to kill you?

Blackadder:
I think it was you he was after, sir.

George:
Oh, hogwash! What makes you think that?

Blackadder:
Well, my suspicions were first aroused by his use of the words "Death to the stupid Prince!"

Blackadder:
These are volatile times, Your Highness. The American Revolution lost your father the colonies, the French Revolution murdered brave King Louis, and there are tremendous rumblings in Prussia - although that might have something to do with the sausages. The whole world cries out, "Peace, freedom, and a few less fat bastards eating all the pie!"

Blackadder:
Gentlemen, I've come with a proposition.

Mossop:
How dare you, sir! You think, just because we're actors, we sleep with everyone!

Blackadder:
I think, being actors, you're lucky to sleep with anyone.

Blackadder:
[to Mrs. Miggins] They do say, Mrs. Miggins, that verbal insults hurt more than physical pain. They are, of course, wrong, as you will soon discover when I stick this toasting fork in your head!

Baldrick:
My uncle Baldrick was in a play once.

Blackadder:
Really?...And what did he play?

Baldrick:
Second codpiece. Macbeth wore him in the fight scenes.

Blackadder:
So he was a stunt codpiece.

Baldrick:
Yes.

Blackadder:
Did he have a large part?

Baldrick:
Depends who's playing Macbeth.

[Everytime the word "Macbeth" is used]

Keanrick and Mossop:
[making strange movements] AARGH! Hot potato, office drawers, Puck will make amends! [They pinch each-other's noses] AAAH!

[George is standing with his legs wide apart]

Keanrick:
Your very posture tells me, "Here is a man of true greatness!"

Blackadder:
Either that, or "Here are my genitals, please kick them."

[Prince George has been insulting Blackadder throughout the episode]

Blackadder:
All I'm saying is, he'd better watch out! (holds up a milk-jug) One more foot wrong from him, and the contract between us will be as broken as this milk-jug!

Baldrick:
But that milk-jug isn't broken.

Blackadder:
You really do walk into these things, don't you? (smashes the jug on Baldrick's head)

Blackadder:
Baldrick, I would like to say how much I will miss your honest, friendly companionship...

Baldrick:
[touched] Thank you, sir.

Blackadder:
... but as we both know, it would be an utter lie. I will therefore content myself with saying "Sod off, and if I ever meet you again, it'll be 20 billion years too soon!" [he leaves]

Baldrick:
Goodbye, you lazy, big-nosed, rubber-faced bastard! [Blackadder re-enters the room]

Blackadder:
I fear, Baldrick, that you will soon be eating those badly chosen words. I wouldn't bet a single groat that you could last five minutes without me.

Baldrick:
Oh, come on, Mr B.! It's not like we're gonna be murdered the second you leave, is it?

Blackadder:
Hope springs eternal, Baldrick!

Blackadder:
Oh God! Bills, bills, bills. One is born, one runs up bills, one dies! And what have I got to show for it? Nothing! A butler's uniform and a slightly effeminate hairdo! Honestly, Baldrick, I sometimes feel like a pelican: whichever way I turn, I've still got an enormous bill in front of me! Pass the biscuit barrel; let's see what's in the kitty, shall we? [empties it] Ninepence. Oh God, what are we going to do?!

Baldrick:
Don't worry, Mr B.! I have a cunning plan to solve the problem.

Blackadder:
Yes, let us not forget that you solved the problem of your mother's low ceiling by cutting off her head.

Baldrick:
But this is a really good one; you become a dashing highwayman! Then you can pay all your bills and on top of that, everyone'll want to sleep with you!

Blackadder:
Baldrick, I could become a prostitute and pay my bills, and everyone would want to sleep with me, but I do consider certain professions beneath me! Besides which, I fail to see why a common thief should be idolised just because he has a horse between his legs!

[Trying to find a bride for the Prince]

Blackadder:
Of the 262 princesses in Europe, 165 are over 80 - they're out; 47 are under 10 - they're out; and 39 are mad.

Baldrick:
They sound ideal!

Blackadder:
They would be, if they hadn't all got married last week in Munich to the same horse. Which leaves us with two.

Baldrick:
And what about them?

Blackadder:
Well, there's Grand Duchess Sophia of Turin. We'll never get her to marry him.

Baldrick:
Why not?

Blackadder:
Because she's met him.

Baldrick:
Which leaves...?

Blackadder:
Caroline of Brunswick as the only available princess in Europe.

Baldrick:
And what's wrong with her? [Blackadder stands up]

Blackadder:
[shouting very loud and very fast] GET MORE COFFEE! IT'S HORRID, CHANGE IT! TAKE ME ROUGHLY FROM BEHIND! NO, NOT LIKE THAT, LIKE THIS! TROUSERS OFF, TACKLE OUT! WALK THE DOG! WHERE ARE MY PRESENTS?!

Baldrick:
[flustered] ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT! Which one'd you want me to do first!?

Blackadder:
No, that's what Caroline's like! She's famous for having the worst personality in Germany...and as you can imagine, that's up against some pretty stiff competition!

Blackadder:
[after noticing a portion of his newspaper has been cut out] Baldrick, why has half the front page been cut out?

Baldrick:
I don't know.

Blackadder:
You do know, don't you?

Baldrick:
Yes.

Blackadder:
You've been cutting out the cuttings about the elusive 'Shadow' to put in your highwayman's scrapbook, haven't you?

Baldrick:
Oh, I can't help it, Mr B.! His life is so dark and shadowy, and full of fear and trepidation!

Blackadder:
So is going to the toilet in the middle of the night, but you don't keep a scrapbook on it!

Baldrick:
I do.

George:
Honestly Blackadder, I dunno why I'm bothering to get dressed. As soon as I get to the Naughty Hellfire Club, I'll be debagged and radished for non-payment of debts!

Blackadder:
[confused] "Radished", sir?

George:
Yes, they pull your britches down and push a large radish right up your-!

Blackadder:
Yes, yes, all right! There's no need to hammer it home.

George:
Well as a matter of fact, they do often have to-!

Blackadder:
[mortified] NO! NO!

Blackadder:
I can see where your daughter gets her ready wit, sir.

Hardwood:
I thank you.

Blackadder:
Although where she gets her good looks and charm is perhaps more of a mystery.

Hardwood:
No one ever made money out of good looks and charm!

Blackadder:
You obviously haven't met Lady Hamilton, sir.

Blackadder:
CRISIS, BALDRICK, CRISIS! NO MONEY, NO MARRIAGE, MORE BILLS! For the first time in my life, I've decided to follow a suggestion of yours. Saddle Prince George's horse!

Baldrick:
Oh sir, you're not becoming a highwayman?

Blackadder:
[sarcastic] No, I'm auditioning for the part of Arnold the Bat in Sheridan's new comedy!

Baldrick:
Oh, that's alright then.

Blackadder:
Baldrick, have you no idea what irony is?

Baldrick:
Yeah, it's like goldy or bronzey, only it's made of iron. [pause]

Blackadder:
Never mind, never mind. Just saddle the Prince's horse!

Baldrick:
That'll be difficult; he wrapped her round that gas lamp in the Strand last night!

Blackadder:
Well saddle my horse, then!

Baldrick:
What'd you think you've been eating for the last two months!?

Blackadder:
Well go out into the street and hire me a horse!

Baldrick:
Hire a horse!? For ninepence? On Jewish New Year in the rain!? A bare fortnight after the dreaded Horse Plague of Old London Town!? With the blacksmith's strike in its fifteenth week and the Dorset Horse Fetishists Fair tomorrow!? [pause, then Blackadder hurls a saddle and bridle at Baldrick]

Blackadder:
Well get this on, then. It looks as though you could do with the exercise!

[As Blackadder plans to run off with Amy]

Baldrick:
[annoyed] I still can't believe you're leaving me behind!

Blackadder:
Don't worry, when we're established on our plantation in Barbados, I'll send for you. No more sad little London for you, Balders; from now on, you'll stand out in life as an individual!

Baldrick:
Will I?

Blackadder:
Well of course you will; all the other slaves will be black!

Blackadder:
[to Mrs Miggins] Mrs Miggins, if we were the last three human beings on earth, I'd be trying to start a family with Baldrick!

Blackadder:
Oh God, what a way to die! Shot by a transvestite on an unrealistic grassy knoll! [Baldrick appears]

Baldrick:
Morning, Mr B.!

