(In Edmund's quarters; Edmund is on the phone)
Edmund: You'd like to book a table for three by the window for 9.30pm, not too near the band, in the name of Oberlieutnant von Gentschler. Yes, yes, I think you might have the wrong number. Alright. (hangs up; enter George)
George: Crossed line there, eh sir? That phone system is a shambles. No wonder we haven't had any orders!
Edmund: On the contrary, George. We've had plenty of orders. We have orders for six metres of Hungarian crushed velvet curtain material, four rock salmon and a ha'pence of chips, and a cab for a Mr. Redgrave picking up from 14 Arnost Grove Raintop Bell.
George: But Sir we don't want those sort of orders. We want orders to death or glory. When are we going to give Fritz a taste of our British spunk?
Edmund: George, please. No one is more anxious to advance than I am, but until they get these communication problems sorted out, I'm afraid we're stuck. (phone rings) Captain Blackadder speaking... No, I'm afraid the line's very cclllffffhhtttt!
Darling: Hello? Hello, Captain Blackadder, hello?
Edmund: (a German accent pops up; really Edmund. He rustles paper, pretending the reception's lousy) Shnell, shnell, Die Koppeltop.
Darling: I said, there's a terrible line at my end. You are to advance on the enemy at once.
Edmund: A wandering minstral I in the... on Gale Force Eight. (hangs up)
George: I say, come on, Sir, what's the message? I'm on tenderhooks, do tell!
Edmund: Well, as far as I can tell, the message was, "he's got a terrible lion up his end, so there's an advantage to an enema at once."
George: Damn!
Baldrick: (enters) Message from HQ, sir.
George: Ah, now, this is it. A telegram ordering an advance!
Edmund: Ummm yes, I'm afraid not, George. It is a telegram, it is ordering an advance, but it seems to be addressed to 'Catpain Blackudder'. Do you know a 'Catpain Blackudder', George?
George: Well, it rings a bell, but I..
Edmund: Nope, me neither. (throws message away)
George: Oh well.
Edmund: George, I'm sure if they want to contact us, they'll find a way.
Baldrick: Pigeon, Sir, pigeon. There's a pigeon in our trench!
George: Ah, now, this'll be it! (goes outside) Yes, it's one of the King's carrier pigeons. (all go outside)
Baldrick: No, it isn't, that pigeon couldn't carry the King! It hasn't got a tray or anything.
Edmund: George, revolver please.
George: Oh now, Sir, you really shouldn't do this you know!
Edmund: Come on George, with 50,000 men getting killed a week who's going to miss a pigeon? (shoots the pigeon dead)
George: Well, not you, obviously, Sir.
Edmund: In any case, its's scarcely a court-martial offence. Get plucking, Baldrick.
Baldrick: Alright, Sir. Look, it's got a little ring 'round it's leg, there's a novelty!
George: Oh really, is there a paper hat as well?
Baldrick: No, but there's a joke. Read it out, Sir.
George: It's a bit charred. Something something at once... PS, due to communication crisis, the shooting of carrier pigeons is now a court-martial offence. I don't see what's so funny about that, Sir.
Edmund: It's not funny, it's deadly serious. We're in trouble. So, I shall eat the evidence for lunch, and if anyone asks you any questions at all, we didn't receive any messages and we definitely did not shoot this delicious plump-breasted pigeon.
(Baldrick and George nod)
(At Edmund's quarters... Edmund just had the pigeon for lunch)
Edmund: Umm... delicious.
(Enter Melchett and Darling)
Melchett: Eahy, Blackadder!
Darling: Attention!
Melchett: And why, Captain, are you not advancing across No Man's Land?
Edmund: Well, Sir, call me a bluff old traditionalist, but I was always taught to wait for the order to attack before attacking.
Melchett: Are you trying to tell me you haven't received any orders? What the hell are you playing at, Darling?
Darling: That's a blatant lie, Sir. I spoke to Blackadder less than an hour ago.
Edmund: Yes you did. To tell me some gobbledygook about having a lion up your bottom.
Melchett: Umm... I thought it's the old communications problem again. Stand easy. Action on this is imperative, take that down, Darling.
Darling: Yes.
Melchett: And make a note of thef word "gobbeldy-gook". I like it. I want to use it more often in conversation.
