Blackadder quotes from Blackadder

Ah, Blackadder. Notice anything unusual about me?

Yes, sir. It's eleven o'clock in the morning and you're moving about. Is the bed on fire?

I wouldn't know. I've been out all night. Guess what I've been doing? [makes raucous noises]

Beagling, sir?

Better even than that. Sink me Blackadder if I, if I haven't just had the most wonderful evening of my life.

[dully] Tell me all, sir.

Well as you know when I set out I looked divine. At the party as I passed all eyes turned.

And I dare say quite a few stomachs.

[reading a letter from the Duke of Wellington to Prince George] "From the Supreme Commander, Allied Forces Europe. Sir, Prince or pauper, when a man soils a Wellington he puts his foot in it. Open bracket. This is not a joke. I do not find my name remotely funny, and people who do end up dead. Close bracket. I challenge you to a duel tonight at 18:00 hours in which you will die. Yours, with sincere apologies for your impending violent slaughter, Arthur Wellesey, Duke of Wellington."

Baldrick

Seems a nice, polite sort of bloke.

Baldrick

May I speak, sir?

Certainly not, Baldrick. The prince is about to die. The last thing he wants to do in his final hours is exchange pleasantries with a certified plum duff.

Easy, Blackadder. Let's hear him out.

Very well, Baldrick. We shall hear you out, then throw you out.

Baldrick

Well, your Majesty, I have a cunning plan which could get you out of this.

Don't listen to him, sir. It's a cruel proletariat attempt to raise your hopes. I shall have him shot the moment he's finished clearing away your breakfast.

Wait a minute, Blackadder. Perhaps this disgusting, degraded creature is some sort of blessing in disguise?

If he is, it's a very good disguise.

After all, did Our Lord not send a lowly earthworm to comfort Moses in his torment?

Nope.

Well, it's the sort of thing he might have done. Well, come on, Mr. Spotty, speak.

Baldrick

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

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

Answer that, Baldrick.

Baldrick

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

Your cousin Bert obviously has a larger vocabulary than you, Baldrick.

No, he's right, damn him! Anyone could fight the duel and Wellers would never know!

All the same, sir, Baldrick's plan seems to hinge on finding someone willing to commit suicide on your behalf.

Oh, yes, yes, but he'd be fabulously rewarded. Money, titles, castles.

Coffin.

Baldrick

That's right! I though maybe Mr. Blackadder himself would fancy the job.

What a splendid idea!

Excuse me, Your Highness, trouble with the staff. [leads Baldrick out into the vestibule, closes the doors and grabs Baldrick by the collar] 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?

Baldrick

But, Mr. Blackadder, you were just saying in the kitchen how you wanted to rise again. Now here, the prince is offering you the lot.

But, tiny, tiny brain, the Iron Duke will kill me! To even think about taking him on, you'd have be some homicidal maniac who's fantastically good at fighting, like MacAdder. [remembers] Like MacAdder... [having an idea] Like MacAdder could fight the duel for me!

Ah, Mrs. Miggins. Am I to gather from your look of pie-eyed exhaustion and the globules of porridge hanging off the walls that my cousin MacAdder has presented his credentials?

Mrs. Miggins

Ooo, yes indeed, sir. You just missed him.

I hope he's been practicing with his claymore.

Mrs. Miggins

Oh, I should say so! I'm as weary as a dog with no legs that's just climbed Ben Nevis.

A claymore is a sword, Mrs. Miggins.

Mrs. Miggins

See this intricate wood carving of the infant Samuel at prayer? He whittled that with the tip of his mighty weapon with his eyes closed.

[drily] Yes, exquisite.

Mrs. Miggins

He bade me bite down on a plank of wood. There was a whirlwind of steel and within a minute three men lay dead and I had a lovely new set of gnashers.

Really. Just tell him to meet me here at 5 o'clock to discuss an extremely cunning plan. If all goes well, by tomorrow the clan of MacAdder will be marching back on the high road back to glory.

Mrs. Miggins

Ooh, lovely. I'll do you a nice packed lunch.

Thank God it's you, Blackadder! I've just had word from Wellington, he's on his way here now!

That's awkward. The Duke must believe from the very start that I am you.

Hmm, any ideas?

There's no alternative, sir. We must swap clothes.

Oh fantastic, yes. Dressing up, I love it. It's like that story, The Prince and the Porpoise.

And the Pauper.

Ah, yes yes yes. The Prince and the Porpoise and the Pauper. [the two swap their jackets and wigs] Excellent! Why, my own father wouldn't recognize me.

Your own father never can. He's mad.

Oh yes, that's right.

Unfortunately, sir, you do realise that I shall have to treat you like a servant?

Oh, I think I can handle that, thank you, Blackadder.

And you'll have to get used to calling me "Your Highness", Your Highness.

Your Highness, Your Highness.

No, just "Your Highness", Your Highness.

That's what I said. "Your Highness, Your Highness", Your Highness, Your Highness.

Yes, let's leave that for now. Complicated stuff, obviously.

Duke of Wellington

Have I the honour of addressing the Prince Regent, sir?

