Black Adder III, Episode 3
Nob and Nobility
Miggins: [dancing about by a table of two customers in her coffee shop]
Oh la la! [laughs happily] [Edmund Blackadder, butler to the Prince Regent,
enters] Edmund: Ah, good morning, Mrs Miggins. Miggins: Bonjour, monsieur.
Edmund: What? Miggins: Bonjour, monsieur -- it's French. Edmund: So is
eating frogs, cruelty to geese and urinating in the street, but that's
no reason to inflict it on the rest of us. Miggins: But French is all the
fashion! My coffee shop is full of frenchies, and it's all because of that
wonderful Scarlet Pimpernel. [an odd squishy noise is heard occasionally,
starting now] Edmund: The Scarlet Pimpernel is >not< wonderful, Mrs
Miggins. There is no reason whatsoever to admire someone for filling London
with a load of garlic-chewing French toffs crying "Oh la la!" and looking
for sympathy all the time just because their fathers had their heads cut
off. I'll have a cup of coffee and some shepherd's pie, please. Miggins:
[put off] We don't serve >pies< anymore! My French clientele consider
>pies< uncouth. Edmund: I hardly think that a nation that eats snails
and would go to bed with the kitchen sink if it put on a tutu is in any
position to preach couthness. So what >is< on the menu? [he picks up
the small menu and flips it over looking at it casually] Miggins: Well,
today's hot choice is Chicken Pimpernel in a Scarlet Sauce, Scarlet Chicken
in a Pimpernel Sauce, or Huge Suspicious-Looking Sausages in a Scarlet
Pimpernel Sauce. Edmund: What exactly is Scarlet Pimpernel sauce? Miggins:
[she uses her hands to demonstrate as she speaks] You take a large ripe
frog, squeeze it [one of the squishy noises is heard as she makes this
motion, giving away what the noise is] -- Edmund: [putting up a hand] Yes,
yes, all right. [several words are covered entirely by laughter (anyone
out there have a closed-caption decoder, since the commercial-release tapes
are closed-captioned?).] [Edmund goes to the door to leave, just as a Frenchman
enters.] Frenchman: [bowing] Ah, bonjour, monsieur! Edmund: Sod off. [Scene
changes to Edmund's quarters, below the prince's house. Baldrick is tearing
apart some dough. Edmund enters, picks up a tabby cat and punts it high
into the air across the room.] Baldrick: Oh, Sir! Poor little Mildred the
cat! What's he ever done to you? Edmund: It is the way of the world, Baldrick
-- the abused always kick downwards. I am annoyed, and so I kick the cat...
the cat [there is a mouse `eek!' noise] pounces on the mouse, and, finally,
the mouse-- Baldrick: [startled, jumps] Agh! Edmund: ...bites you on the
behind. Baldrick: Well, what do I do? Edmund: Nothing. You are last in
God's great chain, Baldrick -- unless, of course, there's an earwig around
here that you'd like to victimise. [Baldrick leans toward Edmund, trying
to get him to notice something] Edmund: [notices] Baldrick, what's happened
to your nose? Baldrick: Nice, isn't it? Edmund: No it isn't. It's revolting.
Baldrick: Oh. I'll take it off, then. [removes item from his nose] Edmund:
Baldrick, why are you wearing a false boil? What are we to expect next:
a beauty wart? a cosmetic verruca? Baldrick: It's a Scarlet Pimple, Sir.
Edmund: Really... Baldrick: Yeah, they're all the rage down our way. Everyone
wants to express their admiration for the great Pimple and his brilliant
disguises. Edmund: [takes the pimple, speaks angrily] What has this fellow
done? -- apart from pop over to France to grab a few French knobs from
the ineffectual clutches [tosses pimple into the fireplace] of some malnourished
whingeing lefties, taking the opportunity while there, no doubt, to pick
up some really good cheap wine and some of their marvelous open-fruit flans...
Doesn't anyone know? We hate the French! We fight wars against them! Did
all those men die in vain on the field at Agincourt? Was the man who burned
Joan of Arc simply wasting good matches? [Bells ring.] Edmund: Ah, His
Royal Highness, the Pinhead of Wales, summons me. You know, I feel almost
well-disposed towards him this morning. Half the chump though he may be,
at least he's not French. [Scene changes to inside Prince's bedroom. He
is having some drinks with lords Topper and Smedley.] Prince: "Un toast!
