Saturday 8 December 2012

Blackadder IV, Episode 6 - Goodbyeee

Black Adder IV, Episode 6


Blackadder Remastered - The Ultimate Edition [DVD] [1982]


Originally performed by:

Rowan Atkinson  as Captain Edmund Blackadder
Tony Robinson   as Private S Baldrick
Stephen Fry     as General Sir Anthony Cecil Hogmanay Melchett
Hugh Laurie     as Lieutenant The Honourable George Colthurst St. Barleigh
Tim McInnerny   as Captain Kevin Darling

with special guest brass hat:

Geoffrey Palmer as Field Marshal Sir Douglas Haig

(in the trench, it's raining)

George: Care for a smoke, sir?

Edmund: No, thank you, I'm... (he lights his own pipe)

George: Private?

Baldrick: (taking cigarette from George) Oh, thank you, sir.
          (begins to eat the cigarette)

George: Oh, dash and blast all this hanging about, sir! I'm as bored as
        a pacifist pistol. When are we going to see some action?

Edmund: Well, George, I strongly suspect that your long wait for certain
        death is nearly at an end. Surely you must have noticed something
        in the air...

George: Well, yes, of course, but I thought that was Private Baldrick.

Edmund: Unless I'm very much mistaken, soon we will at last be making the
        final Big Push -- that one we've been so looking forward to all
        these years.

George: Well, hurrah with highly polished brass knobs on! About time!

        (phone rings within Baldrick's backpack, Edmund answers it)

Edmund: Hello; the Somme Public Baths -- no running, shouting, or piddling in
        the shallow end. Ah, Captain Darling. Tomorrow at dawn. Oh, excellent.
        See you later, then. Bye. (hangs up) Gentlemen, our long wait is
        nearly at an end. Tomorrow morning, General Insanity Melchett invites
        you to a mass slaughter. We're going over the top.

George: Well, huzzah and hurrah! God Save the King, Rule Britannia,
        and Boo Sucks the Hairy Hun!

Edmund: Or, to put it more precisely: you're going over the top; I'm getting
        out of here. (goes inside dugout)

George: (follows Edmund in) Oh, now, come on, Cap! It may be a bit risky
        (tries to speak in a rousing Cockney dialect, but fails miserably),
        but it sure is bloomin'ell worth it, gov'nor!

Edmund: How could it possibly be worth it? We've been sitting here since
        Christmas 1914, during which millions of men have died, and we've
        advanced no further than an asthsmatic ant with some heavy shopping.

George: Well, but this time I'm absolutely pos we'll break through! It's
        ice cream in Berlin in 15 days.

Edmund: Or ice cold in No Man's Land in 15 seconds. No, the time has come
        to get out of this madness once and for all.

George: What madness is that?

Edmund: For God's sake, George, how long have you been in the army?

George: Oh me? I joined up straight away, sir. August the 4th, 1914. Gah, 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 had hammered Oxford's tiddlywinkers only the week before,
        and there we were, off to hammer the Boche! Crashingly superb bunch of
        blokes. Fine, clean-limbed -- even their acne had a strange nobility
        about it.

Edmund: Yes, and how are all the boys now?

George: Well, er, Jacko and the Badger bought it at the first Ypres front,
        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

Edmund: Meaning...?

George: I don't know, sir, but I read in the Times that they'd both been

Edmund: And Bumfluff himself...?

George: Copped a packet at Galipoli with the Aussies -- so had Drippy and
        Strangely Brown. I remember we heard on the first morning of the
        Somme when Titch and Mr Floppy got gassed back to Blighty.

Edmund: Which leaves...?

George: Gosh, yes, I, I suppose I'm the only one of the Trinity Tiddlers
        still alive. (Lummy?), there's a thought -- and not a jolly one.

Edmund: My point exactly, George.

George: A chap might get a bit (mizz?) -- if it wasn't the thought of going
        over the top tomorrow! Right, sir: Permission to get weaving...

Edmund: Permission granted.

George: Thank you, sir.

Edmund: Baldrick!

Baldrick: (entering) Captain B!

Edmund: This is a crisis. A large crisis. In fact, if you've got a moment,
        it's a twelve-storey crisis with a magnificent entrance hall,
        carpetting throughout, 24-hour portrage, and an enormous sign on
        the roof, saying `This Is a Large Crisis'. A large crisis requires
        a large plan. Get me two pencils and a pair of underpants.

(Later, Edmund wears underpants on his head with two pencils up his nose)

Edmund: Right, Baldrick, this is an old trick I picked up in the Sudan. We
        tell HQ that I've gone insane, and I'll be invalided back to Blighty
        before you can say "Wooble" -- a poor gormless idiot.

Baldrick: But I'm a poor gormless idiot, sir, and I've never been invalided
          back to Blighty.

Edmund: Yes, Baldrick, but you've never said "Wooble." Now, ask me some simple

Baldrick: Right. What is your name?

Edmund: Wooble...

Baldrick: What is two plus two?

Edmund: Oh, wooble wooble.

Baldrick: Where do you live?

Edmund: London.

Baldrick: Eh?

Edmund: A small village on Mars, just outside the capital city, Wooble.

George: (enters) All the men present and correct, sir. Ready for the off, eh?

Edmund: I'm afraid not, Lieutenant; I'm just off to Hartleypool to buy some
        exploding trousers.

George: Come again, sir -- have you gone barking mad?

Edmund: Yes, George, I have. Cluck, cluck, gibber, gibber, my old man's
        a mushroom, et cetera. Go send a runner to tell General Melchett that
        your captain has gone insane and must return to England at once.

George: But, sir, how utterly ghastly for you! I mean, well, you'll miss the
        whole rest of the war!

Edmund: Yes, very bad luck. Beep!

George: Right.

Edmund: Beep!

George: Baldrick, I'll be back as soon as I can.

Edmund: Pah-pah!

George: Whatever you do, don't excite him. (leaves)

Edmund: (removing the pencils, looks at Baldrick) Fat chance! Now, all we
        have to do is wait. Baldrick, fix us some coffee, will you? And try
        to make it taste slightly less like mud this time.

Baldrick: Not easy, I'm afraid, Captain.

Edmund: Why is this?

Baldrick: 'cause it is mud. We ran out of coffee thirteen months ago.

Edmund: So every time I've drunk your coffee since, I have in fact been
        drinking hot mud...

Baldrick: With sugar.

Edmund: Which of course makes all the difference.

Baldrick: Well, it would do if we had any sugar, but, unfortunately, we ran
          out New Year's Eve 1915, since when I've been using sugar substitute.

Edmund: Which is...?

Baldrick: Dandruff.

Edmund: Brilliant.

Baldrick: Still, I could add some milk this time -- well, saliva...

Edmund: No, no, thank you, Baldrick. Call me Mr Picky, but I think I'll
        cancel the coffee.

Baldrick: That's probably 'cause you're mad, sir!

Edmund: Well, quite!

George: (re-enters; Edmund quickly replaces the pencils) Well, it didn't go
        down well at all, I'm afraid, sir. Captain Darling said they'd be
        along directly, but, well, you'd better be damn doolally.

Edmund: Don't worry, George; I am (makes weird noises while moving his right
        arm strangely). When they get here, I'll show them what `totally and
        utterly bonkeroonie' means. Fwaf! Until then, we've got bugger-all to
        do except sit and wait.

George: Well, I don't know, sir -- we could, er, we could have a jolly game
        of charades!

Baldrick: Ooh, yes!

George: And a singalong of musical hits like "Birmingham Bertie" and "Whoops,
        Mrs Miggins, You're Sitting On My Artichokes."

Edmund: Yes, I think bugger-all might rather be more fun.

(later, the three are sitting around doing bugger-all)

Baldrick: Permission to ask a question, sir...

Edmund: Permission granted, Baldrick, as long as isn't the one about where
        babies come from.

Baldrick: No, the thing is: The way I see it, these days there's a war on,
          right? and, ages ago, there wasn't a war on, right? So, there must
          have been a moment when there not being a war on went away, right?
          and there being a war on came along. So, what I want to know is:
          How did we get from the one case of affairs to the other case of

Edmund: Do you mean "How did the war start?"

Baldrick: Yeah.

George: The war started because of the vile Hun and his villainous empire-

Edmund: 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 that we can be entirely absolved of blame
        on the imperialistic front.

George: Oh, no, sir, absolutely not. (aside, to Baldick) Mad as a bicycle!

Baldrick: I heard that it started when a bloke called Archie Duke shot an
          ostrich 'cause he was hungry.

Edmund: I think you mean it started when the Archduke of Austro-Hungary got

Baldrick: Nah, there was definitely an ostrich involved, sir.

Edmund: 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? [it's not `God']) this is interesting; I always loved
        history -- The Battle of Hastings, Henry VIII and his six knives,
        all that.

Edmund: You see, Baldrick, in order to prevent war in Europe, two superblocs
        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: But this is a sort of a war, isn't it, sir?

Edmund: Yes, that's right. You see, there was a tiny flaw in the plan.

George: What was that, sir?

Edmund: It was bollocks.

Baldrick: So the poor old ostrich died for nothing.

Darling: (from outside) 'tention!

George: (he and Baldrick stand) Right, they're here. Erm, Baldrick, you keep
        him warm; I'll go prepare the ground. (leaves)

        (outside, George salutes Melchett and Darling)

George: Sir.

Melchett: George! How's the patient?

George: Well, it's touch and go, I'm afraid, sir. I really can't vouch for his
        behaviour. He's gone mad, you see -- stir-frying crazy.

Melchett: I see. Is this genuinely mad?

George: Oh, yes, sir.

Melchett: ...or has he simply put his underpants on his head and stuffed a
          couple of pencils up his nose? That's what they all used to do in
          the Sudan. I remember I once had to shoot a whole platoon for
          trying that. Well, let's have a look at him.  (goes in, followed
          by the others)

Darling: 'tention!!!

Edmund: (stands, talks to Baldrick) ...and the other thing they used to do in
        the Sudan is to get dressed up like this and pretend to be mad. But
        don't let me catch you trying that one, Baldrick, or I'll have you
        shot, all right? Dismissed. (turns to Melchett, removes the pencils)
        Oh, hello, sir -- didn't hear you come in.

Melchett: Well now, Blackadder, they tell me you've gone mad.

Edmund: No, sir (removes the underpants), no -- must be a breakdown of
        communication. Someone obviously heard I was mad with excitement,
        waiting for the off.

Melchett: There you are, you see, Darling? I told you there'd be a perfectly
          rational explanation. Right, George, have your chaps fall in.

George: Very good, sir. (salutes, leaves)

Darling: Well, it's rather odd, sir. The message was very clear: "Captain
         Blackadder gone totally tonto. Bring straightjacket for immediate
         return to Blighty." (holds up straightjacket)

Melchett: Don't be ridiculous, Darling. The Hero of Mboto Gorge, mad? Well,
          you've only got to look at him to see he's as sane as I am! Beeaaah!

Darling: Would that the Mboto Gorge where we massacred the peace-loving
         pygmies of the Upper Volta and stole all their fruit?

Edmund: No -- a totally different Mboto Gorge.

Darling: Oh.

Edmund: Cup of coffee, Darling?

Darling: Oh, thank you.

Edmund: Baldrick, do the honours.

Baldrick: (comes from kitchen) Sir. (to Darling) Sugar, sir?

Darling: Three lumps.

Edmund: Think you can manage three *lumps*, Baldrick?

Baldrick: I'll rummage around, see what I can find, sir. (turns back to

Darling: Make it a milky one.

Baldrick: Coming up, sir.

        (outside; while Melchett and George speak, Baldrick can be heard
         hawking up a great deal of `milk')

Melchett: Well, George, you must have been delighted to hear the news of the
          Big Push.

