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The full script of Blackadder Series 4 Episode 3 Major Star is below. Do you like Charlie Chaplin, or fancy George in a dress?
Blackadder Series 4 Episode 3 Major Star Full Script
(in the army barracks, sound of whistling is heard)
George: You’re a bit cheesed off, sir?
Edmund: George, the day this war began I was cheesed off. Within ten minutes of you turning up, I finished the cheese and moved on to the coffee and cigars. And at this late stage, I’m in a cab with two lady companions on my way to the Pink Pussycat in Lower Regency.
George: Oh well, because if you are cheezed off, you know what would cheer you up, a lot of Charlie Chaplin films. Oh, I love Old Chappers, don’t you, Cap?
Edmund: Unfortunately no I don’t. I find his films about as funny as getting an arrow through the neck and discovering there’s a gas bill tied to it.
George: Ah, beg pardon, sir, but come off! His films are ball-bouncingly funny.
George: Alright, why let’s consult the men for a casting vote, shall we? Baldrick?
Baldrick: (entering) Sir!
George: Charlie Chaplin, Baldrick. What do you make of him?
Baldrick: Oh sir, he’s as funny as a vegetable that’s grown into a rude and
amusing shape, sir.
Edmund: So you agree with me. Not at all funny?
George: Oh come on, skipper, it ain’t fair. I haven’t asked for all of this.
When he kicked that fellow in the backside, I thought I’d die!
Edmund: Well, if that’s your idea of comedy, we can provide our own without
(??) for the privilege. (kicks Baldrick) There, you find that funny?
George: Well, no of course not, sir, but you see, Chaplin is a genius.
Edmund: He certainly is a genius, George. He invented a way of getting a million dollars a year by wearing stupid trousers. Did you find that funny, Baldrick?
Baldrick: What funny, sir?
Edmund: (kicks Baldrick again) That funny.
Baldrick: No sir, you mustn’t do that to me sir, because that is a bourgois act of repression, sir.
Baldrick: I think I smelt it sir, there’s something afoot in the wind. The huddled masses yearning to be free.
Edmund: Baldrick, have you been through the diesel oil again?
Baldrick: No sir, I’ve been sopping the milk of freedom. Already our Russian comrades are poised on the brink of Revolution. And here too, sir, the huddled what’s-names such as myself, sir, are ready to throw off the hated oppressors like you and the Lieutenant. Present company accepted, sir.
Edmund: Go and clean out the latrines.
Baldrick: Yes sir, right away, sir.
George: Now the reason why Chaplin is so funny, because he’s part of a great British music hall tradition.
Edmund: Oh yes, the Great British Music Hall Tradition. Two men, with incredibly unconvincing Cockney accents going, “what’s up with you then? What’s up with me then? Yeah, what’s up with you then? (????????)” GET ON WITH IT!!!
George: Now sir, that was funny! You should have gotten a part yourself!
Edmund: Thank you, George, but if you don’t mind, I’d rather have my tongue
beaten wafer-thin by a steak tenderiser and then stapled to the floor
with a croquet hoop.
(loud voices are heard outside)
Baldrick: (rushing in) Sir, sir, it’s all over the trenches!
Edmund: Well, mop it up then.
Baldrick: No sir, the news. The Russian Revolution has started. The masses
have risen up and shovelled their nobs!
George: Well, hurrah!
Edmund: (reading a newspaper) Oh no, the Russians have pulled out of the war.
George: Well, we soon sawed them off, didn’t we sir? Miserable slant-eye,
sausage eating swine.
Edmund: The Russians are on *our* side, George.
George: Oh really?
Edmund: And they’ve abandoned the Eastern Front.
Baldrick: And they’ve overthrown Nicholas II who used to be bizarre.
Edmund: Who used to be *the czar*, Baldrick. The point is, now that the
Russians have made peace with the Kaiser. At this very moment,
three quarters of a million Germans are leaving the Russian Front
and coming over *here* with the express purpose of using my nipples
for target practise. There’s only one thing for it, I’ll have to
desert and I’m going to have to do it….right now.