Encore un toast," I say! Le Pimpernel Scarlette! Topper & Smedley:
Le Pimpernel Scarlette! [Edmund enters.] Prince: Ah! Le Adder Noir! Come
on au in! [Edmund is upset, but restrains it.] Prince: [to Topper and Smedley]
This is the fellow to ask, you chaps: my butler -- terribly clever. Brighter
than a brain pie. [Topper and Smedley chuckle like the dandies they are]
Blackadder, we're trying to guess who the Scarlet Pimpernel is, so we can
send him an enormous postal order to express our admiration. Any ideas?
Edmund: Well, I'm sure if you addressed the envelope to "The Biggest Show-Off
in London," it would reach him eventually. [Topper and Smedley stand up
from where they were lying (on Prince's bed) and approach Edmund.] Topper:
Tish and pish! Gadzooks! Milarky! How dare you say such a thing? Damn me,
sir, if you're not the worst kind of swine! Smedley: Damn that swine...
Edmund: I'm sorry, Sir. I was merely pointing out that sneaking aristocrats
out from under the noses of French revolutionaries is about as difficult
as putting on a hat. Topper: Sink me, sir! This is treason! The Scarlet
Pimpernel's a hero, and the revolution is orchestrated by a ruthless band
of highly organised killers, damn them! Smedley: Damn those organised killers...
Topper: [turning to Prince] Sir, if I remember rightly, we were just discussing
the French Embassy ball in honour of the exiled aristocracy... Prince:
We certainly were -- where I intend the wear the most magnificent pair
of trousers ever to issue forth from the delicate hands of Mssrs Snibcock
and Turkey, Couturiers to the Very Wealthy and the Extremely Fat. If the
Pimpernel does finally reveal himself, I don't want to get caught out wearing
boring trousers! Smedley: Damn those boring trousers... Topper: Well, what
say we bet your cock-sure domestic a thousand guineas he can't go to France,
rescue an aristocrat, and present him at the ball? [Edmund looks up.] Topper:
Hah! That's turned you white, hasn't it? That's frightened you, you lily-livered,
caramel-kidneyed, custard-coloured cad? Not so brilliant now, are you,
eh? eh? Smedley: Eh? Edmund: On the contrary, Sir. I'll just go and pack.
Topper: Oh. Edmund: Perhaps Lord Smedley and Lord Topper will accompany
me. I'm sure it will be a fairly easy trip -- the odd death-defying leap
and a modest amount of dental torture... Want to come? Topper: [frightened]
Oh, no! Smedley: Oh, no... Topper: Damn! Smedley: Damn... Topper: Er, any
day now, I've got an appointment at my doctor. I've got a bit of a sniffle
coming on -- I can feel it in my bones. Smedley: Damn bones, damn bones,
damn... Prince: You know, what about next week? Oh, come on, you chaps,
get your diaries out, come on! Topper: Oh, all right. Damn! Smedley: Damn...
Topper: I left it behind! Smedley: ...behind... Topper: ...and, er, besides,
I've just remembered: my father's just died! [Smedley can't say the same
thing this time; looks confused.] Topper: I've got to be at his funeral
in ten minutes! Damn sorry! Goodbye, Your Highness. [He bows, giving his
drink to Edmund. Edmund opens the door and lets him out.] Smedley: Oh,
damn... I'm the best man. Damn that dead father, damn... [Gives his drink
to Edmund; bows; exits, saying "Bye bye..."] Edmund: [beyond the door to
the exiting pair] See you at the ball. Prince: Oh, what a shame they were
so busy. [walking into the chamber] It would have been lovely to have had
them with us. Edmund: "Us"? Prince: Yes. Edmund: >You're< coming, Sir?
Prince: Well, certainly. Edmund: Ah. [pause] and nothing I can say about
the mind-bending horrors of the revolution could put you off? Prince: Absolutely
not! Now, come on, Blackadder -- let's get packing. I want to look my best
for those fabulous French birds. Edmund: Sir, the type of women currently
favoured in France are toothless crones who just cackle insanely. Prince:
Oh, ignore that -- they're just playing hard-to-get. Edmund: ...by removing
all their teeth, going mad and aging forty years? Prince: That's right
-- the little teasers! Well, come on! [he reclines] Erm, I think a blend
of silks and satins... Edmund: I fear not, Sir. If we are to stand any
chance of survival in France, [he rings the servant bell] we shall have
to dress as the smelliest lowlife imaginable. Prince: Oh yes? What sort
of thing? Edmund: Well, Sir, let me show you our Paris Collection... [Baldrick
begins walking in from the the outer door.] Edmund: Baldrick is wearing
a sheep's-bladder jacket, with matching dung-ball accessories. Hair by
Crazy Meg of Bedlam [obscured by laughter]. Notice how the overpowering
aroma of rotting pilchards has been woven cunningly into the ensemble.
