Ripped with SubRip 1.10 and Verified by CdinT (Cristi_Polacsek@SoftHome. net)
I deliver perfection... and don't brag about it!:D
Eyes, right!
You a bit cheesed off, sir?
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.
Oh, because if you are cheesed off,
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 there's a gas bill tied to it.
Ah, beg pardon, sir, but come off!
His films are ball-bouncingly funny.
Rubbish!
All right, let's consult the men for a casting vote.
- 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, did 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,
because 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 to 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 what's-names, 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.
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?
Yeah, what's up with you, then?
I'll tell you what's up with me...
I'm right round off, that's what's up with me.
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 tenderizer
and then stapled to the floor
with a croquet hoop.
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 shuttled their nobs!
Well, hurrah!
Oh, no, the bloody Russians have pulled out of the war.
Well, we soon saw them off, didn't we sir?
Miserable slant-eyed,
sausage-eating swine.
The Russians are on "our" side, George.
Are they?
And they've abandoned the eastern front.
And they've overthrown Nicholas II
who used to be bizarre.
Who used to be "the" czar, 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 practice.
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 gonna 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!
You fancy an evening at a concert party, Blackadder?
Well, frankly sir, I'd rather spend an evening
on top of a stepladder 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 organize 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.
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 everyone's wearing overalls
and breaking wind in the palaces of the mighty.
Good point, sir.
Now, the thing is, Blackadder,
finding a man to organize 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 candidate's suitability for the job.
And what sort of questions would these be, sir?
Well, the first question is,
Do you like Charlie Chaplin?
Ah.
Dismissed, Lieutenant.
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.
But, sir, 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.
# Oops, Mr. Rothschild, 'ows yer apples and pears #
Umm, yes.
Well, it's my view, Blackadder, that the kind
of person who would answer "yes" to both questions
would be ideal for the jo...
Wait a minute!
What, sir?
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 straightaway.
A couple of shows over the weekend,
and if all goes well,
we'll start you off in London next Monday.
Oh, damn.
If you need any help fetching and carrying,
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
just the man for this job, Blackadder.
He has a splendid sense of humour.
He, sir? He? He?
You see, you're laughing already!
Well, 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.
I'm sure he'd be happy to fill your pipe. Carry on.
So you're a "chap," are you, Bob?
Oh, yes, sir.
You wouldn't say you were a girl at all?
Oh, definitely not, sir.
I understand cricket, I fart in bed, everything.
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, 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.
All 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.
Ha ha! I love that! That always cracks me up, sir.
Followed by Baldrick's impersonation of Charlie Chaplin.
Yes. Bob, take a telegram.
Mr. C. Chaplin, Sennett 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...
Da-daaa...
I feel fantastic!
Gorgeous Georgina,
the traditional soldier's drag act.
You look absolutely lovely, sir.
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 gonna 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"
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 on to life,
I see no reason why it should wish
to cling on to your upper lip.
Baldrick, Baldrick, come over here.
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. Splendid!
Sir, sir, there's a visitor to see you.
Good Lord... Mr. Chaplin!
This is indeed an honor.
Why, it calls for some sort of celebration.
Baldrick, Baldrick!
Sir, that is extraordinary, because...
Because, you see, this isn't Chaplin at all...
this "is" Baldrick!
Yes, 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.
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 Coliseum thought of putting
the Christians and the lions on the same bill.
Sir, some people seem to think that I was best!
Would you agree?
Baldrick, in the Amazonian rain forests,
there are tribes of Indians as yet untouched by civilization
who have developed
more convincing Charlie Chaplin impressions than yours.
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.
I need that applause in the same way
that an ostler needs his... ostle.
Well done, sir!
No, really, I was hopeless. I mean, tell me honestly, sir,
- I was, wasn't I? - Well...
Come on, sir, out with it, I was hopeless, wasn't I?
You're trying to be nice and that's very sweet of you,
but sir, please, I can take it, I was hopeless.
George, you were bloody awful.
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!
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...
Maestro!
You enjoyed it, sir?
Well, it was mostly awful,
but I enjoyed the slug balancer.
Ah! Private Baldrick, sir.
That's right, yes.
The slug fell off a couple of times,
but you can't have everything, can you?
I'd just suggest a bit more practice
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,
ticket to Dover, rooms at the Ritz and so forth.
Thank you, sir.
However, there is one small thing you might do for me.
Yes?
Captain Blackadder, I should esteem it
a signal honor if you would allow me
to escort your leading lady
to the regimental ball this evening.
My leading lady?
The fair Georgina.
Ah, ha-ha, very amusing.
You think she'd laugh in my face?
I'm too old, too crusty?
Uh, 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.
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'll 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,
realize 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.
How do I look, Darling?
Girl-bait, sir.
Pure bloody girl-bait.
Moustache bushy enough?
Like a private hedge, sir.
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?
Um, I don't know, sir.
- Well, don't butt in! - Sorry, sir.
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 all so sudden,
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 on what I want to say to her this evening.
Oh, yes. Of course.
Thank God.
All right?
Yes, I'm listening, sir.
Honestly darling, you really are
the most graceless, dimwitted bumpkin I ever met.
I don't think you should say that to her.
Where the hell'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 honor but a cricket box.
Hello, Captain.
About time! Where the hell have you been?
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 whirl of half-whispered conversations,
with a 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.
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 don'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-martialed.
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-I know it's a mess,
but, you see, it got me scriffy,
and then when he looked into my eyes
and said, "Chipmunk, I love you"...
Chipmunk?!
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,
it could precipitate the fastest execution
since someone said,
This Guy Fawkes bloke, do we let him off, or wot?
Hello?
Yes, sir.
Straightaway, sir.
That was your fiancé...
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.
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.
Well, I say "a mine," it was more a cluster of mines,
and she was blown to smithereens,
and as she rocketed up into the air,
she said something I couldn't quite catch,
something totally incomprehensible to me,
something like, "Tell him his little chipmunk will love him forever!"
It's heartbreaking, sir.
I'm sorry, sir.
Oh, well, can't be helped, can't be helped.
It's jolly bad luck, sir.
Hey ho.
Of course, on top of everything else,
without your leading lady,
you won't be able to put on a 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!
You'll never find another girl like Georgina by tomorrow.
Well, 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. 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.
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.
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. "
Well, congratulations, Baldrick.
I hope you'll be very happy.
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. "
What happened to your revolutionary principles?
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 orang-utan.
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!
# Goodbyeee, goodbyeee #
# Wipe the tear, baby dear, from your eye #
What am I doing?
Bob!
Sir?
What a brilliant idea!
Bob, can you think of anyone who can be our leading lady?
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.
Permission to slip into something more uncomfortable, sir.
Permission granted.
Oh sir, it's going to be wonderful.
Not just for me, but for my little partner, Graham.
Doing our Charlie Chaplin all 'round the world.
Yes, from Shaftsbury Avenue
to the Cote d'Azur,
they'll be saying,
I like the little black one,
but who's that berk he's sitting on?
I'm not with you, sir.
No, 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 six,
and we're going to be on it.
Blackadder.
Ah, Darling, everything all right?
Oh, yes.
Got the tickets?
Oh, yes.
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...
gin!...
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's being made to look a total ass!
With that thin, reedy voice
and that stupid effeminate dancing!
Ahhh
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?
Ohhh, because, you jibbering 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 Sennett 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.
Uh, care for a liquorice alsort?
Well, thank you.
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I deliver perfection... and don't brag about it!:D