Blackadder: Baldrick, what are you doing out there?
Baldrick: I'm carving something on this bullet, sir.
Blackadder: What are you carving?
Baldrick: I'm carving "Baldrick", sir!
Baldrick: It's part of a cunning plan, actually!
Blackadder: Of course it is.
Baldrick: You know how they say that somewhere there's a bullet with your name on it?
Blackadder: [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...
Blackadder: Oh, shame!
Baldrick: ... and the chances of there being two bullets with my name are very small indeed!
Blackadder: Yes, it's not the only thing around here that's "very small indeed". Your brain, for example. Is so minute, Baldrick, that if a hungry cannibal cracked your head open, there wouldn't be enough to cover a small water biscuit.
Blackadder: Ah, Baldrick, anything from Massingbird yet?
Baldrick: Yes, sir. Just arrived, sir.
Blackadder: What's that?
Baldrick: A sponge bag, sir.
Blackadder: A sponge bag?
Baldrick: Yes, sir.
Blackadder: 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.
Blackadder: And you sent the note asking for legal representation to...?
[George enters the cell wearing a lawyer's robe and wig]
George: Well, tally ho with a bing and a bong and a buzz, buzz, buzz!
Blackadder: 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.
George: Oh, yes, sir. Bit of a family tradition, actually. My uncle's a lawyer, you know.
Blackadder: Your uncle's a lawyer, but you're not?
George: 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...
George: Yes, that's the word. But anyway, old friend, it's an honour to serve.
Blackadder: 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.
George: Well, that's a shame, sir, because I was planning on playing the mindless optimism card rather strongly.
George: 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."
Blackadder: So, counsel, with that summing up in mind, what do you think my chances are?
George: 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.
[After Blackadder has received a reprieve, he returns to the trench and reads out a letter to George from his Uncle Rupert.]
Blackadder: "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."
George: Well, yes, sir. Uh, the thing is-
Blackadder: You two got whammed last night, didn't you?
George: Well, not whammed, exactly. A little tiddly perhaps-
Blackadder: And you forgot the telegram to your uncle.
George: Well, no, no. Not completely. Partially. Well, yes. Yes, entirely.
Baldrick: I think I can explain, sir.
Blackadder: Can you, Baldrick?
Baldrick: [thinks for a second] No.
Blackadder: 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"? Yes, I think I have just the fellows. [he hangs up and grins cruelly at George and Baldrick] God is very quick these days.
George: Well, we soon saw them off, didn't we? Miserable, slant-eyed sausage-eating swine!
Blackadder: The Russians are on our side, George.
George: [surprised] Are they? Oh.
Blackadder: And they've abandoned the Eastern Front.
Baldrick: And they've overthrown Nicholas II who used to be bizarre!
Blackadder: 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.
Melchett: Are you leaving us, Blackadder?
Blackadder: No, sir.
Melchett: 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.
Blackadder: Yes, sir, but surely that was traced to a shipment of garlic eclairs?
Melchett: 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.
Blackadder: Oh, and what are you going to do about it?
Melchett: We're going to have a concert party to boost the men's morale.
George: A concert party? Well, hurrah!
Melchett: God, it's a spankingly beautiful world, and tonight's my night! I know exactly what I'll say to her. "Darling..."
Darling: Yes, sir?
Darling: Um... I don't know, sir.
Melchett: Well, don't butt in!
Darling: Sorry, sir.
Melchett: [Exhales] "I want to make you happy, darling."
Darling: Well, that's very kind of you, sir.
Melchett: Will you kindly stop interrupting? If you don't listen, how can you tell me what you think? "I want to make you happy, Darling. I want to build a nest for your ten tiny toes. I want to cover every inch of your gorgeous body in pepper, and then sneeze all over you!"
Darling: Really, sir! I must protest!
Melchett: What is the matter with you, Darling?!
Darling: Well, it's just all so sudden, sir! I mean the nest bit's fine, but the pepper business is definitely out!
Melchett: How dare you tell me how I may or may not treat my beloved Georgina!
Melchett: Yes! I'm working on what I want to say to her this evening!
Darling: Oh yes. Of course. My god.
Darling: Yes, sir. Listening, sir.
Melchett: Honestly, Darling, you really are the most graceless dimwitted bumpkin I ever met!
Darling: I don't think you should say that to her, sir.
Blackadder: 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.]
Blackadder: Thank you. Right, I'm off to bed where I intend to sleep until my name changes to Rip van Adder.
Blackadder: [On the telephone] Hello? Yes, I'd like to leave a message for the head of the Flying Corps, please. That's Air Chief Marshal Sir Hugh Massingbird, VC, DFC and BAR. Message reads "Where are you, you bastard?".
Baldrick: Here I am, sir.
Blackadder: For god's sake, Baldrick, take cover!
Baldrick: Why, sir?
Blackadder: Because there's an air raid going on! And I don't want to have to write to your mother at London Zoo to tell her that her only human child is dead.
Flashheart: The first thing to remember is: always treat your kite [whacks diagram with his pointer] like you treat your woman! [Whips the air. Hard.]