[Edmund approaches Baldrick.] Edmund: Baldrick, when did you last change
your trousers? Baldrick: [as if rehearsed] I have never changed my trousers.
Edmund: Thank you. [to Prince] You see, the ancient Greeks, Sir, wrote
in legend of a terrible container in which all the evils of the world were
trapped. How prophetic they were. All they got wrong was the name. They
called it "Pandora's Box," when, of course, they meant "Baldrick's Trousers."
Baldrick: [to Prince] It certainly can get a bit whiffy, there's no doubt
about that! Edmund: We are told that, when the box was opened, the whole
world turned to darkness because of Pandora's fatal curiousity. [to Baldrick]
I charge you now, Baldrick: for the good of all mankind, never allow curiosity
to lead you to open your trousers. Nothing of interest lies therein. [to
Prince] However, Your Highness, it is trousers exactly like these that
>you< will have to wear if we are to pass safely into France. Prince:
Mmm, ahem, yes, well, you know, er, on second thought, I think I might
give this whole thing a miss. You know, my tummy's playing up a bit. Er,
wish... wish I could come, but just not poss with this tum. Edmund: I understand
perfectly, Sir. Prince: Also, the chances of me scoring if I look and smell
like him are >zero<. Edmund: Well, that's true, Sir. We shall return
presently to bid you farewell. [Prince turns to enter his bedroom; Edmund
and Baldrick head out.] Baldrick: Mr B, I've been having second thoughts
about this trip to France. Edmund: Oh? Why? Baldrick: Well, as far as I
can see, looking and smelling like this, there's not much chance of >me<
scoring, either. [Edmund thwaps him on the head.] [Scene changes to Prince,
Edmund and Baldrick (who is carrying everything) standing in the vestibule.
This scene is overplayed, complete with `farewell' harp music.] Prince:
Well, Blackadder, this is it. Edmund: Yes, Sir. If I don't make it back,
please write to my mother and tell her that I've been alive all the time;
it's just that I couldn't be bothered to get in touch with the old bat.
Prince: Well, of course, old man. It's the very least I could do. Edmund:
We must leave at once. The shadows lengthen, and we have a long and arduous
journey ahead of us. [He shakes Prince's hand.] Farewell, dear master and
-- dare I say? -- friend. [Edmund and Prince embrace. Prince speaks as
they separate.] Prince: Farewell, brave liberator and -- dare I say it?
-- butler! [Edmund and Baldrick leave. Prince starts to cry.] [Scene changes
to Edmund's quarters. Edmund and Baldrick enter.] Edmund: Right, stick
the kettle on, Balders. Baldrick: What, aren't we going to France? Edmund:
Of course we're not going to France -- it's incredibly dangerous there!
Baldrick: Well, how are you going to win your bet? Edmund: As usual, Baldrick:
by the use of the large thing between my ears. Baldrick: Oh, your nose...
Edmund: No, Baldrick: my brain. All we do is lie low here for a week, then
go to Mrs Miggins', pick up any old French aristocrat, drag him through
a puddle, take him to the ball, and claim our thousand guineas. Baldrick:
Well, what if the prince finds us here? Edmund: He couldn't find his own
fly buttons, let alone the kitchen door. [Scene changes to Prince's bedroom.
Prince takes a pair of blue trousers with silver dots and silver side stripes
from a box.] Prince: What a pair of trousers!!! I shall be the Belle of
the Embassy Ball! Now, how do you put them on? Er... [calls] Blackadder!
[realisation] Oh, no -- damn! -- he's gone to France. Well, I'll do it
myself; shouldn't be too difficult. Erm... Er... [he puts an arm through
one trouser leg...] [One Week Later] [Scene: Edmund's quarters.] Edmund:
[sitting in a chair, his feet on the table, smoking a pipe] Well, Baldrick,
what a very pleasant week. We must do this more often. Baldrick: [seeming
a bit bored] Yes, I shall certainly choose revolutionary France for my
holiday again next year. Edmund: Still, time to go to work. Off to Mrs
Miggins' to pick up any old French toff-- [A crashing noise upstairs interrupts
him.] Baldrick: What do you think that is? Edmund: Well, if I was feeling
malicious, I would say it's the prince still trying to put his trousers
on after a week. [Scene change to upstairs.] [Prince, wearing his trousers
over his head, is bumping into walls.] Prince: Damn! [Scene change to Mrs
Miggins' coffee shop.] [Edmund and Baldrick enter.] Edmund: Ah, Mrs Miggins...
