Blackadder, Blackadder...
In the reign of good Queen Vic,
there stood, in Dumpling Lane in Old London Town,
the moustache shop of one Ebenezer Blackadder,
the kindest and loveliest man in all England.
# He's kind and generous to the sick
# He'd never spread a nasty rumour
# He never gets on people's wick
# And doesn't laugh at toilet humour
# Blackadder, Blackadder
# He's sickeningly good
# Blackadder, Blackadder
# As nice as Christmas pud
Humbug! Humbug!
- Humbug, Mr Baldrick? - Oh, thank you very much.
I've got all the presents.
And I've nearly finished the Christmas cards.
Splendid, let me see.
"A very messy Christmas. "
I'm sorry, Mr Baldrick, shouldn't that be "merry"?
"A merry messy Christmas"?
All right, but the main thing is that it should be messy...
Messy cake, soggy pudding, great big wet kisses under the mistletoe.
Yes... I fear, Mr Baldrick,
that the only way you're likely to get a big wet kiss at Christmas- or,
indeed, any other time- is to make a pass at a water closet.
Be that as it may... "A merry messy Christmas. "
"Christmas" has an "H" in it, Mr Baldrick.
And an "R".
Also an "I" and an "S", also a "T", an "M", an "A" and another "S".
Oh, and you've missed out the "C" at the beginning.
Congratulations, Mr Baldrick! Something of a triumph,
I think - you must be the first person ever to spell...
...'Christmas' without getting any of the letters right at all.
Well, I was a bit rushed.
I've been helping out with the workhouse nativity play.
- Oh, of course! How did it go? - Well, not very well.
At the last moment, the baby playing Jesus died.
Oh, dear, this high infant mortality rate's a real devil...
...when it comes to staging quality children's theatre.
- What did you do? - Got another Jesus.
Thank goodness. His name?
Spot.
There weren't any more children, so we had to settle for a dog instead.
Oh, dear... I'm not convinced that Christianity would have established...
...its firm grip over the hearts and minds of mankind...
...if all Jesus had ever said was "Woof. "
It went all right till the shepherds came on.
See, we hadn't been able to get any real sheep, so we had to stick some wool...
...on some other dogs.
Yeah, and the moment Jesus got a whiff of 'em, he's away.
While the angel's singing "Peace on Earth, goodwill to mankind",
Jesus scampers across and tries to get...
...one of the sheep to give him a piggyback ride!
Scarcely appropriate behaviour for the son of God, Mr Baldrick.
- Weren't the children upset? - No, they loved it.
Oh, the playful young scamps, eh?
Still what a lovely thought it is,
at this moment, all over the country,
from highest to lowest,
through those charming plump folk somewhere in the middle,
everyone is enjoying Christmas.
- What are you doing, Albert? - Nothing.
Oh, yes, you are, you naughty German sausage!
- Tell me what you're doing. - I just said; I'm not doing anything!
Really, woman - when you're busy ruling India,
you don't tell me what "you" are doing...
So why should I tell you what "I" am doing when I am busy...
...wrapping up this cushion for your surprise Christmas present?
Dem! Now I have only two surprise presents for you.
Oh, dear Alby, don't worry, I don't mind.
I do. I love surprises.
Christmas without surprises is like the nuts without the nutcracker.
Which is why I have brought you this surprise nutcracker...
Dem! Dem!
Darling Bobo, don't worry. Besides, haven't you forgotten something?
- What? - Our traditional Christmas adventure.
Yes, of course, the traditional Christmas adventure! Huzzah!
What traditional Christmas adventure?
You silly soldier!
You know: when we disguise ourselves as common folk and go out amongst the people...
...to reward the virtuous and the good.
Yes, of course, Dummkopf, how could I forget!
Das ist nicht ausgezeichnet!
For it is for precisely such an outing as this...
...that I have bought you my finest surprise present:
this muff, which I'm going to give you tomorrow...
Dem! Dem! Dem!
Excellent! Excellent! What a splendid spread!
Nuts, turkey and presents.
What more could a man desire at Christmas
Well a tree.
Of course, I quite forgot.
