Blackadder quotes from Blackadder

Ho, sir, bring out the dictionary at once!

Bring it out, sir, or in my passion, I shall kill everyone by giving them syphilis!

Bring it out, sir, and also any opium plants you have in there with you!

Bring it out, sir, or we shall break down the door!

Ah, good morning, Dr. Johnson, Lord Byron-

Where is my dictionary?

And what dictionary would this be?

[outraged] The one that has taken me eighteen hours of every day for the past ten years! My mother died, I hardly noticed. My father cut off his head and fried it in garlic in the hopes of attracting my attention; I scarcely looked up from my work! My wife brought armies of lovers to the house, who worked in droves so that she might bring up a huge family of bastards! I cared not!

[cornered] Am I to assume that my elaborate bluff has not worked?

Dictionary!

Right, well, the truth is - now, don't get cross, don't over-react - the truth is: we burnt it.

Then you die!

[enters with the same dictionary] Morning, everyone. Ah, Doctor Johnson. You know, this dictionary really is a cracking good read!

[relieved] My dictionary... [to Blackadder] But you said you burnt it!

Um...

I think it's a splendid book, and I look forward to patronizing it enormously!

Oh, thank you, sir. Well, I think I'm man enough to sacrifice the pleasure of killing to maintain the general good humour. There is to be no murder today, gentlemen. [they grumble] But retire to Mrs. Miggins'! I shall join you there later for a roister you shan't forget!

Hurrah! [leave]

So, tell me, what words particularly interested you?

Oh, nothing. Anything, really.

I see you've underlined a few. "Bloomers"? "Bottom"? "Burp"? [reads through the pages] "Fart"? "Fiddle"? "Fornicate"? Sir, I hope you are not using the first English dictionary to look up rude words!

I wouldn't be too hopeful. That's what all the others will be used for.

Baldrick

[to Blackadder] Sir, can I look up 'turnip'?

'Turnip' isn't a rude word, Baldrick.

Baldrick

It is if you sit on one.

Baldrick, fetch my novel.

Baldrick

Your novel?

Yes, Baldrick, the big papery thing tied up with string.

Baldrick

Like the thing we burnt?

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?

Exactly.

Baldrick

We burnt it.

[calmly enraged] So we did. Thank you, Baldrick. Seven years of my life up in smoke. [to Prince George] Your Highness, may I be excused for a moment?

Oh, by all means.

[closes the doors behind him; outside] OH, GOD! NO!!! [calmly returns] Thank you, sir.

[reading Baldrick's 'novel'] "Once upon a time, there was a lovely little sausage called-" Sausage? Sausage?! Oh, blast your eyes! [crumples it up, throws it to the ground and storms out]

Baldrick

Oh, I didn't think it was that bad.

[checks the dictionary] I think you'll find he left 'sausage' out of his dictionary, Baldrick. [checks again] Oh, and 'aardvark'.

Morning, Mrs. Miggins.

Mrs. Miggins

Bonjour, monsieur.

[disgusted] What?

Mrs. Miggins

Bonjour, monsieur. It's French.

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!

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.

I hardly think a nation that eats snails and would go to bed with the kitchen sink if it put on a tutu is in any position to preach couthness. So what is on the menu?

Mrs. Miggins

Well, today's hot choice is Chicken Pimpernel in a Scarlet Sauce, Scarlet Chicken in a Pimpernel Sauce, or Huge Suspicious-Looking Sausages in a Scarlet Pimpernel Sauce.

What exactly is Scarlet Pimpernel Sauce?

Mrs. Miggins

You take a large ripe frog, you squeeze it-

Yes, alright. Thank you. I'm off to the pub.

Ah, bonjour, monsieur.

Sod off. [leaves]

Baldrick

Sir! Poor little Mildred the cat, what's he ever done to you?

It is the way of the world, Baldrick - the abused always kick downwards. I am annoyed and so I kick the cat, the cat [there is a squeak] pounces on the mouse and, finally, [Baldrick squeals in pain] the mouse bites you on the behind.

Baldrick

And what do I do?

Nothing, you are last in God's great chain. Unless there's an earwig around here you'd like to victimize. My God, Baldrick - what's happened to your nose?

Baldrick

[sporting the most hideous purple blister] Nice, isn't it?

No, Baldrick. It isn't. It's revolting.

Baldrick

I'll take it off then. [rather unexpectedly, he simply peels off the blister]

Baldrick, why are you wearing a false boil? What are we to expect next? A beauty wart? A cosmetic veruca?

Baldrick

It's a Scarlet Pimple, sir.

Really?

Baldrick

They're all the rage down our way. Everyone wants to express their admiration for the great Pimple and his brilliant disguises.

What has this fellow done, apart from pop over to France to grab a few French nobs from the ineffectual clutches of a bunch of malnourished winging lefties, taking the opportunity while there, no doubt, to pick up some really good cheap wine and some of their marvelous open fruit flans?! Doesn't anyone know? We hate the French! We fight wars against them! Did all those men die in vain on the field of Agincourt? Was the man who burnt Joan of Arc simply wasting good matches? [a bell rings] Ah! His Royal Highness the Pinhead of Wales summons. And, you know. I feel almost well disposed towards him: utter chump though he may be, at least he's not French.