George: Absolutely, sir -- our chance to show the Hun that it takes more than
        a pointy hat and bad breath to defeat the armies of King George!

Melchett: That's the spirit!

        (inside, Baldrick spits, then returns with the mug)

Baldrick: Here you are, sir.

Darling: (looks in the mug) Ah, cappucino! Have you got any of that brown
         stuff you sprinkle on the top?

Baldrick: Well, I'm sure I could m--

Edmund: No, no!

Darling: (as Melchett and George return) 'tention!

Melchett: Well, fine body of men you've got out there, Blackadder.

Edmund: Yes, sir -- shortly to become fine bodies of men.

Melchett: Nonsense -- you'll pull through. (laughs) I remember when we played
          the old Harrovians back in '96: they said we never could break
          through to their back line, but we ducked and we bobbed and we wove
          and we damn well won the game, 15-4.

Edmund: Yes, sir, but the Harrow fullback wasn't armed with a heavy machine

Melchett: No -- that's a good point. Make a note, Darling...

Darling: Sir.

Melchett: "Recommendation for the Harrow Governors: Heavy machine guns for
          fullbacks." Bright idea, Blackadder. (speaks to Baldrick) Now then,
          soldier, are you looking forward to giving those Frenchies a damn
          good licking?

Darling: Er, no, sir -- it's the Germans we shall be licking, sir.

Melchett: Don't be revolting, Darling! I wouldn't lick a German if he was
          glazed in honey!

Darling: Sorry.

Melchett: (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: And why not?

Baldrick: My mother told me never to trust men with beards, sir.

Melchett: (laughs) Excellent native Cockney wit! (hits Baldrick in the face;
          Baldrick falls over) Well, best of luck to you all. Sorry I can't be
          with you, but obviously there's no place at the front for an old
          general with a dicky heart and a wooden bladder. By the way, George,
          if you want to accompany me back to HQ and watch the results as they
          come in, I think I can guarantee a place in the car.

George: Oh, no, thank you, sir -- I wouldn't miss this show for anything. I am
        as excited as a very excited person who's got a special reason to be
        excited, sir.

Melchett: Excellent! Well, (chuf chuf?) then. See you all in Berlin for coffee
          and cakes.

Goerge: Sir. (salutes)

        (As Melchett begins to walk out, Darling drinks then spits out
         the `coffee'.)

Melchett: What is the matter with you today, Darling? I'm so sorry,
          Blackadder. Come on, Darling, we're leaving. (he and Darling leave)

George: Righto, sir, I'm glad you're not barking anymore.

Edmund: Well, thank you, George -- although quite clearly you are. You were
        offered a way out, and you didn't take it.

George: Absolutely not, sir! I can't wait to get stuck into the Boche!

Edmund: You won't have time to get `stuck into the Boche'! We'll all be cut
        to pieces by machine gun fire before we can say "charge."

George: All right, so, what do we do now?

Baldrick: Can I do my war poem?

Edmund: How hurt would you be if I gave the honest answer, which is "No, I'd
        rather French-kiss a skunk"?

Baldrick: So would I, sir!

Edmund: All right. Fire away, Baldrick.

Baldrick: "Hear the words I sing / War's a horrid thing / So I sing sing
          sing / ding-a-ling-a-ling."

George: (applauding) Oh, bravo, yes!

Edmund: Yes. Well, it started badly, it tailed off a little in the middle,
        and the less said about the end, the better. But, apart than that,

Baldrick: Oh, shall I do another one, then, sir?

Edmund: No -- we wouldn't want to exhaust you.

Baldrick: No, don't worry; I could go on all night.

Edmund: Not with a bayonet through your neck, you couldn't!

Baldrick: This one is called "The German Guns."

George: Oh, spiffing! Yes, let's hear that!

Baldrick: "Boom boom boom boom / Boom boom boom / BOOM BOOM, BOOM BOOM--


Baldrick: How did you guess, sir?

George: I say, sir! That is spooky!

Edmund: I'm sorry, I think I've got to get out of here!!!

Baldrick: Well, I have a cunning plan, sir.

Edmund: All right, Baldrick -- for old time's sake.

Baldrick: Well, you phone Field Marshal Haig, sir, and you ask him to get
          you out of here.

Edmund: (stands) Baldrick, even by your standards it's pathetic! I've only
        ever met Field Marshal Haig once, it was twenty years ago, and, my
        god, you've got it, you've got it! (he kisses Baldrick's hat)

Baldrick: Well, if I've got it, you've got it too, now, sir.

Edmund: I can't believe I've been so stupid! One phone call will do it -- one
        phone call and I'll be free. Let's see, it's 3.30 a.m.; I'll call
        about quarter to six. Excellent, excellent. Well, I'll get packing.

George: You know, I won't half miss you chaps after the war.

Baldrick: Don't worry, Lieutenant; I'll come visit you.

George: Will you really? Oh bravo! Yes, jump into the old jalopy and come down
        and stay in the country, and we can relive the old times.

Edmund: What, dig a hole in the garden, fill it with water, and get your
        gamekeeper to shoot at us all day?

George: You know, that's the thing I don't really understand about you, Cap.
        You're a professional soldier, and yet, sometimes you sound as though
        you bally well haven't enjoyed soldiering at all.

Edmund: Well, you see, George, I did like it, back in the old days when the
        prerequisite of a British campaign was that the enemy should under
        no circumstances carry guns -- even spears made us think twice. The
        kind of people we liked to fight were two feet tall and armed with
        dry grass.

George: Now, come off it, sir -- what about Mboto Gorge, for heaven's sake?

Edmund: Yes, that was a bit of a nasty one -- ten thousand Watusi warriors
        armed to the teeth with kiwi fruit and guava halves. After the battle,
        instead of taking prisoners, we simply made a huge fruit salad. No,
        when I joined up, I never imagined anything as awful as this war.
        I'd had fifteen years of military experience, perfecting the art of
        ordering a pink gin and saying "Do you do it doggy-doggy?" in
        Swahili, and then suddenly four-and-a-half million heavily armed
        Germans hoved into view. That was a shock, I can tell you.

Baldrick: (polishing boots with a dead rat) I thought it was going to be such
          fun, too -- we all did -- joining the local regiment and everything:
          The Turnip Street Workhouse Powers. It was great. I'll never forget
          it. It was the first time I ever felt really popular. Everyone was
          cheering, throwing flowers. Some girl even come up and kissed me.

Edmund: Poor woman -- first casualty of the war.

Baldrick: I loved the training; all we had to do was bayonet sacks full of
          straw. Even I could do that. I rememeber saying to my mum, "These
          sacks will be easy to outwit in a battle situation." And then,
          shortly after, we all met up, didn't we? just before Christmas,

George: Yes, that's right. I'd just arrived and we had that wonderful
        Christmas truce. Do you remember, sir? We could hear "Silent Night"
        drifting across the still, clear air of No Man's Land. And then they
        came, the Germans, emerging out of the freezing night mist, calling
        to us, and we clambered up over the top and went to meet them.

Edmund: Both sides advanced more during one Christmas piss-up than they
        managed in the next two-and-a-half years of war.

Baldrick: Do you remember the football match?

Edmund: Remember it? How could I forget it? I was never offside! I could not
        believe that decision!

Baldrick: And since then we've been stuck here for three flipping years! We
          haven't moved! All my friends are dead: My pet spider, Sammy; Katie
          the worm; Bertie the bird -- everyone except Neville the fat

Edmund: (having just finished his packing; sits) I'm afraid Neville bought
        it too, Baldrick. I'm sorry.

Baldrick: Neville, gone, sir?

Edmund: Actually, not quite gone -- he's in the corner, bunging up the sink.

Baldrick: (stands) Oh no, it didn't have to happen, sir! If it wasn't for this
          terrible war, Neville would still be here today, sniffling his
          little nose and going "Eek."

Edmund: On the other hand, if he hadn't died, I wouldn't have been able to
        insert a curtain rod in his bottom and use him as a dishmop.

Baldrick: Why can't we just stop, sir? Why can't we just say, "No more killing;
          let's all go home"? Why would it be stupid just to pack it in, sir,

George: Now, now, now, look here, you just stop that (conchy?) talk right now,
        Private. It's, it's absurd, it's Bolshevism, and it wouldn't work,

Baldrick: Why not, sir?

George: "Why not?" Well, what do you mean? "Why wouldn't it work?" It--
        It wouldn't work, Private-- It wouldn't work because, there, well,
        now, you just get on with polishing those boots, all right? and let's
        have a little bit less of that lip! (to Edmund) I think I managed to
        crush the mutiny there, sir. Well, to think, sir: in just a few hours,
        we'll be off. Of course, not that I wouldn't miss all this, sir.
        I mean, we've had some good times; we've had damnably good laughs, eh?

Edmund: Yes -- can't think of any specific ones, myself, but...

(Melchett's office. Darling is asleep at the desk. Melchett comes in with
 a candle. He is wearing a robe, and a hairnet for his moustache.)

Melchett: Darling.

Darling: (with a start, stands) Sir!

Melchett: Oh, sit sit sit sit... Can't sleep either, eh?

Darling: Er, no, sir -- thinking about the Push, sir, hoping the Boche will
         forget to set their alarm clocks, oversleep, and still be in their
         pyjamas when our boys turn up, sir.

Melchett: Yes, yes. I've been thinking, too, Darling.

Darling: Sir?

Melchett: You know, over these last few years, I've come to think of you as
          a sort of son. Not a favourite son, of course -- lord, no! -- more
          a sort of illegitimate backstairs sort of sprog, you know: a sort
          of spotty squit that nobody really likes. But, nonetheless, still
          fruit of my overactive loins.

Darling: Thank you, sir.

Melchett: And I want to do what's best for you, Darling, so I've given it
          a great deal of thought, and I want you to have this.  (picks up
          a piece of paper from the desk and hands it to Darling)

Darling: A postal order for ten shillings...

Melchett: No, sorry -- that's my godson's wedding present. (picks up another
          piece of paper) Here.

Darling: Er, no, sir -- this is the commission for the front line, sir.
         (holds it out, to give it back)

Melchett: Yes. I've been awfully selfish, Darling, keeping you back here
          instead of letting you join in the fun and games. This will let
          you get to the front line immediately!

Darling: But, but, sir, I, I don't want to.

Melchett: leave me? Heh, I appreciate that, Darling, but, damn it, I'll
          just have to enter Berlin without someone to carry my feathery hat.

Darling: (stands) No, sir, I don't want to go into battle.

Melchett: ...without me. I know. But I'm too old, Darling. I'm just going to
          have to sit this one out on the touchline with the halftime oranges
          and the fat, wheezy boys with a note from matron, while you young-
          bloods link arms and go together for the glorious final scrumdown.

Darling: No, sir... (walks around the desk to Melchett) You're, you're not
         listening, sir. I'm begging you, please -- for the sake of all the
         times I've helped you with your dicky bows and dicky bladder --
         please (falls to his knees), don't make me--

Melchett: ...make you go through the farewell debagging ceremony in the mess.
          Heh! No, I've spared you that, too, you touchingly sentimental young
          booby! Look: no fuss, no bother -- the driver is already here.

Darling: (turns, still on his knees, as the door opens; a shadow of the
         driver is cast from the bright light in the next room [extra bright
         for dramatic effect]; the driver salutes) But--

Melchett: No, no -- not a word, Kevin. I know what you want to say. I know.
          (Darling stands slowly) Goodbye, Kevin Darling. (salutes)

Darling: (frightened, salutes) Goodbye, sir.

(dawn, in the dugout)

Baldrick: (enters) It's stopped raining at last, sir, begging your pardon --
          looks like we might have a nice day for it.

George: Yes, it's nearly morning...

