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Blackadder (1983, 198689, 1999) is a television show which originally aired on BBC1 written by Richard Curtis, Ben Elton, and Rowan Atkinson. It traces members of the Blackadder dynasty and their associates through different periods of history.

The Black Adder: The Foretelling Born to be King The Archbishop The Queen of Spain's Beard Witchsmeller Pursuivant The Black Seal
Blackadder II: Bells Head Potato Money Beer Chains
Blackadder the Third: Dish and Dishonesty Ink and Incapability Nob and Nobility Sense and Senility Amy and Amiability Duel and Duality
Blackadder Goes Forth: Captain Cook Corporal Punishment Major Star Private Plane General Hospital Goodbyeee
Specials: The Cavalier Years Christmas Carol Back & Forth
Cast External links

The Black Adder[edit]

The Foretelling[edit]

Edmund: Ah, Percy, you see how the King picks me out for special greeting?
Percy: No, my lord.
Baldrick: I saw it, my lord.
Edmund: And what is your name, little fellow?
Baldrick: My name is Baldrick, my lord.
Edmund: Then I shall call you... Baldrick.
Baldrick: And I shall call you "my lord," my lord.

Edmund: I shall be known from now on, as the Black... Vegetable!
Baldrick: My lord, wouldn't something like "The Black Adder" sound better?
Edmund: No, wait. I think I have a better idea. What about... The Black Adder?
Baldrick: Very witty, My Lord.
Edmund: Thank you, Baldrick.
Percy: Very, very, very witty, My Lord.
Edmund: Thank you, Percy.
Baldrick: You're certainly wittier than your father.
Percy: And head and shoulders over Richard III!
Edmund: [annoyed] Is that supposed to be witty?
Percy: Er... No, my lord. Th-that was an example of the sort of thing that you yourself would not stoop to.
Edmund: Go away!
Baldrick and Percy: Yes, my lord.

Born to Be King[edit]

[King Richard IV is about to set out on a crusade against the Turks]
Richard IV: As the good Lord said: "Love thy neighbour as thyself, unless he's Turkish, in which case, kill the bastard!"

Dougal McAngus: I hope life doesn't get too boring now you can't pass laws over Scotland.
Edmund: [Laughs feebly then mutters under his breath] I wouldn't pass water over Scotland.

The Archbishop[edit]

King Richard IV: [to Edmund] Don't be mistaken about this appointment, Edward. I've always despised you.
Edmund: Well, you are my father. I mean, you're biased.
King Richard IV: You, compared to your beloved brother Harry, are as excrement compared to cream!
Harry: Oh, father, you flatter me!
Edmund: And me, also!

Edmund: Um, well, let's take Hell. Hell isn't as bad as it's cracked up to be.
Lord Graveney: What?
Edmund: No, no, no, no. The thing about Heaven is that Heaven is for people who like the sort of things that go on in Heaven, like [makes a face] singing, talking to God, watering pot plants.
Lord Graveney: Ecchh!
Edmund: Whereas Hell, on the other hand, is for people who like the other sorts of things: [with relish] adultery, pillage, torture. Those areas.
Lord Graveney: [excited] Really?
Edmund: Mmm. Once you're dead, you'll have the time of your life.
Lord Graveney: [ecstatic] Adultery, pillage - through all eternity?
Edmund: Yep! Henry, it's your decision.
Lord Graveney: Very well. I'll leave my lands to the Crown and my soul in the hands of the Lord. May he treat me like the piece of refuse that I am and send me to Hell where I belong. Amen!
Edmund: Amen. You're a lucky man. I wish I could come with you, but being Archbishop...
Lord Graveney: I'm so sorry.
Edmund: Oh, it's alright.

The Queen of Spain's Beard[edit]

Messenger: My lord, good news! The Swiss have invaded France!
King Richard IV: Excellent! Wessex, while they're away, take ten thousand troops and pillage Geneva!
Chiswick: But the Swiss are our allies, my lord.
King Richard IV: Oh, yes. [to Lord Wessex] Well, get them to dress up as Germans, would you? Chiswick, remind me to send flowers to the king of France in sympathy for the death of his son.
Chiswick: The one you had murdered, my lord?
King Richard IV: [absentmindedly] Yes, yes, that's the fellow.

Baldrick: My Lord...
Edmund: What?
Baldrick: I also have a plan.
Edmund: Yes?
Baldrick: Why not make her think you prefer the company of men?
Edmund: But I do, Baldrick, I do!
Baldrick: No, no, My Lord. I mean, erm, the, er, intimate company of men...?
Edmund: [horrified] You don't mean... like the Earle of Doncaster...?
Baldrick: I mean just like the Earle of Doncaster.
Edmund: That great radish? That steaming great left-footer? The Earle of Doncaster, Baldrick, has been riding side-saddle since he was 17.
Baldrick: Mm! And who would want to marry the Earle of Doncaster?
Edmund: Well, no-one wou - [understanding] Brilliant! Of course! No one would marry the Earle of Doncaster!... except, perhaps, the Duke of Beaufort.

Witchsmeller Pursuivant[edit]

Witchsmeller: [talking about ordeal by axe] The suspect has his head placed upon a block, and an axe aimed at his neck. If the man is guilty, the axe will bounce off his neck — so we burn him. If the man is not guilty, the axe will simply slice his head off.

Witchsmeller: Have you or have you not, committed sins of the flesh with him?
Jane Firkettle: I have.
Edmund: You must be joking!
Jane Firkettle: To my deepest shame.
Edmund: And mine. I mean, look at her!

The Black Seal[edit]

Edmund: Percy, you are dismissed from my services.
Percy: Me? why?
Edmund: Because Percy, far from being a fit consort for a prince of the realm, you would bore the leggings off a village idiot. You ride a horse rather less well than another horse would. Your brain would make a grain of sand look large and ungainly. And the part of you that can't be mentioned, I am reliably informed by women around the court, wouldn't be worth mentioning even if it could be. If you put on a floppy hat and a furry cod-piece, you might just get by as a fool, but since you wouldn't know a joke if it got up and gave you a haircut, I doubt it. That is why you are dismissed.
Percy: [meekly] Oh, I see.
Edmund: And as for you, Baldrick...
Baldrick: [hopefully] My Lord?
Edmund: You're out too.

The Hawk: Fifteen years in France teaches a man to hate! Fifteen years of eating frogs! Fifteen years of wearing perfume! Fifteen years of saying perdon!

Blackadder II[edit]


Percy: I'd like to meet the Spaniard who can make his way past me!
Blackadder: Well, go to Spain. There are millions of them.

Blackadder: Tell me, young crone, is this Putney?
Young Crone: [cackling] That it be! That it be!
Blackadder: "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 butt 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. 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 then. Three other paths are open to you. Three cunning plans to cure thy ailment.
Blackadder: Ah, good.
Wise Woman: The first is simple - kill the boy!
Blackadder: Never!
Wise Woman: Then try the second - kill yourself.
Blackadder: Hmm... 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. [gets up and leaves]


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, what do I have?
Baldrick: Some beans.
Blackadder: [smiles, impatiently] Yesss... 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: 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 the three to that one, 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: [seeing Percy's abnormally wide new neckruff] 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!
Blackadder: No, now we've moved on - from advanced mathematics 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; 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: Bloody explorers. They 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 fine carriages, luxury estates 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.

Melchett: Started talking to yourself, Blackadder?
Blackadder: Yes, it's the only way I can be sure of intelligent conversation around here!


Mr. Pants: [laughing] 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.

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 an Edmund".
Blackadder: 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!


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, Baldrick. 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: Get the door, Baldrick.
[There is a crash. Baldrick enters, carrying a door.]
Blackadder: I would advise you to make the explanation you are about to give... 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!


Blackadder: Were you ever bullied at school?
Prince Ludwig: What do you mean?
Blackadder: I mean, 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: Shut up! Shut up! When I am King of England, no one will ever dare call me "Shorty-Greasy-Spot-Spot" again!

Queen: Did you miss me, Edmund?
Blackadder: Madame, life without you was like a broken pencil.
Queen: [confused] Explain...?
Blackadder: Pointless.