What a shame they were so busy. Would've been lovely to have had them with us.

Us?

Yes.

You're coming, sir?

Well, certainly!

Ah. And nothing I can say about the mind-bending horrors of the Revolution could put you off?

Absolutely not. Now come on, Blackadder. Let's get packing. I want to look my best for those fabulous French birds!

Sir, the type of women favoured in France at the moment are toothless old crones who cackle insanely.

Oh, ignore that. They're just playing hard to get.

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

That's right, the little teases. Now, come on. Um, I think a blend of silks and satins.

Sir, if we are to stand any chance of survival in France, we shall have to dress as the smelliest lowlifes imaginable.

What sort of thing?

Well, sir, let me show you our Paris collection - Baldrick is wearing a sheep's bladder jacket with matching dungball accessories. Hair by Crazy Meg of Bedlam Way. Notice how the overwhelming aroma of rotting pilchards has been woven cunningly into the ensemble. Baldrick, when did you last change your trousers?

Baldrick

[as if rehearsed] I have never changed my trousers.

Thank you, Baldrick. [To Prince George] You see, the Ancient Greeks, sir, 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

They certainly can get a bit whiffy, there's no doubt about that.

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. [To Prince George] However, Your Highness, it is trousers exactly like these that you will have to wear if we are to pass safely into France.

Yes, well...you know, on second thoughts, I might give this whole thing a miss. My tummy's acting up a bit. Wish I could come, but just not pos' with this tum.

I understand perfectly, sir.

Also, the chances of me scoring if I look and smell like him are zero.

Well, that's true, sir. We shall return presently to bid you farewell.

Baldrick

Mr. B, I've been having seconds thoughts about this trip to France.

Oh, why?

Baldrick

Well, as far as I can see, looking and smelling like this, there's not much chance of me scoring either.

Farewell, dear master and - if I dare say it - friend.

Farewell, brave liberator and - if I dare say it - butler.

Right, stick the kettle on, Baldrick.

Baldrick

Aren't we going to France?

Of course we're not going to France. It's incredibly dangerous!

Baldrick

Then how are you gonna win your bet?

As always, Baldrick, by the use of the large thing between my ears.

Baldrick

Oh, your nose.

No, Baldrick. My brain. All we have to do is lie low here for a week, go to Mrs. Miggins', pick up any old French aristocrat, drag him through a puddle, take him to the ball and claim our thousand guineas.

Baldrick

What if the prince finds us here?

He couldn't find his own fly buttons, let alone the kitchen door.

Le Comte de Frou Frou, I believe.

Eh?

Do you speak English?

A little.

Yes, when you say 'a little', what do you mean? I mean, can we talk, or are we going to spend the rest of the day asking each other the way to the beach in very loud voices?

Oh no. I can order coffee, deal with waiters, make sexy chit-chat with girls, that type of thing.

Oh, good.

Just don't ask me to take a physiology class or direct a light opera.

No, I won't. Now listen, Frou Frou, would you like to earn some money?

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.

Yes, but this is a chance to return to the good old days.

Oh, I would love that! I hate this life. The food is filthy! This huge sausage is very suspicious. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was a horse's-

Yes, yes, alright. The plan is this: I have a bet on with someone that I can get a Frenchman out of Paris. I want you to be that Frenchman. All you have to do is come to the embassy ball with me, say that I rescued you, and walk away with fifty guineas and all the vol-au-vents you can stuff in your pockets. What do you say?

It will be a pleasure! If there is one thing we aristocrats enjoy, it is a fabulous party. Oh, the music! Oh, the laughter! If only I'd brought my mongoose costume.

Not so fast, English. In rescuing this...boite de stinkyweed, you have attempted to pervert Revolutionary justice. Do you know what happens to people who do that?

They're given a little present and allowed to go free?

No.

They're smacked and told not to be naughty, but basically let off?

No.

Baldrick

I think I know.

What?

Baldrick

They're put in prison for the night and brutally guillotined in the morning.

Well done, Baldrick.

Your little g-nome is correct, Monsieur. Gentlemen, welcome to the last day of your life!

Baldrick

I'm glad to say I don't think you'll be needing those pills, Mr. B.

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.

Well, forgive me if I don't jump and and down with glee. Your record in this department is not one hundred percent. So what's the plan?

Baldrick

We do nothing.

Yup, it's another world-beater.

Baldrick

I haven't finished. We do nothing until our heads have actually been cut off.

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?

Yes...

Baldrick

Well, we wait until our heads have been cut off, then we run 'round and 'round the farmyard, out the farm gate and escape. What do you think?

Yes, my opinion is rather difficult to express in words, so perhaps I can put it this way. [twists Baldrick's nose]

Baldrick

It doesn't really matter, 'cause the Scarlet Pimpernel will save us anyway.

