Right. Good morning, team. My name is Lord Blackadder. And I'm the new minister in charge of religious genocide. If you play fair by 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, sadistic maniac.
All S1
S1 E15Unfinished Business
And you are?
Gaoler, sir! My Lord.
Very good! And your name is?
Ploppy, sir.
Ploppy?
That's right, sir.
Ploppy...the gaoler.
That's right, sir! Ploppy, son of Ploppy.
Ploppy, son of Ploppy the gaoler.
Arr no, sir. I am the first Ploppy to rise to be gaoler. My father, Daddy Ploppy was known as Ploppy the Slopper. It was from him that I inherited my fascinating skin diseases.
Yes you are to be congratulated, Ploppy. We live in an age where illness and deformity are commonplace and yet you are without doubt, Ploppy, the most repulsive individual I've had the pleasure of meeting. I'd shake your hand but I fear it would come off.
There's no many bosses that'd be that considerate, sir.
Now then, woman - if indeed, you are a woman - what is your function on Death Row?
MPMistress Ploppy
I'm the last meal cook, sir. The prisoners may ask me for what they fancy for their last meal.
And you cook for them what they desire?
MPMistress Ploppy
Oh, yes sir...provided what they ask for is sausages. Otherwise, they tend to get a tiny bit disappointed; sausages is all I got.
You are clearly a woman of principle and compassion, Mistress...ah...
MPMistress Ploppy
Ploppy, sir.
Ah, so you are married to...? [gestures towards Ploppy the gaoler]
No, no.
MPMistress Ploppy
No, many people think that, but it's pure coincidence. We did laugh when first we found out! "Good morning, Mistress Ploppy", he'd say, and I'd say "good morning..."
PMPloppy and Mistress Ploppy
[in unison] "...Mr. Ploppy!" [both laugh]
The long winter evenings must just fly by.
Ah, and you must be the boy who makes the tea.
Oh no, sir! He's the executioner...but, he does sometimes make the tea.
Yes, and your name is...?
Baldrick, my lord. [Blackadder lifts the executioner's hood to reveal Baldrick's face] But I'll change it to Ploppy if it'll make things easier.
No thank you, I can cope with more than one name. What are you doing here?
Well... [shrugs] it's a hobby.
MPMistress Ploppy
It would be more fun, sir, if he were to change his name. Give the place a more family atmosphere.
A "family atmosphere"?! This is meant to be a place of pain and misery and sorrow!
MPMistress Ploppy
That's what I mean, sir.
Ah, Mistress Ploppy is a bit of a social realist, sir.
Now. I want to run a fast, efficient operation and I intend to do as little work as possible. My deputy Percy here will explain.
[gets on a box] Good afternoon, staff. My name is Lord Percy. If you play fair by me, you'll find me a considerable employer. But if you cross me, by Jove-!
Just tell them the plan, duckface.
Baldrick! That Farrow bloke you executed today, you sure he's dead?
I chopped his head off. That usually does the trick.
Yes, don't get clever with me. I just thought you might've lopped off a leg or something by mistake.
No, the thing I chopped off had a nose.
Right, Baldrick, is that all clear?
Yes. Um, I've killed someone I shouldn't have killed, and now you want me to put a lady on my head and talk to his old bag.
I want you to put a bag on your head and talk to his old lady.
Oh. Why do I want a bag on my head?
In order, nincompoop, that she should believe that you're her husband.
What, did he used to wear a bag on his head?
Young Ploppy here has a point, my lord. Lord Farrow never wore a bag. He was an old-fashioned sort of a gent.
Well, yes, my lord. I mean, I hadn't meant to mention it, but I had been wondering all along why you should think Baldrick with a bag on his head is going to be a dead ringer for Lord Farrow, because he's not!
Look, cretins, the bag is there to conceal Baldrick's own features, and many might think, incidentally, that that might be reason enough for him to wear it! Before I bring in Lady Farrow, I shall explain to her, inventing some cunningly plausible excuse, that her husband has taken to wearing a bag. She can then chat to Baldrick, imagining him to be the man she married, and the Queen need never know of my little miscalculation.
Why, my lord, that is a brilliant plan.
Foolproof.
You're very kind.
Although, there is something lurking in the back of my head that bothers me...
It's probably a flea.
Percy, this is a very difficult situation.
Yes, my lord.
Someone's for the chop. You or me, in fact.
[uneasily] Y-yes.
Let's face facts, Perc' – it's you.
Except, I may have a plan!
Oh, yes?
