Dish and Dishonesty Blackadder

-Blackadder:

-YELLOW

-Baldrick:

-GREEN

-The Prince Regent:

-CYAN

Well, Mrs Miggins, a return to sanity the hustings are over.

After the chaos of a general election we can return to normal.

-Has there been an election, then?

-Indeed there has.

-I never noticed.

-Well, YOU'RE not eligible to vote.

-Why not?

-Virtually no one is women, peasants...chimpanzees... lunatics, Lords.

-No, Lord Nelson's got a vote!

-He's got a BOAT, Baldrick.

Democracy's marvellous. Look at Manchester population, 60,000; electoral roll, 3.

-It doesn't seem fair to ME.

-Well, of course it's not FAIR !

Give the like of Baldrick the vote and we'll be back to death by stoning, and dung for dinner.

I'm having dung for dinner tonight!

So who are they electing?

The usual lot: fat Tory landowners who get made MPs when they reach a certain weight,

and revolutionaries who think that working entitles them to pay!

It's toffs at the top, plebs at the bottom, and ME in the middle making money out of both of them.

-Things could change.

-Not while Pitt the Elder's Prime Minister.

He's as effective as a cat-flap in an elephant house.

As long as his feet are warm and he gets a nap, he doesn't bother anyone until his potty's full.

< Honourable Members, I call upon the new Prime Minister, Mr William Pitt...the Younger.

Mr Speaker, I shall be brief... as I have become Prime Minister right in the middle of my exams.

I look forward to fulfilling my duty in a manner of which Nanny would be proud.

I shall introduce legislation to destroy 3 enemies of the state.

The first is that evil dictator, Napoleon Bonaparte.

Hear, hear!

The second is my geography master, banana-breath Scrigshanks.

But most of all, sirs, I intend to pursue that utter slob, the Prince of Wales!

Hear, hear!

This year alone he has spent £15,000 on banqueting.

Boo, boo, boo!

£20,000 on perfume.

Pooh, pooh, pooh!

And most astonishingly of all, an astonishing £59,000 on socks!

Shame, shame, shame!

Therefore, my main priorities are: one, war with France...

Hear, hear!

two, tougher sentences for geography teachers...

Yes!

and three, a kick up the Prince's backside!

Yaaaay!

I now call upon the leader of the opposition to test me on my Latin vocab!

Sir...

-A major crisis has arisen.

-Yes, I know, Blackadder.

-You do, sir?

-Yes, socks! Run out again. No matter how many millions of pairs I buy, I never have any.

Sir, there is a weightier problem.

They just disappear! You'd think someone was selling the damn things.

Impossible, sir. Only you and I have access to your socks.

-Yes, you're right. For ME, socks are like sex. Tons of it about and

-I

-never seem to get any!

Sir...I read fearful news in this morning's paper.

Not another little cat stuck in a tree?

No, there is a vote afoot to strike you from the civil list.

Yes, yes, but what about my socks?!

If this bill goes through, you won't have any socks... or shirts or pantaloons.

They're going to bankrupt you.

They can't do that. The public love me.

Only the other day they sang, "We hail Prince George!"

-"We HATE Prince George!"

-Was it?!

I fear so. However, the numbers in the Commons are exactly equal. We only need to find one more MP.

-Hurrah! Any ideas?

-Well, yes, there is one man who might do.

-A rather crusty foulmouthed man, Sir Talbot Buxomley.

-Don't know him.

Sir Talbot has the worst attendance record of any MP. On the one occasion he DID attend,

he passed water in the Great Hall and then passed out.

-We need his support.

-What's he like?

According to Who's Who, his hobbies are flogging servants, shooting poor people, and promoting slavery.

Excellent! Sensible policies for a happier Britain.

-However, we will need to offer him some sort of incentive.

-Anything in mind?

-Make him a judge.

-Is he qualified?

-He's a violent, bigoted old fool.

-He sounds a bit OVERqualified. Get him here.

-I will return before you can say antidisestablishmentarianism.

-I think not!

Antidistibelits... Antimistelinstid...

-Antidistinctlymintymonetarism...

-Sir Talbot Buxomley, MP.

Buxomley, splendid! How are you?

-Heartily well. I dined hugely off a servant before I came.

-Em, you eat your servants?

-No, sir!

I eat OFF them. Why spend money on tables when I've men about?

-Indeed! Now, Mr Pitt's intentions...

-Young scallywag!

-You don't approve of his plans to abolish me?

-I do not! Damn his eyes! Damn his duck pond!

-Hurrah for that!