I dropped in on Mr Thicktwistle's Garden Emporium...
...and, I think you'll agree, got quite a bargain...
...on this special Christmas twig.
- It's a bit of a tiddler, ain't it? - Yes, but size isn't important, my friend.
It's not what you've got, it's where you stick it.
Besides, look: we've got a whole year's profits to spend on fun and larks!
- How much is it? - £17 and a penny.
It'd be a lot more if you didn't give away so much money to the poor.
Yes, but in the feeling good ledger of life, we are rich indeed.
Yeah, I just wish we weren't doing so well...
...in the bit-short-of-prezzies-and -feeling-a-gullible-prat ledger.
Well bless my ten toes, who could that be on this cold night?
Ah, Mrs Scratchit! Greetings to you on this merry Yuletide Eve.
Oh, Mr Blackadder!
How can I be merry when we're so poor...
we shall have nothing to eat on Christmas Day?
Except what Grandfather can scrape from under his big toenails?
No goose for Tiny Tom this year!
Mrs Scratchit, Tiny Tom is 15 stone and built like a brick privy.
If he eats any more heartily, he will turn into a pie shop.
Oh, pardon me, but, look, look, there must be something we can do...
Ah, that box of matches in your basket is just the thing I need.
- How much did they cost? - A quid a match.
Mrs Scratchit, I suspect that to be a lie of sorts.
Oh, but it's Christmas Eve, so, here, take £10.
So you don't want all the matches, then? There's 17 of 'em.
You have the body of a weak woman, but the mind of a criminal genius.
- Here, £17 pounds, then. - Lovely!
And my best wishes to your massive offspring!
So we had £17 and a penny,
and we give Mrs Scratchit £17, so that leaves...
Yes, come on, Mr Baldrick, £17 and a penny, minus £17 leaves...
£38, eight shillings and fourpence.
Not bad, Mr Baldrick. The answer is, in fact, a splendid shining penny.
Merry Christmas Eve, Mr Slackbladder... I mean, Blackadder.
And to you, young urchin.
A penny for Christmas cheer, sucker... I mean, sir.
Erm, well...
Certainly, here.
Er, going to buy some cake and...
...pie for yourself and your silver-haired mother?
Nah, sod that! I'm off to the gin shop.
They grow up so fast these days, bless 'em.
Oh, well another year without profit.
Still it is Christmas.
And let us remember, Mr Baldrick,
that be we as stony as a biblical execution,
it's still the season of good cheer and we have our Christmas treats.
Nuts, turkey and presents.
And my goddaughter, Millicent.
Er, secure the ornaments, Mr Baldrick, and let her in.
So we put all our presents under our little tree.
A scarf for me, a pair of gloves for Mr Baldrick and a hat for Millicent.
Ah, Millicent! To what do I owe this excellent pleasure?
I just thought I'd pop round, you know, on the off chance.
Well, you know, Christmas is a time traditionally connected with presents.
It is indeed. And look, a lovely hat for my dear goddaughter.
Oh, thanks. And look! A scarf and a pair of gloves to match!
That's not bad, I suppose.
- Yes, jolly good. - I'm sorry I can't stop.
I thought perhaps I might come back tomorrow at "lunchtime"...
Oh, what a splendid idea!
It'll just be little me and my teensy boyfriend,
so cook two extra turkeys.
Thanks for all the pressies.
Why don't you take the flippin' tree?!
Oh, you are sweet!
Bye!
Bye. My, what a jolly young girl!
Pity she nicked all the presents.
Yes, but I thought you and I would be spoilt enough...
...with the turkey and this mountain of nuts we have.
Well peel my tangerines, this is a night!
- Back! - Ah, Beadle.
Charmed, honoured and lovelied in every possible way.
Get back!
Felicitous compliments of the gorging season to you, sir.
Peace on Earth and fat tums to all men!
Indeed, indeed! And what of your little orphan charges?
Well, I don't think I charges them enough,
as a matter of fact.
Luckily you're here to cover up the shortfall Mr Blackadder.
They're looking forward to coming tomorrow,
perhaps bringing a little surprise for you.
Surely not another totally unexpected rendition of...