Darling: I must say Sir, I find this all very unlikely. Not only did I telephone Blackadder, but as you'll recall, we sent him a telegram and a carrier pigeon.
Edmund: Did you?
Darling: Are you telling us you haven't had a pigeon, Blackadder?
Edmund: Ohaaahhh!
Melchett: Come on man, you must've done! I sent Speckled Jim, my one true love who's been with me since I was a nipper! And to business, I'm giving you your order to advance now. Syncronise watches gentlemen. Private, what is the time?
Baldrick: We didn't receive any messages and Captain Blackadder definitely did not shoot the delicious plump breasted pigeon, Sir.
Melchett: WHAT???
Edmund: You want to be cremated, Baldrick or buried at sea?
Baldrick: (thinking it over) Umm...
Darling: Lieutenant?
George: Sir.
Darling: Do you mind answering a couple of questions?
George: Not at all, Sir. We didn't get any messages and Captain Blackadder definitely did not shoot this delicious plump-breasted pigeon.
Edmund: Good.
Darling: And look Sir, pigeon feathers. White feathers! Very apt, eh Blackadder?
Melchett: White feathers?
Baldrick: Oh no, Sir, that's gobbleijuke! They're not white, they're sort of speckly!
Melchett: (shocked) Speckly?! AAHHHHHHHH! YOU SHOT MY SPECKLED JIM???
Darling: You're for it now, Blackadder. Quite frankly Sir, I've suspected this for some time. Quite clearly, Captain Blackadder has been disobeying orders with a breathtaking impertinence.
Melchett: I don't care if he's been rogering the Duke of York with a prize-winning leek! He shot my pigeon! (screams) AAAHH AHHHH OOOHHHH!
Darling: Take it easy. I think we should do this by the book, Sir.
Melchett: Yes, yes, you're right, of course. I'm sorry.
Darling: Attention! (drums are heard in the background) Captain Blackadder, as of this moment you may consider yourself under arrest. You know what the penalty is for disobeying orders, Blackadder?
Edmund: Umm... court-martial, followed by immediate cessation of chocolate rations?
Darling: No, court-martial followed by immediate death by firing squad.
Edmund: Oh, so I got it half right.
(At the cell)
Perkins: (Edmund's guard) Sadder than a happy hour then, Sir? Wave all our last goodbyes.
Edmund: Oh, no need for that, Perkins. I've just dashed off a couple of notes, one asking for a sponge bag, and the other sending for my lawyer.
Perkins: Oh, your lawyer now, yes Sir. Don't you think that might be a bit of a waste of money, sir?
Edmund: Not when he's the finest mind in English legal history. Ever heard of Bob Massingbird?
Perkins: Oh, yes indeed, Sir! A most gifted gentleman!
Edmund: I remember Massingburg's most famous case, the case of the bloody knife. A man was found next to a murdured body, he had the knife in his hand, thirteen witnesses that seen him stab the victim, and when the police arrived he said, "I'm glad I killed the bastard." Massingbird not only got him off, but he got him knighted in the New Year's Honors list, and the relatives of the victim had to pay to have the blood washed out of his jacket.
Perkins: And he's a dab hand at the prosecution, Sir.
Edmund: Yes, well, look at Oscar Wilde.
Perkins: Oh, butch Oscar.
Edmund: Big, bearded, bonking, butch Oscar - the terror of the ladies. 114 illegitamate children, world heavyweight boxing champion, and author of the best-selling phamplet, "Why I Like To Do It With Girls". Massingbird had him sent down for being a woopsie. (enter Baldrick) Ah, Baldrick. Anything from Massingbird yet?
Baldrick: Yes, Sir. It just arrived, Sir.
Edmund: What is it?
Baldrick: Sponge bag, Sir.
Edmund: A sponge bag.
Baldrick: Yes Sir.
Edmund: Baldrick, I gave you two notes. You sent the note asking for a sponge bag to the finest mind in English legal history.
Baldrick: Certainly did, Sir!
Edmund: And you sent the note requesting legal representation to...
George: (enters) Well, tally-ho, with a bing and a bong and a buzz-buzz-buzz! (THUMP!)
Edmund: (digustingly) Oh God!
George: I must tell you Sir, that I am deeply, deeply honored.
Edmund: Baldrick, I'll deal with you later. Am I to understand that you are going to represent me at the court-martial?