Blackadder:
Baldrick? Baldrick! Thank you for introducing me to a genuinely new experience!

Baldrick:
What experience is that?

Blackadder:
Being pleased to see you!

George:
[talking about his love for Amy] Oh Amy, bless all ten of your tiny pinkies. [picks up his paper] Now, let's see what's in the paper... OH MY GOD! SHE'S BEEN ARRESTED AND HANGED!

Blackadder:
[knowingly] Oh really?

George:
It turns out she was a highwayman.

Blackadder:
[tuts] These modern girls.

George:
Apparently, someone tipped off the authorities and collected the £10,000 reward. What a greasy sneak! If only I could get my hands on him.

Blackadder:
[tuts again] You can't trust anyone, these days, sir.

George:
It says here that she had an accomplice...

[Blackadder drops his tray in fright]

George:
... But they don't know who it was.

[The tray jumps back into Blackadder's hands]

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.

[Baldrick explains his cunning plan to save the Prince]

Baldrick:
Well, I just thought; this Wellington bloke's been in Europe for years. You don't know what he looks like, he don't know what you look like, so why don't you get someone else to fight the duel instead of you?

The Prince Regent:
But I'm the Prince Regent! My portrait hangs on every wall!

Blackadder:
Answer that, Baldrick.

Baldrick:
Well, my cousin Bert Baldrick, Mr. Gainsborough's butler's dogsbody, says that he's heard all portraits look the same these days, 'cause they're painted to a romantic ideal, rather than as a true depiction of the idiosyncratic facial qualities of the person in question.

[Blackadder and the Prince look astonished]

Blackadder:
Your cousin Bert obviously has a larger vocabulary than you do.

[After Baldrick suggests Blackadder fight the duel]

Blackadder:
Baldrick, does it have to be this way? Our valued friendship ending with me cutting you into long strips and telling the Prince that you walked over a very sharp cattle grid in an extremely heavy hat?!

The Prince Regent:
(disguised as Blackadder) Excellent! Why, my own father wouldn't even recognize me!

Blackadder:
(disguised as the Prince Regent) Your own father never can, sir- he's mad.

Duke of Wellington:
Take my hat, you, and be quicker about it than you were with the door!

The Prince Regent':
Yes, M'lud.

Duke of Wellington:
(cuffs him on the head) I'M A DUKE, NOT A LORD! Where were you trained, a dago dancing class?! Shall I have my people thrash him for you, Highness? (the Prince frantically signals him not to)

Blackadder:
Er- no. He's new, and at the moment I'm sparing the rod.

Duke of Wellington:
Well, risky if you ask me. Give 'em an inch, and before you know it they've got a foot; much more than that, and you won't have a leg to stand on!

Duke of Wellington:
Now, let's turn to the second front, my lord. (pulls out a map)

Blackadder:
Certainly. (studies the map) Now, as I understand it, Napoleon is in North Africa; and Nelson is stationed in...?

Duke of Wellington:
Alaska, Your Highness. In case 'Boney' should try to trick us by coming via the North Pole.

Blackadder:
(stares at him incredulously for a moment) Yessss... well, perhaps a better strategem, Your Grace, might be to harry him amidships as he tries to leave the Medditeranean... Trafalgar looks favorable.

Duke of Wellington:
(intrigued) Trafalgar, eh? Well, I'll mention it to Nelson. I must say, I'm beginning to regret the necessity of killing you, Your Highness- I'd heard from all and sundry that the Prince was a confounded moron!

Blackadder:
: Tell me, do you ever stop shouting at the lower orders?

Duke of Wellington:
NEVER! There's only one way to win a campaign: SHOUT, SHOUT AND SHOUT AGAIN!

Blackadder:
You don't think inspired leadership and tactical ability has anything to do with it?

Duke of Wellington:
(pause) NO! It's all down to shouting! BAAAH!

Blackadder:
I hear that conditions in your Army are appalling.

Duke of Wellington:
Well, I'm sorry, but those are my conditions, and you'll just have to accept them- until this evening, that is (grins nastily)when I shall kill you.

The Prince Regent:
Good portents for your duel, do you think?

Blackadder:
Not really, sir. I'm afraid that the duel is off.

The Prince Regent:
Off?!

Blackadder:
As in "Sod". I'm not doing it.

The Prince Regent:
[outraged] By thunder, here's a pretty game! You will stay, sir, and do duty by your prince, or I shall--

Blackadder:
[bitingly] Or what, you port-brained twerp?! I've looked after you all my life! Even when we were babies, I had to show you which bit of your mother was serving the drinks!

[George wants Blackadder to fight the Duke in his place; he has offered him money and jewellery, illegal French lithographs and a lewd cuckoo clock]

Blackadder:
A man may fight for many things: his country, his principles, his friends, the glistening tear on the cheek of a golden child... But personally, I'd mud-wrestle my own mother for a ton of cash, an amusing clock and a sack of French porn! You're on!

[Scheming with Baldrick about how to win the duel with the Duke]

Blackadder:
Right, now here's the plan. When he offers me the swords... I kick him in the nuts and you set fire to the building. In the confusion, we claim a draw.

Mrs Miggins:
You just seem to keep missing each other, I can't imagine why! [MacAdder bursts in]

MacAdder:
I'll tell you why; it's because there's no coffee shop in England big enough for two Blackadders!

Blackadder:
Ah, good day cousin MacAdder! I trust you are well?

MacAdder:
Aye, well enough.

Blackadder:
And Morag?

MacAdder:
She bides fine.

Blackadder:
And how how stands that mighty army, the clan MacAdder?

MacAdder:
They're both well.

Blackadder:
I always thought Jamie and Angus were such fine boys.

MacAdder:
Angus is a girl. [pause] So, tell me cousin, I hear you have a cunning plan.

Blackadder:
I do, I do. I want you to take the place of the Prince Regent, and kill the Duke of Wellington in a duel.

MacAdder:
Aye, and what's in it for me?

Blackadder:
Enough cash to buy the Outer Hebrides. What do you think?

MacAdder:
Fourteen shillings and sixpence? Well, it's tempting...but I've got an even better plan. Why don't I pretend to be the Duke of Wellington and kill the Prince of Wales in a duel? Then I could kill the King and be crowned with the ancient stone bonnet of MacAdder!

Mrs. Miggins:
And I shall wear the granite gown and limestone bodice of MacMiggins, Queen of all the herds!

Blackadder:
For God's sake, MacAdder, you are not Rob Roy! You're a top kipper salesman with a reputable firm of Aberdeen fishmongers; don't throw it all away! If you kill the Prince, they'll just send the bailiffs round and arrest you!

MacAdder:
Oh blast! I forgot the bailiffs.

Blackadder:
So we can return to our original plan?

MacAdder:
No, I'm not interested! I'd rather go to bed with the Loch Lomond Monster...and besides, I have to be back in the office by Friday; I promised Mr. McNulty I'd shift a particularly difficult bloater for him! No, forget the whole thing, I'm off home with Miggsie!

Mrs. Miggin:
Yes, yes! Show me the glen where the kipper roams free! And forget Morag forever!

MacAdder:
No, never! We must do right by Morag; we must return to Scotland and you must fight her in the old Highland way...bare breasted and each carrying an eight pound baby!

Mrs Miggins:
Oh, yes, yes! I love babies!

MacAdder:
You're a woman of spirit; I look forward to bedding you in the old Highland manner! Farewell Blackadder, ya spineless goon! [he and Miggins depart]

Blackadder:
Oh God. Fortune vomits on my eiderdown once more!

[First lines]

Blackadder:
Baldrick, what are you doing out there?

Baldrick:
I'm carving something on this bullet, sir.

Blackadder:
What are you carving?

Baldrick:
I'm carving "Baldrick", sir!

Blackadder:
Why?

Baldrick:
It's part of a cunning plan, actually!

Blackadder:
Of course it is.

Baldrick:
You know how they say that somewhere there's a bullet with your name on it?

Blackadder:
[haltingly] Yyyyyyyyes...?

Baldrick:
Well, I thought that if I owned the bullet with my name on it, I'll never get hit by it! Cause I'll never shoot myself...

Blackadder:
Oh, shame!

Baldrick:
... and the chances of there being two bullet with my name are very small indeed!

Blackadder:
Yes, it's not the only thing around here that's "very small indeed". Your brain, for example. Is so minute, Baldrick, that if a hungry cannibal cracked your head open, there wouldn't be enough to cover a small water biscuit.

