You'd like to book a table
for three by the window
for : pm,
not too near the band,
in the name of Obel-Ointment Fungentula?
Yes, yes, I think you
might have the wrong number.
That's all right.
Another crossed line, eh, sir?
That phone system is a shambles,
no wonder we haven't had any orders!
On the contrary, George,
we've had plenty of orders.
We have orders for six meters
of Hungarian crushed velvet
curtain material,
four rock salmon and a ha'pence of chips,
and a cab for a Mr. Redgrave,
picking up from Arnost Grove,
Raintop Bell.
Rather! We don't want those sort of orders,
we want orders to deck old glory.
When are we going to give Fritz
a taste of our British spunk?
George, please.
No one is more anxious
to advance than I am,
but until I get these
communication problems sorted out,
I'm afraid we're stuck.
Captain Blackadder speaking.
No, I'm afraid the line's very cclllffffhhtttt!
Hello?
Hello, Captain Blackadder, hello?
Schnell, schnell, die kartoffelkopf
I said there's a terrible line at my end.
You're to advance on the enemy at once.
Ppttttt...
# A wandering minstrel eye in the... #
Gale Force Eight... imminent.
I say, sir, what's the message?
I'm on tenterhooks, do tell!
Well, as far as I can tell,
the message was,
he's got a terrible lion up his end,
so there's an advantage
to an enema at once.
Damn!
Message from HQ, sir.
Ah, now, this'll be it.
A telegram ordering an advance!
Hmm, yes, I'm afraid not, George.
It "is" a telegram,
it "is" ordering an advance,
but it seems to be addressed to someone
called 'Catpain Blackudder'.
Do you know
a Catpain Blackudder, George?
Well, it rings a bell, but I... no.
- Nope, me neither.
- Oh, well.
Anyway, George, I'm sure
if they want to contact us, they'll find a way.
Pigeons, sir!
There's a pigeon in our trench!
Ah, now, this'll be it!
Yes, it's one of the King's carrier pigeons.
No, it isn't, that pigeon
couldn't carry the King!
Hasn't got a tray or anything.
Lieutenant, revolver, please.
Oh now, sir, you really
shouldn't do this, you know!
Come on, George,
with , men getting k*lled a week,
who's going to miss a pigeon?
Well, not you, obviously, sir.
In any case, it's scarcely
a court-martial offence.
Get plucking, Baldrick.
All right, sir.
Look, it's got a little ring 'round its leg,
there's a novelty!
Oh, really, is there a paper hat, as well?
No, but there's a joke.
Read it out, sir.
It's a bit charred.
Something-something at once...
P.S., due to communication crisis,
the sh**ting of carrier pigeons
is now a court-martial offence.
I don't see what's funny about that, sir.
It's not funny, it's deadly serious.
We're in trouble.
So I shall eat the evidence for lunch,
and if anyone asks you any questions at all,
we didn't receive any messages
and we definitely did not
sh**t this plump-breasted pigeon.
Umm... delicious.
Aye! Blackadder!
Darling: Attention!
And why, Captain, are you not advancing
across No Man's Land?
Well, sir, call me
a bluffo traditionalist,
but I was always taught to wait
for the order to att*ck before attacking.
Are you trying to tell me you
haven't received any orders?
What the hell are you
playing at, Darling?
That's a blatant lie, sir.
I spoke to Blackadder
less than an hour ago.
Yes, you did.
To tell me some gobbledygook
about having a lion up your bottom.
Hmm, as I thought... it's the old
communications problem again.
Stand easy.
Action on this is imperative.
Take that down, Darling.
Also, make a note
of the word gobbledygook.
I like it.
I want to use it more often in conversation.
I must say, sir,
I find this all very unlikely.
Not only did I telephone Blackadder,
but as you'll recall, we sent him a telegram
and a carrier pigeon.
Did you?
Are you telling us you haven't
had a pigeon, Blackadder?
Um... Ahh...
Come on man, you must have done!
I sent our top bird... Speckled Jim.
My own true love, who's been with me
since I was a nipper!