I'd like a massive plate of pig's trotters, frog's legs and snail's ears,
please -- all drenched in your lovely Scarlet Pimpernel Sauce. Miggins:
Not so hostile to the frenchies >now<, Mr B... Edmund: Certainly not,
Mrs M. I'd sooner be hostile to my own servant. [baps Baldrick on the back
of the head] [Several words obscured by laughter.] In fact, I came here
specifically to meet lovely frenchies. Miggins: Well, vivre to that and
an eclair for both of us! [laughs] Edmund: Vivre, indeed. Now, what I'm
looking for, Mrs M, is a particular kind of frenchy -- namely, one who
is transparently of noble blood but also short on cash. Miggins: Ah, well,
I've got just the fellow for you -- over there by the window: The Comte
de Frou Frou. [Shot of Frou Frou holding -- and looking oddly at -- a huge
suspicious-looking sausage.] Miggins: He's pretty down on his luck, and
he's made that horse's willy last all morning. Edmund: Oh, good. Baldrick,
we have struck garlic! [Edmund and Baldrick approach Frou Frou. Edmund
scrapes leftovers off of Frou Frou's table onto a plate, then offers the
plate to Baldrick.] Edmund: Now you can some lunch, Baldrick. Baldrick:
Thank you. [leaves the coffee shop] Edmund: [addresses Frou Frou] Le Comte
de Frou Frou, I believe... Frou Frou: [looks up] Eh? Edmund: [sitting at
the table] Do you speak English? Frou Frou: A little... Edmund: Yes, when
you say "a little," what exactly do you mean? I mean, can we talk? or are
we going to spend the rest of the afternoon asking each other the way to
the beach in very loud voices? Frou Frou: Ah, no. I can, er, order coffee,
deal with waiters, make sexy chit-chat with girls -- that type of thing.
Edmund: Oh, good. Frou Frou: Just don't ask me to take a physiology class
or direct a light opera. Edmund: No, no, I won't. [propositioning] Now,
listen, Frou Frou ... Would you like to earn some money? Frou Frou: No,
I wouldn't. I would like other people to earn it and then >give< it
to me, just like in France in the good old days. Edmund: Yes, but this
is a chance to return to the good old days. Frou Frou: Oh, how I would
love that! I hate this life! The food is filthy! This huge sausage is very
suspicious. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was a horse's wi-- Edmund:
Yes, yes, yes, all right... Now, listen; the plan is this: I have a bet
on with someone that I can get a Frenchman out of Paris. I want >you<
to be that Frenchman. All you have to do is come to the embassy with me,
say that I rescued you, and then walk away with fifty guineas and all the
vol-au-vents you can stuff in your pockets. What do you say? Frou Frou:
It will be a pleasure! If there's one thing we aristocrats enjoy, it's
a fabulous partie! Oh, the music! Oh, the laughter! Oh -- if only I'd brought
my mongoose costume... [Scene change to the embassy. It is dank, and some
moans of despair can be heard. Edmund, Frou Frou and Baldrick enter.] Frou
Frou: Yes, well, obviously it hasn't really got going yet... Edmund: I
think that is a bit of an understatement, Frou Frou. I've been at autopsies
with more party atmosphere. Frou Frou: Don't worry! In a moment we will
hear the sound of music and happy laughter... [Laughter is heard -- evil
maniacal laughter. A French soldier approaches.] Soldier: [to Frou Frou]
Bon soir, monsieur. Frou Frou: Bon soir! Edmund: Ah, good evening, my man.
Do you speak English? Soldier: Little. Edmund: Good, well, just take me
to the ambassador, then, will you? Soldier: Pardon? Edmund: [articulate]
I have rescued an [pushes the end of his nose up] aristocrat, from [makes
claw-like hands] the clutches of the evil revolutionaries. Please take
me to the ambassador. Soldier: No, I won't. I >am< an [makes claw hands]
"evil revolutionarie," and have [slices finger across his neck] murdered
the [pushes up his nose] ambassadeur, and turned him into [slaps the back
and front of one hand against the other, then puts that same hand to his
mouth] pate! Edmund: Ah. Soldier: [to Frou Frou] ...and you, aristo-pig,
are trapped!!! Frou Frou: Peeg? Hah! You will regret your insolence, revolutionary
deug! Solider: Dog? Hah! You will regret your arrogance, royalist snake!
Frou Frou: Sneag? Hah! Edmund: [stepping in] Look, I've very sorry to interrupt
this very interesting discussion, but it really is none of my business,
so I think I'll be on my way. Come on, Baldrick. Soldier: [stopping Edmund]
Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah! Not so fast, English! In rescuing this, eu [motions
at Frou Frou], this, eu, boite de stinkyweed, you have attempted to pervert
revolutionary justice. Do you know what they do to people who do that?