Edmund: (peeks outside) Good lord -- so it is. Right, time to make my call.
        (winds the telephone) Hello? Field Marshal Sir Douglas Haig, please.
        Yes, it's urgent...

        (Haig picks up and is looking over a model of the battlefield.)

Haig: Haig.

Edmund: Hello, Sir Douglas.

Haig: Who is this?

Edmund: Captain Blackadder, sir, erstwhile of the 1945th East African rifles.

Haig: Good lord! Blacky! (knocks down an entire line of model soldiers)

Edmund: Yes, sir.

Haig: I haven't seen you since... (knocks down the second line of model
      soldiers on the same side)

Edmund: '92, sir -- Mboto Gorge.

Haig: By jingo, yes. We sure gave those pygmies a good squashing.

Edmund: We certainly did, sir. And do you remember...?

Haig: My god, yes. You saved my damn life that day, Blacky. If it weren't for
      you, that pygmy woman with the sharpened mango could have seriously...

Edmund: Well, exactly, sir. And do you remember then that you said that if
        I was ever in real trouble and I really needed a favour that I was
        to call you and you'd do everything you could to help me?

Haig: (sweeps the fallen soldier models into a dustpan) Yes, yes, I do, and
      I stick by it. You know me -- not a man to change my mind.

Edmund: No -- we've noticed that.

Haig: So what do you want? Spit it out, man. (hurls the dead platoon over
      his shoulder)

Edmund: Well, you see, sir, it's the Big Push today, and I'm not all that
        keen to go over the top.

Haig: (sits) Oh, I see. Well...

Edmund: It was a viciously sharp slice of mango, wasn't it, sir...

Haig: (fiddles with one of the soldiers) Well, this is most irregular, but,
      erm, all right. If I do fix it for you, I never want to hear from you
      again, is that clear?

Edmund: Suits me, Douggy.

Haig: Very well. Listen carefully, Blackadder; I won't repeat this. Put your
      underpants on your head and stick two pencils up your nose. They'll
      think you're crazy and send you home. Right, favour returned. (hangs up)

Edmund: (hanging up his end) I think the phrase rhymes with `clucking bell'.

Baldrick: Does that mean you'll going over the top, now, sir?

        (phone rings, Edmund quickly picks it up)

Edmund: Field Marshal?

Melchett: (on the other end, laughs) Well, not quite, Blackadder -- at least
          not yet. No, I just wanted to let you know I've sent a little
          surprise over for you.

        (Darling enters, wearing helmet)

George: Sir! (salutes)

Edmund: (hangs up the phone, turns) Captain Darling...

Darling: Captain Blackadder.

Edmund: Here to join us for the last waltz?

Darling: (nervous) Erm, yes -- tired of folding the general's pyjamas.

George: Well, this is splendid, comradely news! Together, we'll fight for king
        and country, and be sucking sausages in Berlin by teatime.

Edmund: Yes, I hope their cafes are well stocked; everyone seems determined
        to eat out the moment they arrive.

George: No, really, this is brave, splendid and noble!  Sir?

Edmund: Yes, Lieutenant?

George: I'm scared, sir.

Baldrick: I'm scared too, sir.

George: I mean, I'm the last of the tiddlywinking leapfroggers from the Golden
        Summer of 1914. I don't want to die. I'm really not overkeen on dying
        at all, sir.

Edmund: How are you feeling, Darling?

Darling: Erm, not all that good, Blackadder -- rather hoped I'd get through the
         whole show; go back to work at Pratt & Sons; keep wicket for the
         Croydon gentlemen; marry Doris... Made a note in my diary on my way
         here. Simply says, "Bugger."

Edmund: Well, quite.

        (a voice outside gives orders)

Voice: (??)! (??)!

Edmund: Ah well, come on. Let's move.

Voice: Fix bayonets!

        (They start to go outside)

Edmund: Don't forget your stick, Lieutenant.

George: Oh no, sir -- wouldn't want to face a machine gun without this!

        (outside, they all line up as the shelling stops)

Darling: Listen! Our guns have stopped.

George: You don't think...?

Baldrick: Maybe the war's over. Maybe it's peace!

George: Well, hurrah! The big knobs have gone round the table and yanked the
        iron out of the fire!

Darling: Thank God! We lived through it! The Great War: 1914-1917.

George: Hip hip!

All but Edmund: Hurray!

Edmund: (loading his revolver) 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: So we are, in fact, going over. This is, as they say, it.

Edmund: I'm afraid so, unless I think of something very quickly.

Voice: Company, one pace forward!

        (everyone steps forward)

Baldrick: Ooh, there's a nasty splinter on that ladder, sir! A bloke could
          hurt himself on that.

Voice: Stand ready!

        (everyone puts a foot forward)

Baldrick: I have a plan, sir.

Edmund: Really, Baldrick? A cunning and subtle one?

Baldrick: Yes, sir.

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

Baldrick: Yes, sir.

Voice: On the signal, company will advance!

Edmund: 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?

        (whistle blows)

Edmund: Good luck, everyone. (blows his whistle)

        (Everyone yells as they go over the top. German guns fire before
         they're even off the ladders. The scene changes to slow motion,
         and explosions happen all around them. [An echoed piano slowly plays
         the Blackadder theme.] The smoke and flying earth begins to obscure
         vision as the view changes to the battlefield moments later: empty
         and silent with barbed wire, guns and bodies strewn across it. [A
         bass drum beats slowly.] That view in turn changes to the same field
         as it is today: overgrown with grasses and flowers, peaceful, with
         chirping birds.)

 B L A C K A D D E R

Blackadder IV, Episode 5 - General Hospital

Black Adder IV, Episode 5

General Hospital


(George, Edmund and Baldrick are in their room in the trenches)

George: I spy with my little eye (he looks behind his shoulder and sees a
        mug) something beginning with `M'.

Baldrick: Erm...

George: (encouraging) MMM...

Baldrick: Erm...

George: (encouraging) MMM... (he bobs his head down to within inches of the
        mug a few times)

Baldrick: Mmm...

        (this carries on for a while)

George: MMMuh... (he picks up the mug and holds it in front of him)

Baldrick: Mmm...

Edmund: (wishing he could read his book in peace; can't stand this carrying
        on any longer; shouts) MUG!!!

George: Oh, I say, well done, sir. Your turn.

Edmund: I spy with my bored little eye something beginning with `T'.

Baldrick: Breakfast!

Edmund: What?

Baldrick: My breakfast always begins with tea, and I have a little sausage,
          and a egg with some little soldiers.

Edmund: Baldrick, when I said it begins with `T', I was talking about a letter.

Baldrick: Nah, it never begins with a letter; the postman don't come 'til

Edmund: I can't go on with this. (stands) George, take over.

George: All right, sir. Erm, I spy with my litle eye something beginning
        with `R'.

Baldrick: (raises his arm, even though he's the only one playing now) Army!

Edmund: For God's sake, Baldrick! `Army' starts with an `A'. He's looking for
        something that starts with an `R'. RRRrrrrr!

Baldrick: Motorbike!

Edmund: What?

Baldrick: A motorbike starts with a `RRRRRrrrrrrrrrm! RRRRRRrrrrrrrrrr--'

Edmund: All right, right, right, right. My turn again. What begins with `Come
        here' and ends with `Ow'?

Baldrick: I don't know.

Edmund: Come here.

        (Baldrick moves closer to Edmund; Edmund punches Baldrick in the face)

Baldrick: Ow! (falls to the ground)

Edmund: Well done.

George: No (laughs), I don't think you've quite got the hang of this
        game, to be honest, sir. I tell you what, let's try another one.
        Erm, I hear with my little ear, er, something beginning with

Edmund: What?

George: Bomb.

Edmund: I can't hear a bomb.

George: Listen very carefully.

        (a bomb approaching whistle is heard)

Edmund: Ah yes.

        (The bomb explodes)

(in hospital; George is wounded from that bomb and is talking to Nurse
Mary about a letter he's writing; Mary is massaging his foot)

George: Finished.

Mary: Come on, then.

George: All right, and then you can tell me what you think, but be honest,

Mary: (giggly) I will!

George: All right, then. (reads) "Dear Uncle H., how are you?" (Nurse laughs)
        Yeah, it's good isn't it? Erm, "It's beastly rotten luck being laid
        up here, but everyone's very nice, and at least now I can write to
        you every day." Oh, ahem, then I put in that silly bit about, er...

Mary: What? What?

George: No, it's, er...

Mary: Oh, come on, you can tell me.

George: "And the nurse is an absolute peach." (buries his face in the letter,
        embarrassed) Anyway, "After the explosion, Captain Blackadder was
        marvellous. 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?' "

Mary: Well, Captain Blacky does indeed sound a most witty and courageous chap.

George: Yes, and he's very amusing and brave, as well. Not to mention he's as
        clever as a chap with three heads!

        (Mary stands, ruffles George's hair and fluffs his pillows)

George: Thanks ever so much. You really are terribly kind, as well as being
        dash pretty to boot.

Mary: (having retrieved a teddy bear from behind the pillows) Oh dear.
      A fluffy pillow and a big cheery smile is the least my lovely boyses
      deserve. (gives George the teddy bear) Now, you take a little trip to
      Dozy Land. (george takes the bear and begins sucking his thumb) You've
      got visitors coming, and we don't want to be all tired and cross (??),
      do we?

George: Absolutely not, no. It'll be so jolly to see Baldrick and the cap
        again. They'll have been worried sick about me, you know.

        (Edmund and Baldrick enter)

Edmund: 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.

Edmund: Of course he's looking well -- there's nothing wrong with him.

George: Pff! (to Mary) Didn't I tell you the captain was a super (cope? [as
        a made-up noun form of `copesetic'?])!

Mary: (bubbly) You did! (stands) Well, Captain, you are indeed fortunate to
      have a loyal friend like darling Georgy.

Edmund: Mm, I think you might be under a slight misapprehension here, Nurse.
        I lost closer friends than `Darling Georgy' the last time I was
        deloused. Now, if you will excuse me, I've got better things to do
        than exchange pleasantries with a wet blanket. Would you get out?

        (Mary is agape)

Edmund: We've got some important military business...

Nurse: Well, ten minutes only, then. (leaves)

Edmund: Right, porkface, where's the grub? (sits in bedside chair)

George: Pardon?

Edmund: 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: My family is not inbred!

Edmund: Come on, somewhere outside (Saffon-Waldon?) 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! Anyway, he lives in

Edmund: Well, exactly. Now, where's the tuck?

George: Well, there were one or two things, yes. There was, er, a potted
        turkey, a (??) jelly, three tinned sheep, and, er, twelve hundred
        chocolates. But, in my weakened state...

Edmund: Yes?

George: ...I, er, I ate them.

Edmund: What?

George: Well, Nurse Mary nibbled a trotter or two, but... Oh, Cap, she's such
        a wonderful girl. She helps me with all my letters, she can do all the
        German spelling and she's terribly good at punctuation.

Edmund: I don't care if she can sing `I May Be a Tiny Chimney Sweep, But I've
        Got an Enormous Brush'. Come on, Baldrick -- the only thing we're
        going to get for free around here is dysentery.

Baldrick: (softly) But, sir, I haven't given Lieutenant George my bunch of
          flowers yet.

Edmund: Alright, hurry up, hurry up.

Baldrick: Here you are, sir, I got you these. (holds up some flower stems, sans
          the actual flowers) Unfortunately, they've had their heads shot off.

Edmund: Whereas (??) say it with flowers, Baldrick says it with stalks.

        (Mary enters during that line)

Mary: Well, Captain, I'm afraid you'll have to leave us now.

Edmund: Oh really?

Mary: Yes. You must report to General Melchett immediately.

Edmund: Oh great. Yet another tempting opportunity for suicide beckons.