[After Baldrick suggests a cunning plan of joining the Catering Corps. to get out of the trenches]

Blackadder:
There is however one slight flaw in the plan; you're the worst cook in the entire world!

Baldrick:
Oh yeah.

Blackadder:
There are amoeba on Saturn who could boil a better egg than you. Your filet mignons in sauce bernaise look like dog turds in glue!

Baldrick:
That's because they are.

Blackadder:
Your plum duff tastes like it's a molehill decorated with rabbit droppings.

Baldrick:
I thought you wouldn't notice...

Blackadder:
And your cream custard has the texture of cat vomit.

Baldrick:
Again, it's...

Blackadder:
If you were to serve up one of your meals at Staff HQ, you'd be arrested for the greatest mass poisoning since Lucretia Borgia invited 500 of her close friends for a wine and anthrax party!

Melchett:
Field Marshal Haig has formulated a brilliant new tactical plan to ensure final victory in the field.

Blackadder:
Ah. Would this brilliant plan involve us climbing out of our trenches and walking very slowly towards the enemy?

Captain Darling:
How could you possibly know that, Blackadder? It's classified information!

Blackadder:
It's the same plan that we used last time and the seventeen times before that.

Melchett:
Exactly! And that is what is so brilliant about it! It will catch the watchful Hun totally off guard! Doing precisely what we've done eighteen times before is exactly the last thing they'll expect us to do this time! There is, however, one small problem.

Blackadder:
That everyone always gets slaughtered in the first ten seconds.

Melchett:
That's right. And Field Marshal Haig is worried this may be depressing the men a tad. So he's looking for a way to cheer them up.

Blackadder:
Well, his resignation and suicide seems the obvious choice.

Melchett:
Hmm, interesting thought. Make a note of it, Darling.

George:
Permission to sing boisterously, sir?

Blackadder:
If you must.

George and Melchett:
[singing] Row, row, row your punt

Gently down the stream!

Belts off, trousers down!

Isn't life a scream?! OY!

Blackadder:
Fabulous. University education; you can't beat it.

George:
If we should step on a mine sir, what should we do?

Blackadder:
Well the normal procedure is to leap 200 feet into the air and scatter yourself over a large area.

Blackadder:
Get me a chisel and some marble, will you, Baldrick?

George:
Oh, you're taking up sculpture now, sir?

Blackadder:
No, I thought I'd get my headstone done.

George:
What are you going to put on it?

Blackadder:
"Here lies Edmund Blackadder, and he's bloody annoyed!"

Repeated line:
We didn't receive any messages, and Captain Blackadder definitely did not shoot this delicious plump-breasted pigeon!

Blackadder:
Come on George, with fifty thousand men getting killed a week, who's gonna miss a pigeon!? [he shoots the pigeon]

[Later, when Melchett realizes Blackadder shot his pet pigeon, Speckled Jim]

Melchett:
Speckly?! AH! YOU SHOT MY SPECKLED JIM!

Darling:
You're for it now, Blackadder! Quite frankly, sir, I've suspected this for some time; clearly Captain Blackadder has been ignoring orders with a breathtaking impertinence!

Melchett:
I DON'T CARE IF HE'S BEEN ROGERING THE DUKE OF YORK WITH A PRIZE-WINNING LEEK! HE SHOT MY PIGEON!!!

Blackadder:
I remember Massingbird's most famous case: the Case of the Bloody Knife. A man was found next to a murdered body. He had the knife in his hand. 13 witnesses had seen him stab the victim. And when the police arrived, he said "I'm glad I killed the bastard." Massingbird not only got him off; he got him knighted in the New Year's Honours List. And the relatives of the victim had to pay to wash the blood out of his jacket!

Perkins:
I hear he's a dab hand at the prosecution as well, sir.

Blackadder:
Yes, well, look at Oscar Wilde.

Perkins:
Ol' butch Oscar.

Blackadder:
Yep! Big, bearded, bonking, butch Oscar. The terror of the ladies. 114 illegitimate children, world heavyweight boxing champion and author of the best-selling pamphlet "Why I Like To Do It With Girls." And Massingbird had him sent down for being a whoopsie.

George:
I'm a complete duffer at this sort of thing. In the School Debating Society, I was voted Boy-Least-Likely-to-Complete-a-Coherent... erm...

Blackadder:
Sentence?

George:
Yeah.

Blackadder:
I wouldn't get your hopes up, Darling. Any reasonably impartial judge is bound to let me off.

Darling:
[smugly] Well, of course.

Blackadder:
Who is the judge?

Melchett:
BAAAAA!

Blackadder:
I'm dead.

Melchett:
Anything to say before we kick off, Captain Darling?

Darling:
May it please the court, as this is clearly an open and shut case, I beg leave to bring a private prosecution against the defence counsel for wasting the court's time.

Melchett:
Granted. The defence counsel is fined £50 for turning up!

[Baldrick is called up as a defense witness for Blackadder]

Blackadder:
Deny everything, Baldrick.

George:
[questioning him in the stand] Are you Private Baldrick?

Baldrick:
No!

George:
Um, but you are Captain Blackadder's batman?

Baldrick:
No!

George:
Come on, Baldrick, be a bit more helpful. It's me!

Baldrick:
No it isn't!

[Blackadder's rather jovial firing squad visits him in his cell]

Squad Leader:
You see, us firing squads are a bit like taxmen, sir - everyone hates us, but we're just doin' our job, aren't we, lads? [he and the squad laugh]

Blackadder:
[dryly] My heart bleeds for you.

Squad Leader:
Well, sir, we "aim" to please! [he and the squad laugh]

Squad man:
Just a little firing squad joke there, sir!

Squad Leader:
You see, sir, we take pride in the termanatory service we supply. So, is there any particular area you'd like us to go for? We can aim anywhere.

Blackadder:
Well, in that case, just above my head might be a good spot.

[The firing squad laugh]

Squad Leader:
You see! A laugh and a smile, and all of a sudden the job doesn't seem quite so bad after all, does it, sir?

Squad man:
[observing Blackadder closely] No! And a lovely roomy forehead...

Squad man 2:
A good pulse and jugular there as well...

Blackadder:
[abruptly] Look, I'm sorry, I know you mean to be friendly, but I hope you won't take it amiss if I ask you to sod off and die!

[The firing squad soldiers are offended and start to complain]

Squad Leader:
No, no, no, fair enough. 'Course not, sir. No one likes being shot first thing in the morning, do they, lads? [the rest of the firing squad voices agreement] So, look forward to seeing you tomorow, sir! You'll have a blindfold on of course, but you'll recognize me. I'm the one that says, "Ready, aim, fire!"

Blackadder:
Can I ask you to leave a pause between the word "aim" and the word "fire"? Thirty or forty years, perhaps?

[The firing squad laugh]

Squad Leader:
Ahh, wish I could pause, sir, I really wish I could. But I can't, you see, 'cos I'm a gabbler, me, you see. "READYAIMFIRE!!!" [laughs]

[After Blackadder has gotten a reprieve, no thanks to George and Baldrick]

Blackadder:
I'm not a religious man as you know, but henceforth, I shall nightly pray to the God who killed Cain and squashed Samson that he comes out of retirement and gets back into practice on the pair of you! [the phone rings] Captain Blackadder speaking. Ah, Captain Darling. Yes, well some of us just have friends in high places, I suppose. Yes I can hear you perfectly. You want what? You want two volunteers for a mission into no-man's land? Code name: "Operation Certain Death"? Yes, I think I have just the fellows. [he hangs up and grins cruelly at George and Baldrick] God is very quick these days!

George:
You a bit cheesed off, sir?

Blackadder:
George, the day this war began, I was cheesed off. Within ten minutes of you turning up, I finished the cheese and moved on to the coffee and cigars. And at this late stage, I am in a cab with two lady companions on my way to The Pink Pussycat in Lower Regent Street.

Blackadder:
Thank you George, but if you don't mind, I'd rather have my tongue beaten wafer-thin by a steak tenderizer and then stapled to the floor with a croquet hoop.

[Blackadder has just sent Baldrick to clean out the latrines, and when he returns, a massive cheer is heard outside']

Baldrick:
Sir, it's all over the trenches!

Blackadder:
Well, mop it up then!

Baldrick:
No sir, the news! The Russian Revolution has started! The masses have risen up and shot all their nobs!