You do.

Duke of Wellington

Congratulations, Your Highness. Your bearing is far more noble than I had been informed. [to Prince George] Take my hat at once, sir, unless you wish to feel my boot in your throat, and be quicker about it than you were with the door!

Yes, my lord.

Duke of Wellington

[smacks him on the back of 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?

Uh, no. He's very new. At the moment, I'm sparing the rod.

Duke of Wellington

Fatal error. Give 'em an inch, before you know it, they have a foot. Much more than that, you don't have a leg to stand on. [see George is still there, smacks him on the head again] Get out!

Tell me, do you ever stop bullying and shouting at the lower orders?

Duke of Wellington

Never! There's only one way to win a campaign - shout, shout and shout again!

You don't think, then, that inspired leadership and tactical ability have anything to do with it?

Duke of Wellington

[brief pause] No! It's all down to shouting! BAH!

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. That is, until this evening, when I shall kill you.

Who knows, maybe I shall kill you.

Duke of Wellington

Nonsense! I've never been so much as scratched! My skin is as smooth as a baby's bottom. Which is more than you can say for my bottom.

So, tell me, cousin, I hear you have a cunning plan.

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

Aye, and what's in it for me?

Enough cash to buy the Outer Hebrides. What do you say?

Fourteen shillings and sixpence? Well, it's tempting, but I've got a 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!

For god's sake, MacAdder, you're not Rob Roy. If you kill the prince, much less the king, they'll just send the bailiffs around and arrest you.

Oh blast, I forgot the bailiffs.

So we can return to our original plan?

No, I'm not interested. I'd rather go to bed with the Loch Lomond Monster. Besides, I have to be back in the office on Friday. I promised Mr. MacNaulty I'd help shift a particularly difficult bloater for him. Forget the whole thing. I'm off home with Miggsy!

Mrs. Miggins

Yes! Show me the glen where the kipper roams free, and forget Morag forever!

No, never! 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

Yes, yes! I love babies! [kisses MacAdder on the cheek]

Aye, you're a woman of spirit. I look forward to burying you in the old Highland manner. Farewell, Blackadder, you spineless goon! [leaves]

Fortune vomits on my eiderdown one more.

Good portents for your duel, do you think?

No, sir. I'm afraid the duel is off.

Off?

As in "sod". I'm not doing it.

By thunder, here's a pretty game - you will stay, sir, and do you duty by your prince-!

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!

Oh please, you've got to help me! I've got so much to give! I need more time!

A poignant plea, sir. One that could melt even the stoniest of hearts. But I'm afraid the answer must remain "You're going to die, fat pig."

Wait! I'll give you everything!

Everything?

Everything!

The money? The castles? The jewelry?

Yes!

The highly artistic but also highly illegal set of French lithographs?

Everything!

The amusing clock where the little man comes out and drops his trousers every hour?

Yes, yes, alright!

Very well, I accept. 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!

Hurrah!

Duke of Wellington

Come, sir, choose your stoker.

What, are we going to tickle each other to death?

Duke of Wellington

No, sir, we fight with cannon.

But I thought we were fighting with swords!

Duke of Wellington

Swords?! What do you think this is, the Middle Ages? Only girls fight with swords these days! Stand by your gun, sir! Hup, two, three! Hup, two, three!

Look, wait a minute-

Duke of Wellington

Stand by cannon for loading procedure! Stoke, muzzle, wrench!

[reading manual] "Congratulations on purchasing the Armstrong-Whitworth four-pounder cannonette. Please read instructions carefully and it shall give you years of trouble-free maiming."

Duke of Wellington

Check elevation. Chart trajectory. Prime fuse. Aim...

Look, wait a minute-

Duke of Wellington

FIRE!!!

Baldrick, what are you doing out there?

Baldrick

I'm carving something on this bullet, sir.

What are you carving?

Baldrick

I'm carving "Baldrick", sir!

Why?

Baldrick

It's part of a cunning plan, actually!

Of course it is.

Baldrick

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

[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...

Oh, shame!

Baldrick

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

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

Ah, Baldrick, anything from Massingbird yet?

Baldrick

Yes, sir. Just arrived, sir.

What's that?

Baldrick

A sponge bag, sir.

A sponge bag?

Baldrick

Yes, sir.

Baldrick, I gave you two notes. You sent the note asking for a sponge bag to the finest mind in British legal history?

Baldrick

Certainly did, sir.

And you sent the note asking for legal representation to...?

[enters the cell wearing a lawyer's robe and wig] Well, tally ho with a bing and a bong and a buzz, buzz, buzz!

Baldrick, I'll deal with you later. [to George] Am I to understand that you are going to be representing me at the court martial.

Oh, yes, sir. Bit of a family tradition, actually. My uncle's a lawyer, you know.

Your uncle's a lawyer, but you're not?

Good lord, no. I'm an absolute duffer at this sort of thing. In a school debating society, I was voted the boy least likely to complete a coherent, um...

Sentence?

Yes, that's the word. But anyway, old friend, it's an honour to serve.