(enter General Melchett)
Melchett: Are you leaving us, Blackadder?
Edmund: No sir.
Melchett: Well I’m relieved to hear it. I need you to help me shoot more deserters later on. There have been some subversive mutterings amongst the men. You’ll recall the French army last year at Verdun where the top echelons suffered from horrendous uprisings from the bottom.
Edmund: Yes sir, but surely that was traced to a shipment of garlic éclairs.
Melchett: Nonsense Blackadder! It was Bolshevist. Plain Bolshevist! And now
that the Ruskys have followed suit, I’m damned if I can let the
same thing happen here.
Edmund: Oh, and what are you going to do about it, sir?
Melchett: I’m going to have a concert party to boost the men’s morale.
George: A concert party, well, hurrah!
Melchett: You fancy an evening at a concert party, Blackadder?
Edmund: Well frankly sir, I’d rather spend an evening on top of a stepladder
in No Man’s Land smoking cigarettes through an luminous balaclava (?).
Melchett: Well, I didn’t think it would be your cup of tea, but I do need
someone to help me organise it, you know. Obviously not a tough
grizzled old soldier like yourself, but some kind of dandified
nancy-boy who will be prepared to spend the rest of the war in
the London Palladium.
Edmund: The show’s going to the London Palladium, sir?
Melchett: Oh yes of course. No good crushing the Revolution over here only
to get back home to Blighty and find that everyone’s wearing over-
alls and breaking wind in the palaces of the mighty.
Edmund: Good point, sir.
Melchett: So the thing is, Blackadder, finding a man to organise a concert
party is going to be damn difficult. So, I’ve come up with a rather
a cunning set of questions with which to test the candidate’s
suitability for the job.
Edmund: And what sort of questions would these be, sir?
Melchett: Well, the first question is, ‘do you like Charlie Chaplin?’
Edmund: (looks at George) Dismissed, Lieutenant. (George salutes and leaves)
‘Do you like Charlie Chaplin?’, yes that is a good question for a
candidate, ah, to which my answer would of course be, ‘yes, I love
him, love him, sir, particularly the amusing kicks.
George: That’s what I said because I thought you said….
Edmund: (abruptly) Goodbye George.
Melchett: And the second question is, ‘do you like music hall?’
Edmund: Ah, yes, another good question, sir. Again, my answer would have to
be ‘yes, absolutely love it.’ (mimicking) “Oops, Mr. Rothschild, (??)”
Melchett: Umm, yes. Well, it’s in my view, Blackadder, that a person who
would answer ‘yes’ to both questions would be ideal for the jo-
(realises Edmund’s early affirmative responses). Wait a minute.
Edmund: What sir?
Melchett: (laughs) Why, without knowing it, Blackadder, you’ve inadvertently
shown me that you can do the job.
Edmund: Have I sir?
Melchett: Yes sir! You have, sir. And I want you to start work straight away.
A couple of shows over the weekend and if all goes well, we’ll start
you off in London next Monday.
Melchett: If you need any help fixing and carrying and backstage and so on,
I’ll lend you my driver if you like. (calls out) Bob?!
(a woman enters….the driver Bob)
Bob: (militaristically) Driver Parker reporting for duty, sir!
Melchett: Alright, at ease, Bob, stand easy. Captain Blackadder, this is Bob.
Bob: Good morning, sir.
Edmund: Unusual name for a girl?
Melchett: Oh yes, it would be an unusual name for a girl, but it’s a perfectly
straightforward name for a young chap like you, eh Bob? Now Bob, I
want you to bunk up with Captain Blackadder for a couple of days, alright?
Bob: Yes sir.
Melchett: I think you’ll find Bob just the man for this job, Blackadder. He has
a splendid sense of humour.
Edmund: He sir? He? He?