Blackadder the Third[edit]

Dish and Dishonesty[edit]

George: [searching for his socks] They just disappear! Honestly, you'd think someone was coming in here, stealing the damn things and then selling them off!
Blackadder: [chuckles, looking slightly devious] Impossible, sir. Only you and I have access to your socks.
George: Yes, yes, you're right. Still, for me, socks are like sex: tonnes of it about, and I never seem to get any!

Blackadder: Right. Now all we have to do is fill in this MP application form. "Name"...Baldrick. First name?
Baldrick: Er... I'm not sure.
Blackadder: Well, you must have some idea.
Baldrick: Well, it might be Sod-Off.
Blackadder: What?
Baldrick: Well, when I was little and I used to play in the gutter, I used to say to the other snipes "Hello, my name's Baldrick." And they'd say "Yes, we know: Sod-Off Baldrick."
Blackadder: All right, "Mr S. Baldrick." Now then, "Distinguishing features".... None.
Baldrick: Hold on. I've got this big growth in the middle of my face.
Blackadder: That's your nose, Baldrick. Now, "Any history of insanity in the family?"... Tell you what. I'll cross out the "in." "Any history of sanity in the family?" ... None whatsoever. Now, "Criminal record?"
Baldrick: Absolutely not.
Blackadder: Oh, come on, Baldrick, you're going to be an MP, for God's sake! Look, I'll just put "Fraud and sexual deviancy".

Blackadder: This is the worst moment of my entire life. I've spent my last penny on a cat-skin windcheater, I've just broken a priceless turnip...[there is a loud banging at the door followed by shouting]...and now I'm about to be viciously slaughtered by a naked Tunisian sock merchant. Well, all I can say, Baldrick, is this: it's the last time I dabble in politics!

Ink and Incapability[edit]

Prince George: [waking suddenly] Oh, Blackadder! BLACKADDER! [Blackadder walks in]
Blackadder: Your Highness?
Prince George: What time is it!?
Blackadder: Three o'clock in the afternoon, sire.
Prince George: [relieved] Oh thank God for that, I thought I'd overslept!
Blackadder: I trust you had a pleasant evening, sir?
Prince George: Well, no, actually. The most extraordinary thing happened. Last night I was having a bit of a snack at the Naughty Hellfire Club, and some fellow said that I had the wit and sophistication of a donkey!
Blackadder: Oh. An absurd suggestion, sir.
Prince George: You're right, it is absurd.
Blackadder: Unless this was a particularly stupid donkey.

Baldrick: Something wrong, Mr. B?
Blackadder: Something's always wrong, Baldrick! The fact I am not a millionaire aristocrat with the sexual capacity of a rutting rhino is a constant niggle!

Blackadder: I believe, sir, that the Doctor is trying to tell you that he is happy because he has finished his book. It has apparently taken him ten years.
Prince George: Yes, well, I'm a slow reader myself.

Blackadder: Ah, good morning. Dr. Johnson, Lord Byron-
Samuel Johnson: Where is my dictionary?
Blackadder: And what dictionary would this be?
[Johnson, Byron, Shelley and Coleridge advance on Blackadder with swords drawn to the tune of an ominous drumbeat]
Samuel Johnson: [outraged] The one that has taken me eighteen hours of every day for the past ten years! My mother died, I hardly noticed. My father cut off his head and fried it in garlic in the hopes of attracting my attention; I scarcely looked up from my work! My wife brought armies of lovers to the house, who worked in droves so that she might bring up a huge family of bastards! I cared not!
Blackadder: [cornered] Am I to assume that my elaborate bluff has not worked?
Samuel Johnson: Dictionary!
Blackadder: Right, well, the truth is, Doctor - now, don't get cross, don't over-react - the truth is: we burnt it.
Samuel Johnson: Then you die!

Blackadder: Baldrick, fetch my novel.
Baldrick: Your novel?
Blackadder: Yes, Baldrick, the big papery thing tied up with string...
Baldrick: What, like the thing we burnt?
Blackadder: Exactly like the thing we burnt.
Baldrick: So, you're asking for the big papery thing tied up with string, exactly like the thing we burnt?
Blackadder: ...Exactly.
Baldrick: ...We burnt it.
Blackadder: So we did. Thank you Baldrick. Seven years of my life up in smoke. [to George] Your Highness, will you excuse me a moment?
George: By all means.
[Edmund exits]
Blackadder: [from outside] OH GOD, NO!!!
[Edmund reenters]
Blackadder: [to George] Thank you, sir.

Nob and Nobility[edit]

Blackadder: Morning, Mrs Miggins.
Mrs Miggins: Bonjour, monsieur.
Blackadder: [disgusted] What?
Mrs Miggins: Bonjour, monsieur. It's French.
Blackadder: So is eating frogs, cruelty to geese and urinating in the street. But that's no reason to inflict it on the rest of us!
Mrs Miggins: But French is all the fashion! My coffee shop is full of Frenchies, and it's all because of that wonderful Scarlet Pimpernel!
Blackadder: The Scarlet Pimpernel is not wonderful, Mrs Miggins. There is no reason whatsoever to admire someone for filling London with a bunch of garlic-chewing French toffs, crying "Oh-la-la" and looking for sympathy all the time just cos their fathers had their heads cut off! I'll have a cup of coffee, and some shepherd's pie.
Mrs Miggins: Oh, we don't serve pies any more! My French clientèle consider pies uncouth!
Blackadder: I hardly think a nation who eats snails and would go to bed with the kitchen sink if it put on a tutu is in any position to preach couthness!

[Blackadder walks into the kitchen, picks up the cat and kicks it into the air]
Baldrick: Oh, sir! Poor little Mildred the cat, what's he ever done to you?
Blackadder: It is the way of the world, Baldrick. The abused always kick downwards. I am annoyed, and so I kick the cat, the cat [loud squeak] pounces on the mouse, and finally, the mouse--
Baldrick: Argh!
Blackadder: --bites you on the behind.
Baldrick: And what do I do?
Blackadder: Nothing. You are last in God's great chain. Unless there's an earwig around here you'd like to victimize.

Blackadder: The Ancient Greeks wrote in legend of a terrible container in which all the evils of the world were trapped. How prophetic they were. All they got wrong was the name. They called it "Pandora's Box", when, of course, they meant "Baldrick's Trousers".
Baldrick: It certainly can get a bit whiffy, there's no doubt about that!
Blackadder: We are told that, when the box was opened, the whole world turned to darkness and misfortune because of Pandora's fatal curiosity. [to Baldrick] I charge you now, Baldrick: for the good of all mankind, never allow curiosity to lead you to open your trousers. Nothing of interest lies therein!

Sense and Senility[edit]

Blackadder: Gentlemen, I've come with a proposition.
Mossop: How dare you, sir! You think, just because we're actors, we sleep with everyone!
Blackadder: I should think, being actors, you're lucky to sleep with anyone.

Blackadder: Baldrick, I would like to say how much I will miss your honest, friendly companionship...
Baldrick: [touched] Thank you, sir.
Blackadder: ...but as we both know, it would be an utter lie. I will therefore content myself with saying "Sod off, and if I ever meet you again, it'll be 20 billion years too soon!" [he leaves]
Baldrick: Goodbye, you lazy, big-nosed, rubber-faced bastard! [Blackadder re-enters the room]
Blackadder: I fear, Baldrick, that you will soon be eating those badly chosen words. I wouldn't bet a single groat that you could last five minutes without me.
Baldrick: Oh, come on, Mr B.! It's not like we're gonna be murdered the second you leave, is it?
Blackadder: Hope springs eternal, Baldrick!

Amy and Amiability[edit]

Blackadder: [after noticing a portion of his newspaper has been cut out] Baldrick, why has half the front page been cut out?
Baldrick: I don't know.
Blackadder: You do know, don't you?
Baldrick: Yes.
Blackadder: You've been cutting out the cuttings about the elusive 'Shadow' to put in your highwayman's scrapbook, haven't you?
Baldrick: Oh, I can't help it, Mr B.! His life is so dark and shadowy, and full of fear and trepidation!
Blackadder: So is going to the toilet in the middle of the night, but you don't keep a scrapbook on it!
Baldrick: I do.

