Original subtitles

By the centre, quick march!

(MARCHING MUSIC PLAYING)

Eyes right!

Eyes right!

-(GEORGE WHISTLING) -(BLACKADDER SIGHS)

You a bit cheesed off, sir?

George, the day this war began I was cheesed off.

Within 10 minutes of you turning up,

I finished the cheese and moved onto 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 Regent Street.

Well because if you are cheesed off, sir,

you know what would cheer you up? And that's a Charlie Chaplin film.

Oh, I love old Chappers. Don't you, Cap?

Unfortunately, no, I don't.

I find his films about as funny as getting an arrow through the neck,

and then discovering that there's a gas bill tied to it.

Oh, beg pardon, sir, but come off!

His films are ball-beltingly funny.

Rubbish.

All right, well, let's consult the men for a casting vote, shall we? Baldrick!

-Sir? -Charlie Chaplin, Baldrick.

What do you make of him?

Oh, sir, he's as funny as a vegetable

that's grown into a rude and amusing shape, sir.

So you agree with me. Not at all funny.

Oh, come on, skipper, play fair!

In that last film of his, when he kicked that fellow in the backside,

I thought I'd die!

Well, if that's your idea of comedy, we can provide our own without expending

a ha'penny for the privilege. There, do you find that funny?

Well, no, of course not, sir. But, you see, Chaplin is a genius.

He certainly is a genius, George.

He invented a way of getting paid a million dollars a year

for wearing a pair of stupid trousers.

-Did you find that funny, Baldrick? -What funny, sir?

That funny.

No, sir. And you mustn't do that to me, sir,

cos that is a bourgeois act of repression, sir!

-What? -Haven't you smelt it, sir?

There's something afoot in the wind.

The huddled masses yearning to be free.

Baldrick, have you been at the diesel oil again?

No, sir. I've been supping the milk of freedom.

Already our Russian comrades are poised on the brink of revolution.

And here, too, sir, the huddled whassernames such as myself, sir,

are ready to throw off the hated oppressors

like you and the Lieutenant...

Present company excepted, sir.

-Go and clean out the latrines. -Yes, sir. Right away, sir.

You see, now, the reason why Chaplin is so funny

is because he's part of the great British music hall tradition.

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?"

"What's up with you, then?" "I'll tell you what's up with me,

"I'm right browned off, that's what's up with me."

"Right browned off?" Yeah, right, get on with it!

Now, sir, that was funny! You should go on the boards yourself!

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.

-(MEN CLAMOURING OUTSIDE) -BALDRICK: Sir, sir!

Sir, it's all over the trenches!

-Well, mop it up, then! -No, sir, the news!

The Russian Revolution has started.

The masses have risen up and shot all their knobs.

Well, hurrah!

Oh, no, the bloody Russians have pulled out of the war.

Hmm, well, we soon saw them off, didn't we, sir?

Miserable, slant-eyed, sausage-eating swine!

The Russians are on our side.

-Are they? Oh... -They've abandoned the Eastern Front.

And they've overthrown Nicholas II, who used to be bizarre.

Who used to be the Tsar, Baldrick.

The point is that now the Russians have made peace with the Kaiser,

at this very moment, over 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'm going to have to desert.

And I'm going to do it right now!

-Are you leaving us, Blackadder? -No, sir.

Well, I'm relieved to hear it,

because I need you to help me shoot some deserters later on.

There have been 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.

Yes, sir, but surely that was traced to a shipment of garlic eclairs.

Nonsense, Blackadder. It was bolshiness. Plain bolshiness.

And now that the Ruskies have followed suit,

I'm damned if I'm going to let the same thing happen here.

Oh. And what are you going to do about it, sir?

We're going to have a concert party to boost the men's morale.

A concert party? Well, hurrah!

Do you fancy an evening at a concert party, Blackadder?

Well, frankly, sir, I'd rather spend an evening

on top of a step ladder in no-man's land

smoking endless cigarettes through a luminous balaclava.

Yes, I didn't think it would be quite your cup of tea.

But I do need someone to help me organise it, you know.

Obviously not a tough, grizzled soldier like yourself.

But some kind of damp-eyed Nancy Boy who'd be prepared

to spend the rest of the war in the London Palladium.

Oh. The show's going to the London Palladium, sir?

Oh, yes, of course.

It's no good crushing a revolution over here,

only to get back home to Blighty and find that everybody's wearing overalls

and breaking wind in the palaces of the mighty.