George:
Well, hurrah!

Blackadder:
Oh no, the bloody Russians have pulled out of the war!

George:
Well, we soon saw them off, didn't we?! Miserable, slant-eyed sausage eating swine!

Blackadder:
The Russians are on our side, George.

George:
[surprised] Are they?

Blackadder:
And they've abandoned the Eastern Front.

Baldrick:
And they've overthrown Nicholas II who used to be bizarre!

Blackadder:
Who used to be the tsar. The point is that now that the Russians have made peace with the Kaiser, at this very moment a quarter of a million Germans are leaving the Russian Front and coming here with the express purpose of using my nipples for target practice!

Blackadder:
Baldrick, the slug is dead. If it failed to cling on to life, I see no reason why it should wish to cling on to your upper lip!

Blackadder:
Yes, in one short evening, I've become the most successful impresario since the manager of the Roman Colosseum thought of putting the Christians and the lions on the same bill.

[Blackadder is meeting "Bob" Parkhurst, whom he realises is actually a woman disguised as a man]

Blackadder:
So you're a chap, are you, Bob?

Bob:
Oh yes, sir. [bursts out laughing and growls like a tiger]

Blackadder:
You wouldn't say that you were a girl at all?

Bob:
[nervously] Oh, definitely not sir! I understand cricket, I fart in bed, everything.

Blackadder:
Let me put it another way, Bob. You are a girl. And you're a girl with as much talent for disguise as a giraffe in dark glasses trying to get into a "Polar bears only" golf club!

Bob:
[Horrified] Oh sir, oh sir, please don't give me away, sir. I just wanted to be like my brothers and join up. I want to see how a war is fought... so badly!

Blackadder:
Well, you've come to the right place, Bob. A war hasn't been fought this badly since Olaf the Hairy, High Chief of all the Vikings, accidentally ordered eighty thousand battle helmets with the horns on the inside.

Bob:
I want to do my bit for the boys, sir!

Blackadder:
Oh, really..?

Bob:
[pleading] I'll do anything, sir!

Blackadder:
Yes, I'd keep that to myself if I were you.

Blackadder:
Baldrick, no! It's the worst plan since Abraham Lincoln said "Oh I'm sick of kicking around the house tonight, let's go take in a show!". For a start, General Melchett is in mourning for the woman of his dreams: he is unlikely to be in the mood to marry a two-legged badger wrapped in a curtain! Secondly, we are looking for a great entertainer, and you're the worst entertainer since Saint Paul the Evangelist toured Palestine with his trampoline act! No, we'll have to find somebody else.

George:
What about Corporal Cartwright, sir?

Blackadder:
Corporal Cartwright looks like an orangutan. I've heard of the bearded lady, but the all-over-body-hair lady frankly just isn't on!

George:
Willis?

Blackadder:
Too short.

George:
Petheridge?

Blackadder:
Too old.

George:
Taplow?

Blackadder:
Too dead. Oh, it's hopeless. There just isn't anyone!

[Bob is heard singing in the shower]

Blackadder:
[with renewed hope] What am I doing?! Bob!

Bob:
[enters wearing towels] Sir?

George:
[STILL not realising Bob is a girl] Sir, what a brilliant idea! Bob, can you think of anyone that could be our leading lady?

Blackadder:
Bob, take a telegram. "To Mr. C. Chaplin, Sennet Studios, Hollywood, California. Congrats stop. Have found only person in world less funny than you stop. Name: Baldrick stop. Signed, E. Blackadder stop". Oh, and put a P.S.: "Please, please, please... stop."

[Later in the episode, when Blackadder's show is cancelled and Charlie Chaplin agrees to have his films shown in Allied trenches to raise morale]

Darling:
We received a telegram from Mr. Chaplin himself at Sennet Studios: "Twice nightly screening of my films in trenches: excellent idea stop. But must insist that E. Blackadder be projectionist stop. P.S.: Don't let him ever... stop".

Melchett:
Who can explain the mysteries of love? I'm in love with Georgina, Blackadder. I'm going to marry her on Saturday and I want you to be my best man.

Blackadder:
I don't think that would be a very good idea, sir.

Melchett:
And why not?

Blackadder:
Because there's something wrong with your fiance, sir.

Melchett:
Oh my god, she's not Welsh, is she?!

Blackadder:
Hello? I'd like to leave a message for the head of the Royal Flying Corps. That's Air Chief Marshall Sir Hugh Massingbird-Massingbird VC, DFC and bar. Message reads "Where are you, you bastard!?"

Baldrick:
Here I am, sir.

Blackadder:
For God's sake, Baldrick, take cover!

Baldrick:
Why, sir?

Blackadder:
Because there's an air raid going on! And I don't want to have to write to your mother at London Zoo and tell her that her only human child is dead!

Blackadder:
GEORGE!

George:
Yes sir?

Blackader:
Shut up, and never say anything again as long as you live.

George:
Crikey, but what a show it was, sir! Lord Flashheart's Flying Aces! How we cheered when they spun, how we shouted when they dived! How we applauded when one chap got sliced in half by his own propeller! Well, it's all part of the joke for those magnificent men in their flying machines!

[A plane is heard plummeting and crashing outside]

Blackadder:
For "magnificent men", read "Biggest Showoffs Since Lady Godiva Entered the Royal Enclosure at Ascot Claiming She Had Literally Nothing to Wear". I don't care how many times they go "up-diddly-up-up", they're still gits!

Baldrick:
Oh, come on, sir! I'd love to be a flier. Up there where the air is clear...

Blackadder:
The chances of the air being clear anywhere near you, Baldrick, are zero!

[Flashheart jumps into the trench]

Flashheart:
Ha! Eat knuckle, Fritz!

[Flashheart punches Blackadder and he falls to the ground. Flashheart places a foot on his chest.]

Flashheart:
How disgusting. A boche on the sole of my boot. I shall have to find a patch of grass to wipe it on.

[Flashheart gets off Blackadder]

Flashheart:
Probably get shunned in the officers' mess! "Sorry about the pong, you fellows. Trod in a boche and can't get rid of the wiff!"

[Blackadder gets up]

Blackaddder:
Do you think we could dispense with the hilarious doggy-do metaphor for a moment? I'm not a boche, this is a British trench.

Flashheart:
Is it? Oh that's a piece of luck. Thought I'd landed sausage-side! Ha!

[Flashheart pushes Blackadder]

Flashheart:
Mind if I use your phone? If word gets out that I'm missing, 500 girls will kill themselves. I wouldn't want them on my conscience, not when they ought to be on my face!

[Flashheart kicks the phone]

Flashheart:
Hi. Flashheart here. Yeah, cancel the state funeral, tell the king to stop blubbing. Flash is not dead! I simply ran out of juice! Yeah, and before the girls start saying "Oh, what's the point of living anymore". I'm talking about petrol! Woof, woof! Yeah, I dumped the kite on the proles, so send a car. General Melchett's driver should do. She hangs around with a big nob, so she'll be used to a fellow like me! Woof, woof!

Blackadder:
Look, do you think you can make your obscene phone call somewhere else?

Flashheart:
[taking not a blind bit of notice] No, not in half an hour, you rubber-desk Johnny! Send the bitch with the wheels right now, or I'll fly back to England and give your wife something to hang her towels on!

[Flashheart slams the phone down]

Flashheart:
Okay, dig out your best booze and lets talk about me 'till the car comes! You must be pretty impressed having squadron commander The Lord Flashheart drop in on your squalid bit of line!

Blackadder:
Actually, no, I was more impressed by the contents of my handkerchief, the last time I blew my nose.

Flashheart:
Yeah, like hell. You've probably got little piccies of me on the wall of your dugout, haven't you? I bet you go all girly and giggly every time you look at me!

Blackadder:
I'm afraid not. Unfortunately, most of the infantry think you're a prat. Ask them who they'd prefer to meet, Squadron Commander Flashheart and the man who cleans out the public toilets in Aberdeen, and they'd go for Wee Jock 'Poo-Pong' Mcplop every time!

[Flashheart laughes and then punches Blackadder in the face]

Flashheart:
The first thing to remember is always treat your kite [Whacks diagram with his pointer.] like you treat your woman [Whips the air. Hard.]

George:
Ho-how do you mean, sir? You mean, um... you mean, take her home over the weekend to meet your mother?

Flashheart:
No. I mean get inside her five times a day and take her to heaven and back!

