You look smart, Mr Blackadder. Going somewhere nice? No.
I'm off to the theatre. Don't you like it? No.
Actors thrusting their chests out so far you'd think their nipples were attached to an elephant!
And having to go with Prince Mini-brain!
Doesn't he like it? He loves it. But he doesn't realise it's made up.
Last year, the Prince yelled out "Look behind you, Mr Caesar"!
All that sex and violence! I get enough of that at home...
Apart from the sex, of course.
Give this palace a good clean.
It would be unacceptable to a dung beetle that had really let itself go!
< Come along, Blackadder! Coming, sir, as fast as I can.
Stick the kettle on, Baldrick.
Sir, I give this advice to thee – NEVER, EVER trust thine enemy!
ARRGGGHHH ! Aaarrggghhhhh ! Argh...!
< Thy life is... < Argh!
Thy life is forfeit, And at an end,
We hope our play pleased you, friends.
Certainly not, murdering rotter! Guards, arrest him! It's only a play!
Saying "It's only a play" won't feed the little ones he left behind!
But he's not dead! See...
That's very clever! I thought he was dead! Bravo! Bravo!
Blast! The Prince likes it! We'll close tonight!
SCREAMS Smash the Spinning Jenny!
Destroy the Going Up and Down and Moving Along a Bit Gertrude!
And death to the stupid Prince!
This play's getting better! Bravo!
TOTAL SILENCE >
< It's not a play any more, sir. Just put the bomb down and make your way quietly to the exit.
You can't tell when something's real and when it's not!
I must say, that was a close shave.
Why on earth would an anarchist want to kill YOU !?
It may have been YOU he was after.
Hogwash! What makes you say that!?
My suspicions were aroused by his words "Death to the stupid Prince." That was a bit rude, wasn't it?
The American Revolution lost your father the colonies,
the French murdered King Louis,
and there are rumblings in Prussia,
though that may be the sausages.
The cry is "Freedom, and a few less fat bastards eating all the pie!"
..Yes, quite. Something must be done. Any ideas?
Next week is your father's birthday.
I could write a brilliant speech for you to show the masses how unusually sensitive you are.
Prthrp! But what are these masses so worked up about?
They are forced to have children
to provide a cheap alternative to turkey at Christmas.
Disease and deprivation stalk our land like... two giant stalking things.
The workers wait to overthrow us.
My God, they're here!
Don't be silly!
He looks like an oppressed mass to me!
Shoo, Baldrick! I want that dining table so clean I could eat my dinner off it.
I'm dicing with death. The sooner I show my unusual sensitivity, the better.
BURP I just had another brilliant idea!
ANOTHER one (?) Remember that one about wearing underwear on the outside to save on laundry?
Why don't we get those two actors to teach me your speech? Brilliant!
No, your Highness, feeble. What!?
I would advise against it.
Well, tish and pish to your advice.
I'm fed up with you treating me like a thicky! YOU'RE the thicky!
I'M a bloody prince and you're only a butler,
Mr Thicky-Black-Thicky-Adder-Thicky!
Mrs Miggins, I'm looking for a couple of actors. You've come to the right place.
There's more Shakespearian dialogue in here than there are buns.
The actors pop in on their way to rehearse, for coffee and inspiration.
Rehearse!? I thought they got drunk, stuck on a silly hat and trusted to luck. Oh!
There's ever so much hard work goes into the wonderful magic that is theatre today.
Still, you wouldn't know about that, being only a little butler.
They do say that verbal insults hurt more than physical pain.
They are, of course, wrong, as you will soon discover when I stick this in your head.
< Please welcome Mr David Kearick!
And the fabulous Mr Enoch Mossop! SHE CHEERS
No autographs, please. My usual, Mrs M.
Coming up.
If I can squeeze through this admiring rabble...(!) I have a proposition.
Just because we're actors, you think we sleep with everyone! Actors are lucky to sleep with ANYone!
I came here to ask for elocution lessons for my employer.
Sir, that is impossible. We are rehearsing our new play.
We could not possibly betray our beloved audience.
Mustn't upset the punters. Bums on seats, laddie. What play is this?
It is a piece we penned ourselves,
called "The Bloody Murder of the Foul Prince Romero and His Enormous-Bosomed Wife."
A philosophical work (?)
Indeed. The violence of the murder and the vastness of the bosom are justified artistically.
I'll tell the Prince you can't help. The Prince!? Didn't I mention that? Shame you can't make it. Still...
No, no, no, no, please wait, sir.
I think we CAN find some time, do you not, Mr Keanrick?
Indeed! But your beloved audience?
Sod the proles! Worthless bastards to a man!
It's nice to see artistic integrity thriving so strongly (!) This afternoon at the Palace, then.
Well, what do you think?
Are you ill or something?
I'm trying to look like an actor. Well, you don't need the moustache.
No? No. Arghh!
It's that oppressed mass again!
No, it's Baldrick, spring-cleaning. Oh, so it is. Finish later, Baldrick.
