Blackadder II (series 2)

Blackadder II

Bells

Kate: Father, I must speak. I can be silent no longer. All day long, you mutter to yourself, jibber, dribble, moan, and bash your head against the wall yelling "I want to die!". It's Mother, isn't it?

Kate's Father: No it's not.

Kate: You're brooding over her death, aren't you?

Kate's Father: Kate, for the final time, your mother's not dead. She's run off with your Uncle Henry!

Kate: I know you only say such things to comfort me.

Kate's Father: Your mother is alive and well and living in Droitwich! It's not her I brood over. I'm sad because our poverty has now reached such extremes that I can no longer afford to keep us. I must look to my own dear, tiny darling to sustain me in my frail dotage.

Kate: But, Father, surely-?

Kate's Father: Yes, Kate. I want you to become a prostitute.

Kate: [shocked] Father!

Kate's Father: Do you defy me?!

Kate: Why, indeed I do! For it is better to die poor than to live in shame and ignominy!

Kate's Father: No it isn't.

Kate: I'm young and strong and clever. And my nose is pretty. I shall find another way to make us a living.

Kate's Father: Oh, please go on the game. It's a steady job, and you'd be working from home!

Kate: Goodbye, Father. [kisses his hand] I shall go to London, disguise myself as a boy and seek my fortune! [runs off]

Kate's Father: But why walk all the way to London when you can make a fortune lying on your back?!

Percy: Sorry I'm late!

Blackadder: Oh, don't bother apologising. I'm sorry you're alive.

Percy: Not bad, Edmund. Ah, I see the target's ready. I'd like to see the Spaniard who could make his way past me.

Blackadder: Well, go to Spain. There are millions of them.

Percy: I advise them to stay there then, keep their hands off our women.

Blackadder: Oh god, who is she this time?

Percy: I don't know what you mean.

Blackadder: [swipes the pink note sticking out of Percy's tunic, opens it and kicks Percy when he tries to take it back] Ah, and who is Jane?

Percy: I am sworn to secrecy. Torture me, kill me, you shall never know. [Blackadder, without looking, kicks him in the groin] Jane Harrington! We are very much in love, my lord.

Blackadder: This is the Jane Harrington?

Percy: Yes.

Blackadder: Jane "Bury-Me-In-A-Y-Shaped-Coffin" Harrington?

Percy: Um, I think maybe there are two Jane Harringtons.

Blackadder: No, tall, blonde, elegant?

Percy: That's right.

Blackadder: Goes like a privy door when the plague's in town?

Percy: My lord!

Blackadder: Go on, get on with your shot. You'll get over her. I did. [Percy, breathing heavily to calm himself, readies his shot] So did Baldrick, actually.

[Percy slips, shooting Baldrick in the groin, causing Baldrick to scream in agony for seconds]

Percy: Damn!

Blackadder: See, she's got this thing about beards, apparently.

Percy: Well, in that case, I'm going to shave!

[Baldrick has just been fired in favour of "Bob"]

Baldrick: I've got nowhere to go, my lord.

Blackadder: Oh, surely you'll be allowed to starve to death in one of the royal parks?

Baldrick: I've been in your service since I was two-and-a-half, my lord.

Blackadder: Well, that must be why I'm so utterly sick of the sight of you.

Baldrick: Couldn't I just stay here and do the same job but for no wages?

Blackadder: Well, you know where you'd have to live.

Baldrick: In the gutter.

Blackadder: Yes. And you'd have to work a bit harder, too.

Baldrick: Of course.

Doctor Leech: Now then, what seems to be the problem?

Blackadder: Well, it's my manservant.

Doctor Leech: I see. Well, don't be embarrassed. If you've got the pox, just pop your, er, manservant on the table and we'll take a look at it.

Blackadder: No, I mean, it's my real manservant.

Doctor Leech: Uh-huh. And what's wrong with him?

Blackadder: There's nothing wrong with him. That's the problem. He's perfect. And last night, I almost kissed him.

Doctor Leech: I see. So you've started fancying boys, then?

Blackadder: Not boys, a boy.

Doctor Leech: Yes, well, let's not split hairs. It's all rather disgusting, and, naturally, you're worried.

Blackadder: Of course I'm worried!

Doctor Leech: Of course you are. It isn't every day a man wakes up to discover he's a screaming bender with no more right to live on God's clean Earth than a weasel. Ashamed of yourself?

Blackadder: Not really, no.

Doctor Leech: Bloody hell, I would be. Still, why should I complain? Just leaves more rampant totty for us real men.

Blackadder: Look, am I paying for this abuse or is it extra?

Doctor Leech: No, all part of the service. I think you're in luck, though. An extraordinary new cure has just been found for exactly this kind of sick and sordid problem.

Blackadder: It wouldn't have anything to do with leeches, would it?

Doctor Leech: I had no idea you were a medical man.

Blackadder: I've never had anything you doctors didn't try to cure with leeches. A leech on my ear for earache, a leech on my bottom for constipation.

Doctor Leech: They're marvelous, aren't they?

Blackadder: Well, the bottom one wasn't. I just sat down and squashed it.

Doctor Leech: You know, the leech comes to us on the highest authority.

Blackadder: Yes, I'd heard that. Doctor Hoffmann of Stuttgart, I believe.

Doctor Leech: That's right, the great Hoffmann.

Blackadder: Owner of the largest leech farm in Europe.

Doctor Leech: Yes. Well, I can't spend all day gossiping. I'm a busy man. As far as this case is concerned, I've now had time to think it over, and I can strongly recommend...

Doctor Leech and Blackadder: A course of leeches.

Blackadder: Just pop a couple down my codpiece before I go to bed?

Doctor Leech: No, no, no. Don't be ridiculous. This isn't the Dark Ages. Just pop four in your mouth in the morning and let them dissolve slowly. In a couple of weeks, you'll be beating your servant with a stick just like the rest of us.

Blackadder: You're just an old quack, aren't you?

Doctor Leech: I'd rather be a quack than a ducky. Good day!

Blackadder: Tell me, young crone, is this Putney?

Young Crone: [cackling] That it be! That it be!

Blackadder: [annoyed] "Yes, it is," not "That it be". And you don't have to talk in that stupid voice to me, I'm not a tourist! I seek information about a Wise Woman.

Young Crone: The Wise Woman? The Wise Woman?!

Blackadder: Yes. The Wise Woman.

Young Crone: Two things, my Lord, must ye know of the Wise Woman. First...she is a woman! And second...she is...

Blackadder: Wise?

Young Crone: [normal] You do know her, then?

