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BACK TO : Blackadder the Third Scripts
Episode 3 - Nob and Nobility Black Adder III, Episode 3 Nob and Nobility watch it HERE 
Miggins: [dancing about by a table of two customers in her coffee shop] Oh la la! [laughs happily] [Edmund Blackadder, butler to the Prince Regent, enters] Edmund: Ah, good morning, Mrs Miggins. Miggins: Bonjour, monsieur. Edmund: What? Miggins: Bonjour, monsieur -- it's French. Edmund: So is eating frogs, cruelty to geese and urinating in the street, but that's no reason to inflict it on the rest of us. Miggins: But French is all the fashion! My coffee shop is full of frenchies, and it's all because of that wonderful Scarlet Pimpernel. [an odd squishy noise is heard occasionally, starting now] Edmund: The Scarlet Pimpernel is >not< wonderful, Mrs Miggins. There is no reason whatsoever to admire someone for filling London with a load of garlic-chewing French toffs crying "Oh la la!" and looking for sympathy all the time just because their fathers had their heads cut off. I'll have a cup of coffee and some shepherd's pie, please. Miggins: [put off] We don't serve >pies< anymore! My French clientele consider >pies< uncouth. Edmund: I hardly think that a nation that eats snails and would go to bed with the kitchen sink if it put on a tutu is in any position to preach couthness. So what >is< on the menu? [he picks up the small menu and flips it over looking at it casually] Miggins: Well, today's hot choice is Chicken Pimpernel in a Scarlet Sauce, Scarlet Chicken in a Pimpernel Sauce, or Huge Suspicious-Looking Sausages in a Scarlet Pimpernel Sauce. Edmund: What exactly is Scarlet Pimpernel sauce? Miggins: [she uses her hands to demonstrate as she speaks] You take a large ripe frog, squeeze it [one of the squishy noises is heard as she makes this motion, giving away what the noise is] -- Edmund: [putting up a hand] Yes, yes, all right. [several words are covered entirely by laughter (anyone out there have a closed-caption decoder, since the commercial-release tapes are closed-captioned?).] [Edmund goes to the door to leave, just as a Frenchman enters.] Frenchman: [bowing] Ah, bonjour, monsieur! Edmund: Sod off. [Scene changes to Edmund's quarters, below the prince's house. Baldrick is tearing apart some dough. Edmund enters, picks up a tabby cat and punts it high into the air across the room.] Baldrick: Oh, Sir! Poor little Mildred the cat! What's he ever done to you? Edmund: It is the way of the world, Baldrick -- the abused always kick downwards. I am annoyed, and so I kick the cat... the cat [there is a mouse `eek!' noise] pounces on the mouse, and, finally, the mouse-- Baldrick: [startled, jumps] Agh! Edmund: ...bites you on the behind. Baldrick: Well, what do I do? Edmund: Nothing. You are last in God's great chain, Baldrick -- unless, of course, there's an earwig around here that you'd like to victimise. [Baldrick leans toward Edmund, trying to get him to notice something] Edmund: [notices] Baldrick, what's happened to your nose? Baldrick: Nice, isn't it? Edmund: No it isn't. It's revolting. Baldrick: Oh. I'll take it off, then. [removes item from his nose] Edmund: Baldrick, why are you wearing a false boil? What are we to expect next: a beauty wart? a cosmetic verruca? Baldrick: It's a Scarlet Pimple, Sir. Edmund: Really... Baldrick: Yeah, they're all the rage down our way. Everyone wants to express their admiration for the great Pimple and his brilliant disguises. Edmund: [takes the pimple, speaks angrily] What has this fellow done? -- apart from pop over to France to grab a few French knobs from the ineffectual clutches [tosses pimple into the fireplace] of some malnourished whingeing lefties, taking the opportunity while there, no doubt, to pick up some really good cheap wine and some of their marvelous open-fruit flans... Doesn't anyone know? We hate the French! We