-Good point, sir. -Now the thing is, Blackadder,

finding a man to organise a concert party

is going to be damn difficult,

so I've come up with rather a cunning set of questions

with which to test the candidates’ suitability for the job.

Oh. And what sort of questions would these be, sir?

Well, the first question is, "Do you like Charlie Chaplin?"

Ah.

-Dismissed, Lieutenant. -Right, sir.

"Do you like Charlie Chaplin?"

Yes, that is a good question for a candidate,

to which my answer would of course be, "Yes, I love him."

Love him, sir. Particularly the amusing kicks.

-That's funny, cos I thought you said... -Goodbye, George.

And the second question is, "Do you like music hall?"

Ah, yes, another good question, sir.

Again, my answer would have to be, "Yes. Absolutely love it."

(IN COCKNEY ACCENT) # Oops Mr Rothschild

# How's your apples and pears? #

Mmm, yes. Well, you see, it's my view, Blackadder,

that the kind of person who'd answer yes to both of those questions

would be ideal for the job...

-Wait a minute! -What, sir?

(LAUGHING) Why, without knowing it, Blackadder,

you've inadvertently shown me that you could do the job.

Have I, sir?

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, erm, next Monday!

Oh, damn.

If you need any help fetching and carrying and backstage and so on,

I'll lend you my driver, if you like. Bob!

Driver Parkhurst reporting for duty, sir!

All right, at ease, Bob. Stand easy.

-Captain Blackadder, this is Bob. -Bob?

-Good morning, sir. -Unusual name for a girl.

Well, 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, all right?

Yes, sir.

I think you'll find Bob's just the man for this job, Blackadder.

He has a splendid sense of humour.

-He, sir? He? He? -You see? You're laughing already!

All right! Well, now, 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 roughshag.

I'm sure he'd be happy to fill your pipe. Carry on!

So, you're a chap, are you, Bob?

Oh, yes, sir. (LAUGHING RAUCOUSLY AND GROWLING)

You wouldn't say you were a girl at all?

Oh, definitely not, sir! I understand cricket.

I fart in bed! Everything!

Well, 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.

Oh, sir, 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 war is fought, so badly!

Well, you've come to the right place, Bob.

A war hasn't been fought this badly

since Olaf the Hairy, High Chief of all the Vikings,

accidentally ordered 80,000 battle helmets

with the horns on the inside.

I want to do my bit for the boys, sir.

-Oh, really? -I'll do anything, sir!

Yes, I'd keep that to yourself, if I was you.

Right, Bob. The second half starts with Corporals Smith and Johnson

-as the Three Silly Twerps. -All right, sir.

The big joke being there's only two of them...

BALDRICK: (LAUGHING) I like that! That always cracks me up, sir.

Followed by Baldrick's impersonation of Charlie Chaplin.

-Yes... Bob, take a telegram. -Yes, sir.

Mr C. Chaplin, Senate Studios, Hollywood, California. "Congrats. Stop.

“Have discovered only person in world less funny than you. Stop.

Name Baldrick. Stop.

"Yours, E. Blackadder. Stop."

Oh, and put a P.S. "Please, please, please stop.”

And then after that we have, ladies and gentlemen,

the highlight of our show.

(BALDRICK IMITATING FANFARE)

I feel fantastic!

Gorgeous Georgina, the traditional soldiers’ drag act.

-You look absolutely lovely, sir. -Oh, psh.

BLACKADDER: Baldrick, you are either lying, blind or mad.

The Lieutenant looks like all soldiers look on these occasions.

About as feminine as W.G. Grace.

What are you going to give 'em, George?

Well, I thought one or two cheeky gags, followed by,

"She was only the ironmonger's daughter,

"but she knew a surprising amount about fish as well."

- (BALDRICK LAUGHING) -Inspired.

Well, at least you made an effort with the dress.

What about your costume, Baldrick?

-I'm in it, sir! -I see.

So your Charlie Chaplin costume consists of that hat?

Yes, sir. Except, that in this box

I have a dead slug as a brilliant false moustache.

Yes. Only quite brilliant, I fear.

How, for instance, are you to attach it to your face?

Well, I was hoping to persuade the slug to cling on, sir.

Baldrick, the slug is dead.

If it failed to cling onto life, I see no reason

why it should wish to cling onto your upper lip.