Blackadder: No, just a wild stab in the dark - which, incidentally, is what you'll be getting if you don't start being a bit more helpful! Do you know where she lives?

Young Crone: 'Course.

Blackadder: Where?

Young Crone: 'Ere. Do you have an appointment?

Blackadder: No.

Young Crone: Oh...you can go in anyway.

Blackadder: Thank you, young crone. Here is a purse of monies... [she tries to grab it] which I'm not going to give to you. [walks in]

Wise Woman: Hail, Edmund, Lord of Adders Black!

Blackadder: Hello.

Wise Woman: Step no nearer, for already I see thy bloody purpose. Thou plottest, Blackadder. Thou wouldst be king and drown Middlesex in a butte of wine! [cackling]

Blackadder: No, it's far worse than that. I'm in love with my manservant.

Wise Woman: Oh, well, I'd sleep with him if I were you.

Blackadder: What?

Wise Woman: When I fancy people, I sleep with them. Oh, I have to drug them first, of course, being so old and warty.

Blackadder: But what about my position, my social life?

Wise Woman: Very well. Three other paths are open to you. Three cunning plans to cure thy ailment.

Blackadder: Oh, good.

Wise Woman: The first is simple - kill Bob!

Blackadder: Never!

Wise Woman: Then try the second - kill yourself.

Blackadder: Mmm, and the third?

Wise Woman: The third is to ensure that no one else ever knows.

Blackadder: Ah, that sounds more like it. How?

Wise Woman: Kill everybody in the whole world! [cackling]

Blackadder: Uh-huh. [leaves]

Lord Melchett: I bring grave intelligence about your former favourite, Lord Blackadder. He wishes to marry a girl called Bob.

Queen: That's a very odd name for a girl, isn't it? Girls are normally called Elizabeth. Or Mary.

Nursie: And Donald.

Queen: Mouth is open, Nursie, should be shut.

Nursie: It's true, sweet one. I had three sisters and they were called Donald, Eric and Basil.

Queen: Then why's your name Nursie?

Nursie: That ain't my real name.

Queen: What is your real name?

Nursie: [chuckles] Bernard.

Queen: [smiles] Suits you, actually.

Queen: Everyone seems to be getting married except me.

Nursie: And me, ma'am.

Queen: Oh shut up, Bernard.

Kate: You'll make a lovely bridesmaid, Baldrick. It's a pity I don't have any girl chums, because we were so poor growing up, we couldn't afford friends.

Blackadder: It is strangely in keeping with the manner of our courtship that your maid of honour should be a man.

Baldrick: Thank you, my lord.

Blackadder: Well, I use the word 'man' in its broadest possible sense. For as we all know, God made man in His own image. It'd be a sad lookout for Christians around the globe if God looked anything like you, Baldrick.

Kate: Ignore old Mister Grumpy. There you are, Balders. [kisses him on the cheek] You look sweet as a little pie.

Blackadder: Kate, he looks like what he is, a dungball in a dress.

Head

Blackadder: Right Baldrick, let's try again, shall we? This is called adding. [gestures to the beans on the table] If I have two beans, and then I add two more beans, what do I have?

Baldrick: Some beans.

Blackadder: [smiles] Yes. And no. Let's try again, shall we? I have two beans, then I add two more beans. What does that make?

Baldrick: A very small casserole.

Blackadder: [impatiently] Baldrick, the ape-creatures of the Indus have mastered this. Now try again. [helps him count] One, two, three, four. So how many are there?

Baldrick: Three.

Blackadder: What?

Baldrick: And that one.

Blackadder: Three and 'that one'. [waves the fourth bean in front of Baldrick's face] So if I add that one to the three, what will I have?

Baldrick: Oh! Some beans.

Blackadder: [pause] Yes. To you, Baldrick, the Renaissance was just something that happened to other people, wasn't it?

Blackadder: What are you wearing around your neck?

Percy: Ah, it's my new ruff!

Blackadder: You look like a bird who's swallowed a plate.

Percy: It's the latest fashion, actually, and as a matter of fact, it makes me look rather sexy!

Blackadder: To another plate-swallowing bird, perhaps. If it was blind and hadn't had it in months.

Percy: I think you may be wrong.

Blackadder: You're a sad, laughable figure, aren't you, Percy? Baldrick, what do you think of Percy's new ruff?

Baldrick: Four!

Blackadder: What?

Baldrick: Some beans and some beans is four beans.

Blackadder: No, now we've moved on from advanced mathematics, we're on to elementary dress-making. What do you think of Percy's new ruff?

Baldrick: I think he looks like a bird who's swallowed a plate, my Lord.

Blackadder: No, that's what I think. What do you think? Try to have a thought of your own, Baldrick; thinking is so important. What do you think?

Baldrick: I think thinking is so important, my Lord.

Blackadder: I give up! I'm off to see the Queen.

Percy: Should I come too?

Blackadder: No, best not. People might think we're friends. You stay here with Baldrick. Bird-Neck and Bird-Brain should get on like a house on fire.

Blackadder: 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.

Blackadder: And you are?

Ploppy: Gaoler, sir! My Lord.

Blackadder: Very good! And your name is?

Ploppy: Ploppy, sir.

Blackadder: Ploppy?

Ploppy: That's right, sir.

Blackadder: Ploppy...the gaoler.

Ploppy: That's right, sir! Ploppy, son of Ploppy.

Blackadder: Ploppy, son of Ploppy the gaoler.

Ploppy: 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.

Blackadder: 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.

Ploppy: There's no many bosses that'd be that considerate, sir.

Blackadder: Now then, woman - if indeed, you are a woman - what is your function on Death Row?

Mistress Ploppy: I'm the last meal cook, sir. The prisoners may ask me for what they fancy for their last meal.

Blackadder: And you cook for them what they desire?

Mistress 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.

Blackadder: You are clearly a woman of principle and compassion, Mistress...ah...

Mistress Ploppy: Ploppy, sir.

Blackadder: Ah, so you are married to...? [gestures towards Ploppy the gaoler]

Ploppy: No, no.

Mistress 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..."

Ploppy and Mistress Ploppy: [in unison] "...Mr. Ploppy!" [both laugh]

Blackadder: The long winter evenings must just fly by.

Blackadder: Ah, and you must be the boy who makes the tea.

Ploppy: Oh no, sir! He's the executioner...but, he does sometimes make the tea.

Blackadder: Yes, and your name is...?

Baldrick: 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.

Blackadder: No thank you, I can cope with more than one name. What are you doing here?

Baldrick: Well... [shrugs] it's a hobby.