fight wars against them! Did all those men die in vain on the field at Agincourt? Was the man who burned Joan of Arc simply wasting good matches? [Bells ring.] Edmund: Ah, His Royal Highness, the Pinhead of Wales, summons me. You know, I feel almost well-disposed towards him this morning. Half the chump though he may be, at least he's not French. [Scene changes to inside Prince's bedroom. He is having some drinks with lords Topper and Smedley.] Prince: "Un toast! Encore un toast," I say! Le Pimpernel Scarlette! Topper & Smedley: Le Pimpernel Scarlette! [Edmund enters.] Prince: Ah! Le Adder Noir! Come on au in! [Edmund is upset, but restrains it.] Prince: [to Topper and Smedley] This is the fellow to ask, you chaps: my butler -- terribly clever. Brighter than a brain pie. [Topper and Smedley chuckle like the dandies they are] Blackadder, we're trying to guess who the Scarlet Pimpernel is, so we can send him an enormous postal order to express our admiration. Any ideas? Edmund: Well, I'm sure if you addressed the envelope to "The Biggest Show-Off in London," it would reach him eventually. [Topper and Smedley stand up from where they were lying (on Prince's bed) and approach Edmund.] Topper: Tish and pish! Gadzooks! Milarky! How dare you say such a thing? Damn me, sir, if you're not the worst kind of swine! Smedley: Damn that swine... Edmund: I'm sorry, Sir. I was merely pointing out that sneaking aristocrats out from under the noses of French revolutionaries is about as difficult as putting on a hat. Topper: Sink me, sir! This is treason! The Scarlet Pimpernel's a hero, and the revolution is orchestrated by a ruthless band of highly organised killers, damn them! Smedley: Damn those organised killers... Topper: [turning to Prince] Sir, if I remember rightly, we were just discussing the French Embassy ball in honour of the exiled aristocracy... Prince: We certainly were -- where I intend the wear the most magnificent pair of trousers ever to issue forth from the delicate hands of Mssrs Snibcock and Turkey, Couturiers to the Very Wealthy and the Extremely Fat. If the Pimpernel does finally reveal himself, I don't want to get caught out wearing boring trousers! Smedley: Damn those boring trousers... Topper: Well, what say we bet your cock-sure domestic a thousand guineas he can't go to France, rescue an aristocrat, and present him at the ball? [Edmund looks up.] Topper: Hah! That's turned you white, hasn't it? That's frightened you, you lily-livered, caramel-kidneyed, custard-coloured cad? Not so brilliant now, are you, eh? eh? Smedley: Eh? Edmund: On the contrary, Sir. I'll just go and pack. Topper: Oh. Edmund: Perhaps Lord Smedley and Lord Topper will accompany me. I'm sure it will be a fairly easy trip -- the odd death-defying leap and a modest amount of dental torture... Want to come? Topper: [frightened] Oh, no! Smedley: Oh, no... Topper: Damn! Smedley: Damn... Topper: Er, any day now, I've got an appointment at my doctor. I've got a bit of a sniffle coming on -- I can feel it in my bones. Smedley: Damn bones, damn bones, damn... Prince: You know, what about next week? Oh, come on, you chaps, get your diaries out, come on! Topper: Oh, all right. Damn! Smedley: Damn... Topper: I left it behind! Smedley: ...behind... Topper: ...and, er, besides, I've just remembered: my father's just died! [Smedley can't say the same thing this time; looks confused.] Topper: I've got to be at his funeral in ten minutes! Damn sorry! Goodbye, Your Highness. [He bows, giving his drink to Edmund. Edmund opens the door and lets him out.] Smedley: Oh, damn... I'm the best man. Damn that dead father, damn... [Gives his drink to Edmund; bows; exits, saying "Bye bye..."] Edmund: [beyond the door to the exiting pair] See you at the ball. Prince: Oh, what a shame they were so busy. [walking into the chamber] It would have been lovely to have had them with us. Edmund: "Us"? Prince: Yes. Edmund: >You're< coming, Sir? Prince: Well, certainly. Edmund: Ah. [pause] and nothing I can say about the mind-bending horrors of the revolution could put you off? Prince: Absolutely not! Now, come on, Blackadder -- let's get packing. I want to look my best for those fabulous French birds. Edmund: Sir, the type of women currently favoured in France are toothless crones who just cackle insanely. Prince: Oh, ignore that -- they're just playing hard-to-get. Edmund: ...by removing all their teeth, going mad and aging forty years? Prince: That's right -- the little teasers! Well, come on! [he reclines] Erm, I think a blend of silks and satins... Edmund: I fear not, Sir. If we are to stand any chance of survival in France, [he rings the servant bell] we shall have to dress as the smelliest lowlife imaginable. Prince: Oh yes? What sort of thing? Edmund: Well, Sir, let me show you our Paris Collection... [Baldrick begins walking in from the the outer door.] Edmund: Baldrick is wearing a sheep's-bladder jacket, with matching dung-ball accessories. Hair by Crazy Meg of Bedlam [obscured by laughter]. Notice how the overpowering aroma of rotting pilchards has been woven cunningly into the ensemble. [Edmund approaches Baldrick.] Edmund: Baldrick, when did you last change your trousers? Baldrick: [as if rehearsed] I have never changed my trousers. Edmund: Thank you. [to Prince] You see, the ancient Greeks, Sir, wrote in legend of a terrible container in which all the evils of the world were trapped. How prophetic they were. All they got wrong was the name. They called it "Pandora's Box," when, of course, they meant "Baldrick's Trousers." Baldrick: [to Prince] It certainly can get a bit whiffy, there's no doubt about that! Edmund: We are told that, when the box was opened, the whole world turned to darkness because of Pandora's fatal curiousity. [to Baldrick] I charge you now, Baldrick: for the good of all mankind, never allow curiosity to lead you to open your trousers. Nothing of interest lies therein. [to Prince] However, Your Highness, it is trousers exactly like these that >you< will have to wear if we are to pass safely into France. Prince: Mmm, ahem, yes, well, you know, er, on second thought, I think I might give this whole thing a miss. You know, my tummy's playing up a bit. Er, wish... wish I could come, but just not poss with this tum. Edmund: I understand perfectly, Sir. Prince: Also, the chances of me scoring if I look and smell like him are >zeronowgive< it to me, just like in France in the good old days. Edmund: Yes, but this is a chance to return to the good old days. Frou Frou: Oh, how I would love that! I hate this life! The food is filthy! This huge sausage is very suspicious. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was a horse's wi-- Edmund: Yes, yes, yes, all right... Now, listen; the plan is this: I have a bet on with someone that I can get a Frenchman out of Paris. I want >you< to be that Frenchman. All you have to do is come to the embassy with me, say that I rescued you, and then walk away with fifty guineas and all the vol-au-vents you can stuff in your pockets. What do you say? Frou Frou: It will be a pleasure! If there's one thing we aristocrats enjoy, it's a fabulous partie! Oh, the music! Oh, the laughter! Oh -- if only I'd brought my mongoose costume... [Scene change to the embassy. It is dank, and some moans of despair can be heard. Edmund, Frou Frou and Baldrick enter.] Frou Frou: Yes, well, obviously it hasn't really got going yet... Edmund: I think that is a bit of an understatement, Frou Frou. I've been at autopsies with more party atmosphere. Frou Frou: Don't worry! In a moment we will hear the sound of music and happy laughter... [Laughter is heard -- evil maniacal laughter. A French soldier approaches.] Soldier: [to Frou Frou] Bon soir, monsieur. Frou Frou: Bon soir! Edmund: Ah, good evening, my man. Do