"God Rest Ye Merry Mr Blackadder"?
Not for me to say, sir.
All I can say is that it's Christmas as usual,
except sadly we've managed to polish off all our nuts before the big day.
What luck! As fate would have it, we have some. Here help yourselves.
No, sir! No, sir, I couldn't possibly...
...take them from you! Absolutely not!
- Is this all is it? - Yes.
It'll have to do, then. See you tomorrow.
Well what a jolly fellow!
Looked like a fat git to me.
Well, yes, Mr Baldrick, but you mustn't judge people from outward appearances.
Strip away the outer layers of a fat git,
and inside you'll probably find a...
...thin git.
Those orphans were a bit fat, too.
There's some truth there.
Certainly, when I go and visit them, I do tend to remove all sharp objects...
...for fear of bursting one of them...
...and getting showered in two dozen semi-digested pies.
But what of it? As long as they're happy...
At least we've still got our turkey.
And who knows, Christmas is a time for miracles,
so, maybe, if we screw up our eyes really tight...
...and pray to the big pink pixie in the sky,
someone will come and reward us.
- Come on. - Dear, innocent Mr Baldrick.
- See! - Well baste my steaming puddings!
Good evening, sir and madam.
Good evening. We have come here on a mission to reward the virtuous this Christmas Eve.
Good heavens!
We have heard many stories of your kindness and generosity.
Well one tries.
- So please... - Yes?
Give us £10 for the virtuous lady next door.
Ah, well, we'd love to oblige,
but I'm afraid we haven't anything to give.
Surely you must have something... What about a goose?
Oh, Albert!
We've only got a turkey, see.
That sounds ideal.
- Aw... - There's a bit of luck!
Mr Baldrick, fetch the turkey.
I detect from your accent sir, that you are not from round here.
Ah... Nein.
I am from Glasgow.
Ah, a fine city. I love the Gorbals.
Yes, the Gorbals, I love them, too. A lovely couple, lots of fun.
Bye-bye, birdy.
- Well done indeed. Good evening. - Good evening.
If I run into Mr and Mrs Gorbal, I give them your regards.
Oh, dear, Mr Baldrick, it looks as we're in for a thin Christmas.
Don't you worry, I'm hanging my sock up so Santa will come down the chimney.
I guarantee, if there's one thing...
...that'll stop Santa coming down the chimney,
it's your sock waiting for him.
If I don't hang my sock out, how will Santa fill it?
If you do hang your sock out,
Santa will be dead before he gets within 100 yards of it.
- Don't you have any other socks? - I got one other.
Don't worry about, my dear fellow, take one of mine from the linen cupboard.
I'm off to bed. There's nothing else to stay up for.
- Goodnight, Mr Baldrick. - 'night 'night.
By the way - I forgot to mention: When you were out there,
there was this enormous ghostly creature come in saying,
"Beware, for tonight you shall receive a strange and terrible visitation. "
I just thought I'd mention it.
It come through the wall said its piece, then sodded off.
- Oh, fine. Goodnight, Mr Baldrick. - 'night 'night.
Whoo-oo. Whoo-oo.
Whoo-oo. Whoo-oo. Whoo-oo.
Whoo-oo. Whoop!
- Can I help? - No, thanks. No. No, no.
I just popped in to say hello'. Spirit of Christmas, how d'you do?
Just doing my usual rounds, a bit of haunting,
getting misers to change their evil ways.
But you're obviously such a good chap,
there'll be no need for any of that nonsense,
so I'll just say 'cheery-bye'. Cheery-bye!
Well, can I get you a cup of tea or anything?
You wouldn't have anything a bit more... medicinal?
I see. I've only got some of Nurse Macready's surgical bruise lotion.
Oh, nothing but the best at this house, eh?
Huh. Mmm.
Delicious.
Well, this is a nice change from all those skinflints.
You know that old fellow across the road? Bags of money.
I caught him trying to cut down...
...on his heating bills by using his John Thomas...
...as a draught excluder.
Oh, dear, old people today!
Tut!
Tell me: How do you get them to change their ways?
Well, it's all visions these days.
We used to use black-and-white line drawings,
but the visions are more effective.
