Care for a smoke, sir?
No, thank you.
- Private? - Thank you, sir.
Oh, dash and blast all this hanging about, sir.
I'm as bored as a pacifist pistol!
When are we gonna see some action?!
Well, George, I strongly suspect
that your long wait for certain death
is nearly at an end.
Surely you must have noticed something in the air.
Well, of course,
but I thought that was Private Baldrick.
Unless I'm very much mistaken,
soon we will at last be making the final big push,
that one we've been so looking forward to
all these years.
Well, hurrah with highly-polished brass knobs on!
About time!
Hello. The Somme public baths.
No, running, shouting, or piddling in the shallow end.
Ah, Captain Darling.
Tomorrow at dawn.
Oh, excellent!
See you later, then. Bye.
Gentlemen, our long wait is nearly at an end.
Tomorrow morning General Insanity Melchett
invites you to a mass slaughter.
We're going over the top.
Well, huzzah and hurrah!
God save the King, rule Britannia,
and boo sucks to Harry Hun!
Or, to put it more precisely, you're going over the top,
I'm getting out of here.
Oh, come on, Cap!
It may be a bit risky,
but it's sure as bloomin' hell worth it, Gov'nor.
How can it possibly be worth it?
We've been sitting here since Christmas, 1914
during which millions of men have died,
and we've advanced no further than
an asthmatic ant with some heavy shopping.
No, but this time I'm absolutely pos' we'll break through.
It's ice cream in Berlin in 15 days.
Or ice-cold in No-Man's-Land in 15 seconds.
No, the time has come to get out of this madness
once and for all.
What madness is that?
For God's sake, George,
how long have you been in the Army?
What, me? I joined up straightaway, sir.
August the 4th, 1914.
Ah, what a day that was.
Myself and the rest of the fellows,
leapfrogging down to the Cambridge recruiting office
and then playing tiddlywinks in the queue.
We'd hammered Oxford's tiddlywinkers
only the week before, and there we were,
off to hammer the Bosche.
A crashingly superb bunch of blokes...
fine, clean-limbed...
even our acne had a strange nobility about it.
Yes, and how are all the boys now?
Well, ah, Jocko and the Badger
bought it at the First Ypres run, unfortunately.
What a shock, that.
I remember Bumfluff's housemaster
wrote and told me that
Sticky had been out for a duck,
and the gubber had snitched a parcel sausage end
and gone goose over stumps frog side.
Meaning?
I don't know, sir, but I read in the Times that they'd both been killed.
And Bumfluff himself?
Copped a packet at Gallipoli with the Aussies.
So did Drippy and Strangely Brown.
I remember we heard
on the first morning of the Somme,
when Titch and Mr. Floppy got gassed back to Blighty.
Which leaves?
Gosh, yes, I...
I suppose I'm the only one of the Trinity Tiddlers still alive.
Blimey, there's a thought, and not a jolly one.
My point exactly, George.
A chap might get a bit mis'
if it wasn't for the thought of going over the top tomorrow!
Right, sir. Permission to get weaving.
- Permission granted. - Thank you, sir.
- Baldrick! - Captain B.
This is a crisis... a large crisis.
In fact, if you've got a moment,
it's a 12-story crisis with a magnificent entrance hall,
carpeting throughout, 24-hour porterage,
and an enormous sign on the roof
saying, This is a large crisis.
And a large crisis requires a large plan.
Get me two pencils and a pair of underpants.
Right, Baldrick.
This is an old trick I picked up in the Sudan.
We tell HQ that I've gone insane,
and I will be invalided back to Blighty
before you can say wibble...
a poor, gormless idiot.
Well, I'm a poor, gormless idiot, sir,
and I've never been invalided back to Blighty.
Yes, Baldrick,
but you never said wibble.
Now, ask me some simple questions.
All right.
What is your name?
Wibble.
What is two plus two?
Wibble, wibble.
Where do you live?
- London. - Eh?
A small village on Mars,
just outside the capital city...
...Wibble.
All the men present and correct, sir.
Ready for the off, eh!
I'm afraid not, Lieutenant.
I'm just off to Hartlepool to buy some exploding trousers.
Come again, sir?
Have you gone barking mad?
Yes, George, I have.
Cluck-cluck, gibber-gibber,
my old man's a mushroom, etcetera.
Go send a runner to tell General Melchett
that your Captain has gone insane
and must return to England at once.
But, sir, how utterly ghastly for you!
I mean, you'll miss the whole rest of the war!
Yes, very bad luck. Beep!
Right.
Beep!
Now Baldrick, I'll be back as soon as I can.