[As Blackadder plans to run off with Amy]
Baldrick: [annoyed] I still can't believe you're leaving me behind!
Blackadder: Don't worry, when we're established on our plantation in Barbados, I'll send for you. No more sad little London for you, Balders; from now on, you'll stand out in life as an individual!
Baldrick: Will I?
Blackadder: Well, of course you will; all the other slaves will be black!

Duel and Duality[edit]

Baldrick: [entering with a letter] Mr. Blackadder?
Blackadder: Leave me alone, Baldrick. If I wanted to talk to a vegetable, I'd have bought one at the market!
Baldrick: Don't you want this message?
Blackadder: No, thank you. God, I'm wasted here. It's no life for a man of noble blood, being servant to a master with the intellect of a jugged walrus and all the social graces of a potty!
Baldrick: I'm wasted too. I've been thinking of bettering myself.
Blackadder: Oh really, how?
Baldrick: I applied for the job of village idiot of Kensington.
Blackadder: Oh. Get anywhere?
Baldrick: I got down to the last two, but I failed the final interview.
Blackadder: Oh, what went wrong?
Baldrick: I turned up. The other bloke was such an idiot, he forgot to.
Blackadder: Yes, I'm afraid my ambitions stretch slightly further than professional idiocy in West London! I want to be remembered when I'm dead. I want books written about me. I want songs sung about me. And then, hundreds of years from now, I want episodes of my life to be played out weekly at half past nine by some great heroic actor of the age.
Baldrick: Yeah, and I could be played by some tiny tit in a beard.
Blackadder: Quite. Now, what's this message?
Baldrick: I thought you didn't want it.
Blackadder: Well, I may do, it depends what it is.
Baldrick: So you do want it?
Blackadder: Well, I don't know, do I? It depends what it is.
Baldrick: [frantically] Well, I can't tell you what it is unless you want to know, and you said you didn't want to know, and now I'm so confused, I don't know where I live or what my name is!!
Blackadder: Your name is of no importance, and you live in the pipe in the upstairs water closet.

Blackadder: 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 wad of cash, an amusing clock and a stack of French porn!

[Blackadder has just been shot.]
Baldrick: Mr B! Sir! Help me get his coat off!
Blackadder: Leave it, Baldrick. It doesn't matter.
Baldrick: Yes it does! Blood's hell to shift! I want to get it in soak!

Blackadder Goes Forth[edit]

Plan A: Captain Cook[edit]

[First lines]
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!
Blackadder: Why?
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.

Melchett: Field Marshal Haig has formulated a brilliant new tactical plan to ensure final victory in the field.
Blackadder: Ah. Would this brilliant plan involve us climbing out of our trenches and walking very slowly towards the enemy?
Captain Darling: How could you possibly know that, Blackadder? It's classified information!
Blackadder: It's the same plan that we used last time and the seventeen times before that.
Melchett: Exactly! And that is what is so brilliant about it! It will catch the watchful Hun totally off guard! Doing precisely what we've done eighteen times before is exactly the last thing they'll expect us to do this time! There is, however, one small problem.
Blackadder: That everyone always gets slaughtered in the first ten seconds.
Melchett: That's right. And Field Marshal Haig is worried this may be depressing the men a tad. So he's looking for a way to cheer them up.
Blackadder: Well, his resignation and suicide seems the obvious choice.
Melchett: Hmm, interesting thought. Make a note of it, Darling.

Plan B: Corporal Punishment[edit]

Melchett: Anything to say before we kick off, Captain Darling?
Darling: May it please the court, as this is clearly an open and shut case, I beg leave to bring a private prosecution against the defence counsel for wasting the court's time.
Melchett: Granted. The defence counsel is fined £50 for turning up!

[After Blackadder has gotten a reprieve, no thanks to George and Baldrick]
Blackadder: 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!

Plan C: Major Star[edit]

George: You a bit cheesed off, sir?
Blackadder: George, the day this war began, I was cheesed off. Within ten minutes of you turning up, I finished the cheese and moved on to the coffee and cigars. And at this late stage, I am in a cab with two lady companions on my way to The Pink Pussycat in Lower Regent Street.

Blackadder: [regarding Charlie Chaplin] I find his films about as funny as getting an arrow through the neck, and then finding there's a gas bill tied to it!

Blackadder: Thank you George, but if you don't mind, I'd rather have my tongue beaten wafer-thin by a steak tenderizer and then stapled to the floor with a croquet hoop.
[Blackadder has just sent Baldrick to clean out the latrines, and when he returns, a massive cheer is heard outside']
Baldrick: Sir, it's all over the trenches!
Blackadder: 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!
George: Well, hurrah!
Blackadder: Oh no, the bloody Russians have pulled out of the war!
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!

Blackadder: Baldrick, the slug is dead. If it failed to cling on to life, I see no reason why it should wish to cling on to your upper lip!

Blackadder: Yes, in one short evening, I've become the most successful impresario since the manager of the Roman Colosseum thought of putting the Christians and the lions on the same bill.

[Blackadder is meeting "Bob" Parkhurst, who he realises is actually a woman disguised as a man]
Blackadder: So you're a chap, are you, Bob?
Bob: Oh yes, sir. [bursts out laughing and growls like a tiger]
Blackadder: You wouldn't say that you were a girl at all?
Bob: [nervously] Oh, definitely not sir! I understand cricket, I fart in bed, everything.
Blackadder: Let me put it another way, Bob. You are a girl. And you're a girl with as much talent for disguise as a giraffe in dark glasses trying to get into a "Polar bears only" golf club!
Bob: [Horrified] Oh sir, oh sir, please don't give me away, sir. I just wanted to be like my brothers and join up. I want to see how a war is fought... so badly!
Blackadder: Well, you've come to the right place, Bob. A war hasn't been fought this badly since Olaf the Hairy, High Chief of all the Vikings, accidentally ordered eighty thousand battle helmets with the horns on the inside.
Bob: I want to do my bit for the boys, sir!
Blackadder: Oh, really..?
Bob: [pleading] I'll do anything, sir!
Blackadder: Yes, I'd keep that to myself if I were you.

Blackadder: Baldrick, no! It's the worst plan since Abraham Lincoln said "Oh, I'm sick of kicking around the house tonight, let's go take in a show!". For a start, General Melchett is in mourning for the woman of his dreams: he is unlikely therefore to be in the mood to marry a two-legged badger wrapped in a curtain! Secondly, we are looking for a great entertainer, and you're the worst entertainer since Saint Paul the Evangelist toured Palestine with his trampoline act! No, we'll have to find somebody else.
George: What about Corporal Cartwright, sir?
Blackadder: Corporal Cartwright looks like an orangutan. I've heard of the bearded lady, but the all-over-body-hair lady frankly just isn't on!
George: Willis?
Blackadder: Too short.
George: Petheridge?
Blackadder: Too old.
George: Taplow?
Blackadder: Too dead. Oh, it's hopeless. There just isn't anyone!
[Bob is heard singing in the shower]
Blackadder: [with renewed hope] What am I doing?! Bob!
Bob: [enters wearing towels] Sir?
George: [STILL not realizing Bob is a girl] Sir, what a brilliant idea! Bob, can you think of anyone that could be our leading lady?

Blackadder: Bob, take a telegram. "To Mr. C. Chaplin, Sennet Studios, Hollywood, California. Congrats stop. Have found only person in world less funny than you stop. Name: Baldrick stop. Signed, E. Blackadder stop". Oh, and put a P.S.: "Please, please, please... stop."
[Later in the episode, when Blackadder's show is cancelled and Charlie Chaplin agrees to have his films shown in Allied trenches to raise morale]
Darling: We received a telegram from Mr. Chaplin himself at Sennet Studios: "Twice nightly screening of my films in trenches: excellent idea stop. But must insist that E. Blackadder be projectionist stop. P.S.: Don't let him ever... stop".

Melchett: Who can explain the mysteries of love? I'm in love with Georgina, Blackadder. I'm going to marry her on Saturday and I want you to be my best man.
Blackadder: I don't think that would be a very good idea, sir.
Melchett: And why not?
Blackadder: Because there's something wrong with your fiance, sir.
Melchett: Oh my God, she's not Welsh, is she?!

Plan D: Private Plane[edit]

Blackadder: Hello? I'd like to leave a message for the head of the Royal Flying Corps. That's Air Chief Marshall Sir Hugh Massingbird-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 and tell her that her only human child is dead!