Edmund: They're...given a little present and allowed to go free? Soldier:
No... Edmund: They're smacked and told not to be naughty, but basically
let off... Soldier: No... Baldrick: [raising his hand] I think I know.
Edmund: [quite unhappy and depressed] What? Baldrick: [quite happy that
he knows the answer] They're put in prison for the night, and brutally
guillotined in the morning! Edmund: Well done, Baldrick... Soldier: Your
little g'nome is correct, monsieur. Gentlemen! Welcome to the last day
of your life! [shuts and locks the door] [Scene change to our heroes in
a cell, with Soldier outside.] Frou Frou: How dare you, you filthy weaselle!
Solider: Weasel? Hah! You're one to talk, aristo-waat-heug! Frou Four:
Warthog? Hah! Soldier: Hah! Edmund: [pulling Frou Frou away from the barred
window] Excuse me, Frou Frou... [to Soldier] Look, mate, me old mate...
We're both working class; we both hate these rich bastards; I mean, come
on, come on, me old mucker, just, just let me go -- you've got nothing
against me... Soldier: On the contrarie! I >hate< you English with your
boring trousers and your shiny toilet paper, and your ridiculous preconception
that Frenchmen are great lovers -- [looks both ways, then speaks a bit
softly] >I'm< French, and I'm hung like a baby carrot and a couple of
petit-pois. Edmund: [obscured by laughter] Soldier: Farewell, "old muckeur,"
and [shouts] death to the aristoes!!! Baldrick: [joining in happily] Death
to the aristoes! Edmund: Oh, shut up, Mouse-brain... [Now inside the cell.
Baldrick sits on the bed.] Frou Frou: Monsieur, why do you waste your words
on this scum? Have no fear! The Scarlet Pimpernel will save us. Edmund:
Hah! [knocks Baldrick off the bed; Baldrick falls to the floor, and remains
sitting where he lands] Some hope. [lies down] The Scarlet Pimpernel is
the most overrated human being since Judas Iscariot won the A.D. 31 Best
Disciple Competition. Frou Frou: Well, if he >should< fail us, here:
I these have these suicide pills. One for me [pulls pill out of his ear];
one for you [pulls one out of a nostril]; and one for the dwarf [pulls
one out of his bottom -- various silly noises accompany each]. Edmund:
Say "thank you," Baldrick. Baldrick: Thank you, Mr Frou. [puts pill to
his mouth; Edmund stops him.] [The door begins to open.] Frou Frou: Ah,
the Pimpernel!! Baldrick: Hurray! Soldier: [entering] Ah, the >ambassador<,
hurray... [moves his fingers about, bounces on his toes] Hmm, I've got
nothing to do... So I think I will torture ... [points to Frou Frou, forces
him to stand, and shouts] you, aristo-mongreulle! Frou Frou: Mongrel? Hah!
I look forward to it, proletarian skeunk! Soldier: Skunk? Hah! We'll see
about that, aristocratic happypotamus! Frou Frou: [being led outside] Happypotamus?
Hah! We'll soon see who's the happypotamus ... [voice gets quiet as door
is shut and locked (I think the rest of his vocalisations are nonsense
anyway)] Baldrick: I'm glad to say, I don't think you'll be needing those
pills, Mr B... Edmund: I'm I jumping the gun, Baldrick, or are the words
"I have a cunning plan" marching with ill-deserved confidence in the direction
of this conversation? Baldrick: They certainly are! Edmund: Well, forgive
me if I don't jump up and down with glee; your record in this department
is not exactly a hundred percent. So, what's the plan? Baldrick: We do...nothing.
Edmund: Yep, that's another world-beater. Baldrick: Wait, I haven't finished.
We do nothing until our heads have actually been cut off... Edmund: ...and
then we spring into action? Baldrick: Exactly! You know how, when you cut
a chicken's head off, it runs round and round the farmyard? Edmund: Yyyyyyyeah...
Baldrick: Well, we wait until our heads have been cut off, then we run
round and round the farmyard, out the farm gate, and escape. What do you
think? Edmund: Yes... My opinions are rather difficult to express in words,
so perhaps I can put it this way... [tweaks Baldrick's nose] Baldrick:
It doesn't really matter, 'cause the Scarlet Pimpernel will save us, anyway.