Melchett: You see, you’re laughing already! Well then, Bob, I’ll leave you two
together, why don’t you get to know each other, play a game of cribbage, have a smoke, something like that. They tell me that Captain
Blackadder has rather a good line in rough shag. Um, I’m sure he’d
be happy to fill your pipe. Carry on. (exits)
Edmund: So you’re a ‘chap’, are you Bob?
Bob: Oh yes, sir. (laughs)
Edmund: You wouldn’t say you were a girl at all?
Bob: Oh, definitely not, sir. I understand cricket, I fart in bed, everything.
Edmund: Let me put it another way, Bob, you are a girl. And you’re a girl with
as much talent for disguise as a giraffe in dark glasses trying to get
into a ‘Polar Bears Only’ golf club.
Bob: Oh sir, please don’t give me away, sir. I just wanted to be like my brothers and join up. I want to see how a real war is fought….so badly.
Edmund: Well, you’ve come to the right place, Bob. A war hasn’t been fought
*this* badly since Olaf the Hairy, Chief of all the Vikings, accidentally
ordered 80,000 battle helmets with the horns on the *inside*.
Bob: I want to do my bit for the boys, sir.
Edmund: Oh really?
Bob: I’ll do anything, sir!
Edmund: Yes, now keep that to yourself, if I was you.
(Edmund and Bob go over repertoire for concert hall show)
Edmund: Alright Bob, the second half start with Corporal Smith and Johnson as
the Three Silly Twerps.
Bob: Alright, sir.
Edmund: The big joke being that there’s only two of them.
Baldrick: (laughing) I know that, it always cracks me up, sir.
Edmund: Followed by Baldrick’s impersonation of Charlie Chaplin. Bob, take a
Bob: Yes sir.
Edmund: Mr. C. Chaplin, Sennett Studios, Hollywood, California. (???) stop.
Have discovered only person in the world less funny than you stop.
Name Baldrick stop. yours, E. Blackadder stop.’ Oh, and put a PS.
‘Please please please stop.’ Now after that, we have, ladies and
gentlemen, the highlight of our show.
(enter George in drag)
George: I feel fantastic!
Edmund: Gorgeous Georgina, the traditional soldier’s drag act.
Baldrick: You look absolutely lovely, sir.
Edmund: Well Baldrick, you are lined (?), blind, or mad. The Lieutenant looks as all soldiers look on these occasions, about as feminine as W. G. Grace. What are you going to give them, George?
George: Well, I thought one or two cheeky gags, one followed by ‘She was only the ironmonger’s daughter but she knew a surprising amount about fish as well’.
Edmund: (sarcastic) Inspired. Well, at least you made an effort with the dress, what is your costume, Baldrick?
Baldrick: I’m in it, sir.
Edmund: I see. So your Charlie Chaplin costume consists of only that hat.
Baldrick: Except that in this box, I’ve a dead slug as a brilliant false
Edmund: Yes, it’s only quite brilliant, I fear. How, for instance, are you
to attach it to your face?
Baldrick: Well, I was hoping to persuade the slug to cling on, sir.
Edmund: Baldrick, the slug is dead. If it failed to cling on to life, I see
no reason that it should cling on to your upper lip.
George: Baldrick, Baldrick come on. Slugs are always a problem. What you do is screw your face up like this you see and you can clamp it between your top lip and your nose.
Baldrick: (leaning backward) What? Like this, sir?
George: See, that’s it, that’s good. Sir, sir, there’s a visitor to see you.
Edmund: (faking, but convincing) Good Lord, Mr. Chaplin! This is indeed an honour. Why, this calls for some sort of celebration. Baldrick, Baldrick!
George: Sir, that is extraordinary, because, because this isn’t Chaplin at all. This *is* Baldrick.
Baldrick: It is, it’s *me*, sir!
Edmund: I know, I know. I was, in fact being sarcastic.
George: Oh, I see. Umm.
Edmund: Everything goes above your head, doesn’t it, George? You should go to
Jamaica and become a limbo dancer.
(at the concert….backstage, George is seen giving encores)
Bob: They love him, sir. We’re a hit!