To business. I'm giving you
your order to advance now.
Synchronize watches, gentlemen.
Private, what is the time?
We didn't receive any messages,
and Captain Blackadder definitely did not
sh**t this delicious
plump-breasted pigeon, sir.
What!??
You want to be cremated,
Baldrick, or buried at sea?
Umm...
- Ah, Lieutenant?
- Sir.
Do you mind answering
a couple of questions?
Not at all, sir.
We didn't get any messages,
and Captain Blackadder
definitely did not sh**t
this delicious plump-breasted pigeon.
Thanks, George.
And look, sir, pigeon feathers...
"white" feathers.
Very apt, eh, Blackadder?
White feathers?
Oh no, sir, that's gobbleyjook!
They're not white,
they're sort of speckly!
Speckly?!
Aahhhhhhhh!
You sh*t my Speckled Jim??!!
You're for it now, Blackadder.
Quite frankly, sir, I've suspected this
for some time.
Quite clearly, Captain Blackadder
has been disobeying orders
with a breathtaking impertinence.
I don't care if he's been
rogering the Duke of York
with a prize-winning leek!
He sh*t my pigeon!!!
Aaahh-ahhhh-ooohhhh!
Take it easy, sir.
I think we should do this
by the book, sir.
Yes, yes, you're right, of course.
I'm sorry.
Attention!
Captain Blackadder, as of this moment
you may consider yourself under arrest.
You know what the penalty is for
disobeying orders, Blackadder?
Umm... court-martial,
followed by immediate cessation
of chocolate rations?
No.
Court-martial followed by immediate death
by f*ring squad.
Oh, so I got it half right.
All saddled in and happy,
are we then, sir?
Reining all our last goodbyes?
Oh, no need for that, Perkins,
I've just dashed off a couple of notes,
one asking for a sponge bag,
and the other sending for my lawyer.
Oh, your lawyer, yes.
Don't you think that might be
a bit of a waste of money, sir?
Not when he's the finest mind
in English legal history.
Ever heard of Bob Massingbird?
Oh, yes indeed, sir!
A most gifted gentleman!
Quite. I remember Massingbird's
most famous case,
the Case of the Bloody Kn*fe.
A man was found next to a m*rder*d body,
he had the Kn*fe in his hand,
thirteen witnesses had
seen him s*ab the victim,
and when the police arrived he said,
"I'm glad I k*lled the bastard."
Massingbird not only got him off,
he got him knighted
in the New Year's honours list,
and the relatives of the victim
had to pay to have the blood
washed out of his jacket.
And he's a dab hand
at the prosecution, as well, sir.
Yes, well, look at Oscar Wilde.
Oh, butch Oscar.
Exactly... big, bearded,
bonking, butch Oscar,
the terror of the ladies.
illegitimate children,
world heavyweight boxing champion,
and author of the best-selling pamphlet,
Why I Like To Do It With Girls...
and Massingbird had him sent down
for being a whoopsie.
Ah, Baldrick.
- Anything from Mattingburg yet?
- Yes, sir.
It just arrived, sir.
- What is it?
- Sponge bag, sir.
- A sponge bag?
- Yes, sir.
Baldrick, I gave you two notes.
You sent the note asking for a sponge bag
to the finest mind in English legal history.
Certainly did, sir!
And you sent the note requesting
legal representation to... ?
Well, tally-ho, with a bing and a bong
and a buzz-buzz-buzz!
Oh, God
I'll tell you first of all, sir,
that I am deeply, deeply honoured.
Baldrick, I'll deal with you later.
Am I to understand that
you are going to represent me
at the court-martial?
Absolutely, sir.
It's a sort of family tradition.
My uncle's a lawyer, you know.
Your uncle's a lawyer, but you're not.
Oh, good Lord, no.
I'm an absolute duffer at this sort of thing.
In the school debating society,
I was voted the boy least likely
to complete a coherent... um...
Sentence?
That's it, yes.
But anyway, my dear old friend,
it's an honor to serve.
George, I'm in deep trouble here.
I need to construct a case
that's as watertight as
a mermaid's brassiere.