The cleaning or being strangled? Either.
Are you sure we can even trust these acting fellows?
The last time I went to the theatre 3 of them murdered Julius Caesar!
As I've told you about eight times, the man playing Julius Caesar was an actor called Kemp!
Really? Yes!
Gherkins! Brutus must have been miffed when he found out. What!?
That he'd only killed a poxy actor.
Did he go to Caesar's place after the play to kill him? (Oh, God!)
↑ LOUD KNOCKING Is that the door?
KNOCK It's just the actors. My uncle was in a play. Oh? Called "Macbeth".
KNOCK What did he play?
KNOCK Second cod-piece. Macbeth wore him in the fight scenes.
KNOCK So he was a STUNT cod-piece?
KNOCK Yes.
KNOCK Did he have a large part?
KNOCK
Depends who was playing Macbeth.
Actors are very superstitious. On no account mention the word "Macbeth" this evening. Why not?
Because it brings them bad luck.
So you won't mention it either? No.
KNOCK Well, not very often.
Our knocks were loud enough You should have knocked (!) to wake the hounds of hell !
Lead on, Macduff. I shall...
lest you continue the quotation and mention the Scottish play.
Never fear, I shan't do that!
I assume you mean...Macbeth.
Argh! Hot potato, orchestra stalls, but we'll make amends! OW !
What was that? Exorcising evil spirits.
Being but a butler, you cannot know the tradition that one never speaks the name of the Scottish play.
What, Macbeth? Arghh! Hot potato, orchestra stalls...
You do that whenever I say Macbeth?
Arghh! Hot potato, orchestra stalls, but we'll make amends. OW !
Please stop saying that! Call it "the Scottish play"!
The Scottish play? Yes! Not Macbeth.
Arghh! Hot potato, orchestra stalls, but we'll make amends.
For heaven's sake,
what is all this hullabaloo!?
It's like that play...eh...? Macbeth? Arghh!
REPEAT VERSE
No, it was called "Julius Caesar".
Oh, yes, Julius Caesar...
not MacBeth. Argh! Hot potato, orchestra stalls...OW !
You're sure you want them to stay?
I asked them, Mr Thicky Butler!
Your Highness, may I say what an honour this is? Certainly.
What an honour it is to be invited to make merry in the halls
of our King's loins' most glorious outpourings.
Yugh!
Shall we begin? Yes. I've got...
Before we inspect the script, let us have a look at stance. Right.
The ordinary fellow stands like... well, as you do now.
Whereas your hero stands...thus.
Like this?
Excellent, your highness. Even more so. Like that?
PHWRRT !
..What was that?
It wasn't ME ! We are used to standing in this position.
PHWRRT !
It came from over here...!
ANARCHIST ! CLEANER ! So you've had a wash. That's no excuse! Die, traitor! Arghh!
That's Baldrick! He's got a bomb! It's not a bomb, sir, it's a sponge.
So it is. Well, get it out of here before it explodes.
Now then, stance... Ah, yes, sire. Your very posture tells me "Here is a man of true greatness."
Or "Please kick my genitals" (!)
Sir, I really must ask that this ill-educated oaf be removed from the room.
Your presence is as much use as fine-bone china at a tea-party for drunken elephants!
Yes, get out, Blackadder, and stop corking our juices. Certainly, sire.
I'll leave you to dribble.
CLATTER
Something wrong, Mr B ? One more insult and I hand in my notice! Does that mean I'll be butler?
Not unless a kindly passing surgeon opens your head with a spade and sticks a new brain in it. Oh.
At the Butlers' Guild Christmas do I ALWAYS wear the red nose and pointy hat
for winning the "Who's Got the Stupidest Master" competition!
He better watch out or our contract will be as broken as this jug! But that jug isn't broken.
You do walk into it!
Excellent. And now, sir, at last, the speech. Right.
Ahem... No, no!
Your Royal Highness, what have you forgotten?
If I stand any more heroically I may seriously disappoint my future Queen.
No, not the stance, the r-o-a-r-r-r. You want me to roar...?
Of course we do.
All great orators roar before making their speeches. Mr Keanrick, from your Hamlet.
OH-OH-OH-OH-OH-OH-OH-OH-OH-OH-OH, to be or not to be...
From your Julius Caesar.
OH-OH-OH-OH-OH-OH-OH-OH-OH-OH-OH, friends, Romans, countrymen...
From a play connected with Scotland.
That's MacBeth, isn't it? Arghh!
Hot potato, orchestra stalls...OW !
OWWW ! OWWWWW !
Let's all roar together, shall we? One...two...three...
OH-OH-OH-OH-OH-OH-OH-OH ! OH-OH-OH ! OH-OH-OH !
Excellent, sir! Now try putting it all together.
WAAAARRRGGGGHHHHHH !
VERY BLAND: Unaccustomed as I am... No, sire!
I fear you MEW it like a frightened tree.