- What sort of thing? - Well, it depends, really.
With some people, it's just a glimpse of their behaviour...
...at school behind the pennyfarthing sheds.
Er, some other people, well,
we just show them how rotten their ancestors were.
Of course, with "your" ancestors,
it would have to be the full one-hour-ten vision...
...with a break and ice creams.
- That bad, were they? - Did nobody tell you?
Stinkers to a man. Perhaps you'd like to see.
Whoo-oo. Whoo-oo.
Go on, my lord. Give it a little pull You know you want to.
- It'll be ever so exciting. - Oh, God!
Yes, terrifying.
Look. There's a surprise present for you inside.
It's a novelty death warrant and you give it to a friend.
- Oh, just what I've always wanted. - Have you got anything for me?
- It's nothing really. - Oh, sir.
No, it's really nothing. I haven't got you anything.
I spent all my cash on this damn thing for the Queen.
She better bloody like it. She dropped enough hints.
That woman's about as subtle as a rhinoceros horn up the backside.
Door!
Good morning, Your Majesty. Christmas again, eh? What joy!
- Don't you just love it? - No, I hate it.
- In fact, I've just abolished it. - I'm sorry...?
I'm going to block up the chimneys, burn all the crackers...
...and kill anyone I see carrying a present.
Oh!
- What's that, Edmund? - This?
- It's a window. - A window.
Yes, but you seem to have one here, so sorry to disturb you.
Ohh.
Well so much for that.
Ow!
Ah, Melchett.
Greetings! I trust that Christmas brings you its traditional mix...
...of good food and violent stomach cramp.
And compliments of the season to you, Blackadder.
May the yuletide log slip from your fire and burn your house down.
I'm glad I saw you. I feel it only fair to warn you...
...that the Queen has banned Christmas,
so I wouldn't get her a present this year.
I'm indebted to you for that advice and I shall follow it to the letter.
The day I get my brain replaced by a cauliflower.
- Ha! Got him with my subtle plan. - I can't see any subtle plan.
You wouldn't see a subtle plan if it painted itself purple...
...and danced naked on a harpsichord...
...singing "Subtle Plans Are Here Again. "
It's what we call a double-bluff.
Melchett will undoubtedly do the opposite of what I tell him,
go and get an enormous present, give it to the Queen, and then... Qchk!
What? He'll turn into a duck?
Yes.
Pity about this, Tinky Wink. You used to love this time of year.
I know.
Leaving a mince pie and a glass of wine out for Father Christmas...
...and then scoffing it...
...because I was a princess and could do what I bloody well liked.
And wondering if your father's wife would last till Boxing Day...
...without having her head cut off.
We knew if he gave her a hat she'd probably be all right.
- Happy days! - Yes. Maybe I was a little rash.
Ah, boys, welcome back!
But, Melchett, what have you got under your coat?
It's not a present, is it?
A present, Majesty? But of course!
You're so painfully transparent, Blackadder.
Am I?
That's fab! I love presents.
For a moment, I took against Christmas,
but I'm completely dippy about it again.
In fact, I'd like to marry you.
If you weren't as unattractive as a giant slug.
Oh, pish, Majesty!
Anyway, to reward you, I'm going to give you lots of presents.
Fancy a castle?
- Windsor, Majesty? - Title?
- Duke of Kent? - Anything else?
A devilish saucy wife would be fun.
- Lady Jane Pottle. - Oh, yummy!
I think she's Blackadder's girl at the moment,
but that doesn't matter, does it, Blacky?
No, of course not, ma'am.
And perhaps Lord Melchett would like to whip me naked...
...through the streets of Aberdeen?
Oh, I don't think we need go that far, Blackadder.
Oh, too kind.
No, Aylesbury's quite far enough.
Super. Well done, Melchy.
Now, Blackadder, what have you got me?
- Erm... - I want a pressie!
Give me something nice and shiny.
And if you don't, I've got something nice and shiny for you,
and it's called an axe!
- Erm, well... - Right, that's it!
Any last requests, Blackadder,
before I chop your block off and put it on top of the crimble tree?
Erm, well there is one, actually, ma'am.