I'm not sure your particular
brand of mindless optimism
is going to contribute much
to the proceedings.
That's a shame, sir, because I was planning
on playing the mindless optimism card
very strongly during your trial.
I beg your pardon?
Yes, I've already
planned my closing address
based on that very theme.
Oh, go on, let him off,
your Honour, please!
After all, it's a lovely day.
Pretty clouds, trees, birds, et cetera.
I rest my case.
So, Counsel, with that
summing up in mind,
what do you think my chances are?
Well, not all that good, I'm afraid,
as far as I can tell, you're as guilty
as a puppy sitting next to a pile of poo.
Charming.
Crikey! So sorry I'm late, my love.
But anyway, let me
open my defence straightaway
by saying that I've
known this man for three years,
he's an absolutely corking chap...
- George?
- Yes, sir?
- That's the clerk of the court.
- Is it? Oh!
We haven't started yet.
- Good luck, Blackadder.
- Well, thank you, Darling.
And what's your big job here today?
Straightening chairs?
No, in fact I'm appearing for the prosecution.
I wouldn't raise your hopes too much.
You're guilty as hell,
you haven't got a chance.
Why, thank you, Darling.
And I hope your mother dies
in a freak yachting accident.
Just doing my job, Blackadder.
Obeying orders, and, of course,
having enormous fun into the bargain.
I wouldn't be too confident if I were you.
Any reasonably impartial judge
is bound to let me off.
Well, absolutely.
Who is the judge, by the way?
Bailiff!
I'm dead.
Well, come on, then. Come on.
We'll get this over in five minutes,
and then we can have a spot of lunch.
Right... oohh... ahhh.
The court is now in session,
General Sir Anthony Cecil Hogmenay
Melchett in the chair.
The case before us Is that of the Crown
vs. Captain Edmund Blackadder...
the Flanders pigeon m*rder*r!
Oh, clerk, hand me the black cap,
I'll be needing that.
I love a fair trial.
Anything to say before
we kick off, Captain Darling?
May it please the court.
As this is clearly an open and shut case,
I beg leave to bring a private prosecution
against the defence counsel
for wasting the court's time.
Granted. The defence counsel is fined
fifty pounds for turning up.
This is fun! This is just like a real court!
All right! Let the trial begin!
The charge before us
is that the Flanders pigeon m*rder*r...
did deliberately,
callously, and with beastliness
of forethought
m*rder a lovely, innocent pigeon!
And disobeyed some orders as well.
Is this true?
Perfectly true, sir!
I was there.
Thanks, George.
Oh, damn!
Right. Counsel for the defence,
get on with it.
Oh, right, yes, right.
Um, yes. I'd like to call my first witness,
Captain Darling.
You wish to call the counsel
for the prosecution
as a defence witness?
That's right.
Don't worry, sir, I've got it all under control.
Ahem. You are Captain Darling
of the general staff?
I am.
Captain, leaving aside
the incident in question,
would you think of Captain Blackadder
as the sort of man
who would usually ignore orders?
Yes, I would.
Ah, um. You sure?
I was rather banking on
you saying "no" there.
I'm sure.
In fact, I have a list of
other orders he's disobeyed,
if it would be useful.
Mm-hmm.
May th, : am,
: am, : am,
: am...
You missed one out there.
... : am... thank you... : am...
- George!
- Oh, oh, ye-ye... right.
Thank you, Captain.
No further questions.
Well done, George.
You really had him on the ropes.
Don't worry, old man.
I have a last and, I think
you'll find, decisive witness.
Call Private Baldrick.
Call Private Baldrick.
Deny everything, Baldrick.
Are you Private Baldrick?
No!
Um, but you are
Captain Blackadder's batman?
No!
Come on, Baldrick.,
be a bit more helpful, it's me!
No, it isn't!
Sir, I must protest!
Quite right!
We don't need your kind here, Private.
Get out.
Now, George, sum up, please.
Oh, right, yes, uhhhh...
Ah, gentlemen,
you have heard all the evidence
presented before you today,
but in the end, it is up to the conscience
of your hearts to decide.