George: Gosh, I wish I could come with you, you know, sir.

Mary: Oh no, you must take care, my brave hero. (puts hand on his forehead)

Edmund: `Brave hero', Nurse? I was more wounded the last time I clipped my

Mary: (to George) Take no notice of him.

Edmund: (in a sarcastically sympathetic voice) Yes, pay no attention to the
        nasty man.

Mary: Look, If I can't give my brave boys a kind word and a big smile, what
      can I give them?

Edmund: Well, one or two ideas do suggest themselves, but you'd probably
        think they were unhygenic.

        (Mary leaves in huff, while another patient, Smith, limps in)

Edmund: Come on, Baldrick. (turns to Smith) Hello, what's your name?

Smith: (with German accent) My name is Mr Smith.

Edmund: I'm sorry that you've been landed opposite to such a total git, Smith.
        It's bad enough to be wounded without having to share a ward with

Smith: Danke shoen, danke shoen; ich bin (gans?) comfortable. (??)

Edmund: (slightly puzzled) Yes... (leaves)

(in Melchett's office)

        (knock at door)

Melchett: Enter.

        (Edmund comes in, but finds the room apparently empty)

Edmund: (puts his hat down on the desk corner) Hello?

        (The camera view changes to just behind the other side of the desk.
         It's the view of a person. Edmund turns round and the view ducks
         completely behind the desk for a moment before peeking up again.
         Across the room, the legs behind a large map include human legs in
         uniform. Edmund approaches the map. The person through whose eyes
         we're witnessing this comes out from behind the desk and follows
         Edmund across the room, and starts to breathe heavily. Edmund sees a
         panel in the map and slides it open, revealing General Melchett's
         face. Just then, our eyes' owner, Captain Darling, jumps Edmund
         from behind. The camera view changes. Darling is holding his
         revolver as he forces Edmund to the fireplace, where a fire is

Darling: Right! Spread 'em! (he frisks Edmund, taking away his gun; he speaks
         to Melchett) Right, he's clear, sir.

Melchett: Beah!

Edmund: Can anyone tell me what's going on?

Darling: Security, Blackadder.

Edmund: Security?

Melchett: (coming out from behind the map) `Security' isn't a dirty word,
          Blackadder. `Crevice' is a dirty word, but `security' isn't.

Edmund: So, in the name of security, sir, everyone who enters the room has
        to have his bottom fondled by this drooling pervert.

Darling: Only doing my job, Blackadder.

Edmund: Oh, well, how lucky you are, then, that your job is also your hobby.

Melchett: Now there's another dirty word: `job'!

Edmund: Sir, is there something the matter?

Melchett: You're damn right there is something the matter. (heads for desk)
          Something sinister and something grotesque. And what's worse is that
          it's going on right here under my very nose. (sits behind desk)

Edmund: (protesting) Sir, your moustache is lovely...

Darling: What the general means, Blackadder, is: There's a leak.

Melchett: Now `leak' is a positively disgusting word.

Darling: The Germans seem to be able to anticipate our every move. We send up
         an aeroplane, there's a Jerry squadron parked behind the nearest
         cloud; we move troops to (??), the Germans have bought the
         whole town's supply of lavatory paper. In short: A German spy is
         giving away every one of our battle plans.

Melchett: You look surprised, Blackadder.

Edmund: I certainly am, sir. I didn't realise we had any battle plans.

Melchett: Well, of course we have! How else do you think the battles are

Edmund: Our battles are directed, sir?

Melchett: Well, of course they are, Blackadder -- directed according to the
          Grand Plan.

Edmund: Would that be the plan to continue with total slaughter until every-
        one's dead except Field Marshal Haig, Lady Haig and their tortoise,

Melchett: Great Scott! (stands) Even you know it! Guard! Guard! Bolt all the
          doors; hammer large pieces of crooked wood against all the windows!
          This security leak is far worse than we'd imagined!

Darling: So you see, Blackadder, Field Marshal Haig is most anxious to
         eliminate all these German spies.

Melchett: Filthy Hun weasels fighting their dirty underhand war!

Darling: And, fortunately, one of *our* spies--

Melchett: Splendid fellows, brave heroes, risking life and limb for Blighty!

Darling: ...has discovered that the leak is coming from the Field Hospital.

Edmund: You think there's a German spy in the Field Hospital? I think you
        might be right, there.

Melchett: Your job, Blackadder, is to root this spy out. How long do you think
          you'll need?

Edmund: (looks at his watch) Ooh, er...

Melchett: You'll have to be away from the trenches for some time.

Edmund: Six months?

Darling: (??), Blackadder. You've got three weeks.

Melchett: Yes, three weeks to smoke the bugger out! Use any method you see
          fit. Personally, I'd recommend you get hold of a cocker spaniel,
          tie your suspect down on a chair, with a potty on his head, then
          pop his todger between two flowery (bamps?) and shout, "Dinnertime,
          Fido!" However, if you are successful, I shall need you back here
          permanently, to head up my new security network, Operation Winkle.

Edmund: Winkle?

Melchett: Yes -- to winkle out the spies.

Darling: (upset that he wasn't offered the position) You never mentioned
         this to me, sir!

Melchett: Well, we have to have some secrets, don't we, Darling...

Edmund: Right, well, I'll be back in three weeks. (takes his hat and revolver)

Melchett: Excellent. And if you come back with the information, Captain
          Darling will pump you thoroughly in the debriefing room.

Edmund: Not while I have my strength, he won't. (exits, as Darling points at
        him angrily)

Darling: Damnation, sir! His insolence makes my blood boil! Once more, I
         don't trust him, sir. I think it would be best if I went to the
         hospital myself, to keep an eye on him.

Melchett: What, spy on our own spy as he searches for their spy? Yes, why
          not? -- sounds rather fun. You'll have to go under cover...

Darling: Oh, definitely, sir.

Melchett: You'll need some sort of wound, a convincing wound...

Darling: Naturally, sir.

Melchett: Yes. (shoots Darling in the foot; Darling screams and falls down,
          his hand weakly poking up from behind the side of the desk) Yes,
          that looks quite convincing. (Darling's hand finally falls behind
          the desk)

(back in the room at the trenches)

Edmund: Right, pack me a toothbrush, Baldrick. We're going on holiday.

Baldrick: Hurray! Where to?

Edmund: Hospital.

Baldrick: Oh, no, I hate hostipals. My grandfather went into one, and when he
          come out, he was dead.

Edmund: He was also dead when he went in, Baldrick. He'd been run over by a
        traction engine.

Baldrick: I don't like them doctors. If they start poking around inside me--

Edmund: Baldrick, why would anyone wish to poke around inside you?

Baldrick: They might find me interesting.

Edmund: Baldrick, I find the Great Northern and Metropolitan Sewage System
        interesting, but that doesn't mean that I want to put on some
        rubber gloves and pull things out if it with a pair of tweezers.

Baldrick: Still, I tell you what, sir, you might have a chance to get to know
          that pretty nurse. (tries to make a cute face)

Edmund: 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.

Edmund: Yes, I wouldn't be too hopeful; we'd have to get her arms out of a
        straightjacket first. Now get packing!

(at hospital; George is writing another letter, and reading it out to Mary
and Smith)

Smith: So very interesting! Please do continue. (??)

George: Right, then I go on to say, "The orders came through for us to
        advance at 0800 hours in a pincer movement."

Mary: Gosh, how exciting!

George: Yes, well, hmm...

        (enter Edmund)

Edmund: 'afternoon, George.

George: Ah, hello, Cap!

Mary: Ah, Captain. I hope you're going to conduct yourself with a little more
      decorum this time.

Edmund: No, I am going to conduct myself with no decorum. Shove off!

        (Mary leaves in a huff; Edmund waves his hat at Smith, to make him
         leave the bedside)

Smith: (??), Herr Kapitan! (??)!

George: So, Cap, what's going on?

Edmund: Well, there's a German spy in the hospital and it's my job to find

George: A Ger--? Well, snakes alive! Exciting stuff, eh? Wait a minute;
        I think I might have a plan already.

Edmund: What is it?

George: Well, have a look through the list of patients and see if there's
        anyone here whose name begins with `von'. Well, it's almost bound
        to be your bloke!

Edmund: I think we may find that he's using a false name, actually, George.

George: Oh, crikey. Well, that's hardly fair, now, is it...

Baldrick: I, too, have a cunning plan to catch the spy, sir.

Edmund: Do you, Baldrick, do you...

Baldrick: You go round the hostipal and ask everyone, "Are you a German spy?"

Edmund: Yes, I must say, Baldrick, I appreciate your involvement on the
        creative side.

Baldrick: If it was me, I'd own up.

Edmund: Of course you would. But, sadly, the enemy have not added to the
        German Army Entrance Form the requirement "Must have intellectual
        capacity of a boiled potato." Now, Baldrick, see that man over there?
        (looks at Smith)

Baldrick: Yeah.

        (Smith is looking at them through field glasses; he waves)

Edmund: I want you to stick to him like a limpet, and make sure he doesn't
        leave the hospital.

Baldrick: Yes, sir.

        (As Baldrick walks across to Smith's bed, Darling hobbles in, with
         help from a cane)

Edmund: Hello, Darling. What are you doing here?

Darling: Bullet in the foot.

Edmund: Well, I can understand people at the front trying to shoot themselves
        in the foot, but when you're 35 miles behind the line...

Darling: I did not shoot myself. The General did it.

Edmund: Well! Finally got fed up with you, did he?

Darling: No, it was a mistake.

Edmund: Oh, he was aiming for your head...

Darling: He wasn't aiming for anything.

Edmund: Oh, so he was going for between your legs, then.

Darling: Very funny, Blackadder. You'll be laughing on the other side of your
         face if you don't find this spy.

Edmund: Don't you worry, Darling. I intend to start interviewing suspects

(later, in another room in the hospital; Darling is tied to a chair, with a
potty on his head)

Darling: This is completely ridiculous, Blackadder! You can't suspect me. I've
         only just arrived.

Edmund: The first rule of counterespionage, Darling, is to suspect everyone.
        Believe me, I shall be asking myself 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?

Edmund: I see. Well, let me ask you another question: What is the name of the
        German Head of State?

Darling: Well, Kaiser Wilhelm, obviously.

Edmund: (stands) So you're on first-name terms with the Kaiser, are you?

Darling: (shouts) Well, what did you expect me to say?

Edmund: Darling, Darling, shh... (offers) Cigarette?

Darling: (as Edmund puts cigarette in his mouth and begins to light it)
         Thank you.


Edmund: (suddenly knocks the cigarette out of Darling's mouth) All right, you
        stinking piece of crap!

Darling: I beg your pardon?

Edmund: Shut your cakehole, sonny! I know you! Tell me, von Darling:
        What was it finally won you over, eh? Was it the pumpernickel, or
        was it the thought of hanging around with big men in leather shorts?

Darling: I'll have you courtmartialed for this, Blackadder!

Edmund: What, for obeying the general's orders? That may be what you do in
        Munich -- or should I say Muechen? -- but not here, Wernher! You're
        a filthy Hun spy, aren't you! (calls) Baldrick, the cocker spaniel,

Darling: Agh! No! No, no, wait! No, look, I'm engaged! I was born in Croydon;
         I was educated in (???) primary school; I've got a girlfriend called
         Doris; I know the words to all three verses of God Save the King!

Edmund: (enjoying this) Four verses...

Darling: Four verses! Four verses! I meant four verses! Look, I'm as British
         as Queen Victoria.

Edmund: So your father's German, you're half German, and you married a German?

Darling: (crying) No! No! Look, for God's sake, I'm not a German spy!!!

Edmund: Good. Thanks very much. Send in the next man, would you?