And may I see the speech? Thank you.
HAH ! Oh, no, no, no!
RIDICULING LAUGHTER
Who wrote this drivel !?
Is there a problem with the speech? PROBLEM !!?
The problem is that YOU wrote it,
Mr Hopelessly-Drivelly-Can't-Write- For-Toffee-Crappy-Butler-Weed!
Whoops.
Shall I get their supper, sir? Yes.
Something that has passed through the cat's digestive system. Take it up yourself. Why? I'm leaving!
I'm about to enter the job market.
Let's see... Situations vacant.
Mr and Mrs Pitt want a baby minder to take Pitt the Younger to Parliament.
Someone called Stephenson has invented a moving kettle and wants help with the marketing.
Here's a foreign opportunity.
"Treacherous, malicious cad, preferable non-smoker, wanted to be King of Sardinia.
"No time-wasters. Napoleon Bonaparte, PO Box 1, Paris."
Right, we're on our way!
JOCULAR LAUGHTER
Oh, about costume. Any thoughts?
Well, enormous trousers, certainly.
And an admiral's uniform, because we know what nice girls love!
I'll try them on. What a super idea.
Help yourself. You'll need a stiff drink when you see these trousers!
My dear, what a ghastly evening. Yes, love.
Let's have a quick read through "The Murder of Prince Romero."
Act 1, scene 1 ?
"Spring comes and methinks 'tis time To hack the Prince to death."
I'd like to say how much I'll miss your honest, friendly companionship. Thank you, Mr B.
But we both know it's an utter lie.
So I'll confine myself to a simple
"Sod off!"
If we meet again, it'll be 20 billion years too soon.
Bye, you lazy, rubber-faced bastard.
I fear that you will soon be eating those badly-chosen words.
A groat says you won't survive 5 minutes without me. Oh, come on!
We're not going to get murdered, are we (?) Hope springs eternal (!)
BELL RINGS Coming!
< OH-OH-OH, let's kill the Prince! < Who shall strike first?
Let me, and let this dagger prick out his soft eyeball.
And sup with glee upon its exquisite jelly.
Have you the stomach?
I haven't killed him yet, But when I do,
I shall have the stomach And the liver, too,
And the floppily-doppilies in their horrid gloo.
What if a servant hears us? < Ha!
Then shall we have servant sausages for tea,
And servant rissoles shall our supper be.
MURDER ! MURDER ! The revolution's started! What!?
A plot to kill you! So you've come clean, you bloody poor person!
Not me, the actors! They're anarchists! What!? Yes!
They're going to suck on your floppily-doppilies! What do we do!?
Mr Blackadder says "When the going gets tough the tough hide under the table." Where IS Blackadder!?
He's in Sardinia. What!? You were rude to him, so he left. Oh, NO !
What a mad, blundering, incredibly handsome nincompoop I've been! They'll chop us up and eat us!
AWW ! We're doomed!
FOOTSTEPS Sshhh!
FOOTSTEPS AND WHIMPERING
Good evening. 4 minutes 22 seconds, Baldrick. You owe me a groat.
We desperately need you! Me, sir?
Mr Thicky-Black-Thicky-Adder-Thicky. Oh, tish, nonsense...!
Mr Drivelly-Crappy-Butler-Weed? Well...
Who hasn't had a raise in a fortnight.
Take an extra thousand... guineas...per month... All right. What's your problem?
The actors are going to kill us! They'll bore us to death? Stab us!
Baldrick heard them. Did they mean it? How far apart were their legs?
This far. Their nipples? That far.
They meant it! I'll do what I can.
To torture him I lust, and singe his hair,
And up his nostrils hot bananas thrust.
Rehearsals going well ? Begone!
A butler with the intellect of an apricot can be of no use to us.
You're as irritating as a cactus in a monkey's pyjamas.
Then I won't interrupt you any longer.
Sorry to disturb you, gentlemen.
Thank God it's you! What happened?
It's all perfectly straightforward. Well ?
They're traitors. They must be arrested, tortured and executed.
Bravo...!
↑ There's been a terrible mistake! That's what they were BOUND to say.
It was a play! All the words are written down on that paper!
Textbook stuff. Criminals always make one tiny but fatal mistake.
Theirs was to have the entire plot printed and published.
Take them away! Mercy!! Mercy!!
I've one thing to say...MacBeth!
Arghhh! Hot potato, orchestra stalls...
How can I ever thank you, Bladder?
By not calling me Bladder! MACBETH!
Right, Bladder. No hard feelings?
None, sir. It's good to be back in the saddle...I mean harness.
So we're still friends? Absolutely. Hurrah!
In fact, I thought we might celebrate by staging a little play that I've written.
Excellent! With my new acting skill, might there be a part for me?
I'd hoped you'd play the title role. Great! What's the play called?
"Thick Jack Clot Sits in the Stocks and Gets Pelted with Tomatoes."
Excellent!
Subtitles by Chas Donaldson