Edmund: No he won't, Baldrick. Either I think up an idea, or, tomorrow,
we die -- which, Baldrick, I have to tell you, I have no intention of doing,
because I want to be young and wild, and then I want to be middle-aged
and rich, and then I want to be old and annoy people by pretending that
I'm deaf. Just be quiet and let me think. [Later that night, in the cell.]
Baldrick: I can't sleep, Mr Blackadder... Edmund: I said "Shut up"! Baldrick:
I'm so excited to think that the Scarlet Pimpernel will be here at any
moment! Edmund: I wish you'd forget this ridiculous fantasy, Baldrick.
Even if he did turn up, the guards would be woken by the scraping noise
as he tried to squeeze his massive swollen head through the door. Baldrick:
I couldn't sleep when I was little. Edmund: You still are little, Baldrick.
Baldrick: Yeah, well, when I was even littler, see, we used to live in
this haunted hovel. Every night, my family were troubled by a visitation
from this disgusting ghoul. It was terrible. First there was this unholy
smell, then this tiny, clammy, hairy creature would materialise in the
bed between them. Fortunately, I could never see it, myself. Edmund: Yes...
Tell me, Baldrick: when you left home, did this repulsive entity mysteriously
disappear? Baldrick: That very day... Edmund: I think then that the mystery
is solved. Now shut up. Either I think up an idea, or, tomorrow, we meet
our maker -- in my case, God; in your case, God knows ... but I'd be surprised
if he won any design awards. [camera view pans away from them, to the window]
Edmund: Wait a minute! I thought of a plan! Baldrick: Hurray! Edmund: Also,
I thought of a way to get you to sleep! Baldrick: What? [THUNK!] Baldrick:
Oof! [Morning, in the cell. The door opens, and Soldier enters.] Soldier:
Morning, scum... Did we sleep well, eh? Edmund: Like a tot, thank you...
But, by jiminy, you must be feeling thirsty after your long night's brutality!
[He drops a suicide pill into a cup of liquid, then proffers the cup.]
Drink? Soldier: Eu, non, merci... Not while I am on duty. Edmund: Oh. Perhaps
later. Soldier: For you, monsieur, there is no later. [gets dramatic] Because,
gentlemen, I am proud to introduce France's most [puts a hand on his abdomen]
vicious woman. Unexpectedly arrived from Paris this morning, would you
please welcome Madame Guillotine herself! [bows aside, with an arm outstretched]
Guillotine: [enters, cackling, carrying a club with spikes, appears to
have blood on her arms; her face is obscured by her bonnet, and she appears
to be missing a front tooth] Are these the English pigs? Edmund: Yes, that's
us. Guillotine: Leave them with me, Monsieur Ambassadeur. I intend to torture
them in a manner so unbearably gruesome, even you will not be able to stand
it! Soldier: I don't think I will have a problem, madame. Guillotine: No,
you will be sick. Soldier: What if I stay for the first few minutes, and
then I leave if I'm feeling queasy? Guillotine: No, you will be sick immediately.
Solider: What if I am sick quietly in a bag? I mean, what is in your mind?
[Guillotine whispers in Soldier's ear.] [Soldier goes into convulsions,
and removes his hat as he leaves, vomiting into it.] Guillotine: [turns
to Edmund] So! Scum! Prepare to be in pain! Edmund: Yes, certainly. But
first, perhaps, a toast: to your beauty! [gives Guillotine the poisoned
cup] Guillotine: [tosses club aside] Oh, thank you. OK. [drinks from cup]
Edmund: Cheers. Guillotine: So, I expect you were expecting to be rescued,
huh?! Edmund: Hah -- some bloody hope. Guillotine: [voice suddenly a male
voice] On the contrary! I'm just sorry I'm so late! Edmund: What! [Guillotine
removes her bonnet, revealing herself to be Lord Smedley] Smedley: Yes,
gentlemen, I have come to take you to freedom! Baldrick: Hurray! Edmund:
My god! Smedley! But I thought you were an absolute [facit?]! Smedley:
No -- just a damn fine actor! Thank god I got here before you took any
of those awful suicide pills! Edmund: [looks down at the cups] Errrrrr,
yes... I suppose if someone had taken one and wished that he'd hadn't,
he'd be able to do something about it... Smedley: No, no -- they're very
odd things, you see. The symptoms are most peculiar. First of all, the
victims become very very depressed. [sits on the bed, face in his hands]
Oh, god! [near to tears] This whole revolution is so depressing, I mean,
sometimes I wonder why I bother... I mean, I'm so lonely, and nobody loves
me... Edmund: ...and after the depression comes death. Smedley: No -- after
the depression comes [jumps off the bed and grabs Edmund's lapels, shouting]
the loss of temper, you stuck-up bastard!!! [turns to Baldrick] What you
are staring at??? [punches Baldrick] Edmund: ...and after the >temper<
comes death. Smedley: No! After the temper comes the, er... comes the,
er... Edmund: ...forgetfulness? Smedley: Er, yes, that's it... er... comes
the, er... Edmund: ...forgetfulness. Smedley: Yes, yes. Right in the middle
of a...of a...thingy... you completely forget what it was you...oh, nice
pair of shoes! Edmund: ...and after the forgetfulness, you die. Smedley:
Oh, no! I forgot one! After the forgetfulness comes a moment of exquisite
happiness! [laughs, jumps up and down, waving his arms in the air] Jumping
up and down, and waving your arms in the air, and knowing that in a minute
we're all going to be free! free!! free!!! Edmund: [getting tired of this]
...and >then< death? Smedley: No -- you jump into a corner first. [jumps
into a corner; dies] Baldrick: Hurray! It's the Scarlet Pimpernel! Edmund:
Yes, Baldrick... Baldrick: ...and you killed him! Edmund: Yes, Baldrick...