you speak English? Soldier: Little. Edmund: Good, well, just take me to the ambassador, then, will you? Soldier: Pardon? Edmund: [articulate] I have rescued an [pushes the end of his nose up] aristocrat, from [makes claw-like hands] the clutches of the evil revolutionaries. Please take me to the ambassador. Soldier: No, I won't. I >am< an [makes claw hands] "evil revolutionarie," and have [slices finger across his neck] murdered the [pushes up his nose] ambassadeur, and turned him into [slaps the back and front of one hand against the other, then puts that same hand to his mouth] pate! Edmund: Ah. Soldier: [to Frou Frou] ...and you, aristo-pig, are trapped!!! Frou Frou: Peeg? Hah! You will regret your insolence, revolutionary deug! Solider: Dog? Hah! You will regret your arrogance, royalist snake! Frou Frou: Sneag? Hah! Edmund: [stepping in] Look, I've very sorry to interrupt this very interesting discussion, but it really is none of my business, so I think I'll be on my way. Come on, Baldrick. Soldier: [stopping Edmund] Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah! Not so fast, English! In rescuing this, eu [motions at Frou Frou], this, eu, boite de stinkyweed, you have attempted to pervert revolutionary justice. Do you know what they do to people who do that? Edmund: They're...given a little present and allowed to go free? Soldier: No... Edmund: They're smacked and told not to be naughty, but basically let off... Soldier: No... Baldrick: [raising his hand] I think I know. Edmund: [quite unhappy and depressed] What? Baldrick: [quite happy that he knows the answer] They're put in prison for the night, and brutally guillotined in the morning! Edmund: Well done, Baldrick... Soldier: Your little g'nome is correct, monsieur. Gentlemen! Welcome to the last day of your life! [shuts and locks the door] [Scene change to our heroes in a cell, with Soldier outside.] Frou Frou: How dare you, you filthy weaselle! Solider: Weasel? Hah! You're one to talk, aristo-waat-heug! Frou Four: Warthog? Hah! Soldier: Hah! Edmund: [pulling Frou Frou away from the barred window] Excuse me, Frou Frou... [to Soldier] Look, mate, me old mate... We're both working class; we both hate these rich bastards; I mean, come on, come on, me old mucker, just, just let me go -- you've got nothing against me... Soldier: On the contrarie! I >hate< you English with your boring trousers and your shiny toilet paper, and your ridiculous preconception that Frenchmen are great lovers -- [looks both ways, then speaks a bit softly] >I'm< French, and I'm hung like a baby carrot and a couple of petit-pois. Edmund: [obscured by laughter] Soldier: Farewell, "old muckeur," and [shouts] death to the aristoes!!! Baldrick: [joining in happily] Death to the aristoes! Edmund: Oh, shut up, Mouse-brain... [Now inside the cell. Baldrick sits on the bed.] Frou Frou: Monsieur, why do you waste your words on this scum? Have no fear! The Scarlet Pimpernel will save us. Edmund: Hah! [knocks Baldrick off the bed; Baldrick falls to the floor, and remains sitting where he lands] Some hope. [lies down] The Scarlet Pimpernel is the most overrated human being since Judas Iscariot won the A.D. 31 Best Disciple Competition. Frou Frou: Well, if he >should< fail us, here: I these have these suicide pills. One for me [pulls pill out of his ear]; one for you [pulls one out of a nostril]; and one for the dwarf [pulls one out of his bottom -- various silly noises accompany each]. Edmund: Say "thank you," Baldrick. Baldrick: Thank you, Mr Frou. [puts pill to his mouth; Edmund stops him.] [The door begins to open.] Frou Frou: Ah, the Pimpernel!! Baldrick: Hurray! Soldier: [entering] Ah, the >ambassadorYou're< the fellow who has single-handedly saved all those damned frenchies from the chop? Topper: Not quite single-handedly, Sir. I operated with the help of my friend, Smedley, but he seems to have disappeared for the