Mistress Ploppy: It would be more fun, sir, if he were to change his name. Give the place a more family atmosphere.

Blackadder: A "family atmosphere"?! This is meant to be a place of pain and misery and sorrow!

Mistress Ploppy: That's what I mean, sir.

Ploppy: Ah, Mistress Ploppy is a bit of a social realist, sir.

Blackadder: 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.

Percy: [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-!

Blackadder: Just tell them the plan, duckface.

Blackadder: Baldrick! That Farrow bloke you executed today, you sure he's dead?

Baldrick: I chopped his head off. That usually does the trick.

Blackadder: Yes, don't get clever with me. I just thought you might've lopped off a leg or something by mistake.

Baldrick: No, the thing I chopped off had a nose.

Blackadder: Right, Baldrick, is that all clear?

Baldrick: 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.

Blackadder: I want you to put a bag on your head and talk to his old lady.

Baldrick: Oh. Why do I want a bag on my head?

Blackadder: In order, nincompoop, that she should believe that you're her husband.

Baldrick: What, did he used to wear a bag on his head?

Ploppy: Young Ploppy here has a point, my lord. Lord Farrow never wore a bag. He was an old-fashioned sort of a gent.

Percy: 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!

Blackadder: 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.

Ploppy: Why, my lord, that is a brilliant plan.

Percy: Foolproof.

Blackadder: You're very kind.

Ploppy: Although, there is something lurking in the back of my head that bothers me...

Blackadder: It's probably a flea.

Blackadder: Percy, this is a very difficult situation.

Percy: Yes, my lord.

Blackadder: Someone's for the chop. You or me, in fact.

Percy: [uneasily] Y-yes.

Blackadder: Let's face facts, Perc' – it's you.

Percy: Except, I may have a plan!

Blackadder: Oh, yes?

Percy: 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."?

Blackadder: Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. Contemptible. Worth a try. Where'd we put the head?

Percy: It's on a spike in Traitors' Cloister.

Blackadder: Oh god, that's where the Queen's gone! Did she know Farrow?

Percy: Oh yes, they were childhood friends.

Blackadder: Well, if she sees his head on a spike, she'll realize he's dead! You fetch the body. I'll cover the head.

Percy: I've got the body, my lord, and I see you've got the head.

Blackadder: 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.

Percy: Doomed! [looks at the head] Wait a moment, that's not Farrow.

Blackadder: Isn't it?

Percy: No, that's Ponsonby!

Blackadder: My god, Ponsonby! [kisses the head] That genius Baldrick has killed the wrong bloke! We're saved!

Percy: Saved!

Blackadder: Farrow is alive and we're saved!

Percy: Hooray!

Blackadder: And when the Queen gets back from seeing Ponsonby, we'll...OH GOD! [runs off towards the dungeon]

Percy: WE'RE DOOMED! [runs off after Edmund]

Potato

Baldrick: I was wondering if I might have the afternoon off?

Blackadder: Of course not. Who do you think you are, Wat Tyler? You can have the afternoon off when you die, not before.

Baldrick: 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.

Blackadder: 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?

Baldrick: The servants?

Blackadder: No, me! I'm the people who do all the work! I mean, look at this! [holds up a potato] What is it?

Baldrick: I'm surprised you've forgotten, my lord.

Blackadder: I haven't forgotten, it's a rhetorical question.

Baldrick: Nah, it's a potato.

Blackadder: 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!

Baldrick: Stranger things have happened, my lord.

Blackadder: [dismissively] Oh, exactly.

Baldrick: That horse becoming Pope.

Blackadder: 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]

Young 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!

Blackadder: [calling out the window] And another thing; why aren't you at school?!

Melchett: [enters] Ah, I see you've started talking to yourself, Blackadder.

Blackadder: Yes, it's the only way I can be sure of intelligent conversation around here.

Melchett: Potato?

Blackadder: Thanks, I don't.

Captain Rum: AAAAA-aaaa-AA-aaaa-AAA-a-AAAAARGH...me laddie!

Blackadder: Ehehehe, indeed. So, Rum. I wish to hire you and your ship. Can we shake on it?

Captain Rum: [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!

Blackadder: Well, you're right there.

Captain Rum: [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!

Blackadder: It's uncanny, I don't know how you do you it but you're right again.

Captain Rum: Why should I let a stupid cockerel like you aboard me boat?

Blackadder: Perhaps for the monies in my purse?

Captain Rum: 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!

Blackadder: Yes, right again, Rum. I must say when it comes to tales of courage I'm going to have to keep my mouth shut!

Captain Rum: 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!

Blackadder: 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.

Captain Rum: Damn courtiers to the Queen! You're nothing but lapdogs to a slip of a girl!

Blackadder: Better a lapdog to a slip of a girl than a...git!

Captain Rum: AHA! So you do have some spunk in you! Don't worry, laddie. I'll come!

Blackadder: Well, let us set sail at once. I shall fetch my first mate and return as fast as my legs will carry me!

Captain Rum: 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!

Blackadder: Well, neither have yours.

Captain Rum: That's where you're wrong! [flips over the table to show his legs end in two stumps]

Blackadder: [annoyed] Oh my god...

Captain Rum: No point changing your mind now. No one else'll come. The whole thing's suicide anyway. What's the first mate's name?

Blackadder: Percy.

Captain Rum: A nautical cove?

Blackadder: Yes. Well, he's a sort of wet fish.

[Baldrick packs for the upcoming voyage while Percy frets]

Percy: 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.

Baldrick: I'm sorry, m'lord. I thought it was 'cause your were a complete coward.

Percy: [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?

Baldrick: You could hide, m'lord.

Percy: Hide. Brilliant! Where?

Baldrick: Um...in the box!

Percy: Which one?

Baldrick: That one.

Percy: Perfect! [climbs into the box] Let's practice. Edmund comes in and says "Hello, Baldrick. Have you seen Percy?". And you say?

Baldrick: Uh, no, my lord, I haven't seen him all day.

Percy: Brilliant! Oh my god, here he comes! [closes the lid of the box]

Blackadder: [walks in] Oh, hello, Balders. Where the hell's that cretin, Percy? You haven't seen him, have you?

Baldrick: [struggles to remember what he was supposed to say, then replies...] Yes, my lord, he's hiding in the box!

Blackadder: [bangs on the box] Come on, jelly brain! Hurry up or we'll miss the tide!

Captain Rum: AaaaAAA-ha!

Blackadder: Ha-a-a-ha!

Baldrick: Ha-aaa-aaaa-ha!

