Prince George quotes from Blackadder

Little sisters of indolence, three men came in. Which way did they go?

[covering his mouth; speaks falsetto] Oh, I think they went that way.

God bless you.

Wait! They'll be watching out for us dressed like this. Quick! In here. [motions to one of the bed areas]

Baldrick

[falsetto] Pray, Sister, have you seen two burly knights pass this way?

[falsetto] No, Sister. More's the pity, eh?

[falsetto, to Baldrick] Why don't you try that way?

Percy

[normally] Thank you very much.

[normally] You're welcome.

And yet, Mother Superior... [back to the fight for one second] ...does not St. Paul say in the Ephesians... [back to the fight for one second] "A woman is like a bat..." [back to the fight for one second] "...often heard but never seen"? [back to the fight for one second]

No, I don't think so, Sara. [back to the fight for one second] Shall we check the dormitory?

[smiles] Oh, yes, Mother Superior. What a good idea.

[fuming] Girls! Girls! Girls! [Percy and George drop the swords and jump into the beds] If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times: fighting in the dormitory is completely forbidden! Who is the ringleader here? [looks and points at Edmund] You! Yes, you. The plain girl. [takes off headgear] Oh my God! It's the Archbishop of Canterbury!

[removes Justin's headgear] And a man! [screams]

Er, I think I can explain. [laughs uneasily]

[enters, accompanied by Pitt the Younger] Your Highness, Pitt the Younger.

Why, hello there, young shaver m'lad! Say, I have a shiny sixpence for the clever fellow who can tell which hand it's in. [Pitt doesn't respond] Oh, school, school. On half hols, is it? I bet you can't wait to get that bat back in your hand and give those balls a good walloping, eh?

Mister Pitt is the Prime Minister, sir.

Oh, go on! Is he? What, young Snotty here?

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

Eh?

Excuse me, Mister Prime Minister, but we have some lovely jelly in the pantry - I don't know if you'd be interested at all.

Don't patronize me, you lower middle class yobbo. What flavour is it?

Blackcurrant.

EURGH!

I say, Blackadder, are you sure this is the PM? Seems like a bit of an oily tick to me. When I was at school, we used to line up four or five of his sort, make them bend over, and use them as a toast rack!

You don't surprise me, sir - I know your sort. Once, it was I who stood in the 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 fight sloth and privilege wherever I find it!

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

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

And which Pitt would this be? Pitt the Toddler? Pitt the Embryo? Pitt the Glint in the Milkman's Eye?

Sirs, as I said to Chancellor Metternich at the Congress of Strasbourg, pooh to you with knobs on! We shall meet, sirs, on the hustings! [leaves]

I say, Blackadder, what a ghastly squit! He's not gonna win, is he?

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

[waking suddenly] Oh, Blackadder! BLACKADDER! [Blackadder walks in]

[enters with the tray] Your Highness?

What time is it?!

Three o'clock in the afternoon, sire.

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

I trust you had a pleasant evening, sir?

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!

An absurd suggestion, sir.

You're right, it is absurd.

Unless, of course, it was a particularly stupid donkey.

See, if only I'd thought of that.

It is all too often, sir, that one thinks of what one should have said long after he might have said it. Sir Thomas More, for instance, beheaded for refusing to recant his Catholicism, must have been kicking himself as the axe came down that it never occurred to him to say "I recant my Catholicism."

Yes. Only the other day, Prime Minister Pitt called me an idle scrounger. And it wasn't until ages later that I thought how clever it would have been to have said "Oh, bugger off, you old fart!". I want to improve my mind, Blackadder. I want people to say "That George, he's as clever as a stick in a bucket of pig swill!".

And how do you suggest this miracle be achieved, sir?

Easy. I shall become best friends with the cleverest man in England. That renowned brain-box, Doctor Samuel Johnson, has asked me to be patron of his new book, and I intend to accept.

Would this be the long-awaited dictionary?

Who cares what it's called, as long as it's got plenty of juicy murders. I hear it's a masterpiece.

