Blackadder Back & Forth Page #2

Kill him!

No wait! There must be...

- What are they?

- Oh, they are just sort of sweets.

Minty things.

I want one!

Yes, Your Majesty.

Oh, it's got a hole in it.

No they're meant to be like that,

that's how they're made.

Blackie, you're so naughty!

It's the tastiest thing

in the history of the worid.

Try one, Melchy.

- What do you think?

- Yes, indeed, Ma'am, most pleasant.

This is incredible,

because you know, Melchy,

you usually smell like

you've eaten a stoat for breakfast.

Yes, I am aware I have a less than

orthodox mouth odour, Ma'am.

You don't smell like that anymore,

you smell absolutely yummy now,

and not at all like a turd.

- Oh, what a pity.

- Well done, Blackie!

Here, take this, you sexy flirt.

- Thank you, Ma'am.

- Now...

go forth and bring back

lots more minty things

in the next five minutes,

or I'll come after you

and crush your skull like an egg.

Certainly, Your Majesty. I'll be

right back. Thank you very much.

Oh, I'm so sorry.

I am sorry.

Wait a minute,

- you're not...

- Will Shakespeare, yes.

Don't say it, you hated

"Two Gentlemen of Verona".

- This one's much better.

- Well, bugger my giddy aunt.

You couldn't just sign something

for me, could you?

Certainly.

I'm sorry it's just a Biro.

Thank you.

Oh, and just one more thing...

That's for every schoolboy and

schoolgirl for the next 400 years.

Have you any idea how much

suffering you're going to cause?

Hours spent at school desks

trying to find one joke in

"A Midsummer Night's Dream",

years wearing stupid tights

in school plays

and saying things like

"What ho, my Lord." and

"Oh look, here comes Othello

talking total crap as usual."

Oh, and...

that's for Kenneth Brannagh's endless

Who's Ken Brannagh?

I'll tell him you said that,

and I think he'll be very hurt.

- Let's get out of here, Balders.

- Certainly.

By the way, if we ever

get out of this alive,

- Yes, my Lord?

- Remind me to kill you, will you?

Alright, my Lord.

Now, it was down here when

we were at the dinosaurs,

it's in the middle now,

so why don't we try here?

That should do the trick.

Erm, yes. I suspect that's

a little too far forward.

Back, back, back!

Oh, God, where are we now?

Oh dear, do you think it's safe?

I don't know. Does this look

dangerous to you, Baldrick?

This empty wood?

Well, well, what have we here?

My tough band of freedom fighters,

who have good muscle tone

and aren't gay.

Oh, God.

Look lads,

we've captured Lord Blackadder.

Wait a minute,

are you Robin Hood?

Am I Robin Hood?

Is Will Scarlet a puff in tights?

Is Friar Tuck a fat tub of lard

with a ridiculous haircut?

Is Maid Marion

a hot little honey

- with thighs like a nutcracker?

- Yes, I am.

- Woof!

- Woof!

- Woof!

- Woof!

It's nice to meet you,

at last,

because there's one question

I've always wanted to ask you.

Fire away! Before I impale

you with my magnificent weapon.

And I don't mean

my enormous...

- Yes, I know.

- Oh, right, sorry.

What puzzles me is this:

You rob from the rich?

- Yeah!

- That's right, yeah!

And then when you've robbed the rich,

you give it all to the poor.

- Yes!

- I love giving it to the poor!

- Woof!

- Woof!

Now that's the bit

I don't understand.

- You men risk your lives in combat,

- Yes!

- Risk certain death if you're caught,

- Yes.

You live here in this forest

in total squalor.

I hate to think what the toilets

are like round here.

- Not very nice, actually.

- And yet you still give every penny

to these, so-called poor

who just sit on their backsides

all day...

- Shut up now.

...laughing at you, saying,

"Oh no need to go to work today,

Robin Hood and his merry men

will come soon with a pile of cash."

I said shut up!

I'm surprised they don't call you

Robin Hood and his bunch of lunatics.

Right, that is it!

Shoot him, boys.

I'm great and he's not.

Robin Hood and his

band of merry morons.

Ready... aim...

...fire!

Can I say that I think you made

the right decisin.

So do I, gorgeous.

Ding dong!

Well, Maid Marion

was pretty friendly.

So was Will Scarlet,

a really nice guy.

Still, the sooner we get home

the better.

We've started to affect history,

and that's dangerous.

We've already wiped out

the dinosaurs and killed Robin Hood.

God only knows

what's going to happen next time.

My Lord Emperor,

I, the Duc de Darling, bring news.

The English have reached Waterloo.

- Good. Prepare to attack.

- Very well.

But first, I would like to ask,

why do we want

to invade Britain in the first place?

I mean, their wine is made

of the peepee of cows,

and their women

all have big beards.

We invade, Darling, because

the British think they are so tough.

They think we French are sissies,

they call us weeds and whoopsies

and big girl's blouses.

With respect, my emperor,

we are whoopsies.

We invented the tapestry, the souffl

and the sweet liqueur.

We will be slaughtered

the minute we mince up the hill.

Do not despair. It is my firm belief

that God hates the British.

He will intervene miraculously

and send us a glorious victory

on this field of Waterloo.

Oh, bravo!

- Lovely uniform today, by the way.

- Oh, thank you. I think it works.

The French are approaching.

Excellent, I've a superb plan

which can't fail to result in

the complete destruction

of the French army.

Splendid. Tell me, and

I'll spread the news to the troops.

Very well. The plan is...

God, I'm brilliant, I surprise myself

sometimes. The plan is...

to allow the French within

And this is

the completely brilliant part...

- Yes?

- Then...

Your Grace!

- The Duke of Wellington is dead!

- Whoops.

Alas. Without the plan

the day is lost.

Pardon me.

Thanks very much.

May as well try and win

that cash anyway.

Why don't we try

pressing this button?

Well, fingers crossed.

- What can you see, Balders?

- People in very short skirts, my Lord.

Excellent. The 1960s,

at last, we're getting close.

I might stay a while actually

for a bit of hippy free love.

Free love wouldn't make

any difference to you, Balders.

I mean, what would a sheep

do with money?

Not giris in skirts, my Lord,

men.

Ah, Spandau Ballet, 1983.

I think not, my Lord.

Romans! We're still centuries out.

Come on, let's go.

Although, I might just steal myself

a Roman helmet while we're here.

Interesting. The machine seems to

be seeking out our DNA across time.

- Just brilliant!

- What, oh centurion?

We're facing a hoard

of ginger maniacs

with wild goats nesting in their

huge orange beards,

or to put it another way,

the Scots.

And how does our

inspired leader Hadrian

intend to keep out

this vast army of lunatics?

By building a 3 foot-high wall.

A terrifying obstacle,

about as frightening

as a little rabbit with the word

"Boo" painted on its nose.

Oh, come now, centurion,

I won't have that.

This wall is a terrific

defence mechanism.

You're surely not suggesting

a rabble of Scots

could get the better

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