Pap-pa.
Whatever you do, don't excite him.
Fat chance.
Now, all we have to do is wait.
Baldrick, fix us some coffee, will you?
And try to make it taste
slightly less like mud this time.
Not easy, I'm afraid, Captain.
- Why is this? - 'Cause it is mud.
We ran out of coffee 13 months ago.
So every time I've drunk your coffee since,
I have in fact been drinking hot mud.
With sugar.
Which of course makes all the difference.
Well, it would do if we had any sugar,
but unfortunately, we ran out New Year's Eve, 1915
since when I've been using sugar substitute.
Which is?
Dandruff.
Brilliant.
Still, I could add some milk this time.
Well, saliva.
No...
No thank you, Baldrick.
Call me Mr. Picky, but I think I'll cancel.
That's probably 'cause you're mad, sir!
Well, quite.
Well, it didn't go down at all well, I'm afraid, sir.
Captain Darling said they'd be along directly,
But, well, you'd better be pretty damn doolally.
Don't worry, George, I am... okay, okay.
When they get here I'll show them
what totally and utterly bonkerooni means.
Till then, there's bugger-all to do
except sit and wait.
Oh, I don't know, sir.
We could have a jolly game of charades.
Ooh, yes!
And sing along with musical hits,
like Birmingham Bertie,
and Whoops, Mrs. Miggins, You're Sitting On My Artichokes."
Yes, I think bugger-all might be rather more fun.
Permission to ask a question, sir.
Permission granted, Baldrick,
as long as it isn't the one about where babies come from.
No. The thing is, the way I see it,
these days there's a war on, right?
And ages ago, there wasn't a war on, right?
So there must have been a moment
when there-not-being-a-war-on went away,
and there-being-a-war-on came along.
So... what I want to know is,
how did we get from the one case of affairs
to the other case of affairs?
Do you mean, how did the war start?
Yeah.
The war started because of the vile Hun
and his villainous empire-building.
George, the British Empire
at present covers a quarter of the globe,
while the German Empire
consists of a small sausage factory
In Tanganyika.
I hardly think we can entirely be absolved from blame
on the imperialistic front.
Oh, no... no sir, absolutely not.
Mad as a bicycle.
I heard that it started when a bloke called Archie Duke
shot an ostrich because he was hungry.
I think you mean it started
when the Archduke of Austro-Hungary got shot.
No, there was definitely an ostrich involved, sir.
Well, possibly.
But the real reason for the whole thing
was that it was just too much effort
not to have a war.
By gum, this is interesting! I always loved history...
the Battle of Hastings,
Henry Vlll and his six knives, all that.
You see, Baldrick, in order to prevent war in Europe,
two super-blocs developed...
us, the French, and the Russians on one side,
and the Germans and Austro-Hungary on the other.
The idea was to have two vast, opposing armies,
each acting as the other's deterrent.
That way, there could never be a war.
But this is a sort of a war, isn't it?
Yes, that's right.
There was a tiny flaw in the plan.
What was that, sir?
It was bollocks.
So the poor old ostrich died for nothing.
Heads up!
Right, they're here.
Baldrick, you keep him warm.
I'll go and prepare the ground.
Sir.
George. How's the patient?
It's touch and go, I'm afraid, sir.
I really can't vouch for his behavior...
He's gone mad, you see,
stir-fry crazy.
I see. Is this genuinely mad?
Oh, yes, sir.
Or has he simply put his underpants on his head
and stuffed a couple of pencils up his nose?
That's what they all used to do in the Sudan.
I remember I once had to shoot a whole platoon for trying that.
Well, let's have a look at him.
'Tention!
And the other thing they used to do in the Sudan
was to get dressed up like this and pretend to be mad.
So, don't let me catch you trying that one, Baldrick,
or I'll have you shot, all right? Dismissed.
Well, hello, sir. Didn't hear you come in.
Now then, Blackadder... they tell me you've gone mad.
No, sir.
No, no, must be a breakdown of communications.
Someone obviously heard I was mad with excitement
waiting for the off.
You see, Darling, I told you there'd be a perfectly rational explanation.
Right, George, have your chaps fall in.
Well, it's rather odd, sir, the message was very clear.
Captain Blackadder gone totally tonto.
Bring straitjacket for immediate return to Blighty.
Don't be ridiculous, Darling...
The hero of Mboto Gorge, mad?
You've only got to look at him to see he's as sane as I am.
Baaaa!!!!
Would that be the Mboto Gorge
where we massacred the peace-loving pygmies
of the Upper Volta and stole all their fruit?