Blackadder:
I'm beginning to see why the Suffragette Movement want the vote.

Flashheart:
Hey, any bird who wants to chain herself to my railings and suffer a jet movement gets my vote!

[As their plane nose-dives into a crash]

Baldrick:
Let's hope we land on something soft!

Blackadder:
Fine, I'll try and aim between General Melchett's ears!

[After being shot down behind German lines]

Blackadder:
I don't believe it-a German prison cell! For two and a half years, the Western Front's been about as likely to move as a Frenchman who lives next door to a brothel, then last night the Germans advance a mile and we land on the wrong side!

Baldrick:
Oh dear, Captain B., my tummy's gone all squirty!

Blackadder:
That's because you're scared, Baldrick, and you're not the only one. I couldn't be more petrified if a wild rhinoceros had come home from a hard day at the swamp and found me wearing his pyjamas, smoking his cigars and in bed with his wife!

Baldrick:
I've heard what these Germans'll do, sir; they'll have their wicked way with anything of woman-born!

Blackadder:
Well in that case Baldrick, you're quite safe! [...]

Baldrick:
I want my mum!

Blackadder:
Yes, it'll be good to see her. I should imagine a maternally outraged gorilla could be a useful ally when it comes to the final scrap!

Blackadder:
For us, the Great War is finito. A war which would have been a damn sight simpler if we'd just stayed in England and shot 50,000 of our men a week!

[While speaking to Blackadder and hearing him make a toilet humour joke]

Baron von Richthofen:
Ha ha ha! You English and your sense of humour! How lucky you English are to find the toilet so amusing! For us, it is a mundane and functional item...for you, the basis of an entire culture!

Blackadder:
Flashheart, this is Captain Darling.

Flashheart:
"Captain Darling"?! Funny name for a guy, isn't it? [jumps off table and faces Darling] Last person I called "Darling" was pregnant 20 seconds later! Hear you couldn't be bothered to help old Slackie here.

Darling:
[stuttering nervously] Oh, well, it... It wasn't quite like that, sir. It's just that we... weighed up the pros and cons and... decided it wasn't a reasonable use of our time and resources. [laughs nervously]

Flashheart:
Well, this isn't a reasonable use of my time and resources, but I'm gonna do it anyway.

Darling:
What?

Flashheart:
This! [headbutts Darling hard, knocking him unconscious] Alright Slackie, alright Slackie, I've gotta fly; two million chicks and only one Flashheart! And always remember, if you want something, take it! BOBBY!

[Bob walks in]

Bob:
My lord?

Flashheart:
I want something!

Bob:
[unbuttoning her coat] Take it!

Flashheart:
WOOF!

Blackadder:
[under his breath] Git.

[As Flashheart exits Melchett enters the room]

Melchett:
Ah, Blackadder! So you escaped?

Blackadder:
Yes sir.

Melchett:
Bravo! [briefly glances at the unconscious Darling] Don't slouch, Darling.

Blackadder:
I wonder whether, having been tortured by the most vicious sadist in the German army, I might have a week's leave to recuperate.

Melchett:
Splendid idea! Your commanding officer would have to be stark raving mad to refuse you!

Blackadder:
Well, you are my commanding officer.

Melchett:
Well?

Blackadder:
Can I have a week's leave to recuperate, sir?

Melchett:
[outraged] Certainly not!

Blackadder:
Thank you, sir.

Melchett:
BAAA!

George:
I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with... "M"!

Baldrick:
Err... Ummm...

George:
[indicating a mug on the table] Mmmm...?

[George and Baldrick continue to go "Mmmm" for some time, until Blackadder loses patience]

Blackadder:
MUG!

George:
Oh, I say, well done, sir! Your turn!

Blackadder:
I spy, with my bored little eye... something beginning with "T".

Baldrick:
Breakfast!

Blackadder:
What?

Baldrick:
My breakfast always begins with tea. Then I have a little sausage. Then a egg with some little soldiers.

Blackadder:
Baldrick, when I said it begins with "T," I was talking about a letter.

Baldrick:
No, it never begins with a letter! The postman don't come 'til 10:30!

Blackadder:
Oh, I can't go on like this. George, take over.

George:
All right, sir. Um... I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with "R".

Baldrick:
Army!

Blackadder:
FOR GOD'S SAKE, BALDRICK! "Army" starts with an "A"! He's talking about something with an "R"! [trills the R]

Baldrick:
Motorbike!

Blackadder:
WHAT?!

Baldrick:
A motorbike starts with a Rrrrr!

Blackadder:
Right! My turn again. What begins with "Come here" and ends with "OW"?

Baldrick:
I dunno.

Blackadder:
Come here. [punches Baldrick in the face]

Baldrick:
OW!

Blackadder:
Well done.

George:
Now I... [laughs nervously] I don't think you've quite got the hang of this game, sir. Tell you what, let's try another one. I hear, with my little ear... something beginning with "B".

Blackadder:
What?

George:
Bomb.

Blackadder:
[surprised] I can't hear a bomb.

George:
Listen very carefully. [the faint whistle of an incoming bomb is heard]

Blackadder:
Oh yes...! [there is an almighty explosion as the bomb hits]

George:
[reading in his letter] "After the explosion, Captain Blackadder was marvelous. He joked and joked. "You lucky, lucky, lucky bastard!" He cried. Then he lay on his back, stuck his foot over the top of the trench and shouted "Over here, Fritz! What about me? What about me?"

[Blackadder and Baldrick enter the room]

Blackadder:
All right, where is the malingering git?

George:
Hello, Cap, pip-pip Balders, here I lie.

Baldrick:
Nice to see the lieutenant looking so well, sir?

Blackadder:
Course he's looking well, there's nothing wrong with him.

[George laughs]

George:
Didn't I tell you the Captain was a super cove?

Nurse Mary:
Yes you did. Well Captain, you are indeed fortunate to have a loyal friend like darling George.

Blackadder:
I think you might be under a slight misapprehension here, Nurse. I lost closer friends than the darling Georgie the last time I was deloused. Now if you'll excuse me, I have better things to do than exchange pleasantries with a wet blanket. Would you get out? [Mary gawps at him in astonishment] We've got some important military business.

Nurse Mary:
Well, ten minutes only, then. [She exits]

Blackadder:
Right, pork-face, where's the grub?

George:
Sorry?

Blackadder:
Come on, the moment that collection of inbred mutants you call your relatives heard you were sick, they'll have sent you a hamper the size of Westminster Abbey!

George:
[outraged] My family is not inbred!

Blackadder:
Come on, somewhere outside Saffron Walden, there's an uncle who's seven feet tall with no chin and an Adam's apple that looks like he's trying to swallow a ballcock!

George:
I have not got any uncles like that! And anyway, he lives in Walton-on-the-Naze!

Darling:
(to General Melchett on Blackadder) Damnation, sir! His insolence makes my blood boil! What's more, I don't trust him, sir. I think it would be best... if I went along to keep an eye on him.

Melchett:
What, spy on our own spy while he searches for their spies?(pause) Yes, why not? Sounds rather fun. Now, you'll need to go undercover...

Darling:
Of course, sir.

Melchett:
And you'll need some kind of wound- a convincing wound.

Darling:
Yes, sir.

Melchett:
Yes... (draws his revolver and shoots Daring in the foot; Darling falls over in pain)

Darling:
AAAAGH!

Melchett:
Yes- that looks quite convincing!

George:
Smithy, you haven't seen any suspicious looking characters around, have you, who might be German spies?

Smith:
Nein.

George:
[shocked] NINE! Well, the captain's got his work cut out.

[Blackadder interrogates Darling, who is tied up and blindfolded]

Darling:
This is completely ridiculous, Blackadder! You can't suspect me, I've only just arrived.

Blackadder:
The first rule of counter-espionage, Darling, is to suspect everyone. Believe me, I will be asking myself some pretty searching questions later on. Now, tell me: What is the colour of the Queen of England's favourite hat?

Darling:
How the hell should I know?!

Blackadder:
I see. Well, let me ask you another question: What is the name of the German head of state?

Darling:
Well, Kaiser Wilhelm, obviously.

Blackadder:
So you're on first-name terms with the Kaiser, are you?!

Darling:
Well, what did you expect me to say--?!

Blackadder:
Darling, Darling, shh. Cigarette?

Darling:
Hm. Thank you.