George: Absolutely, Sir. Well, it's a sort of family tradition, really. My uncle's a lawyer, you know.
Edmund: Your uncle's a lawyer, but you're not.
George: Oh, good lord, no. I'm an absolute duffer at this sort of thing. In the school debating society, I was voted the boy least likely to complete a coherent... um...
Edmund: Sentence?
George: Yes. Anyway, my dear old friend, its an honour to serve.
Edmund: George, I'm in deep trouble here. I need to construct a case that's as watertight as a mermaid's brassiere. I'm not sure your particular brand of mindless optimism is going to contribute much to the proceedings.
George: Well, that's a shame, Sir, because I was planning on playing the mindless optimism card pretty strongly.
Edmund: I beg your pardon?
George: Yes, I've already planned my closing address based on that very thing. Oh, go on, let him off, your honour, please! After all, it's a lovely day. Pretty clouds, trees, birds, etc. I rest my case.
Edmund: So, council, with that summing up in mind, what d'you think my chances are?
George: Well, not all that good I'm afraid. As far as I can tell you're as guilty as a puppy sitting next to a pile of poo.
Edmund: Charming.
(In the court room; Edmund's trial is taking place)
George: (walking in) Crikey! So sorry I'm late, my luv.
A voice: 'allo.
George: But anyway, let me open up my defence straight away, by saying that I've known this man for three years, he's an absolutely corking chap.
Edmund: George?
George: Yes, Sir?
Edmund: That's the clerk of the court.
George: Is it? Oh!
Edmund: We haven't started yet. (enter Darling)
Darling: Good luck, Blackadder.
Edmund: Well, thank you, Darling. And what's your big job here today? Straightening chairs?
Darling: No... in fact I'm appearing for the prosecution. I wouldn't raise your hopes too much. You're guilty as hell, you haven't got a chance.
Edmund: Why thank you, Darling. And I hope your mother dies in a freak yachting accident.
Darling: Just doing my job, Blackadder. Obeying orders. And of course, having enormous fun into the bargain.
Edmund: I wouldn't be too confident if I were you, any reasonably impartial judge is bound to let me off.
Darling: Well, absolutely.
Edmund: Who is the judge, by the way?
Melchett: Arggh!
Edmund: I'm dead.
Melchett: Well, come on, then. Come on. Get this over in five minutes, and then we can have a spot of lunch. (some noise from the others) The court is now in session, General Sir Anthony Cecil Hogmenay Melchett in the chair. The case before us is that of the crown vs. Captain Edmund Blackadder, the flanderous pigeon murderer! Oh, uh hand me the black cap, I'll be needing that.
Edmund: I love a fair trial.
Melchett: Anything to say before we kick off, Captain Darling?
Darling: May it please the court, as this is clearly an open and shut case, I beg leave to bring a private prosecution against the defence council for wasting the court's time.
Melchett: Granted. Council is fined fifty pounds for turning up.
George: This is fun! Just like a real court!
Melchet: Alright! Let the trial begin! The charge before us is that the Flanders pigeon murderer did deliberately, callously, and with beastliness of forethought murder a lovely, innocent pigeon. Oh, and disobeyed some orders as well. Is this true?
George: Perfectly true, Sir. I was there.
Edmund: Thanks George.
George: Damn...damn!
Melchett: Right. Council for the defence. Get on with it.
George: Oh, right, yes, right. Um, yes. I'd like to call my first witness - Captain Darling.
Melchett: You wish to call the council for the prosecution as a defence witness?
George: That's right. (aside) Don't worry, Sir. I've got it all under control. You are Captain Darling of the general staff?
Darling: I am.
George: Captain, leaving aside the incident in question, would you think of Captain Blackadder as the sort of man who would usually ignore orders?
Darling: Yes, I would.
George: Ah, um. You sure? I was rather banking on you saying no.
Darling: I'm sure. In fact, I have a list of other orders he's disobeyed, if it would be useful. November 16th, 9:15am, 10:23am, 10:24am, 11:17am...
George: You missed one out, there.
Darling: Thankyou. 10:30am, 11:46am...
Edmund: George!
George: What? Oh, oh ye-ye-right, yes. Thank you, Captain. No further questions.
Edmund: Well done, George. You really had him on the ropes there.
George: Don't worry, old man. I have a last and I think you'll find decisive witness. Call Private Baldrick.