No, a totally different Mboto Gorge.
Oh.
Cup of coffee, Darling?
Oh. Thank you.
Baldrick, do the honours.
Sugar, sir?
Three lumps.
Think you can manage three lumps, Baldrick?
I'll rummage 'round, see what I can find, sir.
Make it a milky one.
Coming up, sir!
Well, George, you must have been
delighted to hear the news of the big push.
Absolutely, sir. Our chance to show the Hun
that it takes more than a pointy hat and bad breath
to defeat the armies of King George.
That's the spirit!
Here you are, sir.
Ah, cappuccino.
Have you got any of that...
any of that brown stuff you sprinkle on the top?
Well, I'm sure I could...
No. No.
'Tention!
Ah, oh.
Fine body of men
you've got out there, Blackadder.
Yes sir, shortly to become fine bodies of men.
Ah, nonsense... you'll pull through!
I remember when we played the Old Harrowians back in '96,
they said we'd never break through to their back line,
but we ducked and we bobbed and we wove
and we damn well won the game 15-4.
Yes sir, but the Harrow fullback
wasn't armed with a heavy machine gun.
Good point... make a note, Darling.
Recommendation for the Harrow governors
heavy machine guns for fullbacks.
Nice idea, Blackadder.
Now then, soldier,
you looking forward to giving those Frenchies
a damn good licking?
Uh, no sir... it's the Germans we shall be licking.
Don't be revolting, Darling!
I wouldn't lick a German if he was glazed in honey!
Now then, soldier, do you love your country?
Certainly do, sir!
And do you love your King?
Certainly don't, sir!
And why not?
My mother told me
never to trust men with beards, sir.
Ha ha ha ha!
Excellent native Cockney wit!
Ooh!
Well, best of luck to you all.
Sorry I can't be with you,
but obviously there's no place at the front
for an old general with a dicky heart
and a wooden bladder.
By the way, George,
if you want to accompany me back to HQ
and watch the results as they come in,
I think I can guarantee a place in the car.
No, thank you, sir.
I wouldn't miss this show for anything.
I'm as excited as a very excited person
who's got a special reason to be excited, sir.
Excellent! Well, chuff chuff, then.
See you all in Berlin for coffee and cakes.
Right.
Ptooie!
What is the matter with you today, Darling?!
I'm so sorry, Blackadder. Come on, Darling, we're leaving.
By Jove, sir... I'm glad you're not barking anymore.
Thank you, George.
Although quite clearly, you are.
You were offered a way out, and you didn't take it.
Absolutely not, sir.
I can't wait to get stuck in to the Bosche.
You won't have time to get stuck in to the Bosche.
We'll all be cut to pieces by machine-gun fire
before we can say charge.
Right. So what do we do now?
Shall I do my war poem?
How hurt would you be if I gave the honest answer,
which is, No, I'd rather French-kiss a skunk".
So would I, sir!
All right. Fire away, Baldrick.
Hear the words I sing,
war's a horrid thing.
So I sing, sing, sing,
ding-a-ling-a-ling.
Bravo! Yes!
Well, it started badly,
and it tailed off a little in the middle,
and the less said about the end the better,
but apart from that... excellent.
Shall I do another one then, sir?
No, we wouldn't want to exhaust you.
Don't worry. I could go on all night.
Not with a bayonet through your neck, you couldn't!
This one is called The German Guns.
Oh, spiffing! Yes, let's hear that.
Boom boom boom boom!
Boom boom boom.
Boom boom boom boom!
Boom boom boom?
How did you guess, sir?
I say, sir, that is spooky!
I think I've got to get out of here!
Well, I have a cunning plan, sir.
All right, Baldrick. For old time's sake.
Well, you phone Field Marshal Haig,
and you ask him to get you out of here.
Baldrick, even by your standards,
it's pathetic.
I've only ever met Haig once.
It was 20 years ago, and... my God, you've got it!
You've got it!!!
Well, if I've got it, you've got it too, now.
I can't believe I've been so stupid.
One phone call will do it.
One phone call and I'll be free.
Let's see. It's 3 30 am,
I'll call about quarter to six.
Excellent, excellent. I'll get packing.
You know,
I won't half miss you chaps after the war.
Don't worry, Lieutenant. I'll come visit you.
Will you really? Oh, bravo! Yes!
Jump into the old jalopy
and come down and stay in the country.
We can re-live the old times.
What, dig a hole in the garden,
fill it with water,
and get your gamekeeper to shoot at us all day?
That's the thing I don't really understand about you.
I mean, you're a professional soldier,
and yet sometimes you sound as if
you bloody well haven't enjoyed soldiering at all!