And I firmly believe, that, like me,
you will conclude that Captain Blackadder
is in fact, totally and utterly... guilty.
...of nothing more...
...than trying to do his duty
under difficult circumstances.
Nonsense! He's a hound and a rutter,
and he's going to be sh*t!
However, before we proceed
to the formality of sentencing
the deceased...
I mean the defendant...
I think we'd all rather enjoy
hearing the case of the prosecution.
Captain Darling, if you please.
Sir, my case is very simple.
I call my first witness,
General Sir Anthony
Cecil Hogmaney Melchett.
Ah! Umm!
Clever. Clever!
General, did you own a lovely,
plump, speckily pigeon
called Speckled Jim,
which you hand-reared from a chick
and which was your
only childhood friend?
Yes!
Yes, I did.
And did Captain Blackadder
sh**t the aforementioned pigeon?
Yes, he did!
Can you see Captain Blackadder
anywhere in this courtroom?!
That's him!!!
That's the man!! Ahhhh!!!
No more questions, sir.
Splendid, excellent, first-class.
Clear the way, man.
I therefore have absolutely no hesitation
in announcing that
the sentence of this court is that you,
Captain Edmund Blackadder,
be taken from this place and suffer death
by sh**ting tomorrow at dawn.
Do you have anything to say?
Yes, could I have an alarm call, please?
Chap here to see the captain.
What does he look like?
Short, ugly...
Hello, Baldrick.
I brought you some food, sir,
for your final breakfast tomorrow.
Ah, so you're not pinning much hope
on a last-minute reprieve, then.
No sir, you are as dead
as some doo-doos.
The expression, Baldrick, is "as a dodo"...
Dead as a dodo.
Well, I'll leave you to it then, shall I?
Do not despair, sir.
All my talk of food was just a dead herring.
In fact, I have a cunning plan.
This is not food, but an escape kit.
Good Lord!
With a saw, a hammer, a chisel, a g*n,
a change of clothes, a Swiss passport,
and a huge false moustache,
I may just stand a chance.
Ah.
Let's see, what have we here?
A small painted wooden duck.
Yeah, I thought if you
get caught near water,
you can balance it
on the top of your head
as a brilliant disguise.
Yeeeesss.
I would, of course, have to escape first.
Ah, but what's this?
Unless I'm much mistaken,
a hammer and a chisel.
You are much mistaken!
A pencil and a miniature trumpet.
Yes, a pencil so you can drop me a postcard
to tell me how the break-out went,
and a small little tiny miniature trumpet
in case, during your escape,
you have to win favour with a difficult child.
Baldrick, I don't want
to spend my last precious hours
rummaging through this feeble collection
of stocking-fillers.
Let me ask you some simple questions:
Is there a saw in this bag?
- No.
- A hammer?
- No.
- A chisel?
- No.
- A g*n?
- No.
A false passport?
No.
A change of clothes?
Yes sir, of course, I wouldn't
forget a change of clothes.
Ah, well, that's something.
Let's see...
A Robin Hood costume.
Yeah, I put in a
French peasant's outfit first,
But then I thought,
what if you arrive in
in a French peasant's village
and they're in the middle
of a fancy dress party? '
And what if I arrive in
a French peasant village,
dressed in a Robin Hood costume
and there "isn't" a fancy dress party?
Well, to be quite frank sir,
I didn't consider that eventuality,
because if you did,
you'd stick out like a...
Like a man standing in a lake
with a small painted wooden
duck on his head?
Exactly!
Excuse me, sir.
All right, um, thank you, Baldrick,
we'll finish this picnic later.
Yum yum!
Do you mind if I disturb you
for a moment, sir?
No, no, not at all.
My diary's pretty empty this week.
Let's see, Thursday morning, get sh*t...
Yes, that's about it, actually.
It's just there's a few chaps out here
would like a bit of a chinwag.
Oh, lovely. Always keen to meet new people.
Corporal Jones,
and Privates Frazier,
Robinson, and Tipperwick.
Hello.
