Ink and Incapability Blackadder

Oh! Ohh! Blackadder! BLACK-AAAA-DER !

-Your Highness?

-Wh-what time is it?

-3pm, Your Highness.

God, I thought I'd overslept.

-Did you have a pleasant evening?

-No! An extraordinary thing happened.

I was in the Naughty Hellfire Club, and some fellow said that I had the wit of a donkey!

-An absurd suggestion.

-Right!

-Unless it was a particularly stupid donkey!

-If only I'D said that.

-Too late one thinks of what one should have said.

Sir Thomas More, burned alive for refusing to recant his Catholicism,

and it never occured to him to say,

"I recant my Catholicism."

Prime Minister Pitt called me "an idle scrounger."

How clever it would have been to have said,

"Oh, bugger off, you old fart!"

I want people to say, "George is as clever as a stick in a bucket of pig swill."

-How do you suggest this miracle is achieved?

-Easy! I shall become friends with a very clever man.

Samuel Johnson has asked me to be patron of his new book. I will accept.

The long-awaited "dictionary"?

I hope there are murders in it!

-It's a masterpiece.

-It's the most pointless book since "How to Learn French"

was translated into French.

You haven't got anything personal against Johnson?

No. In fact, I'd never heard of him till you mentioned him.

-You DO think he's a genius?

-No.

Unless the definition of genius in his ridiculous dictionary is "A fat wobblebottom,

"a pompous ass with sweaty dewflaps."

Close shave there, then. Lucky you warned me.

-I was about to embrace this unholy arse to the Royal bosom.

-So, I've kept your bosom free of arses!

Don't want to waste time with wobblebottoms.

-Fetch tea.

-Certainly.

-TWO cups. Dr Johnson is coming round.

-Naaagh!

-Something wrong, Mr B ?

Something's always wrong, Balders.

The fact that I'm not a millionaire with the sexual capacity of a rhino is a niggle!

But today, something's WRONGER.

-Dr Johnson is coming to tea.

-He's the cleverest man in England.

I'd bump into cleverer people at the Meeting of Village Idiots.

But you sent him your navel.

NOVEL, Baldrick. I sent him my NOVEL.

Novel or navel, it sounds like a bag of grapefruits to me.

The phrase is "a case of sour grapes", and it IS.

He might have written back, but nothing!

-Not even "Dear Gertrude Perkins, get stuffed. Samuel Johnson."

-Gertrude Perkins?

I gave myself a female pseudonym. Everybody's doing it. Mrs Radcliffe, Jane Austen...

-Jane Austen's a man?

-Of course. A huge Yorkshireman with a beard like a rhododendron bush.

-A small one, then?

-Compared to Dorothy Wordsworth's, certainly.

James Boswell is the only woman writing - that's just to get into Johnson's britches.

Perhaps your book isn't any good.

Codswallop! It's perfect!

"Edmund - a Butler's Tale."

A giant roller-coaster of a novel, in 400 sizzling chapters.

A searing indictment of domestic servitude, with some hot gypsies thrown in!

It's my magnum opus. Everybody has one novel in them. This is mine.

And THIS is MINE !

My magnificent octopus.

-Your novel ?

-Yeah. I can't stand long books.

"Once upon a time there was a little sausage called Baldrick and it lived happily ever after."

-It's semi-autobiographical.

-It's awful. Dr Johnson will probably love it.

-BELL CLANGS

-Speak of the Devil.

I'd better go and make the great Doctor comfortable.

Let's see how smart Dr Fatty Know-It-All really is!

-Prepare a fire.

-What shall I use?

Any old rubbish. Here, try this for starters.

-KNOCK ON DOOR

-Enter!

-Dr Johnson, Your Highness.

-Dr Johnson! Damn cold day!

Indeed. But a fine one. I celebrated the encyclopaedic implementation

of my premeditated orchestration of demotic Anglo-Saxon.

Didn't catch that.

I am felicitous, since during the course of the penultimate solar sojourn,

I terminated my categorisation of the vocabulary of our post-Norman tongue.

Sounds damn saucy, lucky thing!

I know some liberal-minded girls, but I've never had a solar sojourn, or been given any Norman tongue!

The Doctor is trying to tell you he is happy because he has finished his book.

It has taken him ten years.

Well, I'm a slow reader myself!

Here it is, sir, the very cornerstone of English scholarship.

This book contains every word in our beloved language.

-Every single one, sir?

-Yes.

In that case, I also offer the Doctor my most enthusiastic...

-contrafibularoties.

-What?

Contrafibularoties. A common word!

Damn!