Edmund: (to Baldrick) Deny everything, Baldrick.
George: Are you Private Baldrick?
Baldrick: No!
George: Um, but you are Captain Balckadder's batman?
Baldrick: No!
George: Come on, Baldrick. Be a bit more helpful, it's me!
Baldrick: No it isn't!
Darling: Sir, I must protest!
Melchett: Quite right! We don't need your kind here, Private. Get out. Sum up, please.
George: Oh, right, yes, uhhhh, oh... Uh, gentlemen, you have heard all the evidence presented here today, but in the end it is up to the conscience of your hearts to decide, and I firmly belive, that like me, you will conclude that Captain Blackadder is in fact, totally and utterly, GUILTY (sits down)
(Edmund turns over the piece of paper)
George: ...of nothing more... than trying to do his duty under difficult circumstances.
Melchett: Nonsense! He's a hound and a rotter, and he's going to be shot! However, before we proceed to the formality of sentencing the deceased, I mean the defendant, (laughs) I think we'd all rather enjoy hearing the case for the prosecution. Captain Darling, if you please.
Darling: Sir, my case is very simple. I call my first witness, General Sir Anthony Cecil Hogmaney Melchett.
Melchett: Ah..umm! (goes up to the stand)
George: Clever, clever.
Darling: General, did you own a lovely, plump, speckily pigeon called Speckled Jim, which you hand-reared from a chick and which was your only childhood friend?
Melchett: (hysterical) Yes! (calmer) Yes, I did.
Darling: And did Captain Blackadder shoot the aforementioned pigeon?
Melchett: Yes, he did!
Darling: (shouts) Can you see Captain Blackadder anywhere in this courtroom?
Melchett: (overwrought, pointing his finger at Edmund) YES, THAT'S HIM!!! THAT'S THE MAN!!!!! AAHHHHH AAAAHHHHHH!!!!!
Darling: No more questions, Sir.
Melchett: Very good, excellent, first class. Carry on. I therefore have absolutely no hesitation in announcing that the sentence of this court is: that you Captain Edmund Blackadder be taken from this place and suffer death by shooting tommorrow at dawn. (bangs gavel). Do you have anything to say?
Edmund: Yes. Can I have an alarm call, please?
(At the cell)
Perkins: Someone to see you, Captain.
Edmund: What does he look like?
Perkins: Short, ugly...
Edmund: Hello Baldrick.
Baldrick: I brought you some food, Sir, for your final breakfast tommorrow.
Edmund: Ah, so you're not pinning much hope on a last minute reprieve then.
Baldrick: No sir, you are as dead as some doo-doos.
Edmund: The expression, Baldrick, is 'as a dodo'. Dead as a dodo.
Perkins: Well, I'll leave you to it then, shall I? (leaves)
Baldrick: Do not despair, Sir. All my talk of food was jsut a dead herring. In fact, I have a cunning plan. This is not food, but an escape kit.
Edmund: Good Lord! A saw, a hammer, a chisel, a gun, a change of clothes, a Swiss passport, and a huge false moustache, I may just stand a chance.
Baldrick: Ah...
Edmund: Let's see, what have we here? A small painted wooden duck.
Baldrick: Yeah, I thought if you get caught near water, you can balance it on the top of your head as a brilliant disguise.
Edmund: Yeeeesss, I would, of course, have to escape first. Ah, but what's this, unless I'm much mistaken, a hammer and a chisel?
Baldrick: You *are* much mistaken!
Edmund: A pencil and a miniature trumpet.
Baldrick: Yes, a pencil so you can drop me a postcard to tell me how the break out went and a small little tiny miniature trumpet in case during your escape, you have to win favour with a difficult child.
Edmund: Baldrick, I don't want to spend my last precious hours rummaging through this feeble collection of stocking-fillers. Now let me ask you some simple questions: is there are a saw in this bag?
Baldrick: No.
Edmund: A hammer?
Baldrick: No.
Edmund: A chisel?
Baldrick: No.
Edmund: A gun?
Baldrick: No.
Edmund: A false passport?
Baldrick: (thinks) No.
Edmund: A change of clothes?
Baldrick: Yes Sir, of course I wouldn't forget a change of clothes.
Edmund: Ah, now that's something, let's see... a Robin Hood costume.