[All turn to Percy expectantly. He is sulking.]

Blackadder: Not joining us in the ha-has, Percy?

Percy: [despondant] No. I'm thinking of England and the girl I left behind me.

Blackadder: Oh God, I didn't know you had a girl.

Percy: Oh yes. Lady Caroline Fairfax.

Blackadder: Caroline? I didn't know you knew her.

Percy: Oh yes. I even touched her once.

Blackadder: Touched her what?

Percy: No, once, in a corridor.

Blackadder: 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.

Percy: I fear not.

Blackadder: Why not?

Percy: [hysterical] Because we'll never get home! We're doomed! Doomed! Condemned to a watery grave by a legless captain!

Captain Rum: Rubbish! I've hardly touched a drop!

Percy: No, I mean you haven't got any legs.

Captain Rum: Oh yes. You're right there. Carry on. Sorry.

Percy: [despondant] Oh, God. We've no hope. No hope of ever returning.

Blackadder: On the contrary, we are certain to return.

Percy: Why?

Blackadder: Because, me old salts, we are not going to the Cape of Good Hope at all.

Percy, Baldrick and Captain Rum: [shocked] What?!

Blackadder: We are, in fact, going to France.

Percy, Baldrick and Captain Rum: [shocked] France?!

Percy: Oh, but, Edmund, surely France has already been discovered. By the French, for a start.

Blackadder: 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.

Percy: Hooray!

Captain Rum: A masterly plan, me young master! And one that leads me to make an announcement meself.

Blackadder: What's that, Rum?

Captain Rum: Truth is...I don't know the way to the Cape of Good Hope anyway.

Blackadder: Well, what were you going to do?

Captain Rum: Oh, what I usually do - sail 'round and 'round the Isle of Wight 'til everyone gets dizzy, then sail for home.

Blackadder: 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!

Percy, Baldrick and Captain Rum: Hooray!

[The day after the day after tomorrow...]

Blackadder: [slowly] So you don't know the way to France either.

Captain Rum: No! I must confess that too.

Blackadder: Bugger.

Blackadder: Look, there's no need to panic. Someone in the crew will know how to steer this thing.

Captain Rum: The crew, milord?

Blackadder: Yes, the crew.

Captain Rum: What crew?

Blackadder: I was under the impression that it was common maritime practice for a ship to have a crew.

Captain Rum: Opinion is divided on the subject.

Blackadder: Really?

Captain Rum: Yarrs. All the other captains say it is, I say it isn't.

Blackadder: Oh God, mad as a brush.

[After six months at sea, Blackadder, Percy and Baldrick prepare to drink their own urine]

Blackadder: Is Captain Rum joining us for this Bring-A-Sample party?

Percy: Oh no, he's been swigging his for ages. Says he likes it. Actually, come to think of it, he started before the water ran out.

[After two and a half years at sea, Blackadder returns to England]

Queen: Edmund! You're alive!

Blackadder: Oh yes.

Queen: And your silly friend.

Percy: [bows] Lord Percy, Ma'am.

Queen: And your monkey!

Baldrick: [bows] Your Majesty.

Queen: But where is Captain Rum?

Blackadder: Ah, bad news, Milady, Rum is dead.

[Nursie wails in grief]

Percy: Do not despair, good woman. He died a hero's death, giving his life so that his friends might live.

Blackadder: And that his enemies might have something to go with their potatoes.

Nursie: You mean they put him in the pot?!

Blackadder: Yes, your fiancé was only a third-rate sailor, but a first-rate second course. [Nursie starts crying again] However, we did manage to save something of him as a memento. [hands Nursie Captain Rum's beard]

Nursie: Oh, my lucky stars! I shall wear it always to remind me of him. [puts the beard on]

[Blackadder hands the Queen a boomerang]

Queen: [to Lord Melchett] What is it?

Lord Melchett: A stick.

Queen: Is it a stick, Lord Blackadder?

Blackadder: Ah, yes, Ma'am. But it is a very special stick, because, when you throw it away, it comes back!

Queen: Well, that's no good, is it? Because when I throw things away, I don't want them to come back! [to Percy] You! Get rid of it.

Percy: Certainly, Ma'am. [throws it into the corridor]

Money

Blackadder: Baldrick, this is Molly, a dear friend of mine.

Molly: I'm not dear. I'm very reasonable, actually, Baldrick. Most girls would charge an extra sixpence for all the 'orrid things he wants-

Blackadder: Yes, yes, alright. Baldrick, this is Molly, an inexpensive prostitute. Molly, this is Baldrick, a pointless peasant. Now may I get some sleep?

Baldrick: What about this priest?

Blackadder: Tell him to take his sacred backside out of here, and that if he comes begging again, I shall report him to the Bishop of Bath and Wells, who drowns babies during Christenings and then eats them in the vestry afterwards.

Baldrick: Very good, my lord.

Molly: [flirty] Bye, Baldrick.

Baldrick: [bashful] Buh-bye, Molly.

Blackadder: [to Baldrick] For God's sake, get out! [to Molly] Well, you're the one, aren't you? When you should be whispering sweet conversational nothings like "Goodness, something twice the size of the Royal Barge has just hoved into view between the sheets", you don't say a word. But enter the Creature from the Black Latrine, and you won't stop jabbering.

Molly: He treated me like a human being.

Blackadder: Look, if I had wanted a lecture on the rights of man, I'd have gone to bed with Martin Luther!

Blackadder: Tell me, Bishop, supposing I was to say something like "I'm a close friend of the Queen's, and I think she would be very interested to hear about you and Molly and the wimple, so why don't we just call it quits, eh, Fatso?"

Bishop of Bath and Wells: I would say, firstly, the Queen would not believe you, and secondly, [pulls out a poker, its end glowing red hot] you'll regret calling me 'Fatso' later today!

Blackadder: Ah.

Bishop of Bath and Wells: I will have my money by Evensong tonight, or...YOUR BOTTOM WILL WISH IT HAD NEVER BEEN BORN!!!

Percy: Do not despair, for I have some small savings carefully harvested from my weekly allowance. By lucky hap, it is just over a thousand, and has, for years, been hidden, beyond the wit of any thief, in an old sock....

Percy and Blackadder: ...under the squeaky floorboard...

Percy, Blackadder and Baldrick: ...behind the kitchen dresser.

Percy: [uneasily] You've seen it?

Blackadder: Seen it, pinched it, spent it! Same goes for those two farthings Baldrick thinks he's got hidden inside that mouldy potato.

Baldrick: Oh, bloody hell!