Oh, I'm sorry, sir. I am anaspeptic, phrasmotic...

even compunctuous to have caused you such periconbobulations.

What, what, what?

This all sounds like dago-talk to me!

I was congratulating the Doctor on not having left out a single word!

-Shall I fetch tea?

-Yes. And the fire.

-Certainly, sir. I shall return interphrastically.

Sit down!

-This book of yours, what's it about?

-It is a book about the English language.

-I see.

-The hero's name?

-There is no hero, sir.

Lucky I reminded you! Put one in pronto.

Call him George. What about heroines?

The heroine is our Mother Tongue.

The mother's the heroine. Nice twist!

Mother Tongue is in love with George, the hero. Murders? She doesn't get murdered?

No! No-one gets murdered, married, or gets into a tricky situation!

Doctor Johnson, I may be as thick as a whale omelette, but I know a book's got to have a plot.

Not this one. It tells you what words mean.

I know what words mean! You must be a bit of a thicko!

Perhaps you would rather NOT be patron of my book!

It sounds as though being patron to this COWPAT of a book...

will set the seal on my reputation as a turnip-head!

It is a reputation well-deserved, sir! Farewell !

Leaving, Doctor? Not staying for your pendigestatory interludicule?

-No! Show me out!

-Certainly. Anything I can do to facilitate your velocitous extramuralisation.

You will regret this! Not only have you impeculiated my dictionary,

but you have lost the chance to be patron to a BETTER book!

What's that? "Dictionary Two"? "Return of the Killer Dictionaries"?

No. "Edmund - a Butler's Tale", by Gertrude Perkins.

A roller-coaster of a novel, crammed with gypsies.

-It would have made you and me and Gertrude millionaires!

-Millionaires!

But it is not to be, sir.

Farewell !

Excuse me, sir. Doctor Johnson...

-A word...

-A word with you can mean seven million syllables. You may not be finished by night!

Oh! In my fury I have left my dictionary with your master. Fetch it.

The Prince is foolish and has a peanut for a brain.

I will deliver both the book and his patronage.

I doubt it. A servant who is an influence for the good is like a dog who speaks. Very rare!

-I can change his mind.

-I doubt it.

A man who can change a Prince's mind is like a dog who speaks Norwegian. Even RARER !

I shall be at Mrs Miggins' salon.

Your Highness, my congratulations.

-Thanks. That pompous baboon won't be back!

-On the contrary, he left in the highest of spirits.

-What?

-He is thrilled that you will patronise his dictionary.

-I told him to sod off, didn't I ?

Yes, but that was a joke. Surely.

-Was it?

-Certainly. And a brilliant one.

Yes.

Yes, I suppose it was rather.

I'll deliver the note of patronage as promised?

-If that is what I promised. And I remember promising it.

-Nice fire.

-Thank you.

-Baldrick, where's the manuscript?

-You mean the big papery thing tied up with string?

Yes. It belongs to Dr Johnson.

-You mean the fellow who just left?

-Yes, Baldrick. Doctor Johnson.

You're asking where the papery thing belonging to the man who just left is?

Yes! And if you don't answer, the booted bony thing with 5 toes on the end of my leg...

will connect with the soft dangly objects in your trousers!

For the last time, where is the manuscript?

-On the fire.

-On the what?!

-The hot orangey thing under the stoney mantelpiece.

-You burnt the dictionary?!

-Yes.

-You burnt the life's work of our foremost man of letters?

-You said burn any rubbish.

-Fine.

Won't it be difficult to patronise the book if we've burnt it?

Yes. If you would excuse me a moment...

Of course. Now I've got my fire, I'm as happy as a Frenchman wih self-removing trousers.

Baldrick, would you join me in the vestibule?

-We are going to find where Johnson keeps a copy of that dictionary and YOU are going to steal it.

-Me?

-Yes.

-Why me?

-Because you burnt it.

But I'll go to Hell for stealing.

Eternity in the company of Beelzebub and his instruments of death

will be a picnic compared to five minutes with me and this pencil...

if we can't find the dictionary.

O, love-torn ecstasy that is Mrs Miggins,

wilt though bring me one cup of the browned juicings of that naughty bean we call coffee ere I die?

You have a way with words, Mr Shelley!

Coffee, woman! My consumption grows more acute.

Coleridge's drugs are wearing off.

Mr Byron, don't be a big girl's blouse.

-Don't forget the pencil, Baldrick.

-I certainly won't, sir.

-Good day to you, Mrs Miggins.

-Ooh!

A cup of hot water with grit in it, unless your coffee shop has started selling coffee (!)