        (Mary enters)

Mary: What is all this noise about? Don't you realise this is a hospital?

Darling: (stands, still tied to the chair) You'll regret this, Blackadder.
         You'd better find the real spy or I'll make it very hard for you.

Edmund: (protesting) Please, Darling -- there are ladies present.

Darling: (?)

(Darling waddles out. Mary takes the potty off his head as he goes. Somewhere
down the hallway, a crash is heard accompanied by a scream from Darling.
Mary closes the door.)

Mary: Well, well, Captain Blackadder, this is an unexpected pleasure.

Edmund: What?

Mary: Nice to have you back with us. A spycatcher, eh? Huh! That silly
      kid George was right -- you are a bally hero.

Edmund: Wait a minute. I thought you liked George.

Mary: That's just my bedside manner. What I call my `fluffy bunny act'.

Edmund: So you're not a drip after all.

Mary: Oh, no. So, Mr Spycatcher, how's it going?

Edmund: Well, not much luck so far. I think he might be as difficult to find
        as a piece of hay in a massive stack full of needles.

Mary: So you're going to be around for quite a while, then.

Edmund: Looks like it.

Mary: Good, because, er, it can get pretty lonely round here, you know.
      God, it's nice to have someone healthy to talk to. (offers) Cigarette?

Edmund: No, thank you. I only smoke cigarettes after making love. So, back in
        England, I'm a twenty-a-day man.

Mary: (blows smoke in Edmund's face) A man should smoke. It acts as an
      expectorant and gives his voice a deep, gravely, masculine tone.

Edmund: God, I love nurses; they're so digustingly clinical!

Mary: Tell me, Captain Blackadder...

Edmund: Edmund.

Mary: Edmund. When this war is over do you think we might get to know each
      other a little better?

Edmund: Yes, why not? When this madness is finished, perhaps we could go
        cycling together, take a trip down to the Old Swan at Henley and go
        for a walk in the woods.

Mary: Yes, or we could just do it right now on the desk.

Edmund: (looks at the desk) Yeah, OK.

(in the ward; Smith hobbles in hurriedly, followed immediately by Baldrick)

George: Ah, Baldrick. Have you seen Nurse Mary? I need someone to post this

Baldrick: She's in the office with the captain, sir.

George: Ah, poor girl -- tied to her desk, day and night...

        (Edmund enters)

George: Ah, Cap! I hear you've been seeing a lot of Nurse Mary.

Edmund: Yes -- almost all of her, in fact.

George: How is she, sir?

Edmund: Unbelievable!

George: (motions Edmund to come closer, then speaks softly) What I really want
        to know is, are you any closer to finding the spy?

Edmund: Yes, I think I'm getting there, George. (looks across, calls)
        Everything all right, Smith?

Smith: (Baldrick is in bed with him, reading a Punch magazine) Oh, ja,
       excellent, excellent.

Edmund: Jolly good. (leaves)

George: Smithy, you haven't seen any suspicious characters hanging around,
        have you, who might be German spies?

Smith: Nein.

George: (bewildered) Nine?! Well, the cap's got his work cut out, then.

(in the office, Mary and Edmund are in bed; Edmund is smoking)

Mary: Tell me, Edmund: Do you have someone special in your life?

Edmund: Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I do.

Mary: Who?

Edmund: Me.

Mary: No, I mean someone you love, cherish and want to keep safe from all the
      horror and the hurt.

Edmund: Erm... Still me, really.

Mary: No, but, back home, in England, there must be someone waiting --
      some sweetheart.

Edmund: Oh, a girl... Nah. I've always been a soldier -- married to the army.
        The book of King's Regulations is my mistress, possibly with a
        Harrod's lingerie catalogue discreetly tucked between the pages.

Mary: And no casual girlfriends...?

Edmund: Skirt? Hah! 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. What about you? Have you got a man? Some fine
        fellow in an English country village? A vicar, maybe? Quiet, gentle,
        hung like a babboon...

Mary: There was a man I cared for a little. Wonderful chap -- strong,

Edmund: What happened to him?

Mary: He bought it.

Edmund: I'm so sorry; I didn't realise that was the arrangement. (stands,
        goes to desk) Erm, so what's it been? Twelve nights, let's say
        nine afternoons... How much is--? Oh, and a couple of mornings...

Mary: I mean he died.

Edmund: (apologising only for his actions -- not the death) Oh, I'm sorry.

Mary: He was test-driving one of those new tank contraptions, and the bloody
      thing blew up. What a waste. God, I hope they've scrapped the lot.

Edmund: Huh, fat chance! They're going to use forty of them next week at, oh,
        sorry, I mustn't talk about that; you never know who might be
        listening. (There is a black dot, possibly a hole, in the wall behind
        him -- possibly the location of a microphone, or maybe it's just a
        problem with the set.)

Mary: No, of course. Oh God, I miss him so much. He was such a wonderful chap.

Edmund: Clever, too, I expect.

Mary: Oh, brilliant.

Edmund: Went to one of the great universities, I suppose: Oxford; Cambridge;

Mary: Mmm... But why are we making small talk when we could be making big

Edmund: Good point. This could be our last chance; my three weeks are up.
        I'm going back to staff HQ tomorrow. Look, why don't you come with me?
        It could be fun. We could have supper or something.

Mary: How about something first, then supper?

Edmund: Good idea!

(in Melchett's office; Melchett enters to meet the waiting Edmund and Mary)

Melchett: Ah, hello, Blackadder...

Edmund: Good morning, sir. Er, may I introduce Nurse Fletcher-Brown. She's
        been very supportive during my work at the hospital.

Melchett: How do you do, young lady? (chuckles) Do sit down. (he moans in pain
          as he sits) So, any news of the spy, Blackadder?

Edmund: Yes, sir.

Melchett: Excellent! The Germans seem to know every move we make! I had a
          letter from Jerry yesterday. It said, "Isn't it about time you
          changed your shirts, Walrus-face?" So, do you have any ideas who
          it might be, young lady?

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 morsetapper?
          What on Earth made you suspect him?

Mary: Well, he pooh-poohed the captain here and said that he'd never find
      the spy.

Melchett: Is this true, Blackadder? Did Captain Darling pooh-pooh you?

Edmund: 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!

Edmund: 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!

        (Mary has begun reading an Ideas magazine. During the next line,
         she looks around nervously and puts the paper down, sitting on it)

Edmund: Yes, I think we might be drifting slightly from the point here, sir,
        which is that, unfortuantely, and to my lasting regret, Captain
        Darling is not the spy.

Melchett: Oh? And then who the hell is?

Mary: Well, sir, there is a man in the hospital with a pronounced limp and
      a very strong German accent. It must be him. It's obvious.

Edmund: Obvious, but wrong. It's not him.

Melchett: And why not?

Edmund: Because, sir, not even the Germans would be stupid enough to field a
        spy with a strong German accent.

Mary: Well then, who is it?

Edmund: Well, it's perfectly simple. It's you.

Mary: (gasps; stands) Edmund!

Edmund: (calls as he stands) Baldrick!

        (Baldrick enters, pointing a rifle at Mary)

Melchett: (stands) Explain yourself, Blackadder, before I have you shot for
          being rude to a lady!

Edmund: Well, sir, the first seeds of suspicion were sown when Lieutenant
        George unwittingly revealed that she spoke German. Do you deny, Nurse
        Fletcher-Brown -- or should I say Nurse Fleischer-Baum? -- that you
        helped Lieutenant George with the German words in his letters?

Mary: No, I did, but--

Edmund: My suspicions were confirmed when she probed me expertly about tank

Murse: Oh, Edmund, how could you? After all we've been through.

Edmund: And then the final, irrefutable proof. Remember, you mentioned
        a clever boyfriend...

Mary: Yes.

Edmund: I then leapt on the opportunity to test you. I asked if he'd been
        to one of the great universities: Oxford, Cambridge, or Hull...

Mary: Well?

Edmund: You failed to spot that only two of those are great universities.

Mary: You swine!

Melchett: That's right -- Oxford's a complete dump!

Edmund: Well, quite. No true Englishwoman could have fallen into that trap.

Mary: Oh, Edmund, I thought there was something beautiful between us.
      I thought you ... loved me.

Edmund: Nah... Take her away, Baldrick.

Baldrick: (?? [mispronouncing something in German, perhaps])

        (Baldrick takes Mary out)

Melchett: Well, good work, Blackadder. Now I've got to assemble a firing
          squad. (while Edmund warms himself by the fire, goes to his desk,
          sits and picks up the telephone)

        (Smith, in uniform, hobbles in. Darling runs up from behind)

Darling: Watch out, sir!  (jumps on Smith, taking his revolver)

Melchett: Darling, what on Earth do you think you're doing?

Darling: I'll tell you exactly what I am doing, sir. I'm doing what Blackadder
         should have done three weeks ago, sir.

Melchett: What?

Darling: This is the guilty man!

Melchett: Darling, you're hysterical.

Darling: No, sir! No, I'm not, sir! I'll ask him outright: Are you a spy?

Smith: Yes, I am a spy!

Darling: You see, sir??

Melchett: Well, of course he's a spy, Darling -- a British spy! This is
          Brigadier Sir Bernard Proudfoot-Smith (Smith stands up straight,
          showing that he in fact doesn't limp at all), the finest spy in
          the British army!

Darling: b-But he can't be, sir; he, he doesn't even sound British.

Smith: (still sounding as German as ever) Unfortunately, I have been working
       under cover in Germany for so long that I have picked up a teensy-
       weensy bit of an accent.

Melchett: This, Darling, is the man who told us that there was a German spy in
          the hospital in the first place.

Darling: Ah.

Melchett: Right. Well, that's that, then. Blackadder...

Edmund: Yes, sir?

Melchett: You are now head of Operation Winkle.

Edmund: Thank you, sir.

Melchett: Darling...

Darling: Yes, sir?

Melchett: You are a complete arse.

Darling: Thank you, sir.

Melchett: Right, Bernard, let's go watch the firing squad. (starts out)

Smith: (??), von General! (takes his revolver from Darling; leaves)

        (George rushes in)

George: Sir, what the devil is going on? I've just seen Nurse Mary being led
        away to a firing squad!

Edmund: Nurse Mary is the spy, George.

George: What? Y-- Impossible!

Edmund: Afraid so.

George: Well, cover me with eggs and flour and bake me for fourteen minutes.
        Who'd have thought it, eh? Nurse Mary, a Boche nosepokerinner...
        Ker! Oh well, lots of exciting stuff to put into my next letter to my
        Uncle Hermann in Munich...

Edmund: Sorry?

George: Those letters I've been writing in the hospital, to my German uncle.

Darling: New information, Blackadder...?

Edmund: George...

George: Oh, yes, well, I know there's a war on, but family is family, and
        old Uncle Hermie does so love to be kept abreast of what's going on.
        I even wrote and told him about old walrus-face Melchett and his
        smelly old shirts!

Darling: Would you like me to tell this one to the general, Blackadder, or
         would you enjoy that very special moment?

        (They race out, leaving George bewildered behind)

Captain Edmund Blackadder

Private S Baldrick

General Sir Anthony Cecil Hogmanay Melchett

Lieutenant The Honourable George Colthurst St. Barleigh

Captain Kevin Darling

Blackadder IV, Episode 4 - Private Plane

Black Adder IV, Episode 4

Private Plane


Scene 1: BA's Dugout

[BA is listening to his phonograph.  Artillery firing outside is causing the
 record to skip frequently.  Annoyed, BA storms outside.]

Scene 2: In The Trench

[Lt. George is in the trench, peering through a pair of binoculars across
 No Man's Land.]

BA               Oh, God, why do they bother?

George           Well, it's to kill Jerry, isn't it, Sir?