I mean, what's the bloody point of being the Scarlet Pimpernel if you're
going to fall for the old poisoned-cup routine? Scarlet Pimpernel, my foot!
Scarlet Git, more like it! [sees that the door is still ajar] But wait!
Here's our chance to escape! Come on, quick! Baldrick: But what about Mr
Frou? Edmund: Oh, forget Frou Frou. I wouldn't pick my nose to save his
life. Now, come on. [begins to exit, but runs into Frou Frou] Ah! Frou
Frou, my old friend and comrade, w-what are you doing here? Frou Frou:
I escaped! What happened here? Edmund: Oh, er, nothing, nothing... [closes
cell door] Frou Frou: Oh, I thought for a moment the Scarlet Pimpernel
had saved you...! [Edmund chuckles nervously; looks at -- and nudges --
Baldrick.] [Baldrick very badly fakes a laugh.] [Scene change to Prince's
house. Prince nearly has his trousers on. Edmund, Frou Frou and Baldrick
enter.] Prince: Ah, chaps! Good to see you. Just trying on the new trousers...
Edmund: I return, Sir, as promised, plus one toff French aristocrat fresh
from the Bastille. Prince: [as Frou Frou bows] Ah! Please to meet you,
monsieur. Do sit down. Frou Frou: Enchante'... [goes to sit] Prince: Damn
sorry about the revolution and all that caper -- most awfully bad luck.
[to Edmund] So, tell me, Blackadder: how the devil did you get him out?
Edmund: Sir, it is an extraordinary tale of courage and heroism which I
blush from telling by myself, but seeing as there's no one else-- Baldrick:
I could try. Edmund: [baps Baldrick on the back of the head] We left England
in good weather, but that was a far as our luck held. In the middle of
Dover Harbour, we were struck by a tidal wave. I was forced to swim to
Boulogne with the unconscious Baldrick tucked into my trousers. Then, we
were taken to Paris, where I was summarily tried and condemned to death,
and then hung by the larger of my testicles from the walls of the Bastille.
It was then that I decided I had had enough. Prince: Bravo! Edmund: So,
I rescued the count, killed the guards, jumped the moat, ran to Versailles
-- where I climbed into Mr Robespierre's bedroom, leaving him a small tray
of milk chocolates and an insulting note. The rest was easy. Prince: That
is an incredible story -- worthy of the Scarlet Pimpernel himself! Edmund:
Well, I wouldn't know. Frou Frou: I, on the other hand, would. [stands]
Because, you see, Sir [removes glasses, wig and false nose, revealing himself
to be Lord Topper], >I< am the Scarlet Pimpernel. Edmund: Uh oh... Baldrick:
Hurray! Prince: [standing] Good lord! Topper! Topper: Yes, Your Highness.
Prince: Well, by gads and by jingo with dumplings, steak and kidneys, and
a good solid helping of sprouts! I can't believe it! >You're< the fellow
who has single-handedly saved all those damned frenchies from the chop?
Topper: Not quite single-handedly, Sir. I operated with the help of my
friend, Smedley, but he seems to have disappeared for the moment, slightly
mysteriously. [Baldrick gets ready to say something.] Edmund: Shut up,
Baldrick. Baldrick: [line obscured by laughter] Prince: So... So Blackadder
rescued the Scarlet Pimpernel! Topper: No, Sir, he did not. Prince: Eh?