-I care not a jot that you are the son of a certified sauerkraut-sucking loon.

-It minds not ME that you talk like a plate of beans working their way out of a cow!

-Oh, good.

-It is no skin off MY rosy nose that almost anything would make a better Regent than YOU.

-Bravo!

-The fact is, you ARE Regent.

-Yes.

And I shall stick by you, though infirmity lay me waste and ill-health curse me!

Well, good on you, sir! And don't talk about infirmity...

Why, you are the hardy stock that is the core of Britain's greatness.

You have a demi-god's physique purple of cheek, plump of fetlock.

The well-filled trouser that tells of a human body in perfect order!

-He's dead, sir.

-Dead?!

-Yes, Your Highness.

-What bad luck. We were getting on.

-We must move at once.

-Where to?

Sir Talbot represented Dunny-on-the-Wold. And luckily, it's a rotten borough!

Really?! Is it?

Well...lucky, lucky us!

Lucky, lucky...

luck...lurrck...lurrrck... cluck, cluck...lurrck, lurrrck... cluck, cluck.

-You don't know what a rotten borough is, do you?

-No.

So, why the chicken impression?

-Ah... So, what is a robber button?

-Rotten borough!

-Quite.

-A rotten borough is where the landowner controls the voters AND the MP.

-Good. And a robber button is...?

-Could we leave that for a moment?

Dunny-on-the-Wold is a tuppeny-ha'penny half acre of sodden marshland in Suffolk.

Population three mangy cows, a dachshund named Colin, and a small hen in its late forties.

So, no people at all... apart from Colin?

-Colin is a dog, sir.

-Oh, yes.

-Only one voter lives there.

-What's the plan?

We must buy Dunny-on-the-Wold to control the voter. I need £1,000.

I thought you said it was a tuppeny-ha'penny place.

The LAND will be tuppence ha'penny, but there are other expenses.

Stamp duty, window tax, swamp insurance, hen food, dog biscuits, cow ointment. The list is endless.

Fine! The money's in my desk.

-No, it's in my wallet.

-Splendid! No time to lose, eh?

-Precisely.

-Now, who is to be MP ?

-Tricky.

What we need is an unknown over whom we have complete power.

A man with no ideas of his own. One might say, a man with no brain.

-RINGS BELL

-Any thoughts?

-Yes, Your Highness.

You rang, my lord?

-Meet the new MP for Dunny-on-the-Wold.

-But he's an absolute arsehead!

Precisely. Our slogan shall be, "A rotten candidate for a rotten borough."

Baldrick, go back to your sink and prepare for government.

Right now, all we have to do is fill in the MP application form.

-Name?

-Baldrick.

-First name?

-I'm not sure.

-You must have SOME idea.

-It might be Sod-off.

What?!

When I used to play in the gutter the other snipes used to say, "Sod off, Baldrick!"

-All right...Mr

-S

-Baldrick.

-Distinguishing features? None.

-I've got this growth on my face.

-That's your nose, Baldrick.

Now, any history of insanity in the family? I'll cross out "in".

Any history of SANITY in the family? None whatsoever.

-Now then, criminal record?

-Absolutely not!

Come on, you're going to be an MP ! I'll just put fraud and sexual deviancy.

Now...minimum bribe level?

One turnip. Oh, wait, I don't want to price myself out of the market.

-Baldrick, do you have any ambitions in life apart from the acquisition of turnips?

-Em, no.

-What would you do with £1,000 ?

-I'd get a little turnip of my own.

-What would you do with £1 million?

-That's different. I'd get a big turnip in the country.

-KNOCK AT DOOR

-Here...sign here.

Your Highness, Pitt the Younger.

Hello there, young shaver-me-lad!

I say, I've a sixpence here for you if you can say which hand it's in!

Ahhh, school, school! Half hols, is it? I bet you can't wait to get back on the cricket field.

Mr Pitt is the Prime Minister, sir.

Oh, go on! Is he? What, young snotty here?

-I'd rather have a runny nose than a runny brain!

-Eh?

Em, excuse me, Prime Minister, we have some lovely jelly in the pantry...

-Don't patronise me, you lower middle class yobbo! What flavour is it?

-Blackcurrant.

-Eeuuurrghh!

Is this really the PM ? Seems like an oily tick.

-When I was at school, we used to get his sort to bend over and we'd use them as a toast rack.

-I know!

-Once, it was

-I

-who stood in the big schoolroom, a hot crumpet burning my cheeks with shame.

Since that day I've been working to become Prime Minister and fight sloth and privilege wherever it be!

I trust you removed the crumpet.

You'll regret this, gentlemen!

