Father, I must speak. I can be silent no longer.
All day long you mutter to yourself,
gibber, dribble, moan
and bat your head against the wall,
yelling: "I want to die!"
Now you may say
I'm leaping to conclusions, but...
...you're not completely happy, are you?
- It's mother, isn't it?
- No, it's not.
You're brooding over her death.
Kate, for the final time, your mother is
not dead. She's run off with Uncle Henry.
Dear Father, I know you only
say such things to comfort me.
Your mother is alive and well
and living in Droitwich.
It is not her I brood over.
I'm sad because, my darling, our poverty
has now reached such extremes
that I can no longer afford to keep us.
I must look to my own dear tiny darling
to sustain me in my frail dotage.
- But Father, surely...
- Yes, Kate.
I want you to become a prost*tute.
- Father!
- Do you defy me?
But indeed, I do. For it's better to die
poor than to live in shame and ignominy.
- No, it isn't.
- I'm young and strong and clever.
My nose is pretty.
I shall find another way to earn us a living.
Oh, please, go on the game.
It is a steady job and you'd
be working from home.
Goodbye, Father.
I shall go to London, disguise myself
as a boy and seek my fortune!
Why go all the way to London when you
can make a fortune lying on your back?
- Very good sh*t, my Lord.
- Thank you, Baldrick.
- Sorry I'm late.
- I'm sorry you're alive.
Good, I see the target is ready.
I'd like to see the Spaniard
who could make his way past me.
Go to Spain. There are millions of them.
I'll advise them to stay there then.
Keep their hands off our women.
- Who is she this time?
- I don't know what you mean.
- And who is Jane?
- I'm sworn to secrecy.
t*rture me, k*ll me, you shall never know.
Jane Herrington.
We're very much in love, my Lord.
- This is the Jane Herrington?
- Yes.
Jane "burry me in a Y-shaped coffin"
Herrington?
I think maybe there are two Jane Herringtons.
- No... Tall, blonde, elegant?
- That's right.
Goes like a privy door
when the plague is in town?
Get on with your sh*t. You'll get over her.
I did.
So did Baldrick actually.
Damn!
She's got this thing about beards.
Well, in that case I'm going to shave!
Bad luck, Balders.
Not to worry, my Lord, the arrow
didn't in fact enter my body.
No, by a thousand to one chance
my willy got in the way.
- Extraordinary.
- I only just put it there.
But now, I will leave it there forever.
Is that so, Baldrick? It can be your lucky willy.
Yes, my Lord. Years from now
I'll show it to my grandchildren.
I think that grandchildren
may now be out of the question.
Poor old pea-brain. Ha! Never catch me
falling in love, that's for damned sure.
(KNOCKING ON THE DOOR)
Come in.
Good day to you, Lord Blackadder!
Good day to you...
...boy?! What brings you here?
I'm an honest hard-working lad,
but poor, and I must support my father
who is stark raving mad. Therefore, I come
to London to seek a servant's wage.
Unfortunately I already have a servant.
The word is that your servant
is the worst servant in London.
That's true. Baldrick, you're fired.
Be out of the house in ten minutes.
Young man, you've got yourself a job.
What do they call you?
- Kate.
- Isn't that a bit of a girl's name?
Oh... it's... short for...
...Bob.
- Bob?!
- Yes.
Well, Bob, welcome on board.
Sorry, Baldrick, any reason you're still here?
I've got nowhere to go, my Lord.
Surely you'll be allowed to starve to death
in one of the royal parks.
I've been in your service
since I was two and a half.
That's why I'm so utterly sick
of the sight of you.
Couldn't I just stay here and do the
same job but for no wages?
- You know where you'll have to live.
- In the gutter.
And you'll have to work a bit harder too.
Go and get Bob's stuff in
and chuck your filthy muck out.
God bless you, sweet master.
Bob, this is Percy, a dimwit
I don't seem to be able to shake off.
Hello there, Bob, you young roister-doister, you.
You look a likely sort of lad for tricks
and sports and jolly, rosy, cheap capering.
Of course you do, and more besides,
I warrant thee, young scamp.
Thank you so much
for letting me stay, Lord Blackadder.
I'm looking forward to having you...
Having another man about the house
instead of that animal Baldrick.
Excuse me, I must go to the lavatory.
How little he knows and how much
I would have him know.
I say, Bob, I think this calls for a celebration.
How about a game of cup and ball and
a slap-up tea at Mrs Miggins pie shop?
Get lost, creep!
I like you, young Bob. You've got balls.
Nice try, Melchie, but it's no use. I'm still bored.
Your royal father used to be very amused
by my impersonation of Columbus.