[Blackadder places a cigarette in his mouth and lights it. He smokes for a few seconds, before Blackadder suddenly slaps it away and turns nasty]

Blackadder:
ALL RIGHT, YOU STINKING PIECE OF CRAP!

Darling:
I beg your pardon?!

Blackadder:
[getting up close] Shut your cakehole, sonny, I know you! Tell me, Von Darling, what was it that finally won you over, eh?! Was it the pumpernickel, or was it the thought of hanging around with a big man in leather shorts?!

Darling:
[strangled voice] I'll have you court-marshaled for this, Blackadder!

Blackadder:
What, for obeying the General's orders? That may be what you do in Munich - or should I say München - but not here, Werner! You're a filthy Hun spy, aren't you?! Baldrick, the cocker spaniel, please.

Darling:
[desperate] Ah! No, no, no, wait! No, look, I'm English! I was born in Croydon! [breathing heavily] I was educated at Ipplethorpe Primary School! I've got a girlfriend called Doris! I know the words to all three verses of "God Save the King!"

Blackadder:
Four verses!

Darling:
Four verses! Four verses! I meant four verses! Look, I'm as British as Queen Victoria!

Blackadder:
So your father's German, you're half-German and you married a German?!

Darling:
[breaking into tears] No, no! LOOK, FOR GOD'S SAKE, I'M NOT A GERMAN SPYYYYYYYYYY!

Blackadder:
Good, thanks very much. Send the next man in, would you? [Nurse Mary bursts in]

Nurse Mary:
What is all this noise about?! Don't you realise this is a hospital?!

Darling:
[is released and stands up] You'll regret this, Blackadder! You'd better find the real spy or I'll make it very hard for you!

Blackadder:
Please, Darling, there are ladies present.

Blackadder:
I've always been a soldier, married to the army. Book of King's Regulations is my mistress...possibly with a Harrods' lingerie catalogue tucked discreetly between the pages.

Nurse Mary:
And no casual girlfriends?

Blackadder:
Skirt? If only. When I joined up, we were still fighting colonial wars. If you saw someone in a skirt, you shot him and nicked his country!

Nurse Mary:
Well, sir, I'm only a humble nurse, but I did at one point think it might be Captain Darling.

Melchett:
Well, bugger me with a fishfork! Old Darling, a Jerry Morse-tapper?! What on Earth made you suspect him?

Nurse Mary:
Well, he pooh-poohed the captain here and said that he'd never find the spy.

Melchett:
[seriously] Is this true, Blackadder? Did Captain Darling pooh-pooh you?

Blackadder:
Well, perhaps a little.

Melchett:
Well then, damn it all, how much more evidence do you need? The pooh-poohing alone is a court-martial offence!

Blackadder:
I can assure you, sir, that the pooh-poohing was purely circumstantial.

Melchett:
Well, I hope so, Blackadder. You know, if there's one thing I've learned from being in the army, it's never ignore a pooh-pooh! I knew a major: got pooh-poohed; made the mistake of ignoring the pooh-pooh -- he pooh-poohed it! Fatal error, because it turned out all along that the soldier who pooh-poohed him had been pooh-poohing a lot of other officers, who pooh-poohed their pooh-poohs! In the end, we had to disband the regiment! Morale totally destroyed... by pooh-pooh!

[Blackadder and Nurse Mary both look extremely bored; Mary has begun reading an 'Ideas' magazine. During the next line, she looks around nervously and puts the paper down, sitting on it]

Blackadder:
Yes, I think we might be drifting slightly from the point here, sir, which is that, unfortunately, and to my lasting regret, Captain Darling is not the spy.

Blackadder:
Remember you mentioned a clever boyfriend?

Nurse Mary:
Yes.

Blackadder:
I leapt on the opportunity to test you. I asked if he'd been to one of the great universities: Oxford, Cambridge, Hull.

Nurse Mary:
Well?

Blackadder:
You failed to spot that only two of those are great universities!

Nurse Mary:
You swine!

Melchett:
That's right! Oxford's a complete dump!

Blackadder:
[looks startled- this was an improvised joke by Stephen Fry, who went to Cambridge whereas Rowan Atkinson went to Oxford, its rival]... well, quite.

Melchett:
Blackadder?

Blackadder:
[triumphant] Yes sir?

Melchett:
You are now head of Operation Winkle.

Blackadder:
Thank you, sir.

Melchett:
Darling?

Darling:
[chastened] Yes, sir?

Melchett:
You are a complete arse!

Darling:
Thank you, sir.

George:
The war started because of the vile Hun and his villainous empire-building!

Blackadder:
George, the British Empire at present covers a quarter of the globe, while the German Empire consists of a small sausage factory in Tanganyika. I hardly think we can be entirely absolved from blame on the imperialistic front.

George:
Oh... Oh no, sir! Absolutely not! [quietly to Baldrick] Mad as a bicycle!

Baldrick:
I heard that it started when a bloke called Archie Duke shot an ostrich 'cause he was hungry.

Blackadder:
I think you mean it started when the Archduke of Austro-Hungary got shot.

Baldrick:
Nah, there was definitely an ostrich involved, sir.

Blackadder:
Well, possibly. But the real reason for the whole thing was that it was too much effort not to have a war.

George:
By Gum, this is interesting! I always loved history. The Battle of Hastings, Henry VIII and his six knives and all that!

Blackadder:
You see, Baldrick, in order to prevent a war in Europe, two super blocs developed: us, the French and the Russians on one side; and the Germans and Austro-Hungary on the other. The idea was to have two vast, opposing armies, each acting as the other's deterrent. That way, there could never be a war.

Baldrick:
Except, well, this is sort of a war, isn't it?

Blackadder:
That's right. There was one tiny flaw in the plan.

George:
Oh, what was that?

Blackadder:
It was bollocks.

Baldrick:
So the poor old ostrich died for nothing!

Blackadder:
[regarding the 1914 Christmas truce] Both sides advanced further during one Christmas piss-up than they managed in the next two and a half years of war!

Baldrick:
Remember the football match?

Blackadder:
Remember it?! How could I forget it?! I was never offside; I could not BELIEVE that decision!

[Upon running out of options to avoid going over the top]

Blackadder:
I believe the phrase rhymes with "clucking bell"!

George:
Sir...I'm scared, sir.

Baldrick:
I'm scared too, sir.

George:
I'm the last of the tiddly-winking leap-froggers from the golden summer of 1914. I don't want to die...I'm really not overly keen on dying at all, sir.

Blackadder:
What about you, Darling? How are you feeling?

Darling:
Ah, not all that good, Blackadder. Rather thought I'd get through the whole show. Go back to working at Pratt and Sons. Keep wicket for the Croydon Gentlemen. Marry Doris. Made a note in my diary on the way here. Simply says... "Bugger".

[Last lines of the series; Blackadder, Baldrick, George and Darling are ready to go over the top]

Darling:
Listen... Our guns have stopped.

George:
You don't think...?

Baldrick:
[with rising hope] Maybe... the war's over. Maybe it's peace!

George:
[overjoyed] Oh, hurrah! The big knobs have gone round the table and yanked the iron out of the fire!

Darling:
[also overjoyed] Thank God! We lived through it! The Great War, 1914 to 1917!

George:
Hip-hip...

George, Baldrick and Darling:
HOORAY!

Blackadder:
[sadly] I'm afraid... not. The guns have stopped because we're about to attack. Not even our generals are mad enough to shell their own men. They think it's far more sporting to let the Germans do it.

George:
[afraid] So we are, in fact, going over? This is, as they say, "it"?

Blackadder:
I'm afraid so. Unless I can think of something very quickly.

Captain in background:
COMPANY, ONE PACE FORWARD! [the group obey]

Baldrick:
Oh, there's a nasty splinter on that ladder, sir! A bloke could hurt himself on that!

Captain in background:
STAND READY!

Baldrick:
I have... a plan, sir.

Blackadder:
Really, Baldrick? A cunning and subtle one?

Baldrick:
Yes, sir.

Blackadder:
As cunning as a fox who's just been appointed Professor of Cunning at Oxford University?

Baldrick:
Yes, sir.

Captain in background:
ON THE SIGNAL, COMPANY WILL ADVANCE!