George: Ho-how do you mean, sir? You mean, um... you mean, take her home over the weekend to meet your mother?
Flashheart: No, I mean get inside her five times a day and take her to heaven and back!
Flashheart: 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!
Blackadder: Hang on! Hang on! What about the months of training?
Flashheart: Hey, Wet Pants, this isn't the Women's Auxiliary Balloon Corps! You're in the Twenty Minuters now!
Darling: Excuse me, sir?
Flashheart: Yes! Prat at the back!
Darling: Um, I think we'd all like to know why you're called the Twenty Minuters.
George: Oh, Mister Thicko. Imagine not knowing that.
Flashheart: Well, it's simple - the average life expectancy for a new pilot is twenty minutes!
Darling: [pleased] Ah.
Blackadder: [looks pointedly at George]Life expectancy of twenty minutes?
Flashheart: That's right! Goggles on, chocks away, last one back's a homo! HOORAY!
[The remaining volunteers cheer and follow Flashheart out the door, leaving Blackadder, George and Darling behind.]
Blackadder: 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.
George: Hairy blighters, sir, this is a bit of a turnup for the plus fours.
Darling: 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.]
Blackadder: I spy with my bored little eye something beginning with 'T'.
Baldrick: My breakfast always begins with tea. Then I have a little sausage, and then an egg with some little soldiers.
Blackadder: Baldrick, when I said it begins with 'T', I was talking about a letter.
Baldrick: No, it never begins with a letter. The postman don't come 'til ten thirty.
Darling: The Germans seem to be able to anticipate our every move. We send up an airplane, there's a Jerry squadron parked behind the nearest cloud. We move troops to Boulogne, the Germans have bought the entire town's supply of lavatory paper. In short, a German spy is giving away every one of our battle plans.
Melchett: You look surprised, Blackadder.
Blackadder: I certainly am, sir. I didn't realise that we had any battle plans.
Melchett: Well of course we have! How else do you think the battles are directed?
Blackadder: Our battles are directed, sir?
Melchett: Well of course they are, Blackadder, directed according to the grand plan.
Blackadder: Would that be the plan to continue with total slaughter until everyone's dead except for Field Marshall Haig, Lady Haig and their tortoise, Alan?
Melchett: [horrified] Great Scott! Even you know it! Guard, guard, bolt all the doors! Hammer large pieces of crooked wood against all the windows! This security leak is far worse than we'd imagined!
Darling: So, you see, Blackadder, Field Marshal Haig is anxious to eliminate all these German spies.
Melchett: Filthy Hun weasels fighting their dirty underhand war!
Darling: Fortunately, one of our spies...
Melchett: Splendid fellows! Brave heroes risking life and limb for Blighty!
Darling: ...has discovered that the leak is coming from the field hospital.
Blackadder: You think there's a German spy in the field hospital? I think you might be right.
Melchett: Your job, Blackadder, is to root this spy out. How long do you think you'll need?
Blackadder: [checks his wristwatch] Mmm...
Melchett: You'll have to be away from the trenches for some time.
Blackadder: Six months?
Darling: Too bad, Blackadder, you've got three weeks.
Melchett: Yes, three weeks to smoke the bugger out. Use any method you see fit. Personally, I recommend you get hold of a cocker spaniel, tie your suspect to a chair with a potty on his head, then pop his todger between two floury baps and shout "Dinnertime, Fido!". If you are successful, I shall need you back here permanently to head up my new security network, Operation: Winkle.
Melchett: Yes. To winkle out the spies.
Darling: You never mentioned this to me, sir!
Melchett: Well, we have to have some secrets, don't we, Darling?
Blackadder: Right, well, I'll be back in three weeks.
Melchett: Excellent! And if you come back with the information, Captain Darling will pump you thoroughly in the debriefing room.
Blackadder: Not while I have my strength, he won't.
[Blackadder takes back his pistol from Darling and leaves.]
Darling: Damnation, sir, his insolence makes my blood boil! What's more, I don't trust him, sir. I think it would be best if I went to the hospital myself to keep an eye on him
Melchett: What, spy on our own spy as he searches for their spy? Yes, why not? Sounds rather fun. You'll have to go undercover.
Darling: Oh, definitely, sir.
Melchett: And you'll need some kind of wound. A convincing wound.
Darling: Naturally, sir.
[Melchett takes out his pistol and casually shoots Darling in the foot. Darling screams in pain and falls to the floor.]
Melchett: Yes, that looks quite convincing.
Melchett: Any news of the spy, Blackadder?
Blackadder: Yes, sir.
Melchett: Excellent! The Germans seem to know every move we make! I even had a letter from Jerry yesterday. It said "Isn't it about time you changed your shirts, Walrus Face?". Do you have any ideas on who it might be, young lady?
Nurse Mary: Well, sir, I'm only a humble nurse, but I did at one point think it might have been... Captain Darling.
Melchett: Well, bugger me with a fish fork! Old Darling a Jerry Morse-tapper? What on earth made you suspect him?
Nurse Mary: Well, sir, he pooh-poohed the captain and said he'd never find the spy.
Melchett: [paternally] Is this true, Blackadder? Did Captain Darling pooh-pooh you?