Well, nice of you to drop by.
And what do you do?
We're your f*ring squad, sir.
Of course you are.
- Good sized chest.
- Shut up, lad.
You see, us f*ring squads
are a bit like tax men, sir,
everyone hates us,
but we're just doin'
our job, ain't we, lads?
My heart bleeds for you.
Well, sir, we aim to please.
Just a little f*ring squad joke there, sir!
You see, sir,
we take pride in the terminatory
service we supply.
So, is there any particular area
you'd like us to go for, hmm?
We can aim anywhere.
Well, in that case,
just above my head might be a good spot.
You see, a laugh and a smile,
and all of a sudden the job doesn't seem
quite so bad after all, does it, sir?
No, it's a lovely roomy forehead.
A good pulse and jugular there as well.
Look, I'm sorry,
I know you mean to be friendly,
but I hope you won't
take it amiss if I ask you to sod off and die.
No, no, no, no, no, no, fair enough,
'course not, sir.
No one likes being sh*t first thing
in the morning, do they?
So, look forward
to seeing you tomorrow, sir.
You'll have a blindfold on of course,
but you'll recognize me.
I'm the one that says, "Ready, aim, fire! "
Could I ask you to leave a pause
between the word "aim" and the word "fire"?
Thirty or forty years, perhaps?
Ah, wish I could pause, sir,
I really wish I could,
but I can't, you see,
'cos I'm a gabbler, you see.
Ready-aim-fire!
No style, no finesse...
But it gets the job done, don't it, lads?
Come on, lads.
Whoever gets closest to the mole
gets to keep his gold teeth.
- Good night, sir.
- Sleep well, sir.
Perfect!
I wonder if anything on earth
could depress me more?
Excuse me, sir?
Of course it could.
I forgot to give you this letter
from Lieutenant George, sir.
Ahh! Oh, joy!
What wise words from the world's
greatest defence counsel?
Dear Mother...
Hmm, unusual start.
Thanks for the case of Scotch.
You've excelled yourself, Baldrick.
You've brought the wrong letter again.
Ohh yeah, he did write two.
Yes, his mother's about to get a note
telling her he's sorry
she's going to be sh*t in the morning,
while I have to read this drivel.
Hope Celia thrives
in the pony club trials,
and that "little Freddy scores a century
for the first eleven".
You can't deny, it's a riveting read.
Uhhh, "Send my love to Uncle Rupert,
who'd have thought it,
mad Uncle Rupert, Minister of w*r
with power of life and death
over every bally soldier in the army.
Hang on a minute... This is it!
All George has to do
is send him a telegram
and he'll get me off.
Baldrick, I love you!
I want to kiss your cherry lips
and nibble your shell-like ears!
I'm freeeee!
I'm useless, useless!
Sir, sir!
Hello Private, how's the captain?
He's absolutely fine, sir, but...
You're just trying to cheer me up.
I know the truth.
He hates me because I completely
arsed up his defence.
Yes, I know, sir...
Because I'm thick, you see.
I'm as thick as the big-print version
of the complete works of Charles Dickens.
If only I could've saved him. If only!
But you can, sir.
What, how?
You send a telegram.
Of course! I send a telegram!
Yeah!
- Who to?
- To the person in the letter.
- What letter?
- To your mother.
I send a telegram to my mother?!
- No!
- No!
You send a telegram to
the person in the letter to your mother.
Who was in the letter to my mother?
I can't remember!
- Well, think, think!
- No, "you" think think!
Celia, of course!
The pony club trials... yes!
Celia could leap over the walls
of the prison and save him!
No, no!
No, no, um... cricket!
Yes, I've got
Cousin Freddie, of course.
He could knock out
the f*ring squad with his cricket bat!
No, there's someone else!
- Well, who?!
- I don't know!
- Well, neither do I!
- Well, think, think!
- "You think," sir!
- I'm stuck!
- No, it hasn't helped.
- Yes it has, sir.
Your Uncle Rupert who's
just been made Minister of w*r.
Of course!
Uncle Rupert's just been made
the Minister of w*r!