Percy: Then you are doomed. Alas. For God's sake, let us sit upon the carpet and tell sad stories.

Blackadder: Certainly not! When Lord Blackadder is in trouble, he does not sit about!

Baldrick: You won't be able to sit about with a spike up your bottom.

Blackadder: That's true. Still, I've got eighty-five quid and that's a start. I'm sure I'll think of something as long as I'm not disturbed...

Messenger: [enters] My lord, the Queen does demand your urgent presence, on pain of death.

Blackadder: Oh, damn, the path of my life is strewn with cowpats from the devil's own satanic herd!

Percy: I intend to discover, this very afternoon, the secret of alchemy - the hidden art of turning base things into gold.

Blackadder: I see. And the fact that this secret has eluded the most intelligent of men since the dawn of time doesn't dampen your spirits?

Percy: Oh no. I like a challenge!

Messenger: [enters again] My lord, the Queen does demand your urgent presence, on pain of death.

Blackadder: You're not making any friends here. You do know that, don't you?

[After the Queen's latest practical joke, Edmund returns to his house to find it filled with smoke]

Blackadder: My God! This place stinks like a pair of armoured trousers after the Hundred Years War. Baldrick, have you been eating dung again?!

Percy: [comes out of the den, frazzled and slightly burnt] My lord! Success!

Blackadder: What?

Percy: [leads Edmund into the den, where alchemical apparatus has been arranged on the table, with Baldrick pumping the bellows] After literally an hour's ceaseless searching, I have succeeded in creating gold! Pure gold!

Blackadder: Are you sure?

Percy: Yes, my lord! Behold...

[Edmund and Baldrick look at the main pot as Percy opens it, revealing its contents and bathing the room in its light]

Blackadder: Percy, it's green.

Percy: That's right, my lord!

Blackadder: Yes, Percy, I don't want to be pedantic, but the colour of gold is gold. That's why it's called "gold". What you have discovered, if it has a name, is some "green".

Percy: [amazed; takes the green out of the pot and holds it reverently in his hands] Oh, Edmund, can it be true? That I hold here, in my mortal hand, a nugget of purest green?

Blackadder: Indeed you do, Percy. Except it's not really a nugget, but more of a splat.

Percy: Well, yes, a splat today, but tomorrow, who knows, or dares to dream!

Blackadder: So we three alone in all the world can create the finest green at will?

Percy: Thus so. [aside] Not sure about counting in Baldrick, actually.

Blackadder: Of course, you know what your great discovery means, don't you, Percy?

Percy: Perhaps, my lord...

Blackadder: That you, Percy, Lord Percy, are an utter berk. Baldrick, pack my bags. I'm gonna sell the house.

Baldrick and Percy: [shocked] What?!

Blackadder: There's nothing else for it. I mean, I shall miss the old place. I've had some happy times here, when you and Percy have been out, but needs must when the devil vomits into your kettle. Baldrick, go forth into the street and let it be known that Lord Blackadder wishes to sell his house. Percy, just go forth into the street.

Blackadder: This is the den.

Mrs. Pants: [disgusted] Oh dear!

Blackadder: But I have to tell you, Mr. Pants, that I've had an extremely encouraging nibble from another client, and I think you know me the sort of man not to ignore a nibble for long.

Mrs. Pants: I smell some dry rot in the bedrooms, Timothy.

Blackadder: Well, Mrs. Pants, dry rot is as dry rot does. Stop me if I'm getting too technical.

Mrs. Pants: And the floors are a bit uneven.

Blackadder: Yes, indeed, and at no extra cost.

Mrs. Pants: Strange smell.

Blackadder: Yes, that's the servant. He'll be gone soon.

Mr. Pants: You've really worked out your banter, haven't you?

Blackadder: No, not really. This is a different thing; it's spontaneous and it's called wit.

Mrs. Pants: What about the privies?

Blackadder: When the master craftsman who designed this home was looking at sewage, he said to himself, "Romeo", for 'twas his name, "Romeo, let's make 'em functional and comfortable."

Mr. Pants: Oh, well, that sounds nice, don't it, dear?

Blackadder: I'm glad we understand each other, sir. So, sold then. Drink?

Mrs. Pants: [insistent] What about the privies?

Blackadder: Well, what we're talking about in 'privy' terms is the very latest in front-wall, fresh air orifices combined with a wide capacity gutter installation below.

Mrs. Pants: You mean you crap out of the window?

Blackadder: Yes!

Mrs. Pants: Well, in that case, we'll definitely take it! I can't stand those dirty indoor things.

Messenger: [enters] My lord-

Blackadder: [sarcastic] Ah, messenger, thank God you came. Percy and I could not have waited another second without you.

Blackadder: Right, Balders, I've lost the money. I'm going to have to run away.

Baldrick: Why, my lord?

Blackadder: Well, to avoid these monks!

Baldrick: No point. The Black Bank's got branches everywhere.

Blackadder: Oh no! [slumps to the floor] If I die, Baldrick, do you think people would remember me?

Baldrick: Yeah, 'course they would.

Blackadder: Yes, I suppose so.

Baldrick: Yeah, people would always be slapping each other on the shoulder and laughing and saying "Do you remember Old Privy-Breath?".

Blackadder: Do people call me "Privy-Breath"?

Baldrick: Yeah. The ones who like you.

Blackadder: Am I then not popular?

Baldrick: Um...well, put it this way - when people step in what dogs leave in the street, they do tend to say "Whoops, I've trod on a Blackadder".

Blackadder: [having a plan] The bloody cheek! I'll show them!

Baldrick: Have you got a plan, my lord?

Blackadder: Yes I have, and it's so cunning you could brush your teeth with it! All I need is some feathers, a dress, some oil, an easel, some sleeping draught, lots of paper, a prostitute and the best portrait-painter in England!

Baldrick: I'll get them right away, my lord!

Bishop of Bath and Wells: The time has come, Blackadder!

Blackadder: Oh, hullo, Bish.

Bishop of Bath and Wells: The Black Monks will have their money, or I will have my fun.

Blackadder: You enjoy your work, don't you?

Bishop of Bath and Wells: Bits of it, yes.

Blackadder: The violent bits.

Bishop of Bath and Wells: Yes. [starts massaging Blackadder's shoulders] You see, I am a colossal pervert. No form of sexual depravity is too low for me. Animal, vegetable or mineral, I'll do anything to anything.

Blackadder: Fine words for a bishop.

Bishop of Bath and Wells: Have you got the money?

Blackadder: Nope.

Bishop of Bath and Wells: Good, I hate it when people pay up. Say your prayers, Blackadder [pulls out his red-hot poker] IT'S POKER TIME!!!