[George finds Blackadder and Baldrick taking shelter from the air raid under a table]
George: Oh, hello! What's going on here? Game of hide and seek? Excellent! Right, now I'll go and count to a hundred. Err, no, better make it five, actually...
Blackadder: George?
George: Err... Oh, it's sardines! Oh, excellent! That's my favourite one, that--
Blackadder: [rising up] GEORGE!
George: Yes, sir?
Blackadder: Shut up, and never say anything again as long as you live.
George: Right you are, sir... Crikey, but what a show it was, sir! Lord Flashheart's Flying Aces! How we cheered when they spun, how we shouted when they dived! How we applauded when one chap got sliced in half by his own propeller! Well, it's all part of the joke for those magnificent men in their flying machines!
[A plane is heard plummeting and crashing outside]
Blackadder: For "magnificent men", read "Biggest Showoffs Since Lady Godiva Entered the Royal Enclosure at Ascot Claiming She Had Literally Nothing to Wear". I don't care how many times they go "up-diddly-up-up", they're still gits!
Baldrick: Oh, come on, sir! I'd love to be a flier. Up there where the air is clear...
Blackadder: The chances of the air being clear anywhere near you, Baldrick, are zero!

[Flashheart jumps into the trench]
Flashheart: Ha! Eat knuckle, Fritz!
[Flashheart punches Blackadder and he falls to the ground. Flashheart places a foot on his chest.]
Flashheart: How disgusting. A boche on the sole of my boot. I shall have to find a patch of grass to wipe it on.
[Flashheart gets off Blackadder]
Flashheart: Probably get shunned in the officers' mess! "Sorry about the pong, you fellows. Trod in a boche and can't get rid of the whiff!"
[Blackadder gets up]
Blackaddder: Do you think we could dispense with the hilarious doggy-do metaphor for a moment? I'm not a boche, this is a British trench.
Flashheart: Is it? Oh that's a piece of luck. Thought I'd landed sausage-side! Ha!
[Flashheart pushes Blackadder]
Flashheart: Mind if I use your phone? If word gets out that I'm missing, 500 girls will kill themselves. I wouldn't want them on my conscience, not when they ought to be on my face!
[Flashheart kicks the phone]
Flashheart: Hi. Flashheart here. Yeah, cancel the state funeral, tell the king to stop blubbing. Flash is not dead! I simply ran out of juice! Yeah, and before the girls start saying "Oh, what's the point of living anymore?", I'm talking about petrol! Woof, woof! Yeah, I dumped the kite on the proles, so send a car. General Melchett's driver should do. She hangs around with a big nob, so she'll be used to a fellow like me! Woof, woof!
Blackadder: Look, do you think you can make your obscene phone call somewhere else?
Flashheart: [taking not a blind bit of notice] No, not in half an hour, you rubber-desk Johnny! Send the bitch with the wheels right now, or I'll fly back to England and give your wife something to hang her towels on!
[Flashheart slams the phone down]
Flashheart: Okay, dig out your best booze and lets talk about me 'till the car comes! You must be pretty impressed having squadron commander The Lord Flashheart drop in on your squalid bit of line!
Blackadder: Actually, no, I was more impressed by the contents of my handkerchief, the last time I blew my nose.
Flashheart: Yeah, like hell. You've probably got little piccies of me on the wall of your dugout, haven't you? I bet you go all girly and giggly every time you look at me!
Blackadder: I'm afraid not. Unfortunately, most of the infantry think you're a prat. Ask them who they'd prefer to meet, Squadron Commander Flashheart and the man who cleans out the public toilets in Aberdeen, and they'd go for Wee Jock 'Poo-Pong' Mcplop every time!
[Flashheart laughs and then punches Blackadder in the face]

Darling: Oh, you want to join the Royal Flying Corps?
Blackadder: There's a thought. Could I?
Darling: No you couldn't. Goodbye!
Blackadder: Come on Darling, just give me an application form!
Darling: It's out of the question! This is simply a ruse to waste five months of training, after which you'll claim you can't fly after all because it makes your ears go pop! Come on, I wasn't born yesterday, Blackadder!
Blackadder: More's the pity, we could have started your personality from scratch!

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!
Blackadder: I'm beginning to see why the Suffragette Movement want the vote.
Flashheart: Hey, any bird who wants to chain herself to my railings and suffer a jet movement gets my vote!

Flashheart: Right, 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: [from the back of the room] Sir? Sir?
Flashheart: Yes, prat at the back!
Darling: Sir, I think we'd all be intrigued to know why you're called the Twenty Minuters?
George: Oh, Mr. Thicko, imagine not knowing that! [George and Blackadder were given the impression beforehand pilots only flew for twenty minutes]
Flashheart: Well it's simple! The average life expectancy of a new pilot is twenty minutes!
Darling: [gleefully] Ah. [Blackadder and George look deeply unnerved]
Blackadder: Life expectancy of twenty minutes?!
Flashheart: That's right! Goggles on, chocks away, last one back's a homo! Hurray! [Flash and the other recruits run out. Blackadder consults his watch]
Blackadder: So we take off in ten minutes, we're in the air for twenty minutes, which means we should be dead by twenty five to ten!

[As their plane nose-dives into a crash]
Baldrick: Let's hope we land on something soft!
Blackadder: Fine, I'll try and aim between General Melchett's ears!

[After being shot down behind German lines]
Blackadder: I don't believe it - a German prison cell! For two and a half years, the Western Front's been about as likely to move as a Frenchman who lives next door to a brothel, then last night the Germans advance a mile and we land on the wrong side!
Baldrick: Oh dear, Captain B., my tummy's gone all squirty!
Blackadder: That's because you're scared, Baldrick, and you're not the only one. I couldn't be more petrified if a wild rhinoceros had come home from a hard day at the swamp and found me wearing his pyjamas, smoking his cigars and in bed with his wife!
Baldrick: I've heard what these Germans'll do, sir; they'll have their wicked way with anything of woman-born!
Blackadder: Well, in that case, Baldrick, you're quite safe! However, the Teutonic reputation for brutality is well-founded: their operas last three or four days, and they have no word for "fluffy".
Baldrick: I want my mum!
Blackadder: Yes, it'll be good to see her. I should imagine a maternally outraged gorilla could be a useful ally when it comes to the final scrap! [Footsteps are heard approaching] Prepare to die like a man, Baldrick...or as close as you can get to one without actually shaving the palms of your hands!

Blackadder: For us, the Great War is finito. A war which would have been a damn sight simpler if we'd just stayed in England and shot 50,000 of our men a week!

[While speaking to Blackadder and hearing him make a toilet humour joke]
Baron von Richthofen: Ha ha ha! You English and your sense of humour! How lucky you English are to find the toilet so amusing! For us, it is a mundane and functional item...for you, the basis of an entire culture!

Flashheart: Just because I can give multiple orgasms to the furniture just by sitting on it, doesn't mean that I'm not sick of this damn war. The blood, the noise, the endless poetry...!

Blackadder: Flashheart, this is Captain Darling.
Flashheart: "Captain Darling"?! Funny name for a guy, isn't it? [Jumps off table and faces Darling] Last person I called "Darling" was pregnant 20 seconds later! Hear you couldn't be bothered to help old Slackie here.
Darling: [Stuttering nervously] Oh, well, it... It wasn't quite like that, sir. It's just that we... weighed up the pros and cons and... decided it wasn't a reasonable use of our time and resources. [Laughs nervously]
Flashheart: Well, this isn't a reasonable use of my time and resources, but I'm gonna do it anyway!
Darling: What?
Flashheart: This! [Headbutts Darling hard, knocking him unconscious] All right, Slackie, all right, Slackie, I've gotta fly; two million chicks and only one Flashheart! And always remember: if you want something, take it! BOBBY!
[Bob walks in]
Bob: My lord?
Flashheart: I want something!
Bob: [Unbuttoning her coat] Take it!
Flashheart: WOOF!
Blackadder: [Under his breath] Git.
[As Flashheart and Bob exit, Melchett enters the room]
Melchett: Ah, Blackadder! So you escaped?
Blackadder: Yes sir.
Melchett: Bravo! [Briefly glances at the unconscious Darling] Don't slouch, Darling.
Blackadder: I wonder whether, having been tortured by the most vicious sadist in the German army, I might have a week's leave to recuperate.
Melchett: Splendid idea! Your commanding officer would have to be stark raving mad to refuse you!
Blackadder: Well, you are my commanding officer.
Melchett: Well?
Blackadder: Can I have a week's leave to recuperate, sir?
Melchett: [Outraged] Certainly not!
Blackadder: Thank you, sir.
Melchett: BAAA!