You see, George, I did like it
back in the old days
when the prerequisite of a British campaign
was that the enemy should under no circumstances
carry guns.
Even spears made us think twice.
The kind of people we liked to fight
were two feet tall and armed with dry grass.
Now, come off it, sir.
What about Mboto Gorge, for heavens' sake!
Yes, that was a bit of a nasty one.
Ten thousand Watusi warriors,
armed to the teeth with kiwi fruit and guava halves.
After the battle, instead of taking prisoners,
we simply made a huge fruit salad.
No, when I joined up,
I never imagined anything as awful as this war.
I'd had 15 years of military experience,
perfecting the art of ordering a pink gin
and saying, Do you do it doggy-doggy" in Swahili.
And then suddenly,
four and a half million heavily armed Germans
hove into view.
It was a shock, I can tell you.
I thought it was going to be such fun, too.
We all did...
joining the local regiment and everything.
Turnip Street Workhouse pals...
it was great, I'll never forget it.
It was the first time I ever felt really popular.
Everyone was cheering, throwing flowers.
Some girl even come up and kissed me.
Poor woman... first casualty of the war.
And I loved the training.
All we had to do was bayonet sacks full of straw.
Even I could do that.
I remember saying to my mum,
These sacks will be easy to outwit
in a battle situation.
And then, shortly after,
we all met up, didn't we?
Just before Christmas, 1914.
Yes, that's right.
I had just arrived,
and we had that wonderful Christmas truce.
We could hear Silent Night
drifting across the still, clear air of No-Man's Land.
And then they came, the Germans,
emerging out of the freezing night mist,
calling to us,
and we clambered up over the top
and went to meet them.
Both sides advanced more during one Christmas piss-up
than they managed in the next 2 40575 years of war.
Do you remember the football match?
How could I forget it? I was never offside.
I could not believe that decision!
And since then,
we've been stuck here for three flippin' years.
We haven't moved!
All me friends are dead...
my pet spider Sammy,
Katie the worm,
Bertie the bird,
everyone except Neville the fat hamster.
I'm afraid Neville bought it too.
I'm sorry.
Neville gone, sir?
Not quite gone.
He's in the corner, bunging up the sink.
Oh, no!
It didn't have to happen, sir!
If it wasn't for this terrible war,
Neville would still be here today,
sniffling his little nose and going Eek!
On the other hand, if he hadn't died,
I wouldn't have been able to insert a curtain rod
in his bottom and use him as a dish mop.
Why can't we just stop, sir?
Why can't we just say,
No more killing, let's all go home.
Why would it be stupid just to pack it in, sir, why!
Now, look here...
you just stop that conchie talk right now, Private.
It's absurd, it's Bolshevism, and it wouldn't work, anyway.
Why not, sir?
Why not?
W-w-w-well, you mean, why wouldn't it work?
It wouldn't work because... they're...
Now you just get on with polishing those boots,
and let's have a bit less of that lip.
I think I managed to crush the mutiny, sir.
Just think, in a few hours, we'll be off.
Of course, not that I won't miss all this,
but, ah, we've had some good times,
we've had some damnably good laughs, eh?
Yes. Can't think of any specific ones, myself, but...
Darling.
Sir!
No, no, sit, sit.
Can't sleep either, eh?
Uh, no, sir.
Thinking about the push, sir.
Maybe the Bosche will forget to set their alarm clocks,
still be in their pajamas when our boys turn up.
Yes, yes.
I've been thinking too, Darling.
Sir?
You know, over these last few years,
I've come to think of you as a sort of son.
Not a favorite son, of course.
Lord, no,
more a sort of illegitimate backstairs sprog, you know...
a sort of spotty squit that nobody really likes,
but, nonetheless, still fruit of my overactive loins.
Thank you, sir.
And I want to do what's best for you, Darling.
So I've given it a great deal of thought,
and I want you to have this.
A postal order for 10 shillings.
No, sorry.
That's my godson's wedding present.
Ah! Here.
Uh, no sir, this is a commission for the front lines, sir.
Yes.
I've been awfully selfish, Darling,
keeping you back here
instead of letting you join in the fun and games.
This will let you get to the front line immediately.
But...
B-b-b-but sir, I-I don't want to.
To leave me? I appreciate that, Darling,
but, damn it, I'll just have to enter Berlin
without someone to carry my feathery hat.
No, sir... I don't want to go into battle.
Without me? I know. But I'm too old, Darling.
I'm just going to have to sit this one out on the touchline
with the half-time oranges and the fat wheezy boys
with a note from matron
while you young bloods link arms and go together
for the glorious final scrum-down!