GEORGE: Baldrick! Baldrick! Come on. Slugs are always a problem.

What you've got to do is screw your face up, like this, you see,

and then you can clamp it between your top lip and your nose.

What, like this, sir?

-That's it, that's it! -That's... Right.

Sir, sir, there's a visitor to see you!

Good Lord! Mr Chaplin! This is indeed an honour!

Why, it calls for some sort of celebration. Baldrick! Baldrick!

Sir, that is extraordinary, because...

Because... Because, you see, this isn't Chaplin at all!

This is Baldrick!

It is! It's me, sir!

I know. I know. I was, in fact, being sarcastic.

Oh, I see.

Everything goes above your head, doesn't it, George?

You should go to Jamaica and become a limbo dancer.

-(CROWD APPLAUDING) -(INAUDIBLE)

They love him, sir! We're a hit!

Yes, in one short evening,

I've become the most successful impresario

since the manager of the Roman Colosseum

thought of putting the Christians and the lions on the same bill.

Sir, some people seemed to think that I was best. Would you agree?

Baldrick, in the Amazonian rainforests,

there are tribes of Indians as yet untouched

by civilisation who have developed more convincing

Charlie Chaplin impressions than yours.

-Oh, thank you very much, sir! -He's coming off!

What do you think, Bob? One more? God, I love the theatre!

It's in my blood and in my soul!

Baldrick, put those in some water, will you?

Yes, sir.

(GEORGE SIGHS)

I need that applause in the same way that an ostler needs his ostle.

Well done, sir!

No, really, I was... Well, I was hopeless.

I mean, tell me honestly, sir.

-I was, wasn't I? -Well...

No, come on, out with it, cos I need to know.

Really, I was hopeless.

-No, well... -You're trying to be nice,

and that's very sweet of you, sir,

but please, come on, I can take it. I was hopeless.

George, you were bloody awful.

(SOBBING)

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 a minority. Look out, London! Here we come.

(KNOCKING AT DOOR)

-Ah, Captain Darling! -Ah, Captain Blackadder!

I must say, I had an absolutely splendid evening!

Oh. Glad you enjoyed the show.

The show? I didn't go to the show.

Important regimental business.

A lorry-load of paper clips arrive?

Two lorry-loads, actually.

Ah, welcome to the great director!

-(CHUCKLES) Maestro! -You enjoyed it, sir?

Well, it was mostly awful,

but I enjoyed the slug balancer.

Ah, Private Baldrick, sir.

That's right, yes. Slug fell off a couple of times,

but you can't have everything, can you?

I'd just suggest a bit more practise,

and perhaps a little sparkly costume for the slug.

I'll pass that on, sir.

But I do have certain other reasons for believing the show

to be nothing but a triumph!

Captain Darling has your travel arrangements.

A ticket to Dover, rooms at the Ritz, and so forth...

-Oh, thank you, sir. -However...

There is one small thing you might do for me.

Yes?

Captain Blackadder, I should esteem it a signal honour

if you would allow me to escort your leading lady

to the regimental ball this evening.

-My leading lady? -The fair Georgina.

(LAUGHING DRYLY) Very amusing.

Do you think she'll laugh in my face? I'm too old, too crusty?

Er, no, no, it's just that,

as her director, I'm afraid I could not allow it.

I could always find another director who would allow it!

Quite.

Well, I'll see what I can do,

but I must insist that she be home by midnight

and that there be no hanky-panky, sir, whatsoever.

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 more spunk than most women you find.

Oh, dear me...

Absolutely not, sir!

It's profoundly immoral and utterly wrong.

I will not do it!

We can always find another leading lady.

Well, the dress will need a clean.

Excellent. Now, the important thing is that Melchett should

under no circumstances realise that you're a man.

Yes. Yes, I understand that.

In order to ensure this, there are three basic rules.

One, you must never, I repeat, never, remove your wig.

All right.

Second, never say anything.

I'll tell him at the beginning of the evening

that you're saving your voice

for the opening night in London.

Excellent, sir. And what's the third?

The third is most important.

Don't get drunk and let him shag you on the veranda.

(GROWLING AND BARKING)

How do I look, Darling?

Girl-bait, sir. Pure bloody girl-bait.

(GROWLING) Moustache. Bushy enough?

-Like a privet hedge, sir. - (GROWLING)

Good, because I want to catch

a particularly beautiful creature in this bush tonight!