You know how I've always been a great admirer of you both.
I was wondering if I could have your autographs...
...to keep me company during the final tragic, lonely hours.
- Oh, all right. - Thank you, ma'am.
And Lord Melchett. Just there. Thank you.
- Oh, dear me! - What is it?
Why, this piece of paper that Your Majesty has just signed...
...turns out to be some sort of death warrant.
Oops!
And I can't go back on it without destroying...
...the whole basis of the British Constitution.
I fear not.
- Is there a name on it? - Yes, actually, it says "Lord... "
Oh, I can't read this terrible childish writing.
"Lord Melchett. " Lord Melchett, that's it.
Ma'am, it's a trick! You've been tricked.
Oh, good!
Christmas is a time for tricks and japes and larks of all kinds.
Tell you what, that's so brilliant. I'll execute Melchett instead.
You're very kind, ma'am.
I suppose that means that everything of Lord Melchett's becomes yours.
I suppose it does.
Merry Christmas, ma'am.
Good Lord!
Horrible, eh? What a pig!
Yes, but clearly quite a clever, charming pig.
But no, as you say, his behaviour, disgraceful.
You're a great improvement on them all. You're a good boy.
Them? Are there more?
Oh, yes. Have a shufty at this.
Right, Balders.
I'm sick of getting no presents and the Prince Regent getting the lot.
So this is the plan: We play our traditional game of charades,
and when he gets bored and asks for a story,
you come out here, stick the dress and the hat on,
and then knock on the door.
- I'll take it from there. Have you got it? - Got it.
Yes, well, you certainly will get it if you mess this up.
Hurrah! Welcome, lads! This is the stuff, eh?
Christmas sherry and charades with honest, manly fellows.
I mean, for Heaven's sake, what can I do with a girl that I can't do with you, eh?
I cannot conceive, sir.
Yes, well, there's that, I suppose. Now; who's first up for the game?
I'd ask old Horatio here, but he's out of it, I'm afraid.
So it's, er, what, it's the little monkey fellow first, then, is it?
- It is indeed. - Excellent. I love charades.
OK. Off you go, Baldrick.
- It's a book. - Well done Mr B.
I didn't think you'd get it "that" quickly.
Yes, I must say that was damn clever.
Another great Christmas tradition.
Explaining the rules eight times to the Thicky Twins.
The round hasn't started yet. It's got to be a specific book.
For instance, if it was The Bible,
then I go like that to indicate that there are two syllables in it...
- Two what? - Two syllables.
"Two silly bulls"? I don't think so, not in the Bible.
I can remember a fatted calf,
but, as I recall, that was quite a sensible animal.
Ah-ha, yah, is it Noah's Ark?
With the two pigs, two ants and two silly bulls...
- Two syll-a-bles? - What?
We're getting confused. Let's start again, shall we?
No, let's not. I think the whole game's getting a bit syll-a.
How about a Christmas story, instead?
What a good idea sir. I'll just get rid of the servant, shall I?
There's a limit to how long roasting chestnuts...
...can blot out the aroma of Baldrick's trousers.
Don't forget the dress and the hat, Baldrick.
- Sir, shall I begin the Christmas story? - Absolutely.
As long as it's not that terribly depressing one...
...about the chap who gets born on Christmas Day,
shoots his mouth off about everything under the sun,
and then comes a cropper with a couple of rum coves...
...on top of a hill in Johnny Arab land.
- You mean, Jesus? - Yes, that's the fellow.
Keep him out of it - he always spoils the X-mas atmos.
Certainly, Sir. Instead, I shall tell you a story about...
Ah! Oh, my God, I've gone blind! Blind!
That's better.
As I was saying, this is a story about a handsome young prince.
This is more like it. What?
Good looking, lovely hair perched on top of his head...
...like an exceptionally attractive loaf of bread?
- Exactly. - I can imagine him. Excellent fellow.
It's a tale about him and a sad, lonely old granny...
...who's dying of cold on a cruel Christmas night.
- Not a comedy, then? - No, sir.
And when she thought that all was lost,
and that she would die on Christmas night...
...and be swept up on Boxing Day morning,
mistaken for a huge dirty handkerchief...
