Original subtitles

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I deliver perfection... and don't brag about it! :D

Ready, march!

Eyes... right!

Eyes, right!

You'd like to book a table for three by the window

for 9:30 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 14 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?

{y:i}Schnell, schnell, die koppeltop

I said there's a terrible line at my end.

You're to advance on the enemy at once.

Ppttttt...

{y:i}# 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 50,000 men getting killed 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 shooting 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 shoot 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 attack 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

shoot 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 shoot

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 shot 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 shot 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 firing 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 Knife.

A man was found next to a murdered body,

he had the knife in his hand,

thirteen witnesses had seen him stab the victim,

and when the police arrived he said,

"I'm glad I killed 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.

114 illegitimate children, world heavyweight boxing champion,

and author of the best-selling pamphlet,

{y:i}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.

{y:i}Oh, go on, let him off, {y:i}your Honour, please!

{y:i}After all, it's a lovely day.

{y:i}Pretty clouds, trees, birds, et cetera.

{y:i}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 murderer!

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 murderer... did deliberately,

callously, and with beastliness of forethought

murder 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 16th, 9:15 am, 10:23 am, 10:24 am,

11:17 am...

You missed one out there.

...10:30 am... thank you... 11:46 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 shot!

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 shoot 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 shooting 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"...

{y:i}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 gun,

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 gun? - 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 shot...

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 firing squad, sir.

Of course you are.

- Good sized chest. - Shut up, lad.

You see, us firing 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 firing 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 shot 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?

{y:i}Dear Mother...

Hmm, unusual start.

{y:i}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 shot in the morning,

while I have to read this drivel.

{y:i}Hope Celia thrives {y:i}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,

{y:i}who'd have thought it, {y:i}mad Uncle Rupert, Minister of War

{y:i}with power of life and death {y:i}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 firing 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 War.

Of course!

Uncle Rupert's just been made the Minister of War!

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.

{y:i}Here's looking at you.

{y:i}Love from all the boys in the firing 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...

{y:i}George, my boy,

{y:i}outraged to read in dispatches

{y:i}of how that ass Melchett {y:i}made such a pigs-ear

{y:i}of your chum Blackadder's court-martial.

{y:i}Have reversed the decision forthwith.

{y:i}Surprised you didn't ask me {y:i}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 killed 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.

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