You think you can thwart my plans by winning the by-election!

-But you will be thrashed. I intend to put up my own brother as a candidate!

-Which Pitt is this?

Pitt the Toddler? Pitt the Embryo?

Pitt the Glint in the Milkman's Eye?

Hah!

Sirs, as I said to Metternich at the Conference of Strasbourg, "Pooh to you, with knobs on!"

-What a ghastly squit! He's not going to win, is he?

-No.

Firstly, we shall fight on issues not personalities;

secondly, we are a new force; and thirdly, of course, we'll cheat.

Good evening and welcome to the Dunny-on-the-Wold by-election.

The turnout has been very good.

The voter turned out very early.

I can now bring you the result of our exclusive Exit Poll which produced a 100% result for...

"Go away, you nosey bastard."

< Mr Hanna, interview the candidates.

I'll do that now. I can see Prince George, leader of the Adder party.

He is described in his party newsheet as a great moral leader,

but he's described by almost everyone else as a flatulent git.

-Prince George, hello.

-Hello.

-And good evening, Colin.

-How do you see your prospects in this campaign?

-Well, I think this election is disgraceful!

We paid for this seat. We shouldn't have to stand for it!

-And why is it a man never has enough socks?!

-Fighting words from the Prince!

Now let's hear from the Adder party candidate, Mr S Baldrick, who so far has not commented on his policies.

With him is his election agent, Mr E Blackadder.

We are going to fight this campaign on issues not personalities.

-Why is that?

-Because our candidate doesn't have a personality.

-He hasn't discussed issues either.

-He's got a throat infection.

-What does the S in his name stand for?

-Sod off.

-Fair enough. None of my business really.

Now it's time for a result.

Tension is running very high here.

Mr Blackadder assures me that this will be the first honest vote ever in a rotten borough.

And behind me I can just see the returning officer coming forward.

As the acting returning officer for Dunny-on-the-Wold...

The acting returning officer is Mr E Blackadder.

The previous returning officer accidentally stabbed himself in the stomach while shaving.

I now announce the number of votes cast as follows

-Brigadier General Horace Balsam...

-'Keep royalty white, rat catching, and safe sewage party.'

-No votes.

Ivor "jest ye not madam" Biggun...

-'Standing at the back dressed stupidly party.'

-No votes.

-Pitt the Even Younger...

-'Whig.'

-No votes.

-'There's a shock.'

-Mr S Baldrick...

-'Adder party.'

Sixteen thousand, four hundred and seventy-two.

CHEERS

And there you have it victory for the Adder party!

Let's talk to the candidates.

William Pitt the Even Younger, are you disappointed?

Yes, I smeared my opponent, bribed the Press, and threatened the electorate.

I fail to see what more a decent politician could've done.

Now, Ivor Biggun. No votes at all for you. Are you disappointed?

No. I always say, if you can't laugh, what can you do?

Take up politics perhaps. Has your party got any policies?

Oh, yes! We're for compulsory serving of asparagus at breakfast, and the abolition of slavery!

Many moderate people would respect your stand on asparagus, but surely abolishing slavery is a bit extreme?

Oh, we put that in for a joke! See you next year!

And now, finally, a word with the man at the centre of things, the voter himself, "Mr E Black..."

-Mr Blackadder, YOU are the one voter in this rotten borough?

-Yes.

-How long have you lived here?

-Since Wednesday morning.

The previous electorate accidentally cut his head off while combing his hair.

-One voter sixteen thousand, four hundred and seventy-two votes. A slight anomaly?

-Not really.

Mr Baldrick may look like a monkey who's been strategically shaved, but he's a brilliant politician.

The number of votes I cast reflects my belief in his policies.

Another great day for democracy.

That's all from ME, Vincent Hanna, "Country Squire's Pig and Fertiliser Gazette", Dunny-on-the-Wold.

-We are reprieved. It is a triumph for stupidity over common sense.

-Ta.

As a reward, Baldrick, take a short holiday.

Did you enjoy it? Good.

< Will the Honourable Members cast their votes for the striking of the Prince off the civil lists.

Excuse me... Eh, excuse me...

-Excuse me!

-Hello, little chappie. New here?

-Yeah. I support the Prince and I don't know how to vote.

-Well, we'll soon change that. Come along with ME.

-Oh, thanks.

KNOCK AT DOOR

Well, if it isn't the Lord Privy toast rack! Pull up a muffin. Sit yourself down.

-You don't like me, do you?

-Well, nobody likes a loser.

-Is that why nobody likes YOU ?

-What?