Baldrick, I'll, I'll send him a telegram
and he'll pull strings and scratch backs
and fiddle with knobs,
and get the captain off!
Hurray!
Well, I got there in the end, eh Baldrick?
Oh, just about, sir.
I think this calls for a celebration, don't you?
What about a tot of
Old Morehen's Shredded Sporum,
which Mummsy's just sent over?
I think a toast, don't you,
to Captain Blackadder and freedom!
Captain Blackadder and freedom, sir.
- 'Morning.
- 'Morning, sir.
I must say, Captain,
I've got to admire your balls.
Perhaps later.
So boys, how are you doing?
Very well, good.
- Robinson, good to see you.
- Good to see you, too, sir.
Ah, Corporal, how's the voice?
Excellent, sir.
Ready-aim-fire!
Wait for it, "wait" for it.
So the phone's on the hook,
isn't it, Perkins?
Oh yes, sir.
So, where do you want me?
Well, up against the wall is traditional, sir.
Of course it is.
Ah, this side or the other side?
No messengers waiting, Perkins?
Oh, I'm afraid not, sir.
Fair enough, fair enough.
All right, lads, line up.
Yes, ahh...
Now, look, I think there's a bit
of a misunderstanding,
you see, I was expecting a telegram.
Attention!
An important one, actually.
Take aim!
Stop!
I think that's what they call
'The nick of time'.
Message for you, Captain.
Of course it is. Read it, please.
Here's looking at you.
Love from all the boys in the f*ring squad.
You soft bastards, you!
I saw the card, I couldn't resist it.
How thoughtful!
Attention!
Now, look, something has gone
spectacularly, badly wrong.
Take aim!
Baldrick, you're mincemeat!
Corporal: f...
Oh, my head!
Oh, my head!
Feels like the time I was initiated
into the Silly Buggers Society at Cambridge.
I misheard the rules
and pushed a whole oberjing
into my earhole.
Permission to die, sir.
Bu-bu-bu-what started this drinking?
Oh, yes, well, we were celebrating
getting Captain Blackadder off
scot-f-f-f-free.
Oh, my sainted trousers, we forgot!
Oh, whoops.
Oh, no!
Now he's dead, you see.
He's dead dead dead,
because we're a pair of
selfish so-and-so's!
Oh, God, if I had a rope,
I'd put it around my neck
and bally-well hang myself
until it "really" hurt.
Hi, George.
'Morning, Baldrick.
Still the striking resemblance
to guppies fish at feeding time.
Yep, it arrived in the nick of time.
Oh, excellent!
Ah, so you've got the Scotch out, anyway?
Oh, well, well, of course, sir,
We wanted to lay on a bit of a bash for
your safe return.
Ah... here you go.
There was a second telegram
that arrived actually, George,
addressed to you personally
by your uncle.
Oh, thank you, I...
George, my boy,
outraged to read in dispatches
of how that ass Melchett
made such a pigs-ear
of your chum Blackadder's court-martial.
Have reversed the decision forthwith.
Surprised you didn't ask me
to do it yourself, actually.
Now this is interesting, isn't it?
Uh, uh, yes, well,
you see, sir, the thing is...
You two got whammed
last night, didn't you?
Well, well, no, not "whammed" exactly.
A little tiddly, perhaps.
And you forgot the telegram to your uncle!
Well, n-n-n-no,
not, not, completely,
I mean, um, partially...
Umm... well... Yes, yes, entirely.
I think I can explain, sir.
Can you, Baldrick?
No.
As I suspected.
Now, I'm not a religious man, as you know,
but henceforth, I shall nightly pray to the God
that k*lled Cain and squashed Samson,
that he comes out of retirement
and gets back into practice
on the pair of you!
Captain Blackadder.
Ah, Captain Darling.
Well, you know, some of us just
have friends in high places,
I suppose.
Yes, I can hear you perfectly.
You want what?
You want two volunteers for a mission into
No Man's Land...
Code name:
Operation Certain Death.
Yes, yes, I think I have just the fellows.
God is very quick these days.