BA               Yes, but Jerry is safe underground in concrete bunkers.
                 We've shot off over a million cannon shells and what's
                 the result?  One dachshund with a slight limp!

[BA yells at the artillery.]

BA               Shut up!

[Artillery ceases.  George looks bemused.]

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

[BA goes into his dugout.]

Scene 3: BA's Dugout

[The phonograph is still playing.  BA stops it and lies down on his cot.
 An instant after his head touches the pillow there is the sound of
 aircraft and gunfire from outside.  BA rises from his cot.]

BA               Oh, God!  Bloody Germans!  They can't take a joke, can
                 they?  Just because we take a few pot-shots at them,
                 they have to have an air-raid to get their own back.
                 Where are our airforce?

[BA moves over to the table.  A field-telephone sits on the table]

BA               They're meant to defend us against this sort of thing.

[Noise outside continues.  BA puts on steel helmet, picks up telephone and
 dives under the table.]

BA               Right, that's it!

[Picks up receiver.]

BA               Hello?  Yes, yes, I'd like to leave a message for the
                 head of the Flying Corps, please.  That's Air Chief
                 Marshall Sir Hugh Massingburg-Massingburg, VC, DFC and
                 bar.  Message reads "Where are you, you bastard?"

[Private Baldrick enters the dugout.]

Baldrick         Here I am, Sir.

[BA puts down the receiver.]

BA               For God's sake, Baldrick, take cover.

Baldrick         Why's that, Sir?

BA               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.

[Baldrick moves under the table with BA]

Baldrick         All right, Sir.  It's just that I didn't know there was an
                 air-raid on.  I couldn't hear anything over the noise of
                 the terrific display by our wonderful boys of the Royal
                 Flying Corps, Sir.

BA               What?

[George enters the dugout.]

George           I say, those chaps can't half thunder in their airborne
                 steeds, can't they just?

[George notices BA and Baldrick cowering under the 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.
                 Er, no.  Better make it five, actually . . .

BA               George . . .

George           Er.  Oh, it's sardines.  Oh, excellent!  That's my favourite
                 one, that.

[BA rises from under the table.]

BA               George . . .

George           Yes, Sir?

BA               Shut up, and never say anything again as long as you live.

George           Right you are, Sir.

[BA removes helmet.  George is quiet for a few seconds.]

George           Crikey, but what a show it was, Sir.  Lord Flasheart'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.

[Sound of plane plummeting, then crashing outside.]

BA               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.

BA               The chances of the air being clear anywhere near you,
                 Baldrick, are zero!

Baldrick         Oh, Sir.  It'd be great, swooping and diving.

[Baldrick starts his impression of a Sopwith Camel.]

BA               Baldrick . . .

[Baldrick drones on . . .]

BA               Baldrick . . .

[Baldrick stops droning on as BA interjects a third time.]

BA               Baldrick, what are you doing?

Baldrick         I'm a Sopwith Camel, Sir.

BA               Oh, it is a Sopwith Camel.  Ah, right, I always get confused
                 between the sound of a Sopwith Camel and the sound of a
                 malodourous runt wasting everybodys time.  Now if you
                 can do without me in the nursery for a while, I'm going
                 to get some fresh air.

[BA leaves the dugout, picking up his pipe on the way out.]

Scene 4: In The Trench

[As he emerges from the dugout BA sighs and prepares to light his pipe.
 Squadron Commander Lord Flasheart jumps down from his crashed plane.]

Flasheart        Ha!  Eat knuckle, Fritz!

[Flasheart knocks BA to the ground with his pistol, then puts a foot on
 BA's chest.]

Flasheart        Aha!  How disgusting.  A Boche on the sole of my boot.
                 I shall have to find a patch of grass to wipe it on.
                 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.

[BA rises.]

BA               Do you think we could dispense with the hilarious doggy-do
                 metaphor for a moment?  I'm not a Boche.  This is a British

[Flasheart puts his pistol away.]

Flasheart        Is it?  Oh, that's a piece of luck.  Thought I'd landed
                 sausage-side!  Ha!

[Flasheart picks up the receiver of a field-telephone lying by the dugout

Flasheart        Mind if I use your phone?  If word gets out that I'm
                 missing, five hundred girls will kill themselves.  I wouldn't
                 want them on my conscience, not when they ought to be on
                 my face!  Huh!

[Flasheart kicks the phone into action.]

Flasheart        Hi, Flasheart 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 all 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. Er,
                 General Melchett's driver should do.  She hangs around with
                 the big nobs, so she'll be used to a fellow like me!  Woof,

BA               Look, do you think you could make your obscene phone call
                 somewhere else?

[Flasheart is still on the phone and ignores BA.]

Flasheart        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.

[Flasheart throws down the receiver.]

Flasheart        Okay, dig out your best booze and let's talk about me
                 'til the car comes.  You must be pretty impressed having
                 Squadron Commander the Lord Flasheart drop in on your
                 squalid bit of line.

BA               Actually, no.  I was more impressed by the contents of my
                 handkerchief the last time I blew my nose.

Flasheart        Yeah, like hell.  Huh, huh.  You've probably got little
                 piccies of me on the walls of your dugout, haven't you?

[Flasheart tickles the front of BA's trousers.]

Flasheart        I bet you go all girly and giggly every time you look at

[Flasheart twists BA's John Thomas.  BA (naturally) screams.]

BA               I'm afraid not.  Unfortunately, most of the infantry think
                 you're a prat.  Ask them who they'd prefer to meet:
                 Squadron Commander Flasheart and the man who cleans out
                 the public toilets in Aberdeen, and they'd go for Wee Jock
                 "Poo-Pong" McPlop, every time.

[Flasheart laughs, then belts BA, knocking him to the floor.]
[Flasheart goes into the dugout.]

Scene 5: BA's Dugout

[George and Baldrick are discussing the Flying Aces.]

George           . . . so when that fellow looped-the-loop, I honestly
                 thought that, that, that . . .

[Flasheart enters, saluting.  George sees him.  BA enters behind Flasheart.]

George           My God!

Flasheart        Yes, I suppose I am.

George           Lord Flasheart, this is the greatest honour of my life.
                 I hope I snuff it right now to preserve this moment

BA               It can be arranged.

Baldrick         Lord Flasheart, I want to learn to write so I can send a
                 letter home about this golden moment.

Flasheart        So all the fellows hate me, eh?  Not a bit of it.  I'm
                 your bloody hero, eh, old scout?

[Flasheart playfully scuffs up Baldrick's hair, then notices that this
 action has left something unpleasant on his glove.]

Flasheart        Jesus!

[Flasheart wipes his glove on BA's shirt.]

Baldrick         My Lord, I've got every cigarette card they ever printed of
                 you.  My whole family took up smoking just so that we could
                 get the whole set.  My grandmother smoked herself to
                 death so we could afford the album.

Flasheart        Of course she did, of course she did, the poor love-crazed
                 old octogenarian.

[Flasheart moves to hug and kiss Baldrick, then thinks better of it.]

Flasheart        Well, all right, you fellows.  Let's sit us down and yarn
                 about how amazingly attractive I am.

BA               Yes, would you excuse me for a moment?  I've got some
                 urgent business.  There's a bucket outside I've got to be
                 sick into.

[Flasheart takes the mickey out of BA's holier-than-thou attitude.]

Flasheart        All right, you chaps, let's get comfy.

[Flasheart sits down in chair.  George sits down on BA's cot.  Flasheart
 turns to Baldrick.]

Flasheart        You look like a decent British bloke.  I'll park the old
                 booties on you if that's okay.

Baldrick         It would be an honour, my Lord.

[Baldrick kneels down on all fours in front of Flasheart.]

Flasheart        Of course it would!  Ha!

[Flasheart rests his feet on Baldrick's back and sighs.]

Flasheart        Have you any idea what it's like to have the wind
                 rushing through your hair?

George           No, Sir.

[Flasheart breaks wind in Baldrick's face.]

Flasheart        He has!

Scene 6: BA's Dugout

[Some time has elapsed.  Flasheart is regaling an enthralled George with
 stories.  BA is reading a copy of `King and Country' at the table,
 uninterested in what Flasheart has to say.]

Flasheart        . . . so I flew straight through her bedroom window,
                 popped a box of chocs on the dressing table,
                 machine-gunned my telephone number into the wall, and
                 then shot off and shagged her sister.

[As George creases up, Bobby Parkhurst enters the dugout.]

Bobby            Ahem.  Driver Parkhurst reporting for duty, my Lord . . .

Flasheart        Well, well, well.  If it isn't little Bobby Parkhurst--
                 saucier than a direct hit on a Heinz factory.

Bobby            I've come to pick you up.

Flasheart        Well, that's how I like my girls--direct and to my point.

Bobby            Woof!

[Flasheart removes his feet from Baldrick,  grabs Bobby and puts her across
 his lap and begins to snog her.  During the snog BA sarcastically checks
 his watch.]

Flasheart        Ah!  Tally ho, then!  Back to the bar.  You should join
                 the Flying Corps, George.  That's the way to fight a war.
                 Tasty tuck, soft beds and a uniform so smart it's got a
                 PhD from Cambridge.

[Flasheart gestures at Baldrick.]

Flasheart        You could even bring the breath monster here.  Anyone can
                 be a navigator if he can tell his arse from his elbow.

BA               Well, that's Baldrick out, I fear . . .

Flasheart        We're always looking for talented types to join the
                 Twenty Minuters.

BA               . . . and there goes George.

[Flasheart rises from the chair, lifting Bobby in his arms.]

Flasheart        Tally ho, then, Bobby.  Hush, here comes a whizz-bang and I
                 think you know what I'm talking about!  Woof!

Bobby            Woof!

[Flasheart and Bobby leave.]

BA               God, it's like Crufts in here!

[Baldrick and George stand.]

George           I say, Sir.  What a splendid notion.  The Twenty Minuters.
                 Soft tucker, tasty beds, fluffy uniforms.

Baldrick         Begging your permission, Sir, but why do they call them the
                 Twenty Minuters?

George           Ah, now, yes, . . .

[George moves across the dugout to get his card album.]

George           . . . now this one is in my Brooke Bond `Book of the Air'.

[George returns to the cot and sits down.]

George           Now, you have to collect all the cards and then stick them
                 into this wonderful presentation booklet.  Er . . .

[Baldrick sits down next to George.]

George           Ah, here we are: Twenty Minuters.  Oh, damn!  Haven't got
                 the card yet.  Ah, but the caption says `Twenty minutes is
                 the average amount of time new pilots spend in the air.'

BA               Twenty minutes.

George           That's right, Sir.

BA               I had a twenty hour watch yesterday, with four hours
                 overtime, in two feet of water.

[George, then Baldrick, rise from the cot and move to the table.]

George           Well then, for goodness sake, Sir, why don't we join?

Baldrick         Yeah, be better than just sitting around here all day on our

BA               No thank you.  No thank you.  I have no desire to hang
                 around with a bunch of upper-class delinquents, do twenty
                 minutes work, and then spend the rest of the day loafing
                 about in Paris drinking gallons of champagne and having
                 dozens of moist, pink, highly-experienced young French
                 peasant girls galloping up and down my . . .  Hang on!

Scene 7: Captain Darling's Office

[Captain Darling is writing at his desk.  There is a knock at the office door.]

Darling          Come!

[BA enters the office.]

Darling          Ah, Captain Blackadder.

BA               Good morning, Captain Darling.

Darling          What do you want?

BA               You're looking so well.

Darling          I'm a busy man, Blackadder.  Let's hear it, whatever it is.

BA               Well, you know, Darling, every . . . every man has a
                 dream . . .

Darling          Hmmm . . .

BA               . . . and when I was a small boy, I used to watch the marsh
                 warblers swooping in my mothers undercroft, and I remember
                 thinking `Will men ever dare do the same?'  And you know . . .