Plan E: General Hospital[edit]

George: I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with... "M"!
Baldrick: Err... Ummm...
George: [indicating a mug on the table] Mmmm...?
[George and Baldrick continue to go "Mmmm" for some time, until Blackadder loses patience]
Blackadder: MUG!
George: Oh, I say, well done, sir! Your turn!
Blackadder: I spy, with my bored little eye... something beginning with "T".
Baldrick: Breakfast!
Blackadder: What?
Baldrick: My breakfast always begins with tea. Then I have a little sausage. Then a 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 10:30!
Blackadder: Oh, I can't go on like this. George, take over.
George: All right, sir. Um... I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with "R".
Baldrick: Army!
Blackadder: FOR GOD'S SAKE, BALDRICK! "Army" starts with an "A"! He's talking about something with an "R"! [trills the R]
Baldrick: Motorbike!
Blackadder: WHAT?!
Baldrick: A motorbike starts with a Rrrrr!
Blackadder: Right! My turn again. What begins with "Come here" and ends with "OW"?
Baldrick: I dunno.
Blackadder: Come here. [punches Baldrick in the face]
Baldrick: OW!
Blackadder: Well done.
George: Now I... [laughs nervously] I don't think you've quite got the hang of this game, sir. Tell you what, let's try another one. I hear, with my little ear... something beginning with "B".
Blackadder: What?
George: Bomb.
Blackadder: [surprised] I can't hear a bomb.
George: Listen very carefully. [the faint whistle of an incoming bomb is heard]
Blackadder: Oh yes...! [there is an almighty explosion as the bomb hits]

George: [reading in his letter] "After the explosion, Captain Blackadder was marvelous. He joked and joked. "You lucky, lucky, lucky bastard!" He cried. Then he lay on his back, stuck his foot over the top of the trench and shouted "Over here, Fritz! What about me? What about me?""

[Blackadder and Baldrick enter the room]
Blackadder: All right, where is the malingering git?
George: Hello, Cap, pip-pip Balders, here I lie.
Baldrick: Nice to see the lieutenant looking so well, sir?
Blackadder: Course he's looking well, there's nothing wrong with him.
[George laughs]
George: Didn't I tell you the Captain was a super cove?
Nurse Mary: Yes you did. Well Captain, you are indeed fortunate to have a loyal friend like darling George.
Blackadder: I think you might be under a slight misapprehension here, Nurse. I lost closer friends than the darling Georgie the last time I was deloused. Now if you'll excuse me, I have better things to do than exchange pleasantries with a wet blanket. Would you get out? [Mary gawps at him in astonishment] We've got some important military business.
Nurse Mary: Well, ten minutes only, then. [She exits]
Blackadder: Right, pork-face, where's the grub?
George: Sorry?
Blackadder: Come on, the moment that collection of inbred mutants you call your relatives heard you were sick, they'll have sent you a hamper the size of Westminster Abbey!
George: [outraged] My family is not inbred!
Blackadder: Come on, somewhere outside Saffron Walden, there's an uncle who's seven feet tall with no chin and an Adam's apple that makes him look as though he's constantly trying to swallow a ballcock!
George: I have not got any uncles like that! And anyway, he lives in Walton-on-the-Naze!

[Blackadder has just been frisked by Darling upon entering Melchett's office]
Blackadder: What's going on here?
Darling:Security, Blackadder.
Blackadder: Security?
Melchett: Security isn't a dirty word, Blackadder. Crevice is a dirty word, but security isn't.
Blackadder: So, in the name of security, sir, everyone who enters the room has to have his bottom fondled by this drooling pervert? [indicates Darling]
Darling: Only doing my job, Blackadder.
Blackadder: Well how lucky you are then that your job is also your hobby!

Darling: 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!

Melchett: Your job Blackadder is to root this spy out. How long do you think you'll need?
Blackadder: Er...
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 got hold of a cocker spaniel, tie your suspect down on a chair with a potty on his head, then pop his todger between two floury baps and shout "Dinner-time, Fido!" If you're successful, I shall need back here permanently to head up my new security network, 'Operation: Winkle'.
Blackadder: 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! 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 leaves as Darling seethes angrily]
Darling: (to General Melchett on Blackadder) 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 along to keep an eye on him.
Melchett: What, spy on our own spy while he searches for their spies? (pause) Yes, why not? Sounds rather fun. Now, you'll need to go undercover...
Darling: Of course, sir.
Melchett: And you'll need some kind of wound- a convincing wound.
Darling: Yes, sir.
Melchett: Yes... (draws his revolver and shoots Daring in the foot; Darling falls over in pain)
Darling: AAAAGH!
Melchett: Yes, that looks quite convincing!

George: Smithy, you haven't seen any suspicious looking characters around, have you, who might be German spies?
Smith: Nein.
George: [shocked] NINE! Well, the captain's got his work cut out.

Baldrick: Tell you what, sir; you might have a chance to get to know that pretty nurse!
Blackadder: No thank you, Baldrick; she's as wet as a fish's wet bits. I'd rather get to know you!
Baldrick: I'm not available, sir. I'm waiting for Miss Right to come along and gather me up in her arms.
Blackadder: Yes, I wouldn't be too hopeful; we'd have to get her arms out of her straitjacket first!

Blackadder: (notices Darling limping through the infirmary) What are you here for, Darling?
Darling: Bullet in the foot.
Blackadder: (sarcastically) Well, I can understand soldiers at the front shooting themselves in the foot, but when you're thirty-five miles behind the line-
Darling: (angrily) I did not shoot myself! The General did it.
Blackadder: Finally got fed up with you, did he?
Darling: [back-pedaling] No it was a mistake-!
Blackadder: [sarcastic] Oh he was aiming for your head?
Darling: He wasn't aiming for anything!
Blackadder: So he was aiming for between your legs, then?
Darling: [sarcastic] Very funny, Blackadder. You'll be laughing on the other side of your face if you can't find this spy!
Blackadder: Don't worry Darling, I intend to start interviewing suspects immediately.
[Cut to the next scene, where Blackadder interrogates Darling, who is tied to a chair with a bedpan on his head]
Darling: This is completely ridiculous, Blackadder! You can't suspect me, I've only just arrived.
Blackadder: The first rule of counter-espionage, Darling, is to suspect everyone. Believe me, I shall be asking myself some pretty searching questions later on. Now, tell me: What is the colour of the Queen of England's favourite hat?
Darling: How the hell should I know?!
Blackadder: I see. Well, let me ask you another question: What is the name of the German head of state?
Darling: Well, Kaiser Wilhelm, obviously.
Blackadder: So you're on first-name terms with the Kaiser, are you?!
Darling: Well, what did you expect me to say--?!
Blackadder: Darling, Darling, shh. Cigarette?
Darling: Hm. Thank you.
[Blackadder places a cigarette in his mouth and lights it. He smokes for a few seconds, before Blackadder suddenly slaps it away and turns nasty]
Darling: I beg your pardon?!
Blackadder: [getting up close] Shut your cakehole, sonny, I know you! Tell me, Von Darling, what was it that finally won you over, eh?! Was it the pumpernickel, or was it the thought of hanging around with big men in leather shorts?!
Darling: [strangled voice] I'll have you court-marshaled for this, Blackadder!
Blackadder: What, for obeying the General's orders? That may be what you do in Munich — or should I say München — but not here, Werner! You're a filthy Hun spy, aren't you?! Baldrick, the cocker spaniel, please.
Darling: [desperate] Ah! No, no, no, wait! No, look, I'm English! I was born in Croydon! [breathing heavily] I was educated at Ipplethorpe Primary School! I've got a girlfriend called Doris! I know the words to all three verses of "God Save the King!"
Blackadder: Four verses!
Darling: Four verses! Four verses! I meant four verses! Look, I'm as British as Queen Victoria!
Blackadder: So your father's German, you're half-German and you married a German?!
Darling: [breaking into tears] No, no! LOOK, FOR GOD'S SAKE, I'M NOT A GERMAN SPYYYYYYYYYY!
Blackadder: Good, thanks very much. Send the next man in, would you? [Nurse Mary bursts in]
Nurse Mary: What is all this noise about?! Don't you realise this is a hospital?!
Darling: [is released and stands up] You'll regret this, Blackadder! You'd better find the real spy or I'll make it very hard for you!
Blackadder: Please, Darling, there are ladies present.