Topper: Prepare yourself for a story of dishonour and deceit that will
make your stomach turn. Prince: Well, I say! [to Edmund] This is interesting,
isn't it, Blackadder? [Edmund nods slowly.] Topper: Not only that [turning
and walking toward Edmund], but I trust it will lead to the imprisonment
of a man who is a liar, a bounder, and a cad. [Baldrick turns to look,
with Topper, at Edmund.] [Edmund turns to look behind himself.] Prince:
Well, bravo! because we hate liars, bounders and cads, don't we, Blackadder?
Edmund: Generally speaking...yes, Sir. [begins to serve drinks] But perhaps
before Lord Topper starts to talk, he might like a glass of wine. [he has
dropped a suicide pill into Topper's glass] He's looking a little shaken.
Topper: [taking the glass] Shaken, but not stirred. [drinks] [gives glass
back to Edmund, who sniffs it] [turns to Prince] It all began last week.
I was sitting in Mrs Miggins' coffee shop when...oh, god! [holds head in
his hands] All this treachery is so depressing... [shouts] I mean, the
whole thing just makes you incredibly angry!!! [swings at Baldrick, missing;
Baldrick falls over anyway; then Topper runs over to Prince] AND IT JUST
MAKES YOU WANT TO...oh, that's a nice waistcoat, Your Majesty... er...I'm
sorry; I've completely forgotten what I was talking about. Edmund: [grinning]
Erm, a story of dishonour and deceit... Topper: [smiles] Oh! That's a great
story! That's great!! Oh, that's a WONDERFUL STORY!!! Let me just jump
into this corner first. [jumps into corner; dies] Prince: [standing] Roast
my raisins! He's popped it! I say, Blackadder, do you think he really was
the Scarlet Pimpernel? Edmund: Well, judging from the ridiculous ostentatiousness
of his death, I would say that he was. Prince: Well, then, that's a damn
shame, because I wanted to give him this enormous postal order. [holds
it up] Edmund: Please, Sir, let me finish. I would say that he was...>n't<.
[deeply concentrating now] You see, the Scarlet Pimpernel would never ever
reveal his identity -- that's his great secret. So, what you're actually
looking for is someone who has, say, just been to France and rescued an
aristocrat, but when asked "Are you the Scarlet Pimpernel?" he replies,
"Absolutely not," Sir. Prince: But, wait a minute! Blackadder, >you've<
just been to France, and you've rescued a French aristocrat... Oh, Blackadder!
Are you the Scarlet Pimpernel? Edmund: Absolutely not, Sir. Baldrick: Hurray!
[Prince, too excited for words, hands the postal order to Edmund, who already
has his hand waiting to take it.] [final theme music, credits roll] For
the BENEFIT of SEVERAL VIEWERS MR CURTIS & MR ELTON'S Much admir'd
Comedy B L A C K A D D E R T h e T H I R D or N O B a n d N O B I L I T
Y was performed with appropriate Scenery Dresses etc. by EDMUND BLACKADDER
butler to the Prince, Mr. ROWAN ATKINSON Baldrick, a dogsbody, Mr. TONY
ROBINSON The Prince Regent, their master, Mr. HUGH LAURIE Mrs. Miggins,
a coffee shoppekeeper, Miss. HELEN ATKINSON-WOOD Lord Topper, } fops, Mr.
TIM McINNERNY Lord Smedley, } Mr. NIGEL PLANER Ambassasor, a fearsome revolutionary,
Mr. CHRIS BARRIE MUSIC, (never perform'd before), Mr. HOWARD GOODALL designer
of graphics, Mr. GRAHAM McCALLUM buyer of properties, Miss. JUDY FARR supervisor
of production operative, Mr. ALLAN FLOOD designer of visual effects, Mr.
STUART MURDOCH designer of costumes, Miss. ANNIE HARDINGE designer of make-up,
Miss. VICKY POCOCK mixer of vision, Miss. SUE COLLINS supervisor of camers,
Mr. RON GREEN editor of videotape, Mr. CHRIS WADSWORTH director of lighting,
Mr. RON BRISTOW co-ordinator of technicalities, Mr. JOHN LATUS supervisor
of sound, Mr. PETER BARVILLE assistant to production, Miss. NIKKI COCKCROFT
assistant manager of floors, Mr. DUNCAN COOPER manager of production, Miss.
OLIVIA HILL the designer, Mr. ANTONY THORPE the director, Miss. MANDIE
FLETCHER the producer, Mr. LLOYD To conclude with Rule Britannia in full
chorus NO MONEY RETURN'D (C) BBC MCMLXXXVII [the squishy noise is heard
one final time]