Edmund: Yes, in one short evening, I’ve become the most successful impresario
since the manager of the Roman Coliseum thought of putting the Christians and the lions on the same bill.
Baldrick: Sir, some people seem to think I was best! Do you agree?
Edmund: Baldrick, in the Amazonian rain forests, there are tribes of Indians
yet untouched by civilisation who could develop more convincing Char-
lie Chaplin impressionists.
Baldrick: Thank you very much, sir.
Bob: (referring to George aka Georgina): He’s coming out.
George: What do you think, Bob, one more? God, I love attention! (goes off
stage to join Edmund and company) It’s in my blood and soul. Baldrick, put this in some water, will you?
(Baldrick dunks the flowers into the vase upside-down)
George: I need that applause in the same way that a ostler needs his ostle.
Bob: Well done, sir!
George: (being modest) No, sir, I really, I was hopeless. I mean, tell me
honestly, sir, I was, wasn’t I?
George: No, no, no, come on, sir. Out with it, cos I really need to know,
I was hopeless.
George: You’re trying to be nice and that’s very sweet of you, but sir, please,
I can take it. I was hopeless.
Edmund: George, you were bloody *awful*!
Edmund: But you can’t argue with the box office. Personally, I thought you were
the least convincing female impressionist since Tarzan went through
Jane’s handbag and ate her lipstick. But I’m clearly in the minority.
Look out London, here we come!
(at Melchett’s headquarters, ‘HQ’. Capt. Darling sits at his desk)
Edmund: Ah, Captain Darling.
Darling: Ah, Captain Blackadder.
Edmund: I must say, I had an absolutely splendid evening. Oh, glad you
enjoyed the show.
Darling: The show? I couldn’t go to the show. Important regimental business.
Edmund: A lorry load of paper clips arrived?
Darling: Two lorry loads, actually.
Melchett: (enters) Ah, welcome to the great director, Maestro.
Edmund: You enjoyed it, sir?
Melchett: Well, it was mostly awful, but I enjoyed the slug balance.
Edmund: Private Baldrick, sir.
Melchett: That’s right, yes. The slug fell off a couple of times, but it
was….you can’t have everything, can’t you? I just suggest a
bit more practise and perhaps a sparkly costume for the slug.
Edmund: I’ll pass that on, sir.
Melchett: But I do have certain others reasons for believing the show to be
nothing but a triumph. Captain Darling has your travel arrangements,
ticket to Dover, rooms at the Ritz and so forth.
Edmund: Oh, thank you sir.
Melchett: However, there is one small thing you can do for me.
Melchett: Captain Blackadder, I should esteem it a single honour if you would
allow me to escort your leading lady to the regimental ball this
Edmund: My leading lady?
Melchett: The fair Georgina.
Edmund: Ah, ha-ha, very amusing.
Melchett: You think she’ll laugh in my face? I’m too old, too crusty?
Edmund: Uh, no, no. It’s just as her director, I’m afraid I could not allow
Melchett: I can always find another director who *would* allow it!
Edmund: Quite. I’ll see what I can do, but I must insist that she be home by
midnight and that there’ll be no hanky-panky, sir, whatsoever.
Melchett: I shall, of course, respect your wishes, Blackadder. However I don’t
think you need to be quite so protective. I’m sure she’s a girl with
a great deal of spunk than most women you can find.
Edmund: Oh, dear me.
(at the barracks)
George: Absolutely not, sir. It’s profoundly immoral, and utterly wrong. I
will not do it.
Edmund: We can always find another leading lady.
George: Well, the dress will need a clean.
Edmund: Excellent. Now the important thing is, that Melchett should, under no
circumstances, realise that you are a man.
George: Yes, yes, I understand that.
Edmund: In order to insure this, there are three basic rules. One, you must
never, I repeat, never remove your wig.
Edmund: Second, never say anything. Tell him at the beginning of the evening
that you’re saving your voice for the opening night in London.