...then she knocked on the door of a handsome young prince named George,
who gave her all his massive collection of Christmas presents,
and she lived happily ever after.
Oh, by Satan's sausage, Bladder, what a fine tale!
! I'm quite moved to tears, don't you know.
Oh, good.
I wonder who that could be.
On a cold, dark, cruel Christmas night, tricky one.
Could be a robin.
Why sir, rather coincidentally,
it is a sad, lonely old granny dying of cold.
Shall I fling her from your door, Sir,
saying that there is no room in our Christmas...
...for a sad, virtuous, silver-haired, old, elderly angel like her?
No, Blackadder, you swine, bring her in!
- The trolley's a nice touch, Baldrick. - Take all you want granny.
You've found Georgy-Porgy, a handsome prince.
Thank you, sir.
Shall I show her to the door sir,
to make sure she doesn't steal the silver on the way out?
- No, no. Tell her to take it. - You're very generous, sir.
Excellent, excellent, Baldrick, a triumph.
Baldrick? Baldrick!
Sorry, Mr B. I was just showing a sweet old granny to the door.
- Are we ready yet, sir? - What?
I answered the door and it was this sweet granny collecting for charity.
- So I let her in. - Ahh.
Something wrong, Mr B?
No, don't worry - I should have known not to trust a man...
...with the mental agility of a rabbit dropping.
- Sorry, Mr B. - Oh, it's perfectly all right.
It's not your fault.
Still I fear for a frail, elderly woman...
...laden with valuables, travelling through the inadequately lit streets of London.
- Yes, she's not safe, sir. - Well not from me, certainly.
- Very amusing! - In what way?
The wigs. Very amusing wigs. But his behaviour, as you say, disgraceful.
But... But he actually got the presents.
Y... Y... Yes.
So there is something to be made out of being bad.
Er, technically... technically... yes... yes...
But that's not the point, is it?
It's the soul, the soul.
As a matter of interest, what would happen in the future if I was bad?
Erm... Heavens! Is that the time? I really must be off.
I'd love to see Christmas Future.
No, no, no, it's terribly melodramatic.
Look, just show it, please.
All right. Whoo-oo.
Hail, Queen Asphyxia, Supreme Mistress of the Universe.
And hail to you, my triple husbandoid.
I summon you here to groupgreet our swift Imperial Navies home.
Approach, Grand Admiral of the Dark Segment...
...and Lord of the High-slung Bottoms of Zob.
Morning.
To you, Blackadder, Thrice-endowed Supreme Donkey of the Trouserpod,
this much greeting.
I, too, Bold Navigator,
cringe my dribblies at your resplendent pofflesnood.
That won't be necessary, thank you.
Approach, your slave, Baldrick.
For God's sake, Baldrick -
if you're going to wear that ridiculous jockstrap,
at least keep your legs together.
Wilco, skipper.
Majesties, I give you this much greeting.
- What news of the foul Marmidons? - Scattered to the Nine Vectors, my Lord.
And the Sheepsqueezers of Splatikon Five?
Have they been suckcreamed as a quanbeast's nubole?
They're dead, if that's what you mean.
Plus, Commander, did you vanquish the Nibblepibblies?
No, my Lord Pigmot, I did not vanquish the Nibblepibblies,
because you just made them up.
Damn it!
Excellent, Commander.
You have most pleasantly wibbled my frussetpouch.
Bring forth the gift with which you honour me.
Majesties, from a place where the stars begin and end,
I bring you this.
Oh, lovely, an ashtray.
Come, Majesty, he wastes our time.
I yearn to attend "20,000 years of the Two Ronnoids" on the box podule.
- Send him to the sprouting chamber! - No, wait!
- What is it, Commander? - I'll show you, shall I?
Now, Your Majesty, I must respectfully insist...
...that you hand over to me the Supreme Command of the Universe,
sew a button on my spare uniform, and marry me this afternoon.
I thought you'd never ask.
Ha, ha. So let's get this straight.
If I was bad, my descendants would rule the entire universe.
Maybe, maybe. But would you be happy?
Being ruler of the universe is not all it's cracked up to be.