George, I'm in deep trouble here. I need to construct a case that's as watertight as a mermaid's brassiere. I'm not sure your particular brand of mindless optimism is going to contribute much to the proceedings.

Well, that's a shame, sir, because I was planning on playing the mindless optimism card rather strongly.

Really?

Yes, I'd based my closing sentence on that very theme. "Oh, go on, let him off, Your Honour, please! After all, it's a lovely day, pretty clouds, trees, birds, etc. I rest my case."

So, counsel, with that summing up in mind, what do you think my chances are?

Not good, I'm afraid. As far as I can tell, you're as guilty as a puppy sitting next to a pile of poo.

Charming.

Chap here to see you, Captain.

What does he look like?

Short, ugly.

[dull surprise] Hello, Baldrick.

Baldrick

[holding a bag] I brought you some food, sir, for your final breakfast tomorrow.

Ah, so you're not pinning much hope on a last minute reprieve then.

Baldrick

No, sir, you are as dead as some doo-doos.

The expression, Baldrick, is "as a dodo". "Dead as a dodo".

Well, I'll leave you to it then, shall I? [leaves]

Baldrick

Do not despair, sir. All my talk of food was just a dead herring. In fact, I have a cunning plan. This is not food, but an escape kit.

Good Lord! With a saw, a hammer, a chisel, a gun, a change of clothes, a Swiss passport, and a huge false moustache, I may just stand a chance.

Baldrick

Ah...

[looking in the bag] Let's see, what have we here. [holds out a small painted wooden duck] A small painted wooden duck.

Baldrick

Yeah, I thought if you get caught near water, you can balance it on the top of your head as a brilliant disguise.

Yeeeesss, I would, of course, have to escape first. [looks through the bag] Ah, but what's this? Unless I'm much mistaken, a hammer and a chisel.

Baldrick

You are much mistaken.

[holds out a pencil and a miniature trumpet] A pencil and a miniature trumpet.

Baldrick

Yeah, a pencil so you can drop me a post card to tell me how the break out went, and a small little tiny miniature trumpet in case during your escape, you have to win favour with a difficult child.

Baldrick, I don't want to spend my last precious hours rummaging through this feeble collection of stocking-fillers. Let me just ask you some simple questions: Is there a saw in this bag?

Baldrick

No.

A hammer?

Baldrick

No.

A chisel?

Baldrick

No.

A gun?

Baldrick

No.

A false passport?

Baldrick

[pause, thinks for a moment] No.

A change of clothes?

Baldrick

Yes, sir, of course, I wouldn't forget a change of clothes.

Ah, well that's something, let's see... [holds out a green feather hat and a bow] A Robin Hood costume.

Baldrick

Yeah, I put in a French peasant's outfit first, but then I thought "What if you arrive in a French peasant's village and they're in the middle of a fancy dress party?"

And what if I arrive in a French peasant village dressed in a Robin Hood costume, and there isn't a fancy dress party?

Baldrick

Well, to be quite frank, sir, I didn't consider that eventuality, because if you did, you'd stick out like a...

Like a man standing in a lake with a small painted wooden duck on his head?

Baldrick

Exactly!

[re-enters the cell] Excuse me, sir.

Alright. Aahhh, thank you, Baldrick, we'll finish this picnic later.

Baldrick

[pretending to Perkins, as if they have just eaten food] Yum Yum!

"George, my boy, outraged to read in dispatches of how that arse, Melchett, made such a pig's ear of your chum Blackadder's court martial. Have reversed the decision forthwith. Surprised you didn't ask me to do it yourself, actually."

Well, yes, sir. Uh, the thing is-

You two got whammed last night, didn't you?

Well, not whammed, exactly. A little tiddly perhaps-

And you forgot the telegram to your uncle.

Well, no, no. Not completely. Partially. Well, yes. Yes, entirely.

Baldrick

I think I can explain, sir.

Can you, Baldrick?

Baldrick

[thinks for a second] No.

As I suspected. 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? Codename: "Operation Certain Death"? [looks at George and Baldrick; having an idea] Yes, I think I have just the fellows. [hangs up and grins cruelly at George and Baldrick] God is very quick these days.

Baldrick

Sir, it's all over the trenches!

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!

Well, hurrah!

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

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

The Russians are on our side, George.

[surprised] Are they? Oh.

And they've abandoned the Eastern Front.

Baldrick

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

Who used to be the tsar, Baldrick. 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. There's only one thing for it - I'm going to desert, and I'm gonna do it right now. [about to leave]

[showing up, menacingly] Are you leaving us, Blackadder?

[nervously backpedaling] No, sir.

I'm glad to hear it, because I need you to help me shoot some deserters later on. There have been subversive mutterings amongst the men. You'll remember the French Army last year at Verdun when the top echelons suffered tremendous risings from the bottom.

Yes, sir, but surely that was traced to a shipment of garlic eclairs?

Nonsense, Blackadder! It was Bolshiness! Plain Bolshiness! And now that the Ruskies have followed suit, I'm damned if I'm going to let the same thing happen here.

Oh, and what are you going to do about it?

We're going to have a concert party to boost the men's morale.

A concert party? Well, hurrah!