Blackadder:
Well, I'm afraid it'll have to wait. Whatever it was, I'm sure it was better than my plan to get out of this by pretending to be mad. I mean, who would have noticed another madman round here? [a whistle is heard] Good luck, everyone. [blows whistle, and they go over the top]

Blackadder:
Baldrick, your brain is like the four-headed man-eating haddock-fish-beast of Aberdeen.

Baldrick:
In what way?

Blackadder:
It doesn't exist.

Blackadder:
[annoyed by events and Baldrick's singing] For God's sake, stop that, Baldrick! It's bad enough having one's life in utter ruins without being serenaded by a moron with all the entertainment value of a tap-dancing oyster!

Blackadder:
I just don't understand it. Where on Earth did they find a man so utterly without heart and soul, so low and degraded as to accept the job of beheading the King of England? [as his words sink in, Blackadder has a realisation] Baldrick? That little job that fell into your lap? It wasn't, by any chance, something to do with an Axe, a basket, a little black mask and the king of England?

Baldrick:
No.

Blackadder:
Go on...

Baldrick:
I couldn't find a basket.

Blackadder:
You very small, total bastard! [grabs a meat cleaver and holds it to Baldrick's throat]

Baldrick:
Sir, please don't kill me, I have a cunning plan to save the king

Blackadder:
Forgive me if I don't do a cartwheel of joy, your family's record in the department of cunning planning is about impressive as Stumpy Oleg McNoLeg's personal best in the Market Harbor marathon! [sighes] All right, what's the plan?

Baldrick:
This. [holds up a pumpkin]

Blackadder:
A pumpkin is going to save the king?

Baldrick:
But here I have one that I made earlier. [holds up a pumpkin with a face and wig] I will cover his real head with a cloak and balance the pumpkin on top and cut that off instead and the king survives.

Blackadder:
I'm not sure it's going to work, Baldrick. You see, when you've cut it off you have to hold it before the crowd and say "This is the head of a traitor," at which point they will shout back "No, it isn't. It's a large pumpkin with a pathetic mustache drawn on it!"

Baldrick:
I suppose it's not 100 percent convincing...

Blackadder:
It's not 1 percent convincing, Baldrick. However, I am a busy man and I can't be bothered to punch you at the moment. Here is my fist. Kindly run towards it as fast as you can. [Baldrick does so]

[Roundheads have surrounded the house]

Baldrick:
We're surrounded! What are we going to do?!

Blackadder:
Well, at times like this, Baldrick, there is no choice for a man of honour. He must stand, and fight, and die, in defence of his... future sovereign. [pause] Fortunately, I'm not a man of honour. [Blackadder tosses the baby to Baldrick, then pulls off his fake beard and wig to reveal a blond, clean-shaven face; he now looks like a Roundhead. At that moment, Roundhead soldiers burst in] Thank God you've come! [points to Baldrick] Seize the Royalist scum!

[Blackadder shouts from outside.]

Ebenezer Blackadder:
HUMBUG! HUMBUG! HUMBUG!

[Blackadder enters his shop, holding a paper bag]

Ebenezer Blackadder:
Humbug, Mr. Baldrick?

[Blackadder offers him the bag, which contains humbug sweets.]

Baldrick:
Oh, thank you very much.

Baldrick:
Go on my lord. Give it a little pull, you know you want to, it will be ever so exciting...

Blackadder:
[completely uninterested] Oh, god...[Blackadder pulls the tiny Christmas cracker with Baldrick. There isn't a bang] [sarcastic] Yes, terrifying.

Baldrick:
And look, there's a surprise present inside. It's a novelty death warrant, and you give it to a friend.

[Baldrick gives the death warrant to Blackadder]

Blackadder:
[sarcastic] Oh, just what I've always wanted.[crumples it into a ball]

Baldrick:
Have you got anything for me?

Lord Blackadder:
Oh it's nothing, really!

Baldrick:
[touched] Oh sir!

Lord Blackadder:
No, it's really nothing; I haven't got you anything. I spent all my cash on this damn thing for the Queen. [reveals a portrait of Elizabeth I] She'd better bloody like it, she dropped enough hints! That woman's about as subtle as a rhinocero's horn up the backside! Door!

Lord Blackadder:
Ah, Melchett! Greetings! I trust Christmas brings you its traditional mix of good food and violent stomach cramp.

Lord Melchett:
And compliments of the season to you, Blackadder. May the Yuletide log slip from your fire and burn your house down.

Lord Blackadder:
I'm glad I saw you; I feel it only fair to warn you that the Queen has banned Christmas. So I wouldn't get her a present this year.

Lord Melchett:
Oh, I'm indebted to you for that advice, Blackadder, and I shall, of course, follow it to the letter...[under his breath as he walks away] the day I get my brain replaced by a cauliflower.

Lord Blackadder:
[jubilant] Ha! Got him with my subtle plan!

Baldrick:
I can't see any subtle plan.

Lord 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!"

Nursie:
Pity about this, tinky-wink; you always used to love this time of year!

Queenie:
I know. Leaving a little mince pie and a glass of wine out for Father Christmas, and then scoffing it, because I was a princess and could do what I bloody well liked!

Nursie:
And wondering if your father's wife would last until Boxing Day without having her head cut off!

Queenie:
We knew if he gave her a hat, she'd probably be alright.

Lord Blackadder:
[sarcastically] Perhaps Lord Melchett would like to whip me naked through the streets of Aberdeen?

Lord Melchett:
Oh I don't think we need go that far, Blackadder...

Lord Blackadder:
[sarcastically] Oh too kind!

Lord Melchett:
No, Aylesbury's quite far enough.

Queenie:
Now Blackadder, what have you got me?

Lord Blackadder:
[having destroyed her Christmas present] Um...

Queenie:
I WANT A PREZZIE! Give me something nice and shiny, and if you don't, I've got something nice and shiny for you: it's called AN AXE!

Edmund Blackadder, Esq.:
So, shall I begin?

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?

The Prince Regent:
Yes, that's the bloke! Keep him out of it; he always spoils the Xmas atmos!

[After Blackadder discovers his plan to rob the Prince Regent of his Christmas valuable has gone badly wrong, thanks to Baldrick's stupidity]

Baldrick:
Something wrong, Mr. B.?

Edmund Blackadder, Esq.:
No, don't worry, I should've known not to trust a man with the mental agility of a rabbit dropping!

Baldrick:
Sorry, Mr. B.

Edmund Blackadder, Esq.:
Oh, it's perfectly alright, it's not your fault. [he floors Baldrick with a punch] Still, I fear for a frail, elderly woman, laden down with valuables, travelling through the inadequately lit streets of London!

Baldrick:
Yeah, she's not safe!

Edmund Blackadder, Esq.:
Well, not from me, certainly!

[A reformed Ebenezer Blackadder hands Baldrick the money he just lifted from his niece's fiancée.]

Blackadder:
Baldrick, I want you to take this and go out and buy a turkey so large, you'd think its mother had been rogered by an omnibus. I'm going to have a party, and no one's invited but me!

[Mrs. Scratchit arrives to swindle him]

Mrs. Scratchit:
Coo-eee!

Blackadder:
No peace for the wicked.

Mrs. Scratchit:
[soppily] 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?

Blackadder:
I have always found you foul, Mrs. Scratchit, and more than a little. [she looks shocked] As for Tiny Tom's Christmas, he can stuff it up his enormous muscular backside.

Mrs. Scratchit:
But he's a cripple!

Blackadder:
He's not a cripple, Mrs. Scratchit. Occasionally saying "phew, my leg hurts" when he remembers to wouldn't fool Baldrick.

Baldrick:
It did, actually.

Blackadder:
However, if you want something for lunch, [picks up a pale] take this. It's a pound a lump and, as luck would have it, there are 17 lumps left. [Takes back the money she had swindled from him earlier] Thank you.

Mrs. Scratchit:
But what about my Tiny Tom?

Blackadder:
Well, if I was you, I'd scoop him out and use him as a houseboat. Good day.

[Mrs. Scratchit walks out, crying]

Baldrick:
Mister B, where's the milk of human kindness?

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

[Baldrick opens the door to find Queen Victoria, Prince Albert and their aide prepared to give Blackadder a reward for his generosity.]

Queen Victoria:
We are Queen Victoria.

Baldrick:
What, all three of you?

Queen Victoria:
[laughes] My dear little hobgoblin...here is our Royal Seal [she presents it to Baldrick, who goes down on one knee]. We are here to present your master with £50,000 and the title of Baron Blackadder for being the kindest man in England!