Blackadder: Fine. Are you ever concerned that people might find you out?

Bishop of Bath and Wells: No, no. I kill, I maim, I fornicate, but as far as my flock is concerned, my only vice is a little tipple before Evensong. [Baldrick offers him a goblet of wine] Oh, thank you. [drinks from the offered goblet and then turns back to Blackadder] Bend over, Blackadder! This where you get... [chokes and clutches at his throat] Drugged! By God...!

Blackadder: No, by Baldrick, actually, but the effect is much the same.

[On the painting Blackadder had made to blackmail the Bishop of Bath and Wells]

Bishop of Bath and Wells: By the horns of Beelzebub, how did you get me into that position?!

Blackadder: It's beautifully framed, don't you think? Which is ironic, really, because that's exactly what's happened to you.

Bishop of Bath and Wells: You fiend! Never have I encountered such corrupt and foul-minded perversity! Have you ever considered a career in the church?!

Blackadder: No, I could never get used to the underwear. What I could use, though, is, say, eleven-hundred pounds to buy back my house, four thousand pounds to cover some sundry expenses, ten shillings for the two doors and thruppence for a celebratory slap-up binge at Mrs Miggins' Pie Shop.

Beer

Blackadder: Baldrick, why have you got a piece of cheese tied to the end of your nose?

Baldrick: To catch mice, my lord. I lie on the floor with my mouth open and hope they scurry in.

Blackadder: And do they?

Baldrick: Not yet, my lord.

Blackadder: That's hardly surprising. Your breath comes straight from Satan's bottom. The only sort of mouse you're likely to catch is one without a nose.

Baldrick: That's a pity, 'cause the nose is the best bit on a mouse.

Blackadder: Any bit of mouse would be luxury compared to what Percy and I must eat tonight. We are entertaining Puritan vegetable folk, Balders. And that means no meat.

Baldrick: In that case, I shall prepare my Turnip Surprise.

Blackadder: And the surprise is?

Baldrick: There's nothing else in it except the turnip.

Blackadder: So, in other words, the Turnip Surprise would be a turnip?

Baldrick: [in realisation] Oh yeah.

Blackadder: Get the door, Baldrick. [there is a crash. Baldrick enters, carrying a door] Baldrick, I advise you to make your explanation phenomenally good.

Baldrick: You said "Get the door."

Blackadder: Not good enough. You're fired.

Baldrick: But my lord, I've been in your family since 1532!

Blackadder: So has syphilis. Now get out.

Baldrick: Alright, sir. Oh, by the way, there was a messenger at the door. Says the Queen wants to see you right away. Lord Melchett is very sick.

Blackadder: [intrigued] Really?

Baldrick: Yeah, he's at death's door.

Blackadder: [brightens] Well, my reinstated faithful old family retainer, let's go and open it for him!

Blackadder: The sort of person we're looking for is an aggressive drunken lout with the intelligence of a four-year old and the sexual sophistication of a donkey.

Percy: [thinks and writes] Cardinal Wolsey...

Blackadder: Baldrick! [Baldrick enters, now with a mouse tied to the end of his nose] Why?

Baldrick: I got fed up with the all-mouse diet, my lord. I thought I'd try cat for variety.

Queen: I must say, Edmund, it does look a teeny bit like trying to get out of it.

Blackadder: Quite the wrong impression, ma'am. I just want to make it another night, that's all.

Nursie: Certainly not!

Queen: I beg your pardon?

Nursie: Well, it's just one excuse after another, isn't it? Next he'll be trying to get out of having his bath altogether.

Queen: He isn't talking about baths, Nursie.

Nursie: Well, he should be. How else is he gonna keep clean? Soon, he'll be saying he doesn't want to have his nappy changed.

Queen: Lord Blackadder doesn't wear a nappy.

Nursie: Well, in that case, it's even more important that he has a bath.

Queen: Shut up, Nursie! [to Blackadder] I know why you want to get out of it, because I remember the last time you had a party. I found you face-down in a puddle wearing a pointy hat and singing a song about goblins!

Blackadder: [giving in] Yes, alright! Tonight it is!

Queen: [smiles] Oh, Edmund, I do love it when you get cross. Sometimes I think about having you executed just to see the expression on your face.

Blackadder: Right, now let's make this absolutely clear: we are having two parties here tonight.

Baldrick and Percy: Right.

Blackadder: And they must be kept completely separate.

Baldrick and Percy: Right.

Blackadder: Firstly, a total piss-up involving beer-throwing, broken furniture and wall-to-wall vomiting to be held here in Baldrick's bedroom.

Baldrick: Oh, thank you very much, my lord.

Blackadder: Secondly, Percy will join me in here for the gourmet turnip eating. Is the Turnip Surprise ready?

Baldrick: [cracking up] Yes it is, my lord.

Blackadder: And what is so funny?

Percy: [cracking up] Well, my lord, while Baldrick and I were preparing the Turnip Surprise, we had a surprise. We came across a turnip that was exactly the same shape...as a thingy!

Blackadder: [deadpan] A thingy?

Baldrick: [cracking up] A great big thingy! It was teriffic!

Blackadder: Size is no guarantee of quality, Baldrick. Most horses are very well-endowed, but that does not make them unusually sensitive lovers. I trust you have removed this 'hilarious' item?

Baldrick and Percy: Yes.

Blackadder: Good, because there's nothing more like to stop an inheritance than a thingy-shaped turnip.

Percy: Oh, absolutely, Edmund. [cracking up] But it was jolly funny!

Baldrick: I found it particularly ironic, my lord, 'cause I've got a thingy that's shaped like a turnip.

Blackadder: [annoyed] What fun. Perhaps you've forgotten that I'm meant to be having a drinking competition tonight with Lord Melchett and ten thousand florins are at stake!

Baldrick: Oh dear.

Blackadder: What do you mean?

Baldrick: Well, firstly, you haven't got ten thousand florins, and thirdly, one drop of the ale and you fall flat on your face and sing that song about the goblin.

Blackadder: Nonsense. But just in case it's true-

Baldrick: It is true-

Blackadder: Yes, alright, it's true! So the plan is, when I call for my 'incredibly strong ale', you must pass me water in an ale bottle. Got that?

Baldrick: Yeah, when you call for ale, I pass water.

Blackadder: Percy, your job is to stay here and suck up to my aunt.

Percy: Oh, I think you can trust me to know how to handle a woman.

Blackadder: Oh, God. [hears a knock at the door] Right, here goes.