moment, slightly mysteriously. [Baldrick gets ready to say something.] Edmund: Shut up, Baldrick. Baldrick: [line obscured by laughter] Prince: So... So Blackadder rescued the Scarlet Pimpernel! Topper: No, Sir, he did not. Prince: Eh? Topper: Prepare yourself for a story of dishonour and deceit that will make your stomach turn. Prince: Well, I say! [to Edmund] This is interesting, isn't it, Blackadder? [Edmund nods slowly.] Topper: Not only that [turning and walking toward Edmund], but I trust it will lead to the imprisonment of a man who is a liar, a bounder, and a cad. [Baldrick turns to look, with Topper, at Edmund.] [Edmund turns to look behind himself.] Prince: Well, bravo! because we hate liars, bounders and cads, don't we, Blackadder? Edmund: Generally speaking...yes, Sir. [begins to serve drinks] But perhaps before Lord Topper starts to talk, he might like a glass of wine. [he has dropped a suicide pill into Topper's glass] He's looking a little shaken. Topper: [taking the glass] Shaken, but not stirred. [drinks] [gives glass back to Edmund, who sniffs it] [turns to Prince] It all began last week. I was sitting in Mrs Miggins' coffee shop when...oh, god! [holds head in his hands] All this treachery is so depressing... [shouts] I mean, the whole thing just makes you incredibly angry!!! [swings at Baldrick, missing; Baldrick falls over anyway; then Topper runs over to Prince] AND IT JUST MAKES YOU WANT TO...oh, that's a nice waistcoat, Your Majesty... er...I'm sorry; I've completely forgotten what I was talking about. Edmund: [grinning] Erm, a story of dishonour and deceit... Topper: [smiles] Oh! That's a great story! That's great!! Oh, that's a WONDERFUL STORY!!! Let me just jump into this corner first. [jumps into corner; dies] Prince: [standing] Roast my raisins! He's popped it! I say, Blackadder, do you think he really was the Scarlet Pimpernel? Edmund: Well, judging from the ridiculous ostentatiousness of his death, I would say that he was. Prince: Well, then, that's a damn shame, because I wanted to give him this enormous postal order. [holds it up] Edmund: Please, Sir, let me finish. I would say that he was...>n'tyou've< just been to France, and you've rescued a French aristocrat... Oh, Blackadder! Are you the Scarlet Pimpernel? Edmund: Absolutely not, Sir. Baldrick: Hurray! [Prince, too excited for words, hands the postal order to Edmund, who already has his hand waiting to take it.] [final theme music, credits roll] For the BENEFIT of SEVERAL VIEWERS MR CURTIS & MR ELTON'S Much admir'd Comedy B L A C K A D D E R T h e T H I R D or N O B a n d N O B I L I T Y was performed with appropriate Scenery Dresses etc. by EDMUND BLACKADDER butler to the Prince, Mr. ROWAN ATKINSON Baldrick, a dogsbody, Mr. TONY ROBINSON The Prince Regent, their master, Mr. HUGH LAURIE Mrs. Miggins, a coffee shoppekeeper, Miss. HELEN ATKINSON-WOOD Lord Topper, } fops, Mr. TIM McINNERNY Lord Smedley, } Mr. NIGEL PLANER Ambassasor, a fearsome revolutionary, Mr. CHRIS BARRIE MUSIC, (never perform'd before), Mr. HOWARD GOODALL designer of graphics, Mr. GRAHAM McCALLUM buyer of properties, Miss. JUDY FARR supervisor of production operative, Mr. ALLAN FLOOD designer of visual effects, Mr. STUART MURDOCH designer of costumes, Miss. ANNIE HARDINGE designer of make-up, Miss. VICKY POCOCK mixer of vision, Miss. SUE COLLINS supervisor of camers, Mr. RON GREEN editor of videotape, Mr. CHRIS WADSWORTH director of lighting, Mr. RON BRISTOW co-ordinator of technicalities, Mr. JOHN LATUS supervisor of sound, Mr. PETER BARVILLE assistant to production, Miss. NIKKI COCKCROFT assistant manager of floors, Mr. DUNCAN COOPER manager of production, Miss. OLIVIA HILL the designer, Mr. ANTONY THORPE the director, Miss. MANDIE FLETCHER the producer, Mr. LLOYD To conclude with Rule Britannia in full chorus NO MONEY RETURN'D (C) BBC MCMLXXXVII [the squishy noise is heard one final time] |