I'm sure you'll be combing women out of your moustache for weeks, sir!

God, it's a spankingly beautiful world.

And tonight's my night. I know exactly what I'll say to her...

-"Darling..." -Yes, sir?

-What? -Erm, I don't know, sir.

-Well, don't butt in! -Sorry, sir.

(SIGHS) "I want to make you happy, darling."

Well, that's very kind of you, sir.

Will you kindly stop interrupting?

If you don't listen, how can you tell me what you think?

"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 pepper and then sneeze all over you!"

Really, sir. I must protest!

What is the matter with you, Darling?

Well, it's just all so sudden, sir.

I mean, the nest bit's fine,

but the pepper business is definitely out!

How dare you tell me how I may or may not treat my beloved Georgina!

Georgina?

Yes! I'm working out what I want to say to her this evening.

Oh, yes. Of course. Thank God!

-All right? -Yes, sir. Listening, sir.

Honestly, Darling, you really are the most graceless,

dim-witted bumpkin I ever met!

I don't think you should say that to her, sir.

(GRUMBLES)

Where the hell's that George? It's 3:00 in the morning.

He should be careful wandering around the trench at night

with nothing to protect his honour but a cricket box.

-Hello, Captain. -About time.

Where the hell have you been?

Oh, 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 whirl of half-whispered conversations,

with the promise of indiscretion ever hanging in the air.

Oh, did that old stoat Melchett try for a snog behind the fruit cup?

Certainly not!

The General behaved like a perfect gentleman.

We tired the moon with our talking about everything and nothing.

The war, marriage, proposed changes to the LBW rule.

Melchett isn't married, is he?

No, no. All his life he's been waiting to meet the perfect woman.

And at last, tonight, he did.

Some poor unfortunate had old walrus face

dribbling in her ear all evening, did she?

Well, yes, as a matter of fact I did

have to drape a napkin over my shoulder, yes.

George. Are you trying to tell me that you are the General's perfect woman?

Well, yes, I rather think I am.

Well, thank God the horny old blighter didn't ask you to marry him.

He did? Well, how did you get out of that one?

Well, to be honest, sir, I'm not absolutely certain that I did.

What?

You can't understand what it was like, sir.

You know, the candles, the music, the huge moustache...

-I don't know what came over me. -You said yes?

After all, sir, he is a general.

I didn't really feel I could refuse.

He might have had me court-martialled!

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 last turkey in the shop.

Yes, I... I know it's a mess, but, you see, he got me squiffy,

and then when he looked into my eyes and said, "Chipmunk, I love you..."

"Chipmunk"?

Well, it's his special name for me, you see.

He says my nose looks just like a chipmunk's.

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,

he could precipitate the fastest execution

since someone said,

"This Guy Fawkes bloke, do we let him off or what?"

-(PHONE RINGS) -Hello? Yes, sir.

Straight away, sir.

That was your fiance, Chipmunk! He wants to see me.

If I should die, think only this of me...

I'll be back to get you.

Sir, I can explain everything.

Can you, Blackadder? Can you?

WelL... No, sir, not really.

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.

I don't think that would be a very good idea, sir.

MELCHETT: And why not?

Because there's something wrong with your fiancée, sir.

Oh, my God, she's not Welsh, is she?

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 though something wonderful had happened to her.

-Makes sense. -Unfortunately, she was in such a daze

she 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. -No! No!

Well, I say a mine, it was more a cluster of mines.

And she was blown into smithereens.

As she rocketed up into the air,

she said something I couldn't quite catch,

er, totally incomprehensible to me, something like,

"Tell him his little chipmunk will love him forever"? I mean, I dunno...

Oh! Oh!

-How? How? How? -Oh, it's heartbreaking, sir.

-I'm sorry, sir. -Oh, well, can't be helped.

Can't be helped.

-That's jolly bad luck, sir. -Hey-ho.

And of course, on top of everything else,

without your leading lady, you won't be able to put on the show.

So, no show, no London Palladium.

On the contrary. I'm simply intending to rename it.

The Georgina Melchett Memorial Show.

Oh, no! Georgina was the only thing that made the show come alive.

-Apart from her it was all awful! -Awful!

Yes, you'll never find another girl like Georgina by tomorrow.

Oh, it's funny you should say that, sir, because I think I already have.

-Who is she? -Who is she?

So, come on, sir, who is she?

Well, that's the problem, isn't it? I haven't a bloody clue!