Be quiet! We're dying!

Don't worry, my poets aren't dead, they're just being intellectual.

Nothing intellectual about going around Italy in a big shirt, trying to get laid! Why are they here?

We are here to pay homage to Dr Johnson, as should you!

Absolutely. I intend to. You wouldn't have a copy of his dictionary on you?

Friends, I am returned!

-Hurrah!

-Sir, how was the Prince?

The Prince is an utter fool and his servants are cretinous! POETS LAUGH

-Good afternoon.

-And YOU are the worst of them.

Have you my dictionary and my patronage?

Not quite. The Prince begs a few more hours.

Bah! Bah! Bah!

-I wonder if a lowly servant such as I might see a copy?

-Copy?

Copy? Copy? There IS no copy!

-No copy?

-A copy is like fitting wheels to a tomato - time-consuming and unnecessary!

But what if the book got lost?

I would not lose it, and if any man should,

I would tear off his head with my bare hands and feed it to the cat!

Well, that's nice and clear.

I, Lord Byron, would summon 50 men, lay siege to the fellow's house and do murder on him!

I would see him hanging by his hair...

with an Oriental disembowelling cutlass thrust up his ignoble behind!

I hope you're listening, Baldrick.

Sir, I have been unable to replace the dictionary.

I am leaving for Nepal, where I intend to live as a goat.

-Why?

-If I stay here, Dr Johnson's companions would have me brutally murdered, sir.

That's terrible! Know any other butlers?

When the people discover that YOU burnt the dictionary,

they may say, "Thick George! He's got a brain the size of a weasel's wedding tackle."

Something must be done!

-I have a cunning plan, sir.

-Hurrah! Well, that's that then.

I wouldn't get over-excited, sir.

His plan will be the stupidest thing we've heard since Lord Nelson's famous signal,

"Lady Hamilton is a virgin. Poke my eye out and cut off my arm if I'm wrong."

Great!

-Let's hear it.

-It's brilliant. You take the string...

that's still not completely burnt,

scrape off the soot... and shove the pages in again.

-WHICH pages?

-Not the same ones, of course.

-Yes.

I think I've spotted the flaw in this plan. But go on. Which pages?

This is brilliant. You write some new ones.

You mean rewrite the dictionary?

I rewrite the dictionary that took Dr Johnson ten years.

Yep.

Baldrick, that is the worst and most contemptible plan in the history of the universe.

However, I hear the sound of disembowelling cutlasses being sharpened,

and it's the only plan we've got.

Perhaps you'd like me to help. I'm not as stupid as I look.

I AM as stupid as I look, but if I can help, I will.

You'd be as useful as a barber on the steps of the guillotine.

Oh, go on, give us a try.

Very well. Let's start at the beginning.

First, "A". How would you define "A"?

-"A"...

-Oh, I love this! Quizzes!

-"A", oh, crikey...

-"A"...

-I've got it!

-What?

-Well, it doesn't really mean anything!

Good. We're well on the way (!)

"A - impersonal pronoun. Doesn't really mean anything."

Next, "AB..."

Eh...a bee. It's a buzzing thing.

"A buzzing thing."

Something that starts with "AB..."

Honey. Honey starts with a bee.

-Honey DOES start with a bee.

-This isn't getting anywhere.

Besides, I've left out "Aardvark."

-Can't say we didn't try.

-Yes. I must proceed on my own.

Baldrick, make me something simple to eat.

-Bread with something in between.

-Like Gerald, Lord Sandwich had?

-Yes. A few rounds of Geralds.

How goes it, Blackadder?

-Not well.

-Let's have a look.

"Medium-sized insectivore with protruding nasal implement."

Doesn't sound much like a bee.

-It's an aardvark! It's a bloody AARDVARK !

-Still on aardvark?

Yes. And if I ever meet an aardvark,

I'm going to step on its damn protruding nasal implement!

Stuck?

I'm sorry, sir. Five hours later, and I've got every word except "A" and "aardvark" to do.

And I'm not happy with THEM.

Don't panic, because I have some good news.

What?

-We've been working all night! I've done "B".

-Really? How have you got on?

I had trouble with "belching", but I got it sorted out.

-BELCHES

-There I go again!

-< HYSTERICAL LAUGHTER

-You've been working on that joke for some time.

-I have!

-Since you started?

-Yes.

-You've done no work at all ?

-No.

-Great (!) Baldrick, what have YOU done?

-I've done "C" and "D".

-Right, let's have it then.

-Right. "Blue wobbly thing that mermaids live in.

-What's that?

-Sea.

Yes.