[Darling rises from his desk.]

Darling          Oh, you want to join the Royal Flying Corps?

BA               Oh, that's a thought.  Could I?

Darling          No, you couldn't!  Goodbye!

[Darling sits back down.]

BA               Look, 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.

BA               More's the pity, we could have started your personality from
                 scratch.  So, the training period is five months, is it?

Darling          It's no concern of yours if it's five years and comes with a
                 free holiday in Tunisia, contraceptives supplied.  Besides,
                 they wouldn't admit you.  It's not easy getting transfers,
                 you know.

[Darling returns to his work.]

BA               Oh, you've tried it yourself, have you?

[Darling breaks his pencil.]

Darling          No, I haven't.

BA               Trust you to try and skive off to some cushy option.

Darling          There's nothing cushy about life in the Womens Auxiliary
                 Balloon Corps.

[BA raises his eyebrows at this.]

Darling          Ah . . .

[The door to General Melchett's office opens and the General and George
 enter.  BA and Darling snap to attention.  BA salutes.]

George           . . . and then the bishop said "I'm awfully sorry, I
                 didn't realise you meant organist."

[Melchett chortles.]

Melchett         Thank you, George.  At ease, everyone.  Now, where's my
                 map?  Come on.

Darling          Sir!

[Darling hands Melchett his map.]

Melchett         Thank you.

[Melchett unfurls the map the wrong way.]

Melchett         God, it's a barren, featureless desert out there, isn't it.

Darling          The other side, Sir!

[Melchett turns the map over.  BA turns to George.]

BA               Hello, George.  What are you doing here?

George           Me, Sir?  I just popped in to join the Royal Flying Corps.

[Melchett looks up from his map.]

Melchett         Hello, Blackadder.  What are you doing here?

BA               Me, Sir?  I just popped in to join the Royal Flying Corps.

Darling          And, of course, I said . . .

Melchett         Bravo, I hope, Darling.  Because, you know, I've always had
                 my doubts about you trenchy-type fellows.  Always suspected
                 there might be a bit too much of the battle-dodging,
                 nappy-wearing, I'd-rather-have-a-cup-of-tea-than-charge-
                 stark-naked-at-Jerry about you.  But if you're willing to
                 join the Twenty Minuters then you're all right by me and
                 welcome to marry my sister any day.

Darling          Are you sure about this, Sir?

Melchett         Certainly, you should hear the noise she makes when she eats
                 a boiled egg.  Be glad to get her out of the house.  So,
                 report back here 09:00 hours for your basic training.

Scene 8: Captain Darling's Office

[It is the next morning.  Darling's office has been set out with chairs and
 there is a blackboard with a chalk picture of a Sopwith Camel on it.  BA and
 George are in the front row of seats.  There are three other trainees.
 Darling is at his desk at the back.]

George           Crikey!  I'm looking forward to today.  Up-diddly-up,
                 down-diddly-down, whoops-poop, twiddly-dee, a decent scrap
                 with the fiendish Red Baron, a bit of a jolly old crash
                 landing behind enemy lines, capture, torture, escape and
                 then back home in time for tea and medals.

BA               George, who's using the family brain-cell at the moment?
                 This is just the beginning of the training.  The beginning
                 of five long months of very clever, very dull men looking
                 at machinery.

[Flasheart is heard in the corridor.]

Flasheart        Hey, girls!  Look at my machinery!

[The sound of screaming women is heard from the corridor.  Flasheart enters
 Darling's office, zipping up his flys.  He is carrying a stick.  All present
 rise to attention.]

Flasheart        Enter a man who has no underwear.  Ask me why.

All except BA    Why do you have no underwear, Lord Flash?

Flasheart        Because the pants haven't been built yet that'll take the
                 job on.

[Flasheart performs a groinal thrust.]

Flasheart        And that's the type of guy who's doing the training around
                 here.  Sit down!

[All sit.  Flasheart notices BA.]

Flasheart        Well, well, well, well, well.  If it isn't old Captain
                 Slack Bladder.

BA               Blackadder.

Flasheart        Couldn't resist it, eh, Slack Bladder?  Told you you thought
                 I was great.  All right men, let's do-oo-oo it!  The first
                 thing to remember is: always treat your kite . . .

[Flasheart taps the picture of the Sopwith Camel with his stick.]

Flasheart        . . . like you treat your woman!

[Flasheart  whips the air with his cane.]

George           How, how do you mean, Sir?  Do you mean, do you mean take her
                 home at weekends to meet your mother?

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

[George smirks.]

BA               I'm beginning to see why the Suffragette Movement want the

Flasheart        Hey, hey!  Any bird who wants to chain herself to my railings
                 and suffer a jet movement gets my vote.  Er, right.  Well,
                 I'll see you in ten minutes for take-off.

[Flasheart begins to leave.]

BA               Hang on, hang on!  What about the months of training?

Flasheart        Hey, wet-pants!  This isn't the Womens Auxiliary Balloon
                 Corps.  You're in the Twenty Minuters now.

[Darling stands up.]

Darling          Er, Sir . . .

Flasheart        Yes . . .

Darling          . . . Sir!

Flasheart        . . . Prat at the back!

Darling          I think we'd all be intrigued to know why you're called the
                 Twenty Minuters.

George           Oh, Mister Thicko.  Imagine not knowing that.

Flasheart        Well, it's simple!  The average life expectancy for a new
                 pilot is twenty minutes.

Darling          Ah . . .

[Darling sits.]

BA               Life expectancy . . . of twenty minutes . . .

Flasheart        That's right.  Goggles on, chocks away, last one back's a
                 homo!  Hurray!

[Flasheart runs out of the room.]

Trainee Pilots   Hurray!

[Trainee Pilots run after Flasheart.]

BA               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.

George           Hairy blighters, Sir.  This is a bit of a turn-up for the
                 plus fours.

[Darling rises and moves to the door.]

Darling          I shouldn't worry about it too much, Blackadder.  Flying's
                 all about navigation.  As long as you've got a good navigator
                 I'm sure you'll be fine.

[Darling sniggers as he opens the door to reveal Baldrick in flying gear.
 Baldrick enters.  Darling leaves.]

Scene 9: In The Air

[BA and Baldrick are flying in a Sopwith Camel.  George is another Camel.]

BA               Actually, they're right.  This is a doddle.

Baldrick         Careful, Sir!

BA               Whoops, whoops, a little wobble there.  I'll get the hang
                 of it, don't worry.  All right, Baldrick, how many rounds
                 have we got?

Baldrick         Er, five hundred, Sir.  Cheese and tomato for you, rat for

George           Tally-bally ho!

Baldrick         What's this?

[Baldrick climbs out of his seat.]

BA               Baldrick!  Baldrick!  Will you stop arsing about and get back
                 in the plane!

Baldrick         Ooh, ooh, ooh!  Hey, Sir, I can see a pretty red plane from
                 up here.  Ha ha!  Woo woo!

von Richthoven   Schnell!  Da unten!  Ha ha ha!

[von Richthoven shoots out one of the wing-supports on Blackadders aircraft.]

BA               Oh no!  Watch out, Baldrick, it's stood right on our tail.
                 Yes, now this is developing into a distinctly boring
                 situation, but we're still on our side of the line so I'll
                 crash-land and claim my ears went `pop' first time out.

Baldrick         Ooh, let's hope we fall on something soft!

BA               Fine.  I'll try and aim between General Melchett's ears!

Scene 10: A German Prison Cell

[BA is pacing about the cell.  Baldrick is seated.]

BA               I don't believe it.  A German prison cell.  For two and a
                 half years the Western Front has been as likely to move as a
                 Frenchman who lives next door to a brothel, and last night the
                 Germans advance a mile and we land on the wrong side.

Baldrick         Ooh, dear, Captain B, my tummy's gone all squirty.

BA               That means you're scared, Baldrick, and you're not the only
                 one.  I couldn't be more petrified if a wild rhinoceros had
                 just come home from a hard day at the swamp and found me
                 wearing his pyjamas, smoking his cigars and in bed with his

Baldrick         I've heard what these Germans will do, Sir.  They'll have
                 their wicked way with anything of woman-born.

BA               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!

BA               Yes, it'd 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 outside the cell.]

BA               Prepare to die like a man, Baldrick.

[Baldrick stands.]

BA               Or as close as you can come to a man without actually
                 shaving the palms of your hands.

[The door opens and Oberleutnant von Gerhardt enters.]

von Gerhardt     Good evening.  I am Oberleutnant von Gerhardt.  I have
                 a message from the Baron von Richthoven, the greatest living

BA               Which, considering that his competition consists entirely
                 of very fat men in leather shorts burping to the tune of
                 `She'll Be Coming Round The Mountain', is no great

von Gerhardt     Quiet!

[von Gerhardt slaps Baldrick across the face.  Baldrick falls against the

BA               And what is your message?

von Gerhardt     It is: Prepare for a fate worse than death, English flying

BA               Oh.  So, it's the traditional warm German welcome.

von Gerhardt     Correct.  Also, he is saying: Do not try to escape or you
                 will suffer even worse.

BA               A fate worse than a fate worse than death?  Sounds pretty bad.

Scene 11: Captain Darling's Office

[George and Darling are arguing loudly, there is confused chatter.]

George           Yes well, you see, it's all very well for you, isn't it,
                 sitting here behind yer, behind yer, behind yer comfy desk.

Darling          Don't you take that tone with me, Lieutenant, or I'll have
                 you on a charge for insurbordination.

George           Well, I'd rather be on a charge for insubordination than on a
                 charge of deserting a friend.

Darling          How dare you talk to me like that!

George           How dare I . . .?

[General Melchett, attracted by the noise, enters from his office.]

Melchett         Now, then, now then, now, now, then, now then, now then,
                 then now, now, now then.  What's going on here?

Darling          That damn fool Blackadder has crashed his plane behind enemy
                 lines, Sir.  This young idiot wants to go and try rescue him.
                 It's a total waste of men and equipment.

George           He's not a damn fool, Sir, he's a bally hero.

Melchett         All right.  All right, all right, all right.  I'll deal with
                 this, Darling.  Delicate touch needed, I fancy.

[Melchett takes George over to the fireplace.]

Melchett         Now, George.  Do you remember when I came down to visit you
                 when you were a nipper for your sixth birthday?  You used to
                 have a lovely little rabbit.  Beautiful little thing.  Do you

George           Flossy.

Melchett         That's right.  Flossy.  Do you remember what happened to

George           You shot him.

Melchett         That's right.  It was the kindest thing to do after he'd been
                 run over by that car.

George           By your car, Sir.

Melchett         Yes, by my car.  But that too was an act of mercy when you
                 would remember that that dog had been set on him.

George           Your dog, Sir.

Melchett         Yes, yes, my dog.  But what I'm trying to say, George, is
                 that the state young Flossy was in after we'd scraped him off
                 my front tyre is very much the state that young Blackadder
                 will be in now.  If not very nearly dead, then very actually

George           Permission for lip to wobble, Sir?

Melchett         Permission granted.

[George's lips wobble.]

Melchett         Stout fellow.

George           But surely, Sir, you must allow me to at least try and save

Melchett         No, George.  It would be as pointless as trying to teach a
                 woman the value of a good, forward defensive stroke.  Besides,
                 it would take a superman to get him out of there, not the
                 kind of weed who blubs just because somebody gives him a slice
                 of rabbit pie instead of birthday cake.

George           Well, I suppose you're right, Sir.

Melchett         Course I am.  Now let's talk about something more jolly,
                 shall we?  Look, this is the amount of land we've
                 recaptured since yesterday.

[Melchett and George move over to the map table.]

George           Oh, excellent.

Melchett         Erm, what is the actual scale of this map, Darling?