How about if we get Farrow's head and body and we take it to the Queen, except, just before we get in, we start shouting and screaming, and we come in and say "We were just on our way when he tried to escape, and so we cut his head off in the corridor to teach him a lesson."?
Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. Contemptible. Worth a try. Where'd we put the head?
It's on a spike in Traitors' Cloister.
Oh god, that's where the Queen's gone! Did she know Farrow?
Oh yes, they were childhood friends.
Well, if she sees his head on a spike, she'll realize he's dead! You fetch the body. I'll cover the head.
I've got the body, my lord, and I see you've got the head.
Yes, but it's not going to work, Percy. No one's going to believe we've just cut it off. It's gone green! We're doomed.
Doomed! [looks at the head] Wait a moment, that's not Farrow.
Isn't it?
No, that's Ponsonby!
My god, Ponsonby! [kisses the head] That genius Baldrick has killed the wrong bloke! We're saved!
Saved!
Farrow is alive and we're saved!
Hooray!
And when the Queen gets back from seeing Ponsonby, we'll...OH GOD! [runs off towards the dungeon]
WE'RE DOOMED! [runs off after Edmund]
I was wondering if I might have the afternoon off?
Of course not. Who do you think you are, Wat Tyler? You can have the afternoon off when you die, not before.
But I want to cheer brave Sir Walter home. Oh, sir, on a day like today, I feel proud to be a member of the greatest kingdom on earth.
And doubtless many members of the animal kingdom feel the same. [a loud cheer erupts from outside] Look, will you shut up?! Bloody explorers! Ponce off to Mumbo-Jumbo Land and come home with a tropical disease, a suntan and a bag of brown lumpy things, and Bob's-your-uncle, everyone's got a picture of them in the lavatory! I mean, what about the people that do all the work?
The servants?
No, me! I'm the people who do all the work! I mean, look at this! [holds up a potato] What is it?
I'm surprised you've forgotten, my lord.
I haven't forgotten, it's a rhetorical question.
Nah, it's a potato.
To you, it's a potato. To me, it's a potato. But to Sir Walter bloody Raleigh, it's luxury estates, fine carriages 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!
Stranger things have happened, my lord.
[dismissively] Oh, exactly.
That horse becoming Pope.
For one. [knock on the door] Get that, Baldrick. Probably some berk with a parrot on his shoulder selling plaster gnomes of Sir Francis Drake and his Golden Behind.
[Baldrick goes to answer the door]
YCYoung Child
[offscreen; chanting] Sourpuss! Grumpy-face! Sourpuss! Grumpy-face! Sourpuss! Grumpy-face! [Blackadder hears from the window] Sourpuss! Grumpy-face! Sourpuss! Grumpy-face! [Blackadder grabs his bow] Sourpuss! Grumpy-face! [Blackadder leans out the window] Sourpuss! Grumpy-face! Sour- [Blackadder looses an arrow] Ah! Mummy!
[calling out the window] And another thing; why aren't you at school?!
[enters] Ah, I see you've started talking to yourself, Blackadder.
Yes, it's the only way I can be sure of intelligent conversation around here.
Potato?
Thanks, I don't.
AAAAA-aaaa-AA-aaaa-AAA-a-AAAAARGH...me laddie!
Ehehehe, indeed. So, Rum. I wish to hire you and your ship. Can we shake on it?
[shakes hands with Blackadder] AH! You have a woman's hands, m'Lord! I'll wager those dainty pinkies have never weighed anchor in a storm!
Well, you're right there.
[pinches Blackadder's cheek and gasps] You have a woman's skin, m'lord! I'll wager that skin has ne'er felt the lash of the cat, been rubbed with salt and then flayed off by a pirate chief to make fine stockings for his best cabin boy!
It's uncanny, I don't know how you do you it but you're right again.
Why should I let a stupid cockerel like you aboard me boat?
Perhaps for the monies in my purse?
Haha- [gasp] You have a woman's purse, m'lord! I'll wager that purse has never been used as a rowing boat! I'll wager it's never had sixteen shipwrecked mariners tossing in it!
Yes, right again, Rum. I must say when it comes to tales of courage I'm going to have to keep my mouth shut!
AH! You have a woman's mouth, m'lord! I'll wager that mouth never had to chew through the side of a ship to escape the dreadful spindly killer fish!
I must say, when I came to see you, I had no idea I was going to have to eat your ship as well as hire it. And since you're clearly as mad as a mongoose I'll bid you farewell.
Damn courtiers to the Queen! You're nothing but lapdogs to a slip of a girl!
Better a lapdog to a slip of a girl than a...git!