Tiny misunderstanding. Still, my hopes weren't high.

-What about "D"?

-I'm pleased with "dog".

-Your definition of dog is?

-Not a cat.

Excellent.

Excellent!

-May I have a word?

-Certainly.

As you know, it has been my wish to stay with you until we both had sons to take over our duties.

-That's right.

-Change of plan! I'm off to the kitchen to hack my head off.

Come on, it's only a book! Damn the fellow's eyes, strip off his britches,

and warm his heels to Putney Bridge!

-Sir, you can't just lop someone's head off and blame it on the Vikings.

-Can't I ?!

-No.

Oh, well, let's get on with it.

It's only a dictionary. No-one's asked us to eat ten pigs for breakfast.

-Good Lord, we're British!

-You're not. You're German.

Get me some coffee. If I fall asleep before Monday, we're doomed.

Mr Blackadder, time to wake up!

-What time is it?

-Monday morning.

-Oh, my God! I've overslept!

-Where's the parchment?

-I dunno. Maybe Dr Johnson's got some.

-What?

-He's outside.

-AAAAAAGH !

-Are you ill ?

-You can't have it.

I want Baldrick to read it, which will mean teaching him to read.

Time well spent, because it's such a very good dictionary.

-I don't think so.

-We've been burgled! ..What?

I think it's an awful dictionary. I've come to ask you to chuck the damn thing on the fire.

-Are you sure?

-I am sure.

I love you, Dr Johnson, and I want to have your babies.

Excuse me, but my Auntie Marjorie has arrived.

Baldrick, who gave you permission to turn into an Alsatian?

Oh, God! It's a dream, isn't it? It's a bloody dream!

Dr Johnson doesn't want us to burn his dictionary at all.

Mr Blackadder, time to wake up!

-What time is it?

-Monday morning.

-Oh, my God! I've overslept!

-Where's the parchment?

-I dunno. Maybe Dr Johnson's got some.

-What?

-He's outside.

Hang on, hang on. If we go on like this, you'll turn into an Alsatian.

-KNOCK ON DOOR

-We must escape.

Bring out the dictionary! Bring it out, or I shall kill everyone by giving them syphilis!

Bring it out. And any opium plants you have. Bring it out!

-Good morning...

-Where's my dictionary?

-What dictionary?

The one that has taken 18 hours of every day for 10 years!

My mother died. I hardly noticed.

My father cut off his head. I scarcely looked up from my work.

My wife brought armies of lovers to our house!

-I cared not!

-Am I to presume that my bluff has not worked?

-Dictionary!

-Right.

The truth is... Don't get cross... We burnt it.

Then you DIE ! Ahhh!

Good morning. You know, this dictionary is a good read! A splendid job!

-You said you'd burnt it!

-Ehm...

I look forward to patronising it.

Thank you. We will sacrifice the killing to maintain the good humour!

No murder today. GROANS

Retire to Mrs Miggins'. I will join you there.

Tell me, sir, what words interested you?

-Oh, nothing. Anything, really.

-I see you have underlined a few.

"Bloomers...bottom...burp...

"fart...fornicate..." I hope you are not using the first dictionary to look up rude words!

That's what all the others will be used for.

-Can I look up "turnip"?

-Turnip's not a rude word.

-It is if you sit on one.

We have more important business - the works of the mysterious Gertrude Perkins.

Mysterious no more, sir.

I can reveal the identity...

-of Gertrude Perkins!

-Who IS she?

-SHE, sir, is ME.

-I

-am Gertrude Perkins!

-Good Lord!

-Bring the manuscript and I will show you that my signature corresponds.

I left it here with the dictionary.

-This is exciting!

-Baldrick, fetch my novel.

-Novel ?

-The papery thing tied up with string.

-Like the thing we burnt?

-Exactly.

-You're asking for the papery thing tied up with string, exactly like the thing we burnt?

-Yes.

We burnt it.

So we did. Thank you. Seven years of my life up in smoke.

-Sir, would you excuse me?

-Yes.

OH, GOD ! NO-O!

-Thank you.

-Burnt, you say. Most inconvenient. A burnt novel is like a burnt dog...

-SHUT UP !

Sir...

-I

-have a novel.

"Once upon a time there was a little sausage called..."

Sausage?! SAUSAGE ?!

Blast your eyes!

I didn't think it was THAT bad.

You'll find he left "sausage" out of his dictionary.

Oh, and "aardvark."

-Come on, it's not all that bad. Nothing a nice fire can't solve. Baldrick...

-Certainly, sir.

Subtitles by Janice Hamilton BBC Scotland, 1987