No he won't, Baldrick! Either I think of an idea, or tomorrow we die. Which I have no intention of doing, because I want to be young and wild, then I want to be middle-aged and rich, then I want to be old and annoy people by pretending that I'm deaf.

Baldrick

You look smart, Mr. Blackadder. Going somewhere nice?

Nope, I'm off to the theatre.

Baldrick

Oh, don't you like it, then?

No, I don't! A load of stupid actors strutting around, shouting with their chests thrust out so far you'd think their nipples were attached to a pair of charging elephants. And the worst thing about it is having to go with Prince Minibrain.

Baldrick

Doesn't he like it either?

No, he loves it, but he doesn't realize it's made-up. Last year, when Brutus was about to kill Julius Caesar, the prince yelled out "Look behind you, Mr. Caesar!"

Baldrick

I can't see the point in the theatre. All that sex and violence. I get enough of that at home. Apart from the sex, obviously.

And while we're out, Baldrick, I want you to give this palace a good clean. It's so dirty, it would be unacceptable to a dung beetle that had lost interest in its career and really let itself go.

[from upstairs] Come on, Blackadder, or we'll miss the first act!

Coming, sir, as fast as I can! [puts his feet up] Stick the kettle on, Baldrick.

[bandaged up after an assassination attempt] I must say, Blackadder, that was a close shave. Why on earth would an anarchist possibly want to kill you?

I think it might have been you he was after, sir.

Oh, hogwash! What on earth makes you say that?

Well, my suspicions were aroused by his use of the words "Death to the stupid prince!".

That was a bit rude, wasn't it?

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!".

[looks down at the plate of pie in his hands and puts it to one side] Yes, you're right. Something must be done! Any ideas?

Yes, sir. Next week is your royal father's birthday celebrations. I suggest I write a brilliant speech for you to recite in order to show the oppressed masses how unusually sensitive you are.

Tell me about these oppressed masses. What are they so worked up about?

They are worked up, sir, because they are so poor, they are forced to have children simply to provide a cheap alternative to turkey at Christmas. Disease and deprivation stalk our land like...two giant stalking things. And the working man is poised to overthrow us.

Oh my god, and here he is!

Don't be silly, sir. That's Baldrick, my dogsbody.

What's silly about that? He looks like an oppressed mass to me. Get him out of here at once!

Shoo, Baldrick. Carry on with your cleaning elsewhere. And by tonight, I want that table so clean I could eat my dinner off it.

Mrs. Miggins, I'm looking for a couple of actors.

Mrs. Miggins

Well, you've come to the right place, Mr. B. There's more Shakespearean dialogue in here then there are buns. All my lovely actors pop in here on their way to rehearsals for a little cup of coffee and a big dollop of inspiration.

You mean they actually rehearse? I thought they just got drunk, stuck on a silly hat and trusted to luck.

Mrs. Miggins

Ooh, no! There's ever so much work that goes into the wonderful magic that is theatre today. Still, I wouldn't expect you to understand, being only a butler.

They do say, Mrs. M, 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.

Ladies and gentlemen, would you please welcome Mr. David Keanrick!

Mrs. Miggins

Oh, hurrah!

And the fabulous Enoch Mossop!

Mrs. Miggins

Gentlemen!

Ah, settle down. Settle down.

I'm sorry, no autographs.

The usual, Mrs. M.

Mrs. Miggins

Ooh, coming up, my lovelies!

If I could just squeeze through this admiring rabble. Gentlemen, I've come with a proposition.

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

I think, being actors, you're lucky to sleep with anyone. I come on behalf of my employer to ask for some elocution lessons.

I'm afraid that is impossible, sir. We are in the middle of rehearsing our new play. We cannot possibly upset our beloved audience by taking time off.

Mmm. Mustn't upset the punters. Bums on seat, laddie. Bums on seats.

And what play is this?

It is a piece we penned ourselves, called "The Bloody Murder of the Foul Prince Romero and his Enormous-Bosomed Wife".

A philosophical work, then?

Indeed yes, sir. The violence of the murder and the vastness of the bosom are entirely justified artistically.

Very well, I'll tell the prince you can't make it.

Prince?

Oh, did I forget to mention? It's the Prince Regent. Shame you can't make it. Still-

No, no, no, sir! Please! I do think we can find some time, do you not, Mr. Keanrick?

Definitely, Mr. Mossop.

Oh, but you've got your beloved audience to think about.

Oh, sod the proles. We'll come.

Yes. Worthless bastards to a man.

I'm glad to see artistic integrity thriving so strongly in the acting community. Well, this afternoon at four then, at the palace.

Are you sure we can trust these acting chappies? Last time we went to the theatre, three of them murdered Julius Caesar. And one of them was his best friend, Brutus!

As I have told you about eight times, the man playing Julius Caesar was an actor called Kemp.

Really?

[annoyed] Yes.

Thundering gherkins! Brutus must have been pretty miffed when he found out.

What?

That he hadn't killed Caesar after all. Just some poxy actor called Kemp. Do you think maybe he went to Caesar's place after the play and killed him then?

[sotto] Oh god, it's pathetic.