There's the long hours... I mean, you wave at people the whole time,
you're no longer your own boss.
But, but, so, what if I stayed good? What then does the future hold?
Ah, well, I really must put my foot down here.
I've got four hauntings...
...and a scare-the-bugger-to-death to do before morning.
- Whoo-oo. - No, no.
Hail, Queen Asphyxia, Supreme Mistress of the Universe.
And hail to you, my triple husbandoid.
I summon you here to groupgreet our swift Imperial Navies home.
Approach, Grand Admiral of the Dark Segment...
...and Lord of the High-slung Bottoms of Zob.
- Hail. - And your slave.
- What's his name? - I can't remember, Your Majesty.
No matter, Supreme Marshal of the Smells,
what news of the foul Marmidons?
- Good news... - Excellent!
...for the Marmidons.
They wiped out our entire army.
Sorry; I got a bit confused and dropped a bomb on our own lot.
Silence, squidling.
Bring forth the gift with which you honour me.
Oh, damn, I forgot the bloody present and all.
So one way, it's glory everlasting,
the other, it's wearing Baldrick's posing pouch.
Well, it's not as simplistic,
but it does at least point a very clear lesson.
- Namely? - Namely...
...the rewards of virtue are largely spiritual,
but all the better for it.
You don't think it points the very clear lesson that...
...bad guys have all the fun?
No! No! Absolutely not.
The rewards of virtue are infinitely more attractive.
Picture it.
Quiet evenings in your hovel, alone.
A Bible. Your own turnip!
Oh, well that makes all the difference!
- So you're going to be a good boy, then? - Absolutely.
Would I lie to you?
Whoo-oo, whoo-oo.
Mr Blackadder.
Looks like Father Christmas just forgot about me this year.
Dear me, but don't be too unhappy, because if you look very carefully,
there's something in this stocking from me.
In fact, it's something I made for you.
That's the kind of pressie that shows the most love.
What have you made for me, Mr B?
I've made you... a fist.
- A fist? - Yes, it's for hitting.
What's wonderful about it is that you can use it again...
...and again...
...and again.
- Well what do you say? - Thank you, Mr B.
Think nothing of it. I, after all think nothing of you.
Oi! Gitface! How about a penny for the season?
Hark, do I hear the voice of a darling little cherub at the window.
No, I must have imagined it.
Shall I get that?
No, leave them in the snow until I get dressed.
I'll only be about 40 minutes.
Door.
Compliments of the season, sir.
We have come to sing merrily and...
...to make you a gift of a small pudding. Three, four...
# God bless Mr B at Christmas time And baby Jesus, too
# If we were little pigs we'd sing Piggy Wiggy Wiggy Wiggy Woo
# Piggy Wiggy Wiggy Wiggy Wiggy Wiggy Wiggy Wiggy Wiggy Wiggy Woo
# Oh, Piggy Wiggy Wiggy Woo Piggy Wiggy Woo
# Oh, Piggy Wiggy Wiggy Wiggy Wiggy Wiggy Woo
- Utter crap. - Thank you very much, sir.
- Do we get a Christmas treat now? - Yes, indeed you do.
- What is it? - A door in the face.
Here you are.
Oh, Mr B! You can't send them out into the world...
...with nothing but a small pudding!
How right you are, Baldrick. Door.
Thank you.
- You know what I'm hoping? - What are you hoping, Baldrick?
I'm hoping that this is all a merry Christmas jape,
and, in a moment, you're going to go "Yo ho ho!" and give me a mince pie.
Close your eyes, Baldrick. Open your mouth.
Yo, ho, ho.
- Cooee. - Ah.
My dear Millicent, come for her dinner.
And she seems to have brought the fish course with her.
Who, my dear,
is the huge halibut in the trousers?
I think it's me.
- This is Ralph, he's my fiancé. - We're in love.
Oh, dear.
Ill-conceived love, I should warn you, is like a Christmas cracker.
One massively disappointing bang and the novelty soon wears off.
Shut up.
Oh, Mr Blackadder, what's happened?
You've changed from the nicest man in England...
...into the horridest man in the world.