Doesn't surprise me. He used to laugh at...
Those people
with the funny faces and the bells...?
- Jesters, Ma'am?
- No.
Lepers.
Where is Edmund these days?
The whisper on the underground grapevine is
that Lord Blackadder is spending
all his time with a young boy in his service.
Do you think he'd spend more time with me
if I was a boy?
You almost were a boy, my little cherry-pip.
Out you popped and everyone's shouting:
"It's a boy, it's a boy!"
And somebody said:
"But it hasn't got a winkle!"
And I said: "God be praised,
it's a miracle. A boy without a winkle!"
And then Sir Thomas More pointed out
that a boy without a winkle is a girl.
Everyone was really disappointed.
He was a very perceptive man Sir Thomas More.
What has happened to Edmund?
There's something odd about someone
who spends all their time with a servant.
Well, Bob.
We're a couple of fine lads, aren't we?
Let's get ratted and talk about girls, eh?
Yes, we could sing some really dirty songs and...
Oh God, I find you curiously
pleasant company, young Bob.
I'm honoured and for my part want nothing
more than to be with you, old man.
Well, there's nothing more healthy and
normal than having a good chum.
- What think you, my Lord, of love?
- You mean rumpy pumpy?
What would you say, my Lord,
if I were to say: "I love you."
Um, well of course it depends entirely
on whom you said it to.
If you said it to a horse
I would presume you were sick.
If you said it to Baldrick
I would presume you were blind.
- If you said it to me, well...
- Yes, my Lord?
Well, I'd assume we were having
a big lad's joke about back-tickle,
as the way we healthy fellows often do,
and I'd grab you for a friendly wrestle
and then we'd probably slap each
other's sides like jolly good chums
and laugh at what it would be like
if we really did... fancy each other.
In that case, my Lord... I love you!
Don't worry, Bob, he used to try to k*ll me too.
Baldrick, mighty glad to see you.
What do you want?
I was wondering if I might sleep
on the roof. The town bailiff says
if I lie in the gutter I'll be flushed into
the Thames with the other turds.
Yes, certainly Baldrick. Help yourself.
I was just off to bed anyway.
Good night, Baldrick.
Good night, Bob.
Good night, my Lord.
Yes. Oh God...
- What seems to be the trouble?
- It's my man servant.
I see. Well, don't be embarrassed.
If you've got the pox
just pop your man servant on the table
and we'll take a look at him.
No, I mean, it's my real man servant.
- And what's wrong with him?
- Nothing, that's the problem. He's perfect.
And last night I almost kissed him.
I see. So you've started
fancying boys then, have you?
- Not boys. A boy.
- Well, let's not split hairs.
It's all rather disgusting
and naturally you're worried.
It isn't every day a man wakes up
to discover he's a screaming bender
with no more right to live on God's clean
earth than a weasel. Ashamed of yourself?
- Not really, no.
- Bloody hell. I would be.
But why should I complain? Just leaves
more rampant totty for us real men.
Am I paying for this personal abuse
or is it extra?
All part of the service.
I think you're in luck though.
An extraordinary new cure has just been
developed for this kind of sordid problem.
- Has it got anything to do with leeches?
- I had no idea you were a medical man.
You try to cure everything with leeches.
A leech on my ear for earache,
a leech on my bottom for constipation.
- They're marvellous, aren't they?
- Not the bottom one. I squashed it.
The leech comes to us on the highest authority.
- I know. Dr Hoffmann of Stuttgart.
- That's right, the great Hoffmann.
Owner of the largest leech farm in Europe.
Well, I cannot spend all day gossiping.
As far as this case is concerned
I have now had time to think it over
and I can strongly recommend
a course of leeches.
Yes, pop a couple down my codpiece
before I go to bed.
No, don't be ridiculous. This isn't the Dark Ages.
Just pop four in your mouth in the morning
and let them dissolve slowly.
In a couple of weeks you 'll be b*ating your
servant with a stick like the rest of us.
- You're just an old quack, aren't you?
- I'd rather be a quack, than a duckie.
Anything to follow, my Lord? There's this
lovely fat spider I found in the bath.
- I was saving it for myself...
- Shut up, Baldrick.
I don't eat invertebrates for fun, you know.
This is doctor's orders.
Oh, I don't hold with this new doctoring.
Any problems, I go to the wise woman.
I am long past on trusting myself
to some deranged druid
who gives her professional address as
Dunghill Mansions, Putney.
- Tell me, young crone, is this Putney?
- That it be, that it be.
"Yes it is". Not "that it be".
You don't have to talk
in that stupid voice to me. I'm not a tourist.
- I seek information about a wise woman.