Darling          Erm, one-to-one, Sir.

Melchett         Come again?

Darling          Er, the map is actually life-size, Sir.  It's superbly
                 detailed.  Look, look, there's a little worm.

Melchett         Oh, yes.  So the actual amount of land retaken is?

[Darling whips out a tape measure amd measures the table.]

Darling          Excuse me, Sir.  Seventeen square feet, Sir.

Melchett         Excellent.  So you see, young Blackadder didn't die horribly
                 in vain after all.

George           If he did die, Sir.

Darling          Tch!

Melchett         That's the spirit, George.  If nothing else works, then a
                 total pig-headed unwillingness to look facts in the face
                 will see us through.

Scene 12: A German Prison Cell

[BA is seated.  Baldrick is sitting on the floor.  There is a jangling of
 keys, the cell door opens and the Red Baron enters.]

von Richthoven   So!  I am the Red Baron von Richthoven and you are the two
                 English flying aces responsible for the spilling of the
                 precious German blood of many of my finest and my
                 blondest friends.  I have waited many months to do this.

[von Richthoven kisses BA on both cheeks.]

BA               You may have been right, Balders.  Looks like we're going
                 to get rogered to death after all.

Baldrick         Do you want me to go first, Sir?

[von Richthoven laughs.]

von Richthoven   You English and your sense of humour.  During your brief
                 stay I look forward to learning more of your wit, your
                 punning and your amusing jokes about the breaking of the wind.

BA               Well, Baldrick's the expert there.

Baldrick         I certainly am, Sir.

[von Richthoven laughs.]

von Richthoven   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.

[Baldrick laughs, von Richthoven slaps him in the face.]

von Richthoven   I must now tell you of the full horror of what awaits you.

BA               Ah, you see, Balders.  Dress it up in any amount of pompous
                 verbal diarrhoea, and the message is `Squareheads down for
                 the big Boche gang-bang'.

von Richthoven   As an officer and a gentleman, you will be looking forward
                 to a quick and noble death.

BA               Well, obviously.

von Richthoven   But, instead, an even worse fate awaits you.  Tomorrow, you
                 will be taken back to Germany . . .

BA               Here it comes!

von Richthoven   . . . to a convent school, outside Heidelberg, where you will
                 spend the rest of the war teaching the young girls home

BA               Er . . .

von Richthoven   For you, as a man of honour, the humiliation will be

BA               Oh, I think you'll find we're tougher than you imagine.

von Richthoven   Ha!  I can tell how much you are suffering by your long

BA               We're not suffering too much to say `thank you'.  Thank you.
                 Say `thank you', Baldrick.

Baldrick         Thank you, Baldrick.

[von Richthoven laughs.]

von Richthoven   How amusing.  But now, forgive me.  I must take to the skies
                 once again.  Very funny.  The noble Lord Flasheart still
                 eludes me.

BA               I think you'll find he's overrated.  Bad breath and . . .
                 impotent, they say.

[von Richthoven laughs.]

von Richthoven   Sexual innuendo.

[von Richthoven laughs.]

von Richthoven   But enough of this.  As you say in England, I must fly.

[von Richthoven laughs.]

von Richthoven   Perhaps I will master this humour after all, ja?

BA               I wouldn't be too optomistic.

von Richthoven   Oh, and the little fellow, if you get lonely in the night,
                 I'm in the old chateau.  There's no pressure.

[von Richthoven starts to leave.  As he moves up the steps to the cell door
 he prat-falls and laughs.]

von Richthoven   Prat-fall!

[von Richthoven leaves the cell, laughing as he goes.]

Baldrick         Is it really true, Sir?  Is the war really over for us?

BA               Yup!  Out of the war and teaching nuns how to boil eggs.
                 For us, the Great War is finito.  A war that would be a damn
                 sight simpler if we'd just stayed in England and shot fifty
                 thousand of our men a week.  No more mud, death, rats, bombs,
                 shrapnel, whizz-bangs, barbed wire and those bloody awful
                 songs that have the word `whoops' in the title.

[BA notices that the cell door has been left ajar.]

BA               Oh, damn!  He's, he's left the door open.

Baldrick         Oh, good!  We can escape, Sir.

BA               Are you mad, Baldrick?  I'll find someone to lock it for us.

[BA opens the door to find George standing there.]

George           Ssh!  Keep-ee!  Mum's the word!  Not 'arf, or what?

[BA shuts the door in George's face.]

Baldrick         Sir, why did you just slam the door on Lieutenant George?

BA               I can't believe it.  Go away!

[George pushes the door open and enters the cell.]

George           It's me.  It's me.

BA               But what the hell are you doing here?

George           Oh, never mind the hows, and the whys and the do-you-mind-

BA               But it would have taken a superman to get in here.

George           Well, it's funny you should say that, because as it
                 happens I did have some help from a rather spiffing bloke.
                 He's taken a break from some crucial top-level shagging.

[Flasheart smashes through the cell door, swinging on a rope.  As he lands,
 he trumpets his own arrival.]

Flasheart        It's me.  Hurray!

George and Baldrick

[Flasheart smashes Baldrick in the face.  Baldrick falls to the floor.]

Flasheart        God's potatoes, George.  You said noble brother friars were
                 in the lurch.  If I'd known you meant old Slack Bladder and
                 the mound of the hound of the Baskervilles, I'd probably
                 have let them stew in their own juice.

[Baldrick rises.]

Flasheart        And let me tell you, if I ever tried that, I'd probably

[Baldrick laughs.  Flasheart laughs and smacks Baldrick in the face.
 Baldrick wings floor-ward again.]

Flasheart        Still, since I'm here, I may as well do-oo it, as the
                 Bishop said to the netball team.  Come on, chums!

[Flasheart runs out of the cell, followed by George and Baldrick.  BA sits
 down and begins to moan, faking an injury.]

BA               Aah!  Ow!  Aah!

[Flasheart runs back into the cell, followed by George and Baldrick.]

Flasheart        Come on.

BA               Yes, yes.  Look, I'm sorry, chaps, but I've splintered my
                 pancreas.  Erm, and I seem to have this terrible cough.

[BA fakes a couple of coughs.]

BA               Coff-guards!  Coff-guards!

Flasheart        Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait a minute.  Now I may be
                 packing the kind of tackle that you'd normally expect to find
                 swinging about between the hindlegs of a Grand National
                 winner, but I'm not totally stupid, and I've got the kind of
                 feeling you'd rather we hadn't come.

BA               No, no, no, I'm very grateful.  It's just that I'd slow you

Flasheart        I think I'm beginning to understand.

BA               Are . . . are you?

Flasheart        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.

BA               Is that really what you think, Flasheart?

[Flasheart whips out his pistol and threatens BA.]

Flasheart        Course it's not what I think.  Now get out that door before
                 I redecorate that wall an interesting new colour called
                 `hint of brain'.

BA               Excellent.  Well, that's clear.  Let's get back to that
                 lovely war, then!

Flasheart        Woof!

George           Woof!

Baldrick         Bark!

[As the group moves to leave, von Richthoven appears at the cell door.]

von Richthoven   Not so fast, Blackadder.

BA               Oh, damn!  Foiled again!  What bad luck!

[von Richthoven enters the cell.]

von Richthoven   Ah, and the Lord Flasheart.  This is indeed an honour.
                 Finally, the two greatest gentleman fliers in the world meet.
                 Two men of honour, who have jousted together in the
                 cloud-strewn glory of the skies, face to face at last.  How
                 often I have rehearsed this moment of destiny in my dreams.
                 The panoply to encapsulate the unspoken nobility of a

[Flasheart shoots von Richthoven.]

Flasheart        What a poof!  Come on!

[All exit the cell, cheering.]

Scene 13: Captain Darling's Office

[Darling is dusting the office door.  BA opens the door in Darling's face.]

BA               Hello, Darling.

[Darling retreats backwards towards his desk as BA enters.]

Darling          Good Lord.  Captain Blackadder.  I thought, I thought you
                 were . . .

BA               Playing tennis?

Darling          No.

BA               Dead?

Darling          Well, yes, unfortunately.

BA               Well, I had a lucky escape.  No thanks to you.  This is a
                 friend of mine.

[Flasheart is standing on Darling's desk.  Darling turns around and finds
 himself staring at Flasheart's crotch.]

Darling          Argh!

Flasheart        Hi, creep.

BA               Flasheart, this is Captain Darling.

Flasheart        Captain Darling?  Funny name for a guy, isn't it?

[Flasheart jumps down from the desk.]

Flasheart        Last person I called `Darling' was pregnant twenty seconds
                 later.  Hear you couldn't be bothered to help old Slacky

Darling          Er, well, it . . . it wasn't quite 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.

Flasheart        Well, this isn't a reasonable use of my time and resources,
                 but I'm going to do it anyway.

Darling          What?

Flasheart        This!

[Flasheart head-butts Darling.  Darling groans and falls backwards across his

Flasheart        All right, Slacky!  All right, Slacky!  I've got to fly.
                 Two million chicks, only one Flasheart.  And remember, if
                 you want something, take it.  Bobby!

[Bobby enters the office and salutes.]

Bobby            My Lord!

Flasheart        I want something!

Bobby            Take it!

Flasheart        Woof!

[Bobby starts to unbutton her top as she leaves the office, followed by

BA               Git!

[General Melchett enters from his office.]

Melchett         Ah, Blackadder.  So you escaped.

BA               Yes, Sir.

Melchett         Bravo!

[Melchett notices the unconcious Darling.]

Melchett         Don't slouch, Darling.

BA               I was wondering whether, having been tortured by the most
                 vicious sadist in the German army, I might be allowed a
                 week's leave to recuperate, Sir.

Melchett         Excellent idea.  Your commanding officer would have to be
                 stark raving mad to refuse you.

BA               Well, you are my commanding officer.

Melchett         Well?

BA               Can I have a week's leave to recuperate, Sir?

Melchett         Certainly not!

BA               Thank you, Sir.

Melchett         Baaaaaa!

                           Captain Edmund Blackadder
                                ROWAN ATKINSON

                             Private S. Baldrick
                                TONY ROBINSON

                           General Sir Anthony Cecil
                               Hogmanay Melchett
                                  STEPHEN FRY

                           Lieutenant the Honourable
                         George Colthurst St. Barleigh
                                  HUGH LAURIE

                             Captain Kevin Darling
                                 TIM McINNERNY

                               Squadron Commander
                                 Lord Flasheart
                                   RIK MAYALL

                              Baron von Richthoven
                                ADRIAN EDMONDSON

                             Lieutenant von Gerhardt
                                 HUGO E. BLACK

                               Driver Parkhurst
                              GABRIELLE GLAISTER

                                 Title Music
                           Composed and Arranged by
                                HOWARD GOODALL

                                  Played by
                        The Band of the 3rd Battalion
                         The Royal Anglian Regiment
                              (The Pompadours)

                             WOI TIM PARKINSON

                       P/Br. 647989 Libotte, J

                       Vis/E. 110143 Turner, R

                       Tech/Co. 364007 Chislett, M

                       C/Dgr. 368807 Hardinge, A

                       M/U Dgr. 862641 Noble, C

                       G/Dgr. 121587 McCallum, G

                       V/M 420372 Abbott, C

                       VTE. 614981 Wadsworth, C

                       Cm/S. 841842 Hoare, J

                       S/Svr. 733731 Deane, M

                       L/Dr. 988212 Barber, H

                       P/Mgr. 323476 Cooper, D

                       P/Att. 114209 Sharples, V

                       AFM 529614 Kennedy, J

                       Dgr. 404371 Hull, C

                       Dir. 232418 Boden, R

                       Prd. 597602 Lloyd, J

                       (c) BBC tv MCMLXXXIX