Nurse Mary: Tell me, Edmund, do you have someone special in your life?
Blackadder: Well yes, as a matter of fact, I do.
Nurse Mary: Who?
Blackadder: Me.
Nurse Mary: No, I mean someone you love and cherish and want to keep safe from all the horror and the hurt.
Blackadder: Um...still me, really.
Nurse Mary: No, but back home in England, there must be someone waiting, some sweetheart.
Blackadder: Oh, a girl? Nah! I've always been a soldier, married to the army. Book of King's Regulations is my mistress...possibly with a Harrods' lingerie catalogue tucked discreetly between the pages.
Nurse Mary: And no casual girlfriends?
Blackadder: Skirt? If only. When I joined up, we were still fighting colonial wars. If you saw someone in a skirt, you shot him and nicked his country!

Nurse Mary: Well, sir, I'm only a humble nurse, but I did at one point think it might be Captain Darling.
Melchett: Well, bugger me with a fishfork! Old Darling, a Jerry Morse-tapper?! What on Earth made you suspect him?
Nurse Mary: Well, he pooh-poohed the captain here and said that he'd never find the spy.
Melchett: [seriously] Is this true, Blackadder? Did Captain Darling pooh-pooh you?
Blackadder: Well, perhaps a little.
Melchett: Well then, damn it all, how much more evidence do you need? The pooh-poohing alone is a court-martial offence!
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: got pooh-poohed; made the mistake of ignoring the pooh-pooh -- he pooh-poohed it! Fatal error, because it turned out all along 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 and Nurse Mary both look extremely bored; Mary has begun reading an 'Ideas' magazine. During the next line, she looks around nervously and puts the paper down, sitting on it]
Blackadder: Yes, I think we might be drifting slightly from the point here, sir, which is that, unfortunately, and to my lasting regret, Captain Darling is not the spy.

Blackadder: 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, 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.

Melchett: Blackadder?
Blackadder: [triumphant] Yes sir?
Melchett: You are now head of Operation Winkle.
Blackadder: Thank you, sir.
Melchett: Darling?
Darling: [chastened] Yes, sir?
Melchett: You are a complete arse!
Darling: Thank you, sir.

Plan F: Goodbyeee[edit]

George: Oh, dash and blast it all! I'm as bored as a pacifist's pistol; when are we going to see some action?!
Blackadder: Well George, I strongly suspect your long wait for certain death is nearly at an end. Surely you must have noticed something in the air?
George: Well of course sir, but I thought that was Private Baldrick!

Blackadder: No, the time has come to get out of this madness once and for all!
George: What madness is that, sir?
Blackadder: Oh for God's sake, George, how long have you been in the army?
George: Oh, me? Oh, I joined up straight away, sir! August the 4th, 1914. God, what a day that was! Myself and the rest of the fellows, leapfrogging down to the Cambridge recruiting office and then, playing tiddlywinks in the queue. We'd hammered Oxford's tiddlywinkers only the week before and there we were, off to hammer the Boche! Crushingly superb bunch of blokes. Fine, clean-limbed… even their acne had a strange nobility about it.
Blackadder: Yes, and how are all the boys now?
George: Oh, uh, well… Jocko and the Badger bought it at the first Ypres, unfortunately. Quite a shock, that. I remember Bumfluff's house-master wrote and told me that Sticky had been out for a duck, and the Gubber had snitched a parcel sausage-end and gone goose-over-stump frogside.
Blackadder: Meaning?
George: I don't know, sir, but I read in the Times that they'd both been killed.

George: The war started because of the vile Hun and his villainous empire-building!
Blackadder: George, the British Empire at present covers a quarter of the globe, while the German Empire consists of a small sausage factory in Tanganyika. I hardly think we can be entirely absolved from blame on the imperialistic front.
George: Oh... Oh no, sir! Absolutely not! [quietly to Baldrick] Mad as a bicycle!
Baldrick: I heard that it started when a bloke called Archie Duke shot an ostrich 'cause he was hungry.
Blackadder: I think you mean it started when the Archduke of Austro-Hungary got shot.
Baldrick: Nah, there was definitely an ostrich involved, sir.
Blackadder: Well, possibly. But the real reason for the whole thing was that it was too much effort not to have a war.
George: By Gum, this is interesting! I always loved history. The Battle of Hastings, Henry VIII and his six knives and all that!
Blackadder: You see, Baldrick, in order to prevent a war in Europe, two super blocs developed: us, the French and the Russians on one side; and the Germans and Austro-Hungary on the other. The idea was to have two vast, opposing armies, each acting as the other's deterrent. That way, there could never be a war.
Baldrick: Except, well, this is sort of a war, isn't it?
Blackadder: That's right. There was one tiny flaw in the plan.
George: Oh, what was that?
Blackadder: It was bollocks.
Baldrick: So the poor old ostrich died for nothing!

Melchett: (inspecting the trenches with Darling) Now then, soldier- you looking forward to giving those Frenchies a damn good licking?
Darling: Ah, no, sir- it's the Germans we should be licking, sir.
Melchett: (gives Darling a look of disgust) Don't be revolting, Darling! I wouldn't lick a German if he was glazed in honey! (turns back to Baldrick) Now then, soldier- do you love your country?
Baldrick: Certainly do, sir!
Melchett: And do you love your King?
Baldrick: Certainly don't, sir!
Melchett: (looking very offended) And why not?!
Baldrick: My mother told me never to trust men with beards, sir!
Melchett: (laughs) Excellent native Cockney wit! (punches Baldrick in the jaw and knocks him down)

Blackadder: [regarding the 1914 Christmas truce] Both sides advanced further during one Christmas piss-up than they managed in the next two and a half years of war!
Baldrick: Remember the football match?
Blackadder: Remember it?! How could I forget it?! I was never offside; I could not BELIEVE that decision!

[Upon running out of options to avoid going over the top]
Blackadder: I believe the phrase rhymes with "clucking bell"!

George: Sir...I'm scared, sir.
Baldrick: I'm scared too, sir.
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: What about you, Darling? 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".

[Last lines of the series; Blackadder, Baldrick, George and Darling are ready to go over the top]
Darling: Listen... Our guns have stopped.
George: You don't think...?
Baldrick: [with rising hope] Maybe... the war's over. Maybe it's peace!
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: Hip-hip...
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.
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]


Blackadder: The Cavalier Years[edit]

Blackadder: Baldrick, your brain is like the four-headed man-eating haddock-fish-beast of Aberdeen.
Baldrick: In what way?
Blackadder: It doesn't exist.

Blackadder: [annoyed by events and Baldrick's singing] For God's sake, stop that, Baldrick! It's bad enough having one's life in utter ruins without being serenaded by a moron with all the entertainment value of a tap-dancing oyster!