- The wise woman. The wise woman.
Yes, the wise woman.
Two things, my Lord,
must thee know of the wise woman.
First, she is...
...a woman!
And second, she is...
...wise?
- You do know her, then?
- No, just a wild s*ab in the dark.
Which is incidentally what you'll be getting
if you don't start being a bit more helpful.
- Do you know where she lives?
- Of course.
- Where?
- Here. Do you have an appointment?
No.
Well, you can go in anyway.
Thank you. Here's a purse of moneys
which I'm not going to give to you.
- Hail Edmund, Lord of Adders Black.
- Hello.
Step no nearer, for already
I see thy bloody purpose.
Thou plot is, Blackadder, thou wouldst be king
and drown Middlesex in a butt of wine.
(LAUGHS DEMONICALLY)
No, it's far worse than that.
I'm in love with my man servant.
- Oh well, I'd sleep with him if I were you.
- What?
When I fancy people, I sleep with them.
I have to drug them first of course.
Being so old and warty.
But what about my position, my social life?
Three other paths are open to you.
Three cunning plans to cure thy ailment.
- Oh good.
- The first is simple.
- k*ll Bob!
- Never.
Then try the second. k*ll yourself!
And the third?
The third is to ensure that
no one else ever knows.
- That sounds more like it. How?
- k*ll everybody in the whole world.
(LAUGHS DEMONICALLY)
I've got something important to say to you
and I want you to listen very carefully.
Look, Bob. I've decided that you
are to leave my service.
Oh no, my Lord! My father will starve
and I'll have to become a male prost*tute.
- I thought we were friends.
- We are friends, Bob.
Of course, of course, of course...
In fact that's the reason
I want you to leave my service
and become my live-in chum.
Oh, my Lord!
I want to make clear that I am in no way
interested in the contents of your tights.
You might be, my Lord,
if you knew what I kept in them.
I've learned of myself what a gentleman
keeps in his tights, thank you.
- But my Lord, I have a great secret.
- What?
Prepare to be amazed.
You haven't got one of these birthmarks
shaped like a banana, have you?
- No.
- Or a tattoo saying "Get it here"?
- No.
- Oh God.
You've got one of those belly buttons
that sticks outward.
- No, my Lord.
- What can it possbly be?
Aah... Good Lord!
What was that Bob's stuff about?
You would have just used me
like you have so many women before.
- Would I?
- Yes.
Now you had a chance to love me
for what I really am.
Yes, that's true
and now I want to marry you, Bob.
- Kate.
- Then come, kiss me, Kate!
I bring grave intelligence of your former
favourite Lord Blackadder.
He wishes to marry a girl called Bob.
That's a very odd name for a girl, isn't it?
Girls are normally called Elizabeth or Mary.
- And Donald...
- Mouth is open Nursie, should be shut.
I had three sisters called Donald, Eric and Basil.
- Then why is your name Nursie?
- That ain't my real name.
- What is your real name then?
- Bernard.
Suits you, actually.
- Hello, stranger.
- I seek your permission to wed.
So I hear. Melchie, what do you think of all this?
I'm astonished that Blackadder has eyes
for any other woman than yourself.
Good point. Though slightly grovely.
When I fell in love I didn't know she was
a woman. I thought she was a boy.
That makes it perfectly acceptable.
- Oh all right, go on and marry her.
- Thank you, Ma'am.
Just tell me one thing.
Is her nose as pretty as mine?
Oh, no, no, no, Ma'am.
Oh good, because otherwise
I would have cut it off.
And to marry someone without a nose
wouldn't be very nice, would it?
No, Ma'am.
Imagine the mess when she's got a cold! Yuck!
Well quite, Ma'am.
All right, off you go then.
Everyone seems to get married except me.
- And me, Ma'am.
- Oh shut up, Bernard.
You'll make a lovely bridesmaid, Baldrick.
Pity me that I have no girl chums. We
were so poor we couldn't afford friends.
It's in keeping with our courtship
that your maid of honour should be a man.
Thank you, my Lord.
I use the word man
in as broad as possible a sense.
We all know God made man in his own image.
It would be a sad lookout for Christians
if God looked anything like you, Baldrick.
Ignore old Mister Grumpy.
There you are, Balders.
You look as sweet as a little pie.
Kate, he looks like what he is:
a dung ball in a dress.
Edmund...
Hello there...
Edmund, you didn't tell me
we were expecting guests.
And such a pretty one too.
Oh God...
Now you're a little cutie to be hiding
yourself away all these years.
- Tell me, gorgeous, what's your name?
- He's called Baldrick.
Baldrick. That's a pretty name.