Blackadder: Uncle! Aunt! Greetings! How nice it is to see you again. [kisses her cheeks]

Lady Whiteadder: [slaps him twice on the cheek] Wicked child, don't lie! Everyone hates us, and you know it!

Blackadder: Er, yes. Uh, may I introduce my friend, Lord Percy.

Percy: Well, well, well, Eddie. You didn't tell me you had such a good-looking aunt. Good morrow to thee, gorgeousness. I know what I like, and I like what I see.

Lady Whiteadder: [slaps him on the cheek] Begone, Satan!

Blackadder: Yes, well, I hope you had a pleasant inheritance. Did I say "inheritance"? I meant "journey". [enters his room] If you'd just like to help yourselves to a legacy, uh, a chair.

Lady Whiteadder: Chair?! You have chairs in your house?!

Blackadder: Oh yes.

Lady Whiteadder: [slaps him twice on the cheek] Wicked child! Chairs are an invention of Satan! In our house, Nathaniel sits on a spike.

Blackadder: And yourself?

Lady Whiteadder: I sit on Nathaniel. Two spikes would be an extravagance.

Blackadder: Well, quite.

Lady Whiteadder: [sits down] We shall suffer comfort this once. We'll just have to stick forks in our legs between courses. I trust you remember we eat no meat?

Blackadder: Heaven forbid! Here we feast only on God's lovely turnip, mashed.

Lady Whiteadder: Mashed?!

Blackadder: [uneasily] Yes?

Lady Whiteadder: [slaps him twice on the cheek] Wicked child! Mashing is also the work of Beelzebub! For Satan saw God's blessed turnip, and he envied it and mashed it to spoil its sacred shape! I shall have my turnip as God intended.

Blackadder: Fine. Baldrick!

Baldrick: My lord?

Blackadder: Will you fetch my dear aunt a raw turnip, please.

Baldrick: But we've only got the-

Blackadder: Just do it. [to Lord Whiteadder] So, Uncle, will you have your turnip as God intended?

Lady Whiteadder: He will not answer you. He has taken a vow of silence. I believe that silence is golden.

Lady Whiteadder: Let us discuss your inheritance.

Blackadder: Ah, yes, good. Um, a little drink first, perhaps?

Lady Whiteadder: Drink?! [slaps him twice on the cheek] Wicked child! Drink is urine for the last leper in Hell!

Blackadder: No, no, this is only water. This is a house of simple purity.

[The door behind Edmund opens, revealing one of the partygoers, Freddy Frobisher, who stumbles through the door, runs past Edmund and Lady Whiteadder and vomits loudly into the fireplace behind Percy]

Freddy Frobisher: [stumbles back to the door] Great booze-up, Edmund! [staggers out into the hallway, giving a loud cheer]

[Percy hides his face in his hand, the Whiteadders look on in silent dismay, and Blackadder stays completely still and silent]

Lady Whiteadder: Do you know that man?

Blackadder: [quickly] No.

Lady Whiteadder: He called you 'Edmund'.

Blackadder: Oh, know him? Oh yes, I do.

Lady Whiteadder: Then can you explain what he meant by "great booze-up"?

Blackadder: [thinks for nearly a whole minute. Haltingly] Yes, I can. My friend is a missionary, and on his last visit abroad, brought back with him the chief of a famous tribe. His name is Great Boo. He's been suffering from sleeping sickness, and he's obviously just woken. Because, as you heard, Great Boo's up.

Percy: Well done, Edmund.

Blackadder: And I think I might just go and visit him. Percy, over to you.

Blackadder: [comes back, now very drunk, and wearing the cardinal's hat] Percy, I lost the bet.

Lady Whiteadder: [shocked] Edmund, explain yourself!

Blackadder: I can't. Not just like that. I'm a complicated person, you see, Auntie. Sometimes I'm nice, and sometimes I'm nasty! Hehe! And sometimes I just like to sing little songs like, See the little goblin-

Lady Whiteadder: I mean explain why you are wearing a cardinal's hat, why you are grinning inanely, and... [Edmund falls over onto a chair with his back facing the table] ...why you have an ostrich feather sticking out of your britches.

Blackadder: I'm wearing a cardinal's hat because I'm Cardinal Chunder. I have an ostrich feather up my bottom because Mr. Ostrich put it there to keep in the little pixies. And I'm grinning inanely because I think I've just about succeeded in conning you and your daft husband out of a whopping great inheritance. Eeheeheeheeheehee!

Lady Whiteadder: Is that right?! May I remind you, cursed creature, that your inheritance depends upon not drinking and not gambling!

Blackadder: Oh yes. Damn. Percy, the devil farts in my face once more.

Lady Whiteadder: Not mentioning farts was also a condition.

Blackadder: Shove off, you old trout.

Lady Whiteadder: [offended] How dare you speak to my husband like that! Nathaniel, we're leaving! [to Percy] And you.

Percy: Yes?

Lady Whiteadder: Has anyone ever told you you're a giggling imbecile?

Percy: Oh, yes.

Lady Whiteadder: Good.

[The Whiteadders head out into the hallway, Lady Whiteadder slamming the door behind her]

Blackadder: Good riddance, you old witch. [a knock on the door] Oops, she's forgotten her broomstick.

Lord Nathaniel Whiteadder: [opens the door; breaking the vow of silence] Look... [looks behind him, then turns back to Blackadder] I just wanted to say thanks for a splendid evening! Yes, first rate all around. Particularly your jester. By the way, I loved the turnip. [snickers] Very funny. Exactly the same shape as a thingy! [leaves]

Chains

Blackadder: Anyone stupid enough to let some mustachioed Dago come up to them in a corridor, say "Excuse me, meester", and hit them over the head with a big stick deserves everything they get.

Prince Ludwig: Forgive me, Herr Blackadder...I have been neglecting my duties as a host. Please accept my apple-ogies.

Blackadder: I accept nothing from a man who imprisons his guests in a commode.

Prince Ludwig: I hope this scum has not inconweenienced you.

Edmund: It takes more than a maniac trying to cut off my goolies to inconweenience me.

Prince Ludwig: Good. If he had inconweenienced you, I was going to offer you his tongue.

Blackadder: Believe me, sir: if he had inconweeniened me, you would not have a tongue with which to make such an offer.

Prince Ludwig: Let me assure you, Herr Blackadder: if I no longer had a tongue with which to make such an offer, you would no longer have a tongue with which to tell me that, if I had inconweenienced you, I would no longer have a tongue with which to offer you his tongue.

Edmund: Yes, well, enough of this banter. Who the hell are you, sausage breath?

