Prince George quotes from Blackadder

Thank god you're here! We desperately need you!

Me, sir? Mister Thicky Black Thicky Adder Thicky?

Oh, tish, nonsense!

Mister Hopelessly Drivelly Can't-Write-For-Toffee Crappy Butler Weed?

Yes, well...

Mister Brilliantly-Undervalued Butler Who Hasn't Had A Raise In A Fortnight?

Take an extra thousand! Guineas? Per month?

All right, what's your problem?

Let's see, you can't borrow money, you're not going to inherit any money, and, obviously, you can't earn money. Sir, drastic situations call for drastic measures. If you can't make money, you'll have to marry into it.

Marry? Never! I'm a gay bachelor, Blackadder! I'm a roarer, a rogerer, a gorger and a puker! I can't marry. I'm young, I'm firm-buttocked, I'm-

Broke.

Well, yes, I suppose so.

And don't forget, sir, that the modern church smiles on roaring and gorging within wedlock. And, indeed, rogering is keenly encouraged.

And the puking?

Mmm, I believe still very much down to the conscience of the individual churchgoer.

"From His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales, to Miss Amy Hardwood. Tally ho, my fine, saucy young trollop! Your luck's in! Trip along here with all your cash, and some naughty night attire, and you'll be staring at my bedroom ceiling from now 'til Christmas, you lucky tart! Yours, with the deepest respects, etc. Signed, George. P.S. Woof, woof!" Well, what do you think?

It's very...moving, sir. However, would you mind if I changed just one tiny aspect of it?

Which one?

The words?

Yes, yes. I'll leave the details up to you, Blackadder. Just make sure she knows I'm all man. With a bit of animal thrown in. [growls playfully]

Certainly, sir.

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.

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!

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!

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!

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.

"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!

Oh God, why do they bother?

Well, it's to kill Jerry, isn't it, sir?

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] Thank you. Right, I'm off to bed where I intend to sleep until my name changes to Rip van Adder.

[to the volunteers] All right! [shaking his rear end] Let's do-o-o-o-o-o-o it! The first thing to remember is: always treat your kite [whacks the diagram with the pointer] like you treat your woman! [whips the air, hard]

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

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

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

Hey, any bird who wants to chain herself to my railings and suffer a jet movement gets my vote! Right, well, I'll see you in ten minutes for takeoff!

Hang on! Hang on! What about the months of training?!

Hey, Wet Pants, this isn't the Women's Auxiliary Balloon Corps! You're in the Twenty Minuters now!

Excuse me, sir?

Yes! Prat at the back!

Um, I think we'd all like to know why you're called the Twenty Minuters.

Oh, Mister Thicko. Imagine not knowing that.

Well, it's simple - the average life expectancy for a new pilot is twenty minutes!

[pleased] Ah.

[looks pointedly at George] Life expectancy of twenty minutes?

That's right! Goggles on, chocks away, last one back's a homo! HOORAY!

So, we take off in ten minutes, we're in the air for twenty minutes, [looks at his wristwatch] which means we should be dead by twenty-five to ten.

Hairy blighters, sir, this is a bit of a turnup for the plus fours.

I wouldn't worry too much, Blackadder. Flying's all about navigation. [walks over to the main door] As long as you've got a good navigator, I'm sure you'll be fine. [opens the door to reveal Baldrick wearing an aviator's helmet and goggles]

Sir...I'm scared, sir.

Baldrick

I'm scared too, sir.

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.

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".

Well, quite.

Listen...Our guns have stopped.

You don't think...?

Baldrick

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

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

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

Hip-hip...

HOORAY!

[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.

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

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

Company, one pace forward!

Baldrick

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

Stand ready!

Baldrick

I have...a plan, sir.

Really, Baldrick? A cunning and subtle one?

Baldrick

Yes, sir.

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

Baldrick

Yes, sir.

On the signal, company will advance!

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]