George: Excellent, sir. And what’s the third?
Edmund: The third is most important, don’t get drunk and let him shag you on
(in Melchett’s private quarters. The general puts on an impressive medalled
red jacket. Darling is with him.)
Melchett: (after a few sounds of self-satisfaction) How do I look, Darling?
Darling: Girl-bait, sir. Pure bloody girl-bait.
Melchett: Moustache? Bushy enough?
Darling: Like a private hedge, sir.
Melchett: Good, because I want to catch a particularly beautiful creature in
this bush tonight.
Darling: You’ll have her coming out of your moustache for a week, sir.
Melchett: God, it’s a spankingly beautiful world and tonight’s my night. I
know what I’ll say to her. ‘Darling…’
Darling: (mistaken that the general’s addressing him) Yes sir?
Darling: Um, I don’t know, sir.
Melchett: Well don’t butt in! (exhales) ‘I want to make you happy, darling’.
Darling: Well, that’s very kind of you sir.
Melchett: Will you kindly stop interrupting? If you don’t listen, how can you
tell me what you think? (continues) ‘I want to make you happy, darling. I want to build a nest for your ten tiny toes. I want to cover
every inch of your gorgeous body in feathers and sneeze all over you.’
Darling: I really think I must protest!
Melchett: What is the matter with you, Darling?
Darling: Well, it’s all so sudden, I mean the nest bit’s fine, but the feather
business is definitely out!
Melchett: How dare you tell me how I may or may not treat my beloved Georgina?
Melchett: Yes, I’m working on what to say to her this evening.
Darling: Oh yes. Of course. Thank God.
Darling: Yes, I’m listening, sir.
Melchett: Honestly Darling, you really are the most graceless, dim-witted
pumpkin I ever met.
Darling: I don’t think you should say that to her.
(at the barracks)
Edmund: Where’s that George? It’s three o’clock in the morning, he should be
careful wandering the trench at night with nothing to protect his
honour but a cricket box.
George (entering): Hello Captain.
Edmund: About time, where the hell have you been?
George: Well I don’t know, it’s all been like a dream, my very first ball.
The music, the dancing, the champagne, my mind is a mad world. Half
whispered conversation with the promise of indiscretion ever hanging
in the air.
Edmund: No, that old stoke Melchett tried for a snog behind the fruit cup.
George: Certainly not! The general behaved like a perfect gentleman. We tired
the moon with our talking about everything and nothing. The war, mar-
riage, proposed changes of the LBW rule.
Edmund: Melchett isn’t married, is he?
George: No, no, all his life, he’s been waiting to meet the perfect woman. And
tonight, he did.
Edmund: Some poor unfortunate had Old Walrus-face dribbling in her ear all
evening, did she?
George: Well yes. As a matter of fact, I did have to drape a napkin over my
Edmund: George, are you trying to tell me that you’re the General’s perfect
George: Well, yes, I rather think I am.
Edmund: Well thank God the horny old blighthead didn’t ask you to marry him.
(George stares out to Edmund, affirming this fact in silence)
Edmund: He did?! Well how did you get out of that one?
George: Well, to be honest, sir, I’m not absolutely certain that I did.
George: You don’t understand what it was like, sir. You know, the candles,
the music, the huge moustache, I can’t remember it. (?)
Edmund: You said ‘yes’?
George: Oh, well he is a general, I didn’t really feel I could refuse. He
might have me courtmartialled.
Edmund: Whereas on the other hand, of course, he’s going to give you the
Victoria Cross when he lifts up your frock on the wedding night
and finds himself looking at the blast turkey at the shop.
George: Yes, I, I, I know it’s mess, ah but, you see, he got me squiffy and
then when he looked into my eyes and said ‘Chipmunk, I love you.’
George: It’s a special name for me, you see, he says my nose looks just like
Edmund: Oh God! We’re in serious serious trouble here. If the General ever finds out that Gorgeous Georgina is, in fact, a strapping six footer from the rough end of the trench, which will precipitate the fastest execution since someone said, ‘this Guy Fawkes bloke, do we let him off, or wot?’
