Blackadder

Blackadder: I don't know *why* I put up with it. I really don't. Every year at the Guild of Butlers' Christmas Party, I'm the one who has to wear the red nose and the pointy hat for winning the Who's-Got-The-Stupidest-Master" Competition. Well, all I can say is, he'd better watch out! One more foot wrong and the contract between us will be as broken as this milk-jug. Baldrick: But that milk-jug isn't broken. Blackadder: You really do walk into these things, don't you? (Smashes the milk-jug on Baldrick's head.)

Baldrick: My uncle Baldrick was in a play once. Blackadder: Really? Baldrick: Yeah, it was called Macbeth. Blackadder: And what did he play? Baldrick: Second codpiece... Macbeth wore him in the fight scenes. Blackadder: So he was a stunt codpiece. (sips his tea) Did he have a large part? Baldrick: Depends who's playing Macbeth.

George: Oh, I just had another brilliant thought. Blackadder: (skeptically) Another one, Your Highness? George: Yes, another one, actually! You remember that one I, I had about, uh, wearing underwear on the outside to save on laundry bills?

George: Egads, it's that oppressed mass again. Die! (Starts strangeling Baldrick) Blackadder: No sir, that is Baldrick, spring cleaning. George: Oh so it is. Blackadder: Finish the job later, Baldrick. Baldrick: Very well sir. The cleaning or the being strangled? Blackadder: Either suits me.

George: Oh no! What a mad blundering, incredibly handsome young nincompoop I've been!

George: (to Blackadder) I'm fed up with you treating me as if I'm some kind of a thicky! It's not me that's thick - it's you, and you know why? Because I'm a bloody Prince, and you're only a butler! Now, go and get those actors this minute, Mr Thicky Black Thicky Adder Thicky.

Blackadder: Baldrick, I would like to say how much I will miss your honest, friendly companionship. Baldrick: Thank you, Mr B. Blackadder: But, as we both know, it would be an utter lie. I will therefore confine myself to saying simply, 'Sod off and if I ever meet you again, it will be twenty billion years too soon.'

Blackadder: Now that evil Mossop and Keanrick have got their comeuppance, the Drury Lane theater is free. I thought we might celebrate by staging a little play that I've written. Prince George: Oh, what an excellent idea. And with my new found acting skills, might there be a part in it for me do you think? Blackadder: I was hoping that you might play the title role sir. Prince George: What a roaringly good idea. What's the play called? Blackadder: "Thick Jack Clot sits in the stocks, and gets pelted with rancid tomatoes." Prince George: Excellent!

Blackadder: Mrs Miggins, I'm looking for a couple of actors. Mrs Miggins: Well, you've come to right place Mr B. There's more Shakespearean dialogue in here than there are buns. All my lovely actors pop in on their way to rehearsals for a little cup of coffee and a big dollop of inspiration. Blackadder: You mean they actually rehearse? I thought they just got drunk, stuck on a silly hat and trusted to luck. Mrs Miggins: Oh, no! There's ever so much hard work goes into the wonderful magic that is theatre today. Still I don't expect you'd know much about that, being only a little butler. Blackadder: They do say, Mrs M, that verbal insults hurt more than physical pain. They are of course wrong, as you will soon discover when I stick this toasting fork in your head.

Blackadder: And what play is this? Mossop: It is a piece we penned ourselves called "The bloody murder of the foul prince Romero and his enormous-bosomed wife". Blackadder: A philosophical work then! Keanrick: Indeed yes sir, the violence of the murder, and the vastness of the bosom ane entirely justified artistically!

Prince George: (Calling from above) Come on Blackadder, we'll miss the first act! Blackadder: Coming sir, as fast as I can! (Leans back and crosses his feet on top of the table) Stick the kettle on Baldrick!

Baldrick: You look smart Mr. Blackadder, going somewhere nice? Blackadder: No, I'm off to the theater. Baldrick: What don't you like it then? Blackadder: No, I don't! A lot of stupid actors strutting around, shouting, with their chests thrust out so far, you'd think their nipples were attached to a pair of charging elephants! And the worst thing about it is having to go with Prince Mini-brain! Baldrick: What doesn't he like it either? Blackadder: No, no he loves it. The problem is he doesn't realize it's made up! Last year, when Brutus was about to kill Julius Cesar, the prince yelled out: 'Look behind you Mr. Cesar!'

(Discovering Baldrick in a wooden chest.) Prince George: Anarchist! Baldrick: Cleaner! Prince George: All right, so you've had a wash, that's no excuse! Die! (attempts to strangle him) Blackadder: (Entering) Sir, that is Baldrick, spring cleaning. Prince George: Rubbish! Look he's got a bomb! Blackadder: That's not a bomb, it's a sponge. Prince George: Oh yes, so it is. Well get it out of here at once, before it explodes!

Blackadder: And incidentally Baldrick, actors are very superstitious, on no account mention the word "Macbeth" this evening, alright? Baldrick:Why not? Blackadder:It brings them bad luck and makes them very unhappy. Baldrick: Oh, so you won't be mentioning it either? Blackadder:No. (pauses) Well not very often.

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

Keanrick: Why, your very posture tells me, "Here is a man of true greatness." Blackadder: Either that or "Here are my genitals, please kick them."

Prince George: Why on earth would an anarchist possibly want to kill you? Blackadder: I think it might've been you he was after, sir. Prince George: Oh hogwash! What on earth makes you say that? Blackadder: Well, my suspicions were first aroused by his use of the words, "Death to the stupid Prince."

Mossop: …lest you continue in your quotations and mention the name of the "Scottish Play". Keanrick: Oh-ho… never fear, I shan't do that. Blackadder: By the "Scottish Play", I assume you mean Macbeth. Mossop and Keanrick: Aahhhhh. {Start slapping hands}Hot potato. Orchestra stalls. Puck will make amends. {Grab each other's nose}Aaahh. Blackadder: What was that? Keanrick: We were exorcising evil spirits. Being but a mere butler, you will not know the great theatre tradition that one does never speak the name of the "Scottish Play". Blackadder: What, Macbeth? Mossop and Keanrick: Aahhhhh. Hot potato. Orchestra stalls. Puck will make amends. Ohhh. Blackadder: Good lord, you mean you have to do that every time I say Macbeth? Mossop and Keanrick: Aahhhhh. Hot potato. Orchestra stalls. Puck will make amends. Owwww. Mossop: Will you please stop saying that. Always call it the "Scottish Play". Blackadder: So you want me to say the "Scottish Play"? Mossop and Keanrick: (shout) Yes. Blackadder: Rather than Macbeth? Mossop and Keanrick: Aahhhhh. Hot potato. Orchestra stalls. Puck will make amends. Owwwwww. Prince George: Say, what is all this hullabaloo, all this shouting and screaming and yelling blue murder? Why… it's like that play we saw the other day, what was it called… umm… Blackadder: Macbeth, sir? Mossop and Keanrick: Aahhhhh. Hot potato. Orchestra stalls. Puck will make amends. Owwwwww. Prince George: No, no, it was called Julius Caesar. Blackadder: Ah, yes, of course. Julius Caesar… not Macbeth. Mossop and Keanrick: Aahhhhh. Hot potato. Orchestra stalls. Puck will make amends. Owwwwww.