I was thinking the same thing myself.
When spoken to.
I would explain, my dear,
but I fear that you wouldn't understand,
blessed as you are with a head that is emptier than a hermit's address book.
As for you: Are you sure that you can keep my God-daughter...
...in the manner to which she is accustomed?
Oh, yes, absolutely.
Oh, splendid!
Congratulations. Good day.
Out!
Baldrick, I want you to take this and go out,
and buy a turkey so large...
...you'd think its mother had been rogered by an omnibus.
I'm going to have a party, and no one's invited but me.
- Cooee! - No peace for the wicked.
Mr Ebenezer, I was wondering if you had perhaps a little present for me.
Or had found me a little fowl for Tiny Tom's Christmas.
I have always found you foul, Mrs Scratchit, and more than a little.
As for Tiny Tom's Christmas,
he can stuff it up his enormous muscular backside.
- But he's a cripple. - He's "not" a cripple, Mrs Scratchit.
Occasionally saying, "Phew, my leg hurts" when he remembers to wouldn't fool Baldrick.
It did, actually.
However, if you want something for lunch, take this.
It's a pound a lump and, as luck would have it, there are 17 lumps.
- Thank you. - What about my Tiny Tom?
If I was you I'd scoop him out and use him as a houseboat. Good day.
Mr B, where's the milk of human kindness?
It's gone off, Baldrick. It stinks.
Get that, and whoever it is, slam the door in their faces,
how about I'll slam your face in the door.
Hello, small dwarf fellow.
Is this the house of the great philanthropist...
...and all-round softy Ebenezer Blackadder?
- Well Mr Blackadder lives here. - Ah, das ist gut.
Because we have a wunderbar secret.
What secret?
If I told you we're going to give him an enormous fortune for being so generous,
then it would no longer be a secret.
Dem, I'm so stupid! Dem!
- What would no longer be a secret? - We are Queen Victoria.
What? All three of you?
My dear little hobgoblin, here is our Royal Seal.
We have come to present your master with £50,000...
...and the title of Baron Blackadder for being the kindest man in England.
Lumme, Your Majesty.
Baldrick, what did I tell you I'd do...
...if you didn't slam the door on these scrounging loafers?
But, Mr Blackadder... Ow!
I'm not at home to guests.
I flatter myself we are rather special guests, sir.
Of course, I must apologise.
It's rarely one receives a Christmas visit from two such distinguished guests.
Ah, so you recognise us at last.
Yes, unless I'm mistaken, you're the winner...
...of the Round Britain Shortest, Fattest, Dumpiest Woman Competition.
And to be accompanied by the winner of this year's
Stupidest Accent Award is really quite overwhelming.
- I cannot believe... - Cork it, fatso.
This is the Victorian age, where,
apart from Queen Piglet Features herself,
women and children are to be seen and not heard.
Queen Piglet Features!
Yes! Empress Oink, as lads call her.
The only person in the kingdom who looks dafter than her...
...is that stupid frankfurter of a husband.
The Pig and the Prig we call them.
How they ever managed to produce their 112 children is quite beyond me.
The bedchambers of Buckingham Palace...
...must be copiously supplied with blindfolds.
Sir, we've never been so insulted in our lives!
Well all I can say is, you've been damned lucky.
Ah, Baldrick, this is excellent, excellent.
All the riff-raff and the spongers dealt with...
...and gargantuan quantities of tuck to be gobbled.
Here, have a wishbone. What do you wish?
I wish there was some meat on this.
Those last two were particularly satisfying.
It felt like having a go at the real Queen and Prince Albert.
It was the real Queen and Prince Albert.
Don't be ludicrous, Baldrick. What would the Queen be doing here?
She come to visit you to reward you for being the nicest man in England...
...by giving you £50,000 and the title of Baron Blackadder.
It couldn't have been the Queen because when she visits people,
she leaves her Royal Seal.
- What? Like this one? - Yes, just like that...
# Blackadder, Blackadder
# Dee dum, dee dum, dee dum
# Blackadder, Blackadder
# Dee rum, ti tum, ti tum
# Blackadder, Blackadder
# Dee rum, ti tum, ti tum