(phone rings, Edmund answers it)
Edmund: Hello? Yes sir. Straight away sir. (hangs up) That was your finacee,
‘Chipmunk’. He wants to see me. If I should die, think only this of
me, ‘I’ll be back to get ya!’.
(at HQ again)
Edmund: Sir, I can explain everything.
Melchett: Can you, Blackadder? Can you?
Edmund: Well…..no sir, not really.
Melchett: I thought not, I thought not. Who can explain the mysteries of love?
I’m in love with Georgina, Blackadder. I’m going to marry her on Saturday and I want you to be my best man.
Edmund: I don’t think that would be a very good idea, sir.
Melchett: And why not?
Edmund: Because there’s something wrong with your fiancée, sir.
Melchett: Oh my God, she’s not Welsh, is she?
Edmund: No sir. Um, it’s a terrible story, but true. Just a few minutes ago
Georgina arrived unexpectedly in my trench. She was literally dancing
with joy as if something wonderful had happened to her.
Melchett: Makes sense.
Edmund: Unfortunately, she was in such a daze, danced straight through the
trench and out into No Man’s Land. I tried to stop her, but before
I could say, ‘Don’t tread on a mine’, she trod on a mine.
(Melchett starts to sob)
Edmund: When I say ‘a mine’, it was a cluster of mines, and she was blown to
smithereens, rocketed up into the air, said something I couldn’t quite
catch, totally incomprehensible to me, something like, ‘Tell him, his
little chipmunk will love him forever’.
(Melchett howls in sadness)
Darling: It’s heartbreaking, sir.
Edmund: I’m sorry sir.
Melchett: (recovering) Oh well, can’t be helped, can’t be helped.
Darling: Jolly bad luck, sir. Of course, on top of everything else, without
your leading lady, you won’t be able to put on your show. So no
show, no London Palladium.
Edmund: On the contrary, I’m simply intending to rename it, the Georgina
Melchett Memorial Show.
Melchett: Oh no, Georgina was the only thing that made the show come alive.
Apart from her, it was all awful!
Melchett: You’ll never find a girl like Georgina by tomorrow.
Edmund: Well, it’s funny you should say that sir, because I think I already
Melchett: Who is she?
Darling: Who is she?
(back at the barracks)
George: (as his ‘normal’ male self) So, come on, sir, who is she?
Edmund: Well, that’s the problem. I haven’t a bloody clue! The only exacting woman around here is carved out of stone called ‘Venus’ and is standing in a fountain in the town square with water coming out of her armpits.
George: So we’re a bit stuck.
Bob: (passing through) Morning chaps.
Edmund and George: Morning Bob.
Edmund: You can say that again, George. We’re in the stickiest situation since Sticky the Stick Insect got stuck on a sticky bun. We are in trouble.
(enter Baldrick in drag)
Baldrick: Not any-more sir. May I present my cunning plan.
Edmund: Don’t be ridiculous, Baldrick. Can you sing, can you dance? Or are
you offering to be sawn in half?
Baldrick: I don’t think those things are important in a modern marriage, sir.
I offer simple home cooking.
Edmund: Our plan is to find a new leading lady for our show. What is your plan?
Baldrick: My plan is that I will marry General Melchett. I am the other woman.
George: Well, congratulations Baldrick. I hope you will be very happy.
Baldrick: I will, sir, cos when I get back from honeymoon, I will be a member
of the aristocracy and you will have to call me ‘M’lady’.
Edmund: What happened to your Revolutionary principles, Baldrick? I thought
you hated the aristocracy.
Baldrick: I’m working to bring down the system from within, sir. I’m a sort
of a Frozen Horse.
Edmund: *Trojan House*, Baldrick.
Baldrick: Anyway, I can’t see what’s so stupid about marry into wealth for
money and not having to sleep in a puddle.