The only attractive woman around here is carved out of stone, called Venus,

and is standing in a fountain in the middle of the town square

-with water coming out of her armpits. -So, we're a bit stuck.

-Morning, chaps! -Morning, Bob.

Morning, Bob.

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. -BALDRICK: Not any longer, sir!

May I present my cunning plan?

Don't be ridiculous, Baldrick! Can you sing? Can you dance?

Or are you offering to be sawn in half?

I don't think those things are important in a modern marriage, sir.

I offer simple home cooking.

Baldrick, our plan is to find a new leading lady for our show.

What is your plan?

My plan is that I will marry General Melchett.

I am the other woman.

Oh, well, congratulations, Baldrick! I hope you'll be very happy.

I will, sir, because when I get back from honeymoon,

I will be a member of the aristocracy, and you will have to call me "milady".

What happened to your revolutionary principles, Baldrick?

I thought you hated the aristocracy.

I'm working to bring down the system from within, sir.

I'm a sort of a frozen horse.

Trojan horse, Baldrick.

Anyway, I can't see what's so stupid about marrying into wealth and money,

and not having to sleep in a puddle.

Baldrick, no.

It's the worst plan since Abraham Lincoln said,

"Oh, I'm sick of kicking around the house tonight,

"let's go take in a show!"

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.

Secondly, we are looking for a great entertainer,

and you're the worst entertainer since St Paul the Evangelist

toured Palestine with his trampoline act.

No, we'll have to find somebody else.

What about Corporal Cartwright, sir?

Corporal Cartwright looks like an orangutan.

I've heard of the bearded lady, but the all-over body hair lady

frankly just isn't on.

-Willis? -Too short.

-Petheridge? -Too old.

-Taplow? -Too dead.

Oh, this is hopeless. There just isn't anyone.

BOB: (SINGING) # Goodbye, goodbye

# Wipe the tear, baby dear From your eye... #

What am I doing? Bob!

-Sir? -Sir, what a brilliant idea!

Bob, can you think of anyone who could be our leading lady?

(CROWD APPLAUDING LOUDLY)

What do you think, Bob? One more?

No, George. Always leave them hungry.

Congratulations, Bob. I have to admit, I thought you were bloody marvellous.

Thank you, sir.

Permission to slip into something more uncomfortable, sir?

Permission granted.

Oh, sir, it's gonna be wonderful!

Not just for me, but for my little partner, Graham.

-Doing our Charlie Chaplin

-all round the world. -Yes.

From Shaftesbury Avenue to the Cote d'Azur, they'll be saying,

"T like that little black one, but who's that berk he's sitting on?"

-I'm not with you, sir. -Of course not.

But don't worry, we'll have years in luxury hotels for me to explain.

Now you two, get packing, get packing!

The boat-train leaves at 6:00, and we're going to be on it!

-Blackadder. -Ah, Darling! Everything all right?

-Oh, yes. -Got the tickets?

-Oh, yes. -Ah.

-Blackadder! -Oh, hi, General. Enjoy the show?

Don't be ridiculous.

The worst evening I've ever spent in my life!

-I'm sorry? -Will you stand still

when I'm talking to you?

If by a man's works shall ye know him,

then you are a steaming pile of horse manure!

But surely, sir, the show was a triumph?

A triumph? 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 at the end!

-Drag act? -Yes! Poor Bob Parkhurst

being made to look a total arse!

With that thin reedy voice and the stupid, effeminate dancing!

-Ah... -So, the show's cancelled. Permanently.

But what about the men's morale, sir?

With the Russians out of the war and everything.

Oh, for goodness' sake,

Blackadder, have you been living in a cave?

The Americans joined the war yesterday!

So how is that going to improve the men's morale, sir?

Oh, because, you gibbering imbecile, they've brought with them

the largest collection of Charlie Chaplin films in existence!

Oh, I've lost patience with you. Fill him in, Darling.

Yes, sir.

We received a telegram this morning from Mr Chaplin himself, at Senate Studios.

"Twice-nightly screening of my films in trenches excellent idea. Stop.

"But must insist E. Blackadder be projectionist. Stop.

"Oh, P.S. Don't let him ever stop."

-Oh, great. -No hard feelings, eh, Blackadder?

Not at all, Darling.

Er, care for a Liquorice Allsort?

Oh, thank you.

(THEME MUSIC PLAYING)