-You lost the vote. Your monkey obligingly voted for US.

-Oh, God.

If you want something done properly, kill Baldrick before you start.

You and your disgusting master have 24 hours to get out!

24 hours is a long time in politics.

There is just one thing before I go.

I've got this sort of downy hair on my chest. Is that normal? Also, I get lonely and confused.

I've written a poem about it.

-"Why do nice girls hate me...?"

-Oh, get out, you nauseating adolescent!

How could I have been so stupid?!

Goodbye, Millionaire's Row; hello, room 12 of the Rest Home for the Terminally Short of Cash!

-And to think you once dreamed you'd end up in the House of Lords!

-What?

-The House of Lords.

-Of course! I'd forgotten about the House of Lords. They'll never let the bill through.

-Oh, hurrah!

-Take Baldrick off the spit.

-Hurrah.

-I've a plan so cunning you could add a tail and call it a weasel.

-Dah-rah!

-Blackadder, you look as happy as a man who thought a cat had done its business on his pie,

but it turned out to be an extra big blackberry!

-Did our plan go well?

-Excellently. Order a thousand pairs of finest cotton socks,

-and prepare for Brighton.

-Hurrah!

There was however one slight... ahem...hiccup.

No, COUGH, I think you mean.

No, sir, HICCUP. The motion about your impoverishment has now moved on to the House of Lords.

Oh, bravo! No worry there, then. They'll all be behind me.

-Ah, would that were so. These are treacherous times.

-Are they?

-Yes.

-It might be wise to appoint a new Lord to make sure the old Lords vote the right way.

-A new Lord...?

-Any idea who?

-Well, one name does leap to mind.

-Does it?

-Yes, sir.

-Could it leap a bit higher?

A young man in your service who has done sterling work matching the machinations of the evil Pitt.

Oh, of course, Blackadder! How can I thank you enough?

We might also bribe a few Lords to listen to their consciences.

-How many should we bribe?

-I think 300...at £1,000 each.

-Three hundred thousand pounds?!

-FOUR hundred thousand, I think.

Yes, yes, you're right.

Thank God you're here to advise me. How do I appoint this Lord chappie?

It's very simple. YOU put on YOUR robes of state; HE puts on HIS.

Then you sign a document and despatch him to the Lords.

-Excellent! I shall change at once.

-And so, sir, shall

-I.

Voila, Mrs Miggins! My robes of state. £1,000 well spent.

Ooooh-hooooh, very nice!

-Ooh, it's real cat, isn't it?

-No!

It is finest leather-trimmed ermine with gold medallion accessories.

Oh, go on! It's CAT. Oh, look, they've left the little collars on!

"Mr Frisky. If found, please return to Emma Hamilton, Marine Parade, Portsmouth." Damn!

-Who cares about a dead cat now I'm a fat cat?

-You're full of yourself today, Mr B.

-Unlike Mr Frisky (!)

-My Lord...

-My Lord-S.

-I'm sorry...?

-My Lord-S. There is more than one Lord in the vicinity.

-Oh, well, yes.

Will you please welcome... the Lord Baldrick!

-You made...BALDRICK...a Lord?!

-Well, yes!

One who has matched "the evil Pitt." Good old Lord Baldrick!

It's OK, Blackadder. You don't have to curtsey.

-Sir, might I exclaim violently?

-Certainly.

DAMN ! Thank you, sir.

-I say, that's a strange get-up.

-Yes, I'm just off to a fancy dress party.

I'm going as Lady Hamilton's pussy.

There's just one question, sir...

About the £400,000 to influence the Lords...?

I gave that to Lord Baldrick!

Ah, sir, might I take Lord Baldrick downstairs and instruct him in his Lordly duties?

-I think that's a splendid idea!

-This way...My Lord (!)

-Give me the bloody money, Baldrick, or you're dead!

-Give me the bloody money or you're dead, MY LORD !

Just do it, Baldrick! Otherwise I shall knight you with this meat cleaver.

-I haven't got it.

-What?!

-I spent it.

You SPENT IT ?! What could YOU possibly spend £400,000 on?

No, no...

Oh, God, don't tell me.

My dream turnip.

Baldrick, how did you manage to find a turnip costing £400,000 ?

Well, I had to haggle.

This is the worst moment of my entire life.

I've spent my last penny on a cat-skin windcheater.

I've just broken a priceless turnip.

-KNOCK AT DOOR

-And now I'm about to be slaughtered by a naked Tunisian sock merchant.

Well, Baldrick, this is the last time that I dabble in politics!

Subtitles by Ewan Angus BBC Scotland, 1987