No, sir. It's the most pointless book since How To Learn French was translated into French.

You haven't got anything personal against Johnson, have you, Blackadder?

Not at all, sir. In fact, I had never heard of him until you mentioned him just now.

But you do think he's a genius, don't you?

No, sir, I do not. Unless, of course, the definition of 'genius' in his ridiculous dictionary is "A fat dullard or wobblebottom. A pompous ass with sweaty dew flaps."

Close shave there, then. Lucky you warned me, Blackadder. I was about to embrace this unholy arse to the royal bosom.

I am delighted to have been instrumental in keeping your bosom free of arses.

Bravo. Don't want to waste my time with wobblebottoms. Fetch some tea, will you?

Yes, sir.

Oh, and make it two cups, would you? That splendid brain-box, Doctor Johnson, is coming over.

Certainly, sir.

So, Doctor Johnson, sit ye down. Now, this book of yours, what's it about?

It is a book about the English language, sir.

I see. And the hero's name is what?

There's no hero.

No hero? Lucky I reminded you, then. Uh, call him George. 'George' is a nice name for a hero. Now, what about heroines?

There is no heroine, sir, unless it is our mother tongue.

The mother's the heroine? Nice twist. So, how far have we got? Old Mother Tongue is in love with George the Hero. Now, what about murders? Mother Tongue doesn't get murdered, does she?

No, she doesn't. No one gets murdered, or married, or in a tricky situation over a pound note!

Now, Doctor Johnson, I may be as thick as a whale omelette, but even I know a book's got to have a plot.

Not this one, sir. It is a book that tells you what English words mean.

I know what English words mean. I speak English. You must be a bit of a thicko.

Perhaps you would rather not be patron of my book if you can see no value in it whatsoever, sir.

Well, perhaps so, sir! Because it seems to me that my being patron of this complete cowpat of a book will set to seal, once and for all, my reputation as an utter turnip head!

It is a reputation well-deserved, sir! Farewell!

Baldrick, where's the manuscript?

Baldrick

You mean the big papery thing tied up with string?

Yes, Baldrick, the manuscript belonging to Doctor Johnson.

Baldrick

You mean the baity fellow in the black coat who just left?

Yes, Baldrick, Doctor Johnson.

Baldrick

So you're asking where the big papery thing tied up with string belong to the baity fellow in the black coat who just left is?

Yes, Baldrick, I am. And if you don't answer, then the booted boney thing with five toes on the end of my leg will soon connect sharply with the soft dangly collection of objects in your trousers. For the last time, Baldrick, where is Doctor Johnson's manuscript?

Baldrick

On the fire.

[shocked] On the what?

Baldrick

The hot orangey thing under the stoney mantlepiece.

[enraged] You've burnt the dictionary?!

Baldrick

Yup!

You've burnt the life's work of England's foremost man of letters?!

Baldrick

Well, you did say 'burn any old rubbish.'

[calmly remembers] Yes. Fine.

Isn't it, uh - isn't it going to be a bit difficult for me to patronize this book if we've burnt it?

[pause] Yes, it is, sir. But if you would excuse me a moment...

Of course, of course! Now that I've got my lovely fire, I'm as happy as a Frenchman who's invented a pair of self-removing trousers!

Baldrick, would you join me in the vestibule? [the pair leave the room, and he closes the doors behind him; immediately after doing so, he forcefully and firmly grabs Baldrick by the shoulders, and pushes him down the length of the hallway] We are going to go to Mrs. Miggins, we're going to find out where Dr. Johnson keeps a copy of that dictionary, and then you are going to steal it.

Baldrick

Me?

Yes, you.

Baldrick

Why me?

Because you burnt it, Baldrick!

Baldrick

But then I'll go to hell forever for stealing.

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... [produces a pencil from his coat]...and this pencil...if we can't replace this dictionary. Now, come on...

Sir, I have been unable to replace the dictionary. I am therefore leaving immediately for Nepal, where I intend to live as a goat.