Edmund used to have a servant called Baldrick.
But anyway, away with such small talk.
- Lady... a kiss.
- What?
And so modest too. Come on,
you little tease. You know you want to.
- Give us a kiss.
- Alright, if you say so.
What an original perfume.
That is our Baldrick. He's wearing a dress.
- Anyway, what do you want?
- Well, Edmund.
There's been discussion on the subject
of who's going to be your best man.
And I thought it might be the moment
to bring the subject to a conclusion.
- Yes, Percy. I would like you...
- I'm so proud!
Please, let me finish.
I would like you to take this letter to Dover
where is recently docked the galleon
of my old school friend Lord Flashheart.
- He shall be my best man.
- Lord Flashheart?
The best sword, the best sh*t, the best sailor
and the best kisser in the kingdom.
- To Dover at once.
- Yes.
Actually I was going to suggest
Lord Flashheart as the best man myself.
Were you?
(CRIES LOUDLY)
(WEDDING BELLS)
Edmund, I cannot believe it's really happening.
- It is, my sweet.
- I want you to meet my father.
Oh fine.
Excuse me, could you move along, please.
I'm waiting for my father-in-law.
Last thing I want is some old beggar
blocking the door, smelling of cabbage.
I am your father-in-law.
Oh no... All right, how much
do you want to clear off?
Edmund, how could you?
He's my father, my only living relative.
- Ten pounds should do the trick.
- Father!
Edmund, you mustn't!
I'll get Baldrick to b*at him up after
the ceremony. We'll get the money back.
Edmund, could we get on, do you think?
I want to get to the reception so I can get
squiffy and seduce someone.
Unfortunately, my best man has not arrived.
- Get another one.
- There's no one else I can really think of.
- Sorry, Percy?
- Nothing, my Lord, just clearing my throat.
Don't. I don't want you coughing
all the way through the ceremony.
Come on, Edmund. You must be
able to think of another best man.
- Well, I suppose I could ask Percy.
- My lord!
Can you think of another best man?
Well, my Lord, one name does spring to mind.
Yes, but I can't ask Baldrick. He's a bridesmaid.
Besides, I need a friend, an equal,
an old and trusty companion.
I think there is one person in the room
who fits the description.
Of course...
Nursie! How do you fancy putting on
a pair of hose and being my best man?
Don't be so naughty. You know perfectly
well whom Percy is referring to.
I'm sorry. Melchett!
Ashamed as I am
and contradiction in terms though it is...
- Percy, you can be the best man.
- Oh, my Lord!
Noble cause, what an honour.
I brought along a ring, just...
I really did think old Flash
would have turned up.
- It's me!
- Flash!
Flash by name, Flash by nature.
- Hurrah!
- Hurrah!
- Where have you been?
- Where haven't I been!
I'm here now.
- Who is that?
- I don't know, but he's in your place.
Not for long. Hold that.
Thanks, bridesmaid, like the beard.
Gives me something to hang on to.
So me old mate Eddie is getting hitched, hey?
What's the matter?
Can't stand the pace of the in-crowd?
Hey, Queenie. You look sexy.
Listen, wear your hair long. I prefer it that way.
I've got such a crush on him.
And Melchie!
Still worshipping God?
Last thing I heard he started worshipping me!
Nursie, I like it firm and fruity.
Am I pleased to see you
or did I just put a canoe in my pocket?
Down boy, down!
And now, where is this amazing bird?
The one who stopped my old pal Eddie
doing exactly whatever he wants.
Ah yes, Flash, let me
introduce my... fiancée Kate.
She's got a tongue like an electric eel and
she likes the taste of a man's tonsils.
You don't want to marry this jerk, baby.
Meet me on my horse in eight seconds.
But I can't run in this frock. I've found
I actually prefer wearing boy's clothes.
Weird. I always feel more comfy in a dress.
I've got a plan and it's as hot as my pants.
What a man Flash is, eh? Things will
liven around here, now he's back.
Won't they, Flash?
So long, suckers! Next time you get bored,
give me a call and I'll come and k*ll you.
- Bye, Edmund, and thanks for everything!
- Hurrah!
It is customary on these occasions
for the groom to marry the bridesmaid.
I presume you intend to honour this.
I do.
♪ So Flashheart tweaked the Adder's beard,
From now he always shall be single
♪ To fall in love with boys is weird,
Especially boys without a tingle
♪ Blackadder, Blackadder
His taste is rather odd
♪ Blackadder, Blackadder
A randy little sod
♪ Lord Flashheart, Lord Flashheart
I wish you were the star
♪ Lord Flashheart, Lord Flashheart,
You're sexier by far