AHA! So you do have some spunk in you! Don't worry, laddie. I'll come!
Well, let us set sail at once. I shall fetch my first mate and return as fast as my legs will carry me!
AH! You have a woman's legs, m'lord! I'll wager those are legs that have never been sliced clean off by a falling sail and swept into the sea before your very eyes!
Well, neither have yours.
That's where you're wrong! [flips over the table to show his legs end in two stumps]
[annoyed] Oh my god...
No point changing your mind now. No one else'll come. The whole thing's suicide anyway. What's the first mate's name?
Percy.
A nautical cove?
Yes. Well, he's a sort of wet fish.
[Baldrick packs for the upcoming voyage while Percy frets]
I'm not coming. I'm just not coming. Of course, I'm very keen to go on the trip. It's just I've got an appointment. To have my nostrils plucked. Next year.
I'm sorry, m'lord. I thought it was 'cause your were a complete coward.
[laughs nervously] Don't be ridiculous, Baldrick. You know me. I laugh in the face of fear and tweak the nose of the dreadful spindly killer fish. I'm not one of your milksops who's scared out of his mind by the mere sight of water. [Baldrick offers a mug of water; screams] YES, ALL RIGHT, I ADMIT IT, I ADMIT IT, I'M TERRIFIED! You see, Baldrick, when I was a baby...I was savaged by a turbot! Oh, Baldrick, you can't think of a way to get me out of this, can you?
You could hide, m'lord.
Hide. Brilliant! Where?
Um...in the box!
Which one?
That one.
Perfect! [climbs into the box] Let's practice. Edmund comes in and says "Hello, Baldrick. Have you seen Percy?". And you say?
Uh, no, my lord, I haven't seen him all day.
Brilliant! Oh my god, here he comes! [closes the lid of the box]
[walks in] Oh, hello, Balders. Where the hell's that cretin, Percy? You haven't seen him, have you?
[struggles to remember what he was supposed to say, then replies...] Yes, my lord, he's hiding in the box!
[bangs on the box] Come on, jelly brain! Hurry up or we'll miss the tide!
AaaaAAA-ha!
Ha-a-a-ha!
Ha-aaa-aaaa-ha!
[All turn to Percy expectantly. He is sulking.]
Not joining us in the ha-has, Percy?
[despondant] No. I'm thinking of England and the girl I left behind me.
Oh God, I didn't know you had a girl.
Oh yes. Lady Caroline Fairfax.
Caroline? I didn't know you knew her.
Oh yes. I even touched her once.
Touched her what?
No, once, in a corridor.
I've never heard it called that before. Still, when you get home in six months, you'll be a hero. She might even let you get your hands on her twice.
I fear not.
Why not?
[hysterical] Because we'll never get home! We're doomed! Doomed! Condemned to a watery grave by a legless captain!
Rubbish! I've hardly touched a drop!
No, I mean you haven't got any legs.
Oh yes. You're right there. Carry on. Sorry.
[despondant] Oh, God. We've no hope. No hope of ever returning.
On the contrary, we are certain to return.
Why?
Because, me old salts, we are not going to the Cape of Good Hope at all.
PBPercy, Baldrick and Captain Rum
[shocked] What?!
We are, in fact, going to France.
PBPercy, Baldrick and Captain Rum
[shocked] France?!
Oh, but, Edmund, surely France has already been discovered. By the French, for a start.
Well, precisely, it's a trick! We just camp down in the Dordogne for six months, get a good suntan, come home, pretend we've been 'round the Cape and get all the glory.
Hooray!
A masterly plan, me young master! And one that leads me to make an announcement meself.
What's that, Rum?
Truth is...I don't know the way to the Cape of Good Hope anyway.
Well, what were you going to do?
Oh, what I usually do - sail 'round and 'round the Isle of Wight 'til everyone gets dizzy, then sail for home.
You old rascal! Still, who cares? The day after tomorrow, we shall be in Calais. [gets to his feet and raises his mug] Captain, set sail for France!
PBPercy, Baldrick and Captain Rum
Hooray!
[The day after the day after tomorrow...]
[slowly] So you don't know the way to France either.
No! I must confess that too.
Bugger.
Look, there's no need to panic. Someone in the crew will know how to steer this thing.
The crew, milord?
Yes, the crew.
What crew?
I was under the impression that it was common maritime practice for a ship to have a crew.
Opinion is divided on the subject.
Really?
Yarrs. All the other captains say it is, I say it isn't.
Oh God, mad as a brush.
These quotes come from Wikiquote's Blackadder pages and are available under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike License.