Why?

Because if I stay here, Doctor Johnson and his companions will have me brutally murdered.

Good god, Blackadder, that's terrible! Do you know any other butlers?

Of course, when the people discover that you have burnt Doctor Johnson's dictionary, they may go around saying "Look, there's Thick George. He's got a brain the size of a weasel's wedding tackle."

Well, in that case, something must be done!

Baldrick

I have a cunning plan, sir.

Hurrah! Well, that's that, then.

I wouldn't get too excited, sir. I have a strong suspicion Baldrick's plan will be the stupidest thing we've heard since Lord Nelson's famous signal at the Battle of the Nile - "England knows Lady Hamilton is a virgin. Poke my eye out and cut off my arm if I'm wrong."

Great. Let's hear it.

Baldrick

It's brilliant. You take the string - that's still not completely burnt - you scrape off the soot, and you shove the pages in again.

Which pages?

Baldrick

Well, not the same ones, of course-

Yes, I think I'm on the verge of spotting the flaw in this plan. But do go on. Which pages?

Baldrick

Well, this is the brilliant bit - you write some new ones.

Some new ones. You mean rewrite the dictionary. I sit down tonight and rewrite the dictionary that took Doctor Johnson ten years.

Baldrick

Yup.

Baldrick, that is by far and away, and without a shadow of doubt, the worst and most contemptible plan in the history of the universe. On the other hand, I hear the sound of disemboweling cutlasses being sharpened, and it's the only plan we've got.

We didn't take no for an answer and have, in fact, been working all night. I've done 'B'.

Really? And how far have you gotten?

Well, I had a bit of trouble with 'belching', but I think I got it sorted out in the end. [burps] Oh no! There I go again! [laughs]

You've been working on that joke for some time, haven't you, sir?

Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I have.

Since you started?

Basically.

So, in fact, you haven't done any work at all?

Not as such.

Great. Baldrick, what have you done?

Baldrick

I've done 'C' and 'D'.

Right, let's have it then.

Baldrick

Right. "Big, blue wobbly thing that mermaids live in."

What's that?

Baldrick

'Sea'.

Yes. Tiny misunderstanding. Still, my hopes weren't high. What about 'D'?

Baldrick

I'm quite pleased with 'dog'.

Yes, and your definition of 'dog' is?

Baldrick

"Not a cat."

Excellent. Excellent! Your Highness, may I have a word?

Certainly.

As you know, sir, it has always been my intention to stay with you until you had a strapping son, and I one likewise to take over the burdens of my duties.

That's right, Blackadder, and I thank you for it.

But I'm afraid, sir, there's been a change in plans. I'm off to the kitchen to hack my head off with a big knife.

Oh, come on, Blackadder! It's only a book! Let's just damn the fellow's eyes, strip the britches from his backside and ward his heels to Putney Bridge! Hurrah!

Sir, these are not the days of Alfred the Great. You can't just lop someone's head off and blame it on the vikings.

Can't I, by god?

No.

Alright then, well, just get on with it! I mean, boil my brains, it's only a dictionary. No one's asked us to eat ten raw pigs for breakfast. Good lord, I mean, we're British, aren't we? [exits]

[sotto] You're not, you're German. Get me some coffee, Baldrick. If I fall asleep before Monday, we're doomed.

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.

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.

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.

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.

No, no, no, Your Royal Highness. What have you forgotten?

Oh, now look, if I stand any more heroically than this, I'm in danger of seriously disappointing my future queen.

No, Your Highness, not the stance...the roar!

You want me to roar?

Of course we wish you to roar. All great orators roar before commencing their speeches. It is the way of things. Now, Mister Keanrick, from your Hamlet, please.

Ooooh, to be or not to be!

From your Julius Caesar.

Ooooh, friends, Romans, countrymen!

From your leading character in a play connected with Scotland.

That's Macbeth, isn't it?

Aaahhh! Hot potatoes, orchestra stalls, Puck will make amends! [pinch their noses] Ow!