Blackadder: Well, perhaps a little.
Melchett: Well, damn it all, what more evidence do you need?! The pooh-poohing alone is a court martial offense!
Blackadder: I can assure you, sir, that the pooh-poohing was purely circumstantial.
Melchett: Well, I hope so, Blackadder. You know, if there's one thing I've learned from being in the army, it's never ignore a pooh-pooh. I knew a major who got pooh-poohed. Made the mistake of ignoring the pooh-pooh. He pooh-poohed it. Fatal error, because it turned out that the soldier who pooh-poohed him had been pooh-poohing a lot of other officers, who pooh-poohed their pooh-poohs. In the end, we had to disband the regiment. Morale totally destroyed by pooh-pooh!
Blackadder: I think we may be drifting slightly from the point, sir, which is, unfortunately, and to my lasting regret, Captain Darling is not the spy.
Melchett: Oh? Then who the hell is it?
Nurse Mary: Well, sir, there is a man in the hospital with a pronounced limp and a very strong German accent. It must be him. It's obvious.
Blackadder: Obvious, but wrong. It's not him.
Melchett: And why not?
Blackadder: Because, sir, not even the Germans would be stupid enough to field a spy with a strong German accent.
[Baldrick walks in, holding a rifle up to Nurse Mary]
Melchett: Explain yourself, Blackadder, before I have you shot for being rude to a lady!
Blackadder: Well, sir, the first seeds of suspicion were sown when Lieutenant George unwittingly revealed that she spoke German. Do you deny, Nurse Fletcher-Brown, or should I say Nurse Fleischer-Baum, that you helped Lieutenant George with the German words in his letters?
Nurse Mary: No, I did, but-
Blackadder: My suspicions were confirmed when she probed me expertly about tank movements.
Nurse Mary: Oh, Edmund, how could you? After all we've been through-
Blackadder: And then the final irrefutable proof. Remember you mentioned a clever boyfriend?
Nurse Mary: Yes.
Blackadder: I leapt on the opportunity to test you. I asked if he'd been to one of the great universities: Oxford, Cambridge, or Hull.
Nurse Mary: Well?
Blackadder: You failed to spot that only two of those are great universities!
Nurse Mary: You swine!
Melchett: That's right, Oxford's a complete dump!
Blackadder: [looks startled - this was an improvised joke by Stephen Fry, who went to Cambridge whereas Rowan Atkinson went to Oxford, its rival] ... Well, quite. No true Englishwoman would have fallen into that trap.
Nurse Mary: Oh, Edmund, I thought there was something beautiful between us. I thought you... loved me.
Blackadder: Nah. Take her away, Baldrick.
Baldrick: Raus, raus!
[Baldrick escorts Nurse Mary out of the office]
Melchett: Good work, Blackadder. I'd better go assemble a firing squad.
[Melchett sits down at his desk and begins dialling the telephone. The injured suspected spy, Smith, limps in from the side door, with Darling not far behind him.]
Darling: Watch out, sir!
[Darling leaps onto Smith, grabs his revolver and holds him at gunpoint.]
Melchett: Darling, what on earth do you think you're doing?!
Darling: I'm doing what Blackadder should have done three weeks ago, sir! This is the guilty man!
Melchett: Darling, you're hysterical!
Darling: No, sir, I'm not, sir! I'll ask him outright! Are you a spy?
Smith: [irritated]Yes, I am a spy!
Darling: You see, sir?!
Melchett: Well, of course he's a spy, Darling! A British spy! This is Brigadier Sir Bernard Proudfoot-Smith, the finest spy in the British army!
[Smith drops his limp and stands up straight.]
Darling: But he can't be, sir! He doesn't even sound British!
Smith: Unfortunately, I have been working undercover in Germany for so long, I have picked up a teensy-veensy bit of an accent.
Melchett: This, Darling, is the man who told us there was a German spy in the hospital in the first place!
George: 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.
Blackadder: How are you feeling, Darling?
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".
Blackadder: Well, quite.
[Last lines of the series; Blackadder, Baldrick, George and Darling are ready to go over the top]
George: [overjoyed] Oh, hurrah! The big knobs have gone round the table and yanked the iron out of the fire!
Darling: [also overjoyed] Thank God! We lived through it! The Great War, 1914 to 1917!
George, Baldrick and Darling: HOORAY!
Blackadder: [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.
George: [afraid] So we are, in fact, going over? This is, as they say, "it"?
Blackadder: I'm afraid so. Unless I can think of something very quickly.
Captain in background: COMPANY, ONE PACE FORWARD! [the group obey]
Baldrick: Oh, there's a nasty splinter on that ladder, sir! A bloke could hurt himself on that!
Captain in background: STAND READY!
Baldrick: I have... a plan, sir.
Blackadder: Really, Baldrick? A cunning and subtle one?
Baldrick: Yes, sir.
Blackadder: As cunning as a fox who's just been appointed Professor of Cunning at Oxford University?
Baldrick: Yes, sir.
Captain in background: ON THE SIGNAL, COMPANY WILL ADVANCE!
Blackadder: 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, and they go over the top]