Edmund: Baldrick, NO! It’s the worst plan since Abraham Lincoln said, ‘Oh I’m sick of kicking around the house tonight. Let’s take in a show.’ And for a start, General Melchett is in mourning for the woman of his dreams. He’s unlikely to be in the mood to marry a two legged badger wrapped in a curtain.. Anyway we are looking for a great entertainer and you’re the worst entertainer since St. Paul the Evangelist toured Palestine with his trampoline act. Nah, we have to find somebody else.
George: What about Corporal Cartwright, sir?
Edmund: Corporal Cartwright looks like an orang-outang. I’ve heard of the Bearded Lady, but the All Over Body Hair Lady simply just isn’t on.
Edmund: Too short.
Edmund: Too old.
Edmund: Too dead. Ah, this is hopeless. There just isn’t anyone!
(Bob is heard singing)
Bob: ‘Goodbyeee, goodbyeee, wipe the tear, baby dear, from your eyeee’.
Edmund: What am I doing? (calls out) Bob!
Bob: (naked but for a towel): Sir?
George: What a brilliant idea! Bob, can you think of anyone who can be our leading lady?
(at another concert performance)
George: What do you think, Bob, one more?
Bob: No George, always leave them hungry.
Edmund: Congratulations, Bob. I must admit, I thought you were bloody marvellous.
Bob: Thank you sir. Permission to slip into something more uncomfortable, sir.
Edmund: Permission granted.
Baldrick: Oh sir, it’s going to be wonderful. Not just for me, but for my little
partner, Graham. Doing our tour halfway ’round the world.
Edmund: Yes, from Shaftsbury Avenue to the Co^te du Jour, they’ll be saying,
‘I like the little black one, but who’s that burke sitting on it?’
Baldrick: I’m not with you, sir.
Edmund: No, of course not. But don’t worry, we’ll have years in luxury hotels
for me to explain. Now get packing, get packing. The train
leaves at six and we’re going to be on it.
Darling: (entering) Blackadder.
Edmund: Ah Darling, everything alright?
Darling: Oh yes.
Edmund: Got the tickets?
Darling: Oh yes.
Melchett: (calling, enters) Blackadder!?
Edmund: Oh hi, General. Enjoy the show?
Melchett: Don’t be ridiculous, the worst evening I’ve ever spent in my life!
(paces forward toward Edmund)
Edmund: (pacing backward) I’m sorry?
Melchett: (yells) Will you stand still when I’m talking to you! If by a man’s
works showing (??) that you were a steaming pile of horse manure.
Edmund: But surely, sir, the show was a triumph.
Melchett: (yells real loud) TRIMUPH? The Three Twerps were one Twerp short, again; the Slug Balancer seems now to be doing some feeble impression of Buster Keaton; and worst of all, the crowning turd in the water-pipe, that revolting drag act in the end.
Melchett: Yes, poor Bob Parker’s been made to look a total ass! With that reedy
voice and that stupid effeminate dancing.
Darling: So the show’s cancelled, permanently. (rips up plane tickets)
Edmund: But what about the men’s morale, sir, with the Russians out of the war and everything?
Melchett: Oh for goodness sake, Blackadder, have you been living in a cave?
The Americans joined the war yesterday.
Edmund: So how is that going to improve the men’s morale, sir?
Melchett: OOooooohhh, because you jibbering imbecile, they’ve brought with them the largest collection of Charlie Chaplin films in existence. I’ve lost patience with you. Fill him in, Darling. (exits)
Darling: We received a telegram this morning from Mr. Chaplin himself, at Sennett Studios: (reads) ‘Twice nightly screening of my films in trenches, excellent idea stop. But must insist E. Blackadder be projectionist. Oh PS, don’t let him ever stop.’
Edmund: Oh great.
Darling: No hard feelings, Blackadder.
Edmund: Not at all Darling. Uh, care for a Licorice Alsort?
Darling: (accepts it….which turns out to be Baldrick’s dead slug) Well, thank you. (eats it)
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