No, sir!
You're... you're not listening, sir.
I'm begging you.
Please...
for the sake of all the times
I've helped you with your dickie bows
and your dickie bladder...
Please, don't make me...
Make you go through
the farewell debagging ceremony in the mess?
No, I've spared you that, too,
you touchingly sentimental young boobie.
No fuss, no bother.
The driver is already here.
But...
No, no, not a word, Kevin,
I know what you want to say, I know.
Goodbye, Kevin Darling.
Goodbye, sir.
It stopped raining at last, sir.
Looks like we might have a nice day for it.
Yes, it's nearly morning.
So it is, right.
Time to make my call.
Hello. Field Marshal Sir Douglas Haig, please.
Yes, it's urgent.
- Haig. - Hello, Sir Douglas.
Who is this?
Captain Blackadder, sir.
Erstwhile of the 19/45th East African Rifles.
Good Lord! Blackie!
Yes, sir.
- Haven't seen you since... - '92, sir. Mboto Gorge.
By jingo, yes.
We sure gave those pygmies a good squashing.
We certainly did, sir.
And do you remember...
My God, yes.
You saved my damn life that day, Blackie.
If it weren't for you, that pygmy woman
with the sharpened mango could have seriously...
And do you remember then
that you said that if I was ever in real trouble,
if I ever really needed a favor,
you'd do anything you could to help me?
Yes, yes, I do, and I stick by it.
You know me, not a man to change my mind.
No, we've noticed that.
So what do you want? Spit it out, man.
- You see, sir,
it's the big push today,
and I'm not all that keen to go over the top.
Oh, I see.
Well...
It was a viciously sharp slice of mango, wasn't it, sir?
Well, this is most irregular, but, um...
All right, if I do fix it for you,
I never want to hear from you again, is that clear?
Suits me, Dougie.
Very well. Listen well, Blackadder.
I won't repeat this.
Put your underpants on your head
and stick two pencils up your nose.
They'll think you're crazy and send you home.
Right. Favour returned.
I think the phrase rhymes with clucking bell.
Does that mean you'll be going over the top now, sir?
Field Marshal?
Ha ha!
Well, not quite, Blackadder.
At least not yet.
No, I just wanted to let you know
that I've sent a little surprise over for you.
Sir!
- Captain Darling. - Captain Blackadder.
Here to join us for the last waltz?
Um, yes.
Tired of... folding the General's pyjamas.
Well, this is splendid comradely news!
Together we'll fight for king and country
and be sucking sausages in Berlin by tea time!
Yes, I hope their cafes are well-stocked.
Everyone seems determined to eat out
the moment they arrive.
Really, this is brave, splendid and noble!
- Sir? - Yes, Lieutenant?
I'm... scared, sir.
I'm scared too, sir.
I mean, I'm the last of the tiddlywinking leapfroggers
from the golden summer of 1914. I don't want to die.
I'm really not overkeen on dying at all, sir.
How are you feeling, Darling?
Um, not all that good, Blackadder.
Rather hoped I'd get through the whole show.
Go back to work at Pratt & Sons,
keep wicket for the Croyden gentlemen,
marry Doris.
Made a note in my diary on the way here.
It simply says ..."Bugger".
Well, quite.
Let's move.
Fix bayonets!
Don't forget your stick, Lieutenant.
Rather, sir.
Wouldn't want to face a machine gun without this.
Listen... our guns have stopped.
- You don't think...
Maybe the war is over. Maybe it's peace!
Well, hurrah!
The big nobs have got 'round the table
and yanked the iron out of the fire!
Thank God! We lived through it!
The Great War... 1914 to 1917.
Hip hip...
Hooray!
I'm afraid not.
The guns have stopped because we're about to attack.
Not even our generals
are mad enough to shell their own men.
They think it's far more sporting to let the Germans do it.
So we are, in fact, going over?
This is, as they say, it?
I'm afraid so.
Unless I can think of something very quickly.
Company, one pace forward!
There's a nasty splinter on that ladder, sir,
a bloke could hurt himself on that.
Stand ready!
I have a plan, sir.
Really, Baldrick?
A cunning and subtle one?
Yes, sir.
As cunning as a fox
who's just been appointed Professor of Cunning
at Oxford University?
Yes, sir.
At the signal, company will advance!
Well, I'm afraid it'll have to wait.
Whatever it was, I'm sure it was better than my plan
to get out of this by pretending to be mad.
I mean, who would have noticed another madman around here?
Good luck, everyone.
Charge!!!