Prince Ludwig: You do not remember me then, Herr Blackadder?

Blackadder: I don't believe I've had the pleasure.

Prince Ludwig: Oh, on the contrary. We have met many times, although you knew me by another name. Do you recall a mysterious black marketeer and smuggler called Otto with whom you used to dine and plot and play the biscuit game at the Old Pizzle in Dover?

Blackadder: My God!

Prince Ludwig: Yes! I was the waitress.

Edmund: I don't believe it! You? Big Sally?

Prince Ludwig: [falsetto] `Will you have another piece of pie, My Lord?'

Blackadder: But I went to bed with you, didn't I?

Prince Ludwig: For my country, I am willing to make any sacrifice.

Blackadder: Yes, but I'm not! I must have been paralytic!

Prince Ludwig: Indeed you were, "Mr. Floppy".

[Lord Melchett is brought into the dungeon]

Prince Ludwig: Lord Melchett, we meet again.

Lord Melchett: No, I don't think we had the pleasure.

Prince Ludwig: You do not recognise me then?

Lord Melchett: ...No.

Prince Ludwig: Let me refresh your memory. You remember when you were in Cornwall at the Monastery, there was an old shepard with whom you used to talk?

Lord Melchett: Good Lord, Jenkins?

Prince Ludwig: Yes. I was one of his sheep!

Lord Melchett: One of his sheep? [realises what Ludwig is implying] Not...

Prince Ludwig: Yes!

Lord Melchett: Flossy?!

Prince Ludwig: Yes!

Lord Melchett: But, didn't we...?!

Prince Ludwig: Yes Lord Melchett! [bleats loudly like a sheep]

Lord Melchett: Oh my god!

Percy: [reading Prince Ludwig's ransom letter] Dear Qveen, I, Evil Prince Ludvig the Indestructible, have your two friends, and you must...shoose between them. The ransom is one million krona. Many, many apple-ogies for the inconweenience.

Lord Melchett: What say you, Blackadder, I sing a song to keep our spirits up?

Blackadder: Well, that all depends on whether you want the slop bucket over your head or not.

Lord Melchett: Well, then perhaps some pleasant word game?

Blackadder: Yes, alright. Make a sentence out of the following words: face, sodding, your, shut.

Lord Melchett: For god's sake, man! We must do something to relieve our minds of the terrible fate that awaits us!

Blackadder: Awaits you, Melchy, not me. How's my beard looking?

Lord Melchett: Oh, alas! Shall I never see England more? Her rolling fields, her swooping swallows...

Blackadder: And her playful sheep.

Prince Ludwig: [reading the Queen's reply to his ransom letter] After long and careful deliberation, the Qveen has decided to spend the ransom money on...

[Cut to the Queen writing the rest of the letter]

Queen: "...a big party. Just impossible to decide between my two faves, so I've decided to keep the cash, have a whizzy jolly time, and try to forget both of you. Hope you're not too miffed. Bye-ee!"

[Cut back to the prison]

Blackadder: What?!

Prince Ludwig: "Hope you're not too miffed. Bye-ee!"

Prince Ludwig: My friends, I come to bid you farewell. These guards will ewentually die of old age, but their sons will, I'm sure, go on attending to your needs. With your information, gentlemen, I intend to overthrow your qveen and country. The Master of Disguise will become The Master of the World!

Blackadder: Yes, one thing, Ludwig, just before you go?

Prince Ludwig: Yes?

Blackadder: Were you ever bullied at school?

Prince Ludwig: What do you mean?

Blackadder: Well, all this ranting and raving about power, there must be some reason for it.

Prince Ludwig: Nonsense. No, at my school, having dirty hair and spots was a sign of maturity.

Blackadder: I thought so! And I bet your mother made you wear shorts all the way up to your final year.

Prince Ludwig: [fed up] Shut up! Shut up! When I am King of England, no one will ever dare call me "Shorty-Greasy-Spot-Spot" again! [leaves]

Blackadder: Touched a nerve there, I think.

Lord Melchett: What good is it going to do us if we're doomed to rot here until we die?!

Blackadder: Don't worry, I have a plan.

Lord Melchett: Really?

Blackadder: Yes. Now that Ludwig's gone, we should have no trouble overcoming the guards. Germans are sticklers for efficiency, and I've been watching their routine. I have selected the moment when they are at their most vulnerable. That is when we will attack.

Lord Melchett: Brilliant! How?

Blackadder: That is the most cunning bit.

[At the Queen's party, she comes dressed as her father, King Henry VIII]

Queen: [deep voice] Yo ho ho, off with their heads!

Percy: Ma'am, it is brilliant! Your father is born again!

Queen: [normal voice] Let's bally well hope not, or else I won't be queen anymore.

Prince Ludwig: Ah, Qveen Elizabeth, we meet again.

Queen: Um, I don't think so, actually.

Prince Ludwig: Yes, you remember when you were young, and your father used to take you riding on a magnificent grey pony that you used to kiss and fondle in the stable yards?

Queen: [embarrassed] Yes, yes!

Prince Ludwig: I...I was the tall and attractive German stable lad who held him.

Queen: [shocked] No!

Prince Ludwig: Yes!

Queen: You?

Prince Ludwig: Uh-huh!

Queen: Shorty-Greasy-Spot-Spot?

Prince Ludwig: NO! No, no, no! You will, all of you, regret the day that you ever mocked my complexion! I shall return and wreak my rewengee! [leaves]

Blackadder: You will die and be dead! [throws a knife at Ludwig offscreen]

Prince Ludwig: [offscreen] Oh!

Percy: Welcome, Edmund. Did you...miss me?

Blackadder: I certainly did. Many is the time I said to myself "I wish Percy was here..."

Percy: [ecstatic] Oh!

Blackadder: "...being tortured instead of me."

Percy: [still ecstatic] Oh, we have missed your wit!

Baldrick: Did you miss me, my lord?

Blackadder: Um...Baldrick, is it?

Baldrick: That's right.

Blackadder: No, not really.

Queen: And me? Did you miss me, Edmund?

Blackadder: Madame, life without you was like a broken pencil.

Queen: [confused] Explain...?

Blackadder: Pointless.

[She smiles]

[Last lines; after the credits, we find Blackadder, Percy, Elizabeth, Nursie, Baldrick, and Lord Melchett all died by being stabbed with a knife. We turn to Prince Ludwig, somehow survived the attack, disguised himself as Queen Elizabeth]

Prince Ludwig: [laughs evily; to the audience] Now this is the disguise I'm going to really enjoy, if I could just get the voice right.