Blackadder: I just don't understand it. Where on Earth did they find a man so utterly without heart and soul, so low and degraded as to accept the job of beheading the King of England? [as his words sink in, Blackadder has a realisation] Baldrick? That little job that fell into your lap? It wasn't, by any chance, something to do with an axe, a basket, a little black mask and the King of England?
Baldrick: No.
Blackadder: Go on...
Baldrick: I couldn't find a basket.
Blackadder: You very small, total bastard! [grabs a meat cleaver and holds it to Baldrick's throat]
Baldrick: Please, Sir, don't kill me! I have a cunning plan to save the king!
Blackadder: Well, forgive me if I don't do a cartwheel of joy. Your family's record in the department of cunning planning is about impressive as Stumpy Oleg McNoLeg's personal best in the Market Harborough marathon! [sighes] All right, what's the plan?
Baldrick: [holds up a pumpkin]
Blackadder: A pumpkin is going to save the king?
Baldrick: Ah. But over here, I have one that I made earlier. [holds up a pumpkin with a face and wig] I will balance it on the King's head, like this, then I will cover his real head with a cloak. And then, when I execute him, instead of cutting off his real head, I will cut off the pumpkin and the king survives!
Blackadder: I'm not sure it's going to work, Balders.
Baldrick: Why not?
Blackadder: Because once you've cut it off, you have to hold it up in front of the crowd and say "This is the head of a traitor," at which point they will shout back "No, it's not. It's a large pumpkin with a pathetic mustache drawn on it."
Baldrick: I suppose it's not 100 percent convincing...
Blackadder: It's not 1 percent convincing. However, I am a busy man and I can't be bothered to punch you at the moment. Here is my fist. Kindly run towards it as fast as you can. [Baldrick does so]

[Roundheads have surrounded the house]
Baldrick: We're surrounded! What are we going to do?!
Blackadder: Well, at times like this, Baldrick, there is no choice for a man of honour. He must stand, and fight, and die, in defence of his... future sovereign. [pause] Fortunately, I'm not a man of honour. [Blackadder tosses the baby to Baldrick, then pulls off his fake beard and wig to reveal a blond, clean-shaven face; he now looks like a Roundhead. At that moment, Cromwell bursts in] Thank God you've come! [points to Baldrick] Seize the Royalist scum!

Blackadder's Christmas Carol[edit]

[Blackadder shouts from outside.]
Ebenezer Blackadder: HUMBUG! HUMBUG! HUMBUG!
[Blackadder enters his shop, holding a paper bag]
Ebenezer Blackadder: Humbug, Mr. Baldrick?
[Blackadder offers him the bag, which contains humbug sweets.]
Baldrick: Oh, thank you very much.

Baldrick: Go on my lord. Give it a little pull, you know you want to, it will be ever so exciting...
Blackadder: [completely uninterested] Oh, god...[Blackadder pulls the tiny Christmas cracker with Baldrick. There isn't a bang] [sarcastic] Yes, terrifying.
Baldrick: And look, there's a surprise present inside. It's a novelty death warrant, and you give it to a friend.
[Baldrick gives the death warrant to Blackadder]
Blackadder: [sarcastic] Oh, just what I've always wanted.[crumples it into a ball]
Baldrick: Have you got anything for me?
Lord Blackadder: Oh it's nothing, really!
Baldrick: [touched] Oh sir!
Lord Blackadder: No, it's really nothing; I haven't got you anything. I spent all my cash on this damn thing for the Queen. [reveals a portrait of Elizabeth I] She'd better bloody like it, she dropped enough hints! That woman's about as subtle as a rhinocero's horn up the backside! Door!

Lord Blackadder: Ah, Melchett! Greetings! I trust Christmas brings you its traditional mix of good food and violent stomach cramp.
Lord Melchett: And compliments of the season to you, Blackadder. May the Yuletide log slip from your fire and burn your house down.
Lord Blackadder: I'm glad I saw you; I feel it only fair to warn you that the Queen has banned Christmas. So I wouldn't get her a present this year.
Lord Melchett: Oh, I'm indebted to you for that advice, Blackadder, and I shall, of course, follow it to the letter...[under his breath as he walks away] the day I get my brain replaced by a cauliflower.
Lord Blackadder: [jubilant] Ha! Got him with my subtle plan!
Baldrick: I can't see any subtle plan.
Lord Blackadder: Baldrick, you wouldn't see a subtle plan if it painted itself purple and danced naked on top of a harpsichord, singing "Subtle Plans are Here Again!"

Nursie: Pity about this, tinky-wink; you always used to love this time of year!
Queenie: I know. Leaving a little mince pie and a glass of wine out for Father Christmas, and then scoffing it, because I was a princess and could do what I bloody well liked!
Nursie: And wondering if your father's wife would last until Boxing Day without having her head cut off!
Queenie: We knew if he gave her a hat, she'd probably be alright.

Lord Blackadder: [sarcastically] Perhaps Lord Melchett would like to whip me naked through the streets of Aberdeen?
Lord Melchett: Oh I don't think we need go that far, Blackadder...
Lord Blackadder: [sarcastically] Oh too kind!
Lord Melchett: No, Aylesbury's quite far enough.

Queenie: Now Blackadder, what have you got me?
Lord Blackadder: [having destroyed her Christmas present] Um...
Queenie: I WANT A PREZZIE! Give me something nice and shiny, and if you don't, I've got something nice and shiny for you: it's called AN AXE!

Edmund Blackadder, Esq.: So, shall I begin?
The Prince Regent: Absolutely, as long as it's not that terribly depressing one about the chap who gets born on Christmas Day, shoots his mouth off about everything under the sun, and then comes a cropper with a couple of rum coves on top of a hill in Johnny Arab land!
Edmund Blackadder, Esq.: You mean, Jesus?
The Prince Regent: Yes, that's the bloke! Keep him out of it; he always spoils the Xmas atmos!

[After Blackadder discovers his plan to rob the Prince Regent of his Christmas valuable has gone badly wrong, thanks to Baldrick's stupidity]
Baldrick: Something wrong, Mr. B.?
Edmund Blackadder, Esq.: No, don't worry, I should've known not to trust a man with the mental agility of a rabbit dropping!
Baldrick: Sorry, Mr. B.
Edmund Blackadder, Esq.: Oh, it's perfectly alright, it's not your fault. [he floors Baldrick with a punch] Still, I fear for a frail, elderly woman, laden down with valuables, traveling through the inadequately lit streets of London!
Baldrick: Yeah, she's not safe!
Edmund Blackadder, Esq.: Well, not from me, certainly!

[A reformed Ebenezer Blackadder hands Baldrick the money he just lifted from his niece's fiancée.]
Blackadder: Baldrick, I want you to take this and go out and buy a turkey so large, you'd think its mother had been rogered by an omnibus. I'm going to have a party, and no one's invited but me!
[Mrs. Scratchit arrives to swindle him]
Mrs. Scratchit: Coo-eee!
Blackadder: No peace for the wicked.
Mrs. Scratchit: [soppily] Ah, Mr. Ebenezer, I was wondering if you had perhaps a little present for me? Or had found me a little fowl for Tiny Tom's Christmas?
Blackadder: I have always found you foul, Mrs. Scratchit, and more than a little. [she looks shocked] As for Tiny Tom's Christmas, he can stuff it up his enormous muscular backside.
Mrs. Scratchit: But he's a cripple!
Blackadder: He's not a cripple, Mrs. Scratchit. Occasionally saying "phew, my leg hurts" when he remembers to wouldn't fool Baldrick.
Baldrick: It did, actually.
Blackadder: However, if you want something for lunch, [picks up a pale] take this. It's a pound a lump and, as luck would have it, there are 17 lumps left. [Takes back the money she had swindled from him earlier] Thank you.
Mrs. Scratchit: But what about my Tiny Tom?
Blackadder: Well, if I was you, I'd scoop him out and use him as a houseboat. Good day.
[Mrs. Scratchit walks out, crying]
Baldrick: Mister B, where's the milk of human kindness?
Blackadder: It's gone off, Baldrick. It stinks. [the doorbell rings] Get that, and whoever it is, slam the door in their face, otherwise I'll slam your face in the door!