Baldrick:
Lovely, your Majesty. [Blackadder, not realising what's going on, storms over]

Blackadder:
Baldrick, what did I tell you I'd do if you didn't slam the door in the faces of these scrounging loafers?!

Baldrick:
But, Mr. Blackadder, it's-! [As promised, Blackadder slams the door in Baldrick's face, then slams it shut on the royals]

Blackadder:
I am not at home to guests! [the royals let themselves in again]

Prince Albert:
I flatter myself, we are rather special guests.

Blackadder:
[not realising who they are] But of course! I must apologise; it is not often that one receives a Christmas visit from two distinguished guests!

Prince Albert:
Ah, so you recognise us at last?

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! [Victoria and Albert look mortified]

Queen Victoria:
Sir, I cannot believe-!

Blackadder:
Cork it, fatso! Don't you realise that this is the Victorian Age where, apart from Queen Piglet Features herself, [Albert covers her ears] women and children are to be seen and not heard!?

Prince Albert:
[outraged] Queen Piglet Features!?

Blackadder:
Yes, Empress Oink, as lads call her! The only person in the kingdom that looks dafter than her is that stupid frankfurter of a husband! [Albert covers his own ears] "The Pig and the Prig", we call them! How they ever managed to produce their 112 children is quite beyond me! The bed chambers at Buckingham Palace must be copiously supplied with blindfolds!

Queen Victoria:
Sir, we have never been so insulted in our entire lives! [they storm out]

Blackadder:
Well, all I can say is you've been damned lucky!

Blackadder:
Fascinating. One of history's great mysteries solved. The dinosaurs were in fact wiped out by your pants.

Blackadder:
Well, isn't this a turn-up for the books, Baldrick? You have invented a working time machine and are therefore, rather surprisingly, the greatest genius who has ever lived!

[Blackadder punches William Shakespeare.]

Blackadder:
That is for every schoolboy and schoolgirl for the next 400 years! Do you have any idea how much suffering you're going to cause? Hours spent at school desks trying to find one joke in A Midsummer Night's Dream? Years spent wearing stupid tights in school plays saying things like 'what ho, my lord' and 'look, here cometh Othello talking total crap as usual'? Oh, and ... [kicks Shakespeare] That is for Ken Branagh's endless, uncut, four-hour version of Hamlet!

Shakespeare:
Who's Ken Branagh?

Blackadder:
I'll tell him you said that. And I think he'll be very hurt.

Robin Hood:
Well, well! What have we here, my tough band of freedom fighters, who have good muscle tone and aren't gay?!

Blackadder:
[crouched beneath Hadrian's Wall] That's odd; the machine seems to be seeking out our DNA across time!

[Atop the wall, a Roman Blackadder and Baldrick stand at attention]

Centurion Blaccadicus:
Just brilliant!

Legionary Baldricus:
What, O Centurion?

Centurion Blaccadicus:
We're facing a horde of ginger maniacs, with wild goats nesting in their huge orange beards-or to put it another way, the Scots!-and how does our inspired leader Hadrian intend to keep out this vast army of lunatics!? By building a a three-foot high wall! [sarcastic] A terrifying obstacle! About as frightening as a little rabbit with the word "Boo!" painted on its nose! [Baldricus shudders]

Consul Georgius:
Oh come now, Centurion! I won't have that! This wall is a terrific defence mechanism! Surely you're not suggesting that a rabble of Scots could get the better of Roman soldiers!?

[Further conversation is halted by the arrival of General Melchicus]

Consul Georgius:
Ah, welcome General!

General Melchicus:
Splendid! Good to see you practicing your English, Georgius! [continues in Latin] However, important news- Rome is being attacked on all sides, and so far the Emperor's only response has been to poison his mother and marry his horse. The Senate is therefore withdrawing troops from Britain to defend our Imperial city.

Centurion Blaccadicus:
Did you hear that, Balders?

Legionary Baldricus:
I certainly did, Centurion!

Centurion Blaccadicus:
Back to Rome, at last!

General Melchicus:
[in Latin] BAAA!

Consul Georgius:
[looking beyond the wall] I say, this is interesting! There appears to be a large orange hedge moving towards us!

Centurion Blaccadicus:
That's not a hedge, Consul. That's the Scots!

Blackadder:
[to Baldrick, as they run from a mob of bloodthirsty Scots] Last one there gets hacked to pieces by Rod Stewart's great-great-grandfather!

Blackadder:
Get us home, Baldrick!

Baldrick:
[Wailing] But we don't know where home is! We're doomed to float through time, for all time! OH, WOE IS ME!!

Blackadder:
[Notices a button] Shut up, Baldrick, shut up. There is one final thing to push which may be our salvation! [He pushes it] ...Or not. Because it is in fact, a lollipop.

Baldrick:
Raspberry flavour, my lord.

Blackadder:
Oh God. I'm going to spend the rest of my life in a small wooden room with two toilets and the stupidest man in the universe.

Baldrick:
I have a cunning plan.

Blackadder:
Go on.

Baldrick:
You know how, when you die, your life flashes before your eyes?

Blackadder:
Yes?

Baldrick:
Well, if you stuck your head down the toilet, you'd see your life flash before your eyes. And if you kept your head down there until just before you drowned, you'd see the where the controls were, and then you could take your head out, and guide us home.

Blackadder:
It's a brilliant plan. If I could suggest one tiny modification...

Blackadder:
[pulls Baldrick out] How's it going?

Baldrick:
I'm eighteen years old, I've just left nursery school!

Blackadder:
Okey-dokey! [drowns Baldrick some more then pulls him out] Now?

Baldrick:
I'm twenty five; I'm back at nursery school!

Blackadder:
You really are as thick as clotted cream, that's been left out by some clot, until the clots are so clotted up you couldn't un-clot them with an electric de-clotter. Aren't you, Baldrick?

Blackadder:
Baldrick, I have a very, very, very cunning plan.

Baldrick:
Is it as cunning as a fox what used to be Professor of Cunning at Oxford University but has moved on, and is now working for the UN at the High Commission of International Cunning Planning?

Blackadder:
Yes, it is.

Baldrick:
Mm... That's cunning!

i have it from Ladies about the castle that that part of you which cannot be mentioned wouldn't be worth mentioning even if it could be.

From Blackadder Goes Forth, the final episode,

Captain Darling to Edmund on having been told by General Melchett that he was released from his duties to join the Big Push

I wrote a final entry in my diary today Blackadder, it simply said

Bugger!

I think that often sums up my feelings about life in general at the moment, but at least we are not at War....Yet

Melchett:
God, it's a spankingly beautiful world, and tonight's my night! I know exactly what I'll say to her. "Darling..."

Darling:
Yes, sir?

Melchett:
What?

Darling:
Um... I don't know, sir.

Melchett:
Well, don't butt in!

Darling:
Sorry, sir.

Melchett:
[Exhales] "I want to make you happy, darling."

Darling:
Well, that's very kind of you, sir.

Melchett:
Will you kindly stop interrupting? If you don't listen, how can you tell me what you think? "I want to make you happy, Darling. I want to build a nest for your ten tiny toes. I want to cover every inch of your gorgeous body in pepper, and then sneeze all over you!"

Darling:
Really, sir! I must protest!

Melchett:
What is the matter with you, Darling?!

Darling:
Well, it's just all so sudden, sir! I mean the nest bit's fine, but the pepper business is definitely out!

Melchett:
How dare you tell me how I may or may not treat my beloved Georgina!

Darling:
Georgina?

Melchett:
Yes! I'm working on what I want to say to her this evening!

Darling:
Oh yes. Of course. My god.

Melchett:
Alright?

Darling:
Yes, sir. Listening, sir.

Melchett:
Honestly, Darling, you really are the most graceless dimwitted bumpkin I ever met!

Darling:
I don't think you should say that to her, sir.

Melchett:
[Exclaims in frustration]

Blackadder:
Oh god, why do they bother?

George:
Well, it's to kill Jerry, isn't it, sir?

Blackadder:
Yes, but Jerry is safe underground in concrete bunkers. We've shot off over a million cannon shells, and what's the result? One dachshund with a slight limp. [Looks out of the trench] SHUT UP!!!

[All the noises stop, except for the gramophone player in the background.]

Blackadder:
Thank you. Right, I'm off to bed where I intend to sleep until my name changes to Rip van Adder.

I'd rather be a quack than a ducky.