[Baldrick opens the door to find Queen Victoria, Prince Albert and their aide prepared to give Blackadder a reward for his generosity.]
Queen Victoria: We are Queen Victoria.
Baldrick: What, all three of you?
Queen Victoria: [laughs] My dear little is our Royal Seal [she presents it to Baldrick, who goes down on one knee]. We are here to present your master with £50,000 and the title of Baron Blackadder for being the kindest man in England!
Baldrick: Lovely, your Majesty. [Blackadder, not realising what's going on, storms over]
Blackadder: Baldrick, what did I tell you I'd do if you didn't slam the door in the faces of these scrounging loafers?!
Baldrick: But, Mr. Blackadder, it's-! [As promised, Blackadder slams the door in Baldrick's face, then slams it shut on the royals]
Blackadder: I am not at home to guests! [the royals let themselves in again]
Prince Albert: I flatter myself, we are rather special guests.
Blackadder: [not realising who they are] But of course! I must apologise; it is not often that one receives a Christmas visit from two distinguished guests!
Prince Albert: Ah, so you recognise us at last?
Blackadder: Yes, unless I'm very much mistaken, you're the winner of the "Round Britain Shortest, Fattest, Dumpiest Woman" competition! And for her to be accompanied by the winner of this year's "Stupidest Accent Award" is really quite overwhelming! [Victoria and Albert look mortified]
Queen Victoria: Sir, I cannot believe-!
Blackadder: Cork it, fatso! Don't you realise that this is the Victorian Age where, apart from Queen Piglet Features herself, [Albert covers her ears] women and children are to be seen and not heard!?
Prince Albert: [outraged] Queen Piglet Features!?
Blackadder: Yes, Empress Oink, as lads call her! The only person in the kingdom that looks dafter than her is that stupid frankfurter of a husband! [Albert covers his own ears] "The Pig and the Prig", we call them! How they ever managed to produce their 112 children is quite beyond me! The bed chambers at Buckingham Palace must be copiously supplied with blindfolds!
Queen Victoria: Sir, we have never been so insulted in our entire lives! [they storm out]
Blackadder: Well, all I can say is you've been damned lucky!

Blackadder Back & Forth[edit]

Melchett: Stuff and stonsense! I've heard some rubbish in my time - every time I open my mouth, as a matter of fact! But a time machine?

Blackadder: [unveiling his time machine] Ladies and gentlemen, the greatest breakthrough in travel since Mr. Rodney Tricycle thought to himself, "I'm bored with walking, I think I'll invent a machine with three wheels and a bell, and name it after myself."

Blackadder: [To Baldrick] Fascinating. One of history's great mysteries solved. The dinosaurs were in fact wiped out by your pants.

Blackadder: Well, Balders, this is a turn-up for the books. You've built a working time machine and are therefore, rather surprisingly, the greatest genius who has ever lived!

[Blackadder punches William Shakespeare.]
Blackadder: That is for every schoolboy and schoolgirl for the next 400 years! Do you have any idea how much suffering you're going to cause? Hours spent at school desks trying to find one joke in A Midsummer Night's Dream? Years spent wearing stupid tights in school plays saying things like 'what ho, my lord' and 'look, here cometh Othello talking total crap as usual'? Oh, and... [kicks Shakespeare] That is for Ken Branagh's endless, uncut, four-hour version of Hamlet!
Shakespeare: Who's Ken Branagh?
Blackadder: I'll tell him you said that. And I think he'll be very hurt.

Robin Hood: Well, well! What have we here, my tough band of freedom fighters, who have good muscle tone and aren't gay?!

Blackadder: [crouched beneath Hadrian's Wall] That's odd; the machine seems to be seeking out our DNA across time!
[Atop the wall, a Roman Blackadder and Baldrick stand at attention]
Centurion Blaccadicus: Just brilliant!
Legionary Baldricus: What, O Centurion?
Centurion Blaccadicus: We're facing a horde of ginger maniacs, with wild goats nesting in their huge orange beards-or to put it another way, the Scots!-and how does our inspired leader Hadrian intend to keep out this vast army of lunatics!? By building a a three-foot high wall! [sarcastic] A terrifying obstacle! About as frightening as a little rabbit with the word "Boo!" painted on its nose! [Baldricus shudders]
Consul Georgius: Oh come now, Centurion! I won't have that! This wall is a terrific defence mechanism! Surely you're not suggesting that a rabble of Scots could get the better of Roman soldiers!?
[Further conversation is halted by the arrival of General Melchicus]
Consul Georgius: Ah, welcome General!
General Melchicus: Splendid! Good to see you practicing your English, Georgius! [continues in Latin] However, important news- Rome is being attacked on all sides, and so far the Emperor's only response has been to poison his mother and marry his horse. The Senate is therefore withdrawing troops from Britain to defend our Imperial city.
Centurion Blaccadicus: Did you hear that, Balders?
Legionary Baldricus: I certainly did, Centurion!
Centurion Blaccadicus: Back to Rome, at last!
General Melchicus: [in Latin] BAAA!
Consul Georgius: [looking beyond the wall] I say, this is interesting! There appears to be a large orange hedge moving towards us!
Centurion Blaccadicus: That's not a hedge, Consul. That's the Scots!

Blackadder: [to Baldrick, as they run from a mob of bloodthirsty Scots] Last one there gets hacked to pieces by Rod Stewart's great-great-grandfather!

Blackadder: Let's get home, Baldrick.
Baldrick: [wailing] But we don't know where home is! We're doomed to float through time, for all time! OH, WOE IS ME...!!
Blackadder: [notices a button] Shut up, Baldrick, shut up. There is one final thing to push which may be our salvation! [he pushes it; nothing happens] ...Or not. [Pulls it out] Because it is, in fact, a lollipop.
Baldrick: Raspberry flavoured, my lord.
Blackadder: [sitting down] Oh God! I'm going to spend the rest of my life in a small wooden room with two toilets and the stupidest man in the world.
Baldrick: Wait, my lord, do not despair. For I have a cunning plan.
Blackadder: ...Can I say I'm not optimistic, Baldrick?
Baldrick: To be quite frank, my lord, neither am I. My family have never been very good at plans.
Blackadder: So, with suitably low expectations, what is your cunning plan to get us home?
Baldrick: Well, my lord, you know how, when people drown, their whole life flashes in front of them?
Blackadder: Yeeees?
Baldrick: Well, if you stuck your head in a bucket of water and didn't bring it out again, then your whole life would flash in front of you, and you'd see where all the knobs and levers were when first set off. And then, if you pulled your head out again, just before you died, you could guide us home!
Blackadder: [standing up] Baldrick...
Baldrick: My lord?
Blackadder: Good plan. But perhaps just one tiny modification...
Baldrick: Hmm?
[Blackadder punches Baldrick and shoves his head down a toilet]
Blackadder: [pulls Baldrick out] How's it going?
Baldrick: I'm eighteen years old, I've just left nursery school!
Blackadder: Okey-dokey! [drowns Baldrick some more, then pulls him out]
Baldrick: I'm twenty five; I'm back at nursery school!
[Sighing in annoyance, Blackadder drowns him even more; he finally sees the combination, and Blackadder pulls him out]
Baldrick: [spitting out water] GOT IT!
Blackadder: Very good.
Baldrick: [gasping] I wish... I wish I'd flushed the loo first!
Blackadder: [looking down it] Oh, yes...

Baldrick: As we approach the end, my lord, what do you think we've learned on our great journey?
Blackadder: Good question, Baldrick. I suppose I've learned that I must buy you a much stronger mouthwash for Christmas this year. How about you?
Baldrick: Oh, I dunno. I suppose I've learned that human beings have always been the same. Some nice, some nasty; some clever, some stupid; there's always a Blackadder and there's always a Baldrick.
Blackadder: Yes, very profound, Baldrick.
Baldrick: Also, it occurs to me...
Blackadder: [annoyed] Oh God, there's not more, is there?
Baldrick: ...If you're in the right place at the right time, then every person has the power to go out and change the world for the better.
Blackadder: God, you really are as thick as clotted cream, that's been left out by some clot, until the clots are so clotted up you couldn't un-clot them with an electric de-clotter... aren't you, Baldrick? Real change comes from huge socioeconomic things that individuals have no effect on.
Baldrick: Unless you're King or Prime Minister or something.
Blackadder: Well, yes, I suppose they can make a difference. But for the rest of us, all we can do in life is to try to make a bit of cash! [the machine finally arrives home] Which is what I intend to do right now.

Blackadder: Baldrick, I have a very, very, very cunning plan.
Baldrick: Is it as cunning as a fox what used to be Professor of Cunning at Oxford University but has moved on, and is now working for the UN at the High Commission of International Cunning Planning?
Blackadder: Yes, it is.
Baldrick: Mm... That's cunning!


The Black Adder[edit]

Blackadder II[edit]

Blackadder the Third[edit]

Blackadder Goes Forth[edit]

Blackadder: The Cavalier Years[edit]

Blackadder's Christmas Carol[edit]

Blackadder Back & Forth[edit]

External links[edit]

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