Baldrick: I put in a French peasant's outfit first, but then I thought 'What if you arrive in a French peasant's village and they're in the middle of a fancy dress party?'
Edmund: And what if I arrive in a French peasant village dressed in a Robin Hood costume and there *isn't* a fancy dress party?
Baldrick: Well, to be quite frank sir, I didn't consider that eventuality, because if you did, you'd stick out like a...
Edmund: (interrupting) Like a man standing in a lake with a small painted wooden duck on his head?
Baldrick: Exactly!
(Re-enter Perkins)
Perkins: Excuse me, Sir.
Edmund: Alright. Aaahhmm, thank you, Baldrick, we'll finish this picnic later.
Baldrick: (rather loudly) YUM YUM! (exits)
Perkins: Do you mind if I disturb you for a moment, Sir?
Edmund: No, no, not at all. My diary's pretty empty this week. Let's see, Thursday morning, get shot, yes, that's about it, actually.
Perkins: It's just there's a few chaps out here would like a bit of a chinwag.
Edmund: Oh, loveley. Always keen to meet new poeple.
Perkins: Corporal Jones and Privates Fraser, Robinson, and Tipplewick.
All: Hello.
Edmund: Oh, nice of you to drop by. And what do you do?
Leader: We're your firing squad, Sir.
Edmund: Of course you are.
Squad man 2: Good sized chest.
Leader: Shut up, lad.
Squad man 2: Sir!
Leader: You see, us firing squads are a bit like taxmen, Sir, everyone hates us, but we're just doin' our job, 'ain't we, lads?
Edmund: My heart bleeds for you.
Squad man 2: Well, Sir, we aim to please. Just a little firing squad joke there, sir!
Leader: You see, Sir, we take pride in the termanatory service we supply. So, is there any particular area you'd like us to go for, hmm? We can aim anywhere.
Edmund: Well, in that case, just above my head might be a good spot.
Leader: You see, a laugh and a smile, and all of a sudden the job doesn't seem quite so bad after all, does it Sir?
Squad man 2: No, and a lovely roomy forehead.
Squad man 3: A good pulsing jugular there as well.
Edmund: Look, I'm sorry, I know you mean to be friendly, but I hope you won't take it amiss if I ask you to sod off and die.
Leader: No, no, no, no, no, no, no, fair enough, 'course not, Sir. No one likes being shot first thing in the morning, do they? No, no, no, So, look forward to seeing you tomorow, Sir. You'll have a blindfold on of course, but you'll recognize me. I'm the one that says, "Ready, aim, fire!"
Edmund: Can I ask you to leave a pause between the word "aim" and the word "fire"? Thirty or forty years, perhaps?
Leader: Ahh, wish I could pause, Sir. I really wish I could, but I can't, you see, cos I'm a gabbler, you see. Ready-aim-fire! No style, no finesse, but it gets the job done, don't it lads?
(Firing Squad leaves)
Edmund: Perfect! I wonder if anything on earth could depress me more?
Baldrick: (enters) Excuse me, Sir?
Edmund: Of course it could.
Baldrick: I forgot to give you this letter from Lieutenant George, Sir.
Edmund: (sarcastically) Ahh! Oh, joy! What wise words from the world's greatest defence counsel. (reads letter) 'Dear Mother,'... unusual start, (continues) 'thanks for the case of Scotch.' You've excelled yourself, Baldrick. You've brought the worng letter *again*!
Baldrick: Oh yeah, he did write two.
Edmund: Yes, his mother's about to get a note telling her he's sorry she's going to be shot in the morning... while I have to read this drivel. (reads further) 'Hope Celia thrives in the Pony Club trials and that little Freddy scores a century for the first eleven'. You can't deny, it's a riveting read... uhhh, 'Send my love to Uncle Rupert. Who'd have thought it, Mad Uncle Rupert, Minister of War. Power of life or death over every bally soldier in the army. Hang on a minute... this is it! All George has to do is send him a telegram and he'll get me off. Baldrick, I love you! I want to kiss your cherry lips and nibble your shell-like ears. I'm freeeee!
(At Edmund's quarters, George is moping)
George: I'm useless, useless!
Baldrick: Sir, Sir!
George: Hello Private, how's the Captain?
Baldrick: He's absolutely fine, Sir, but...
George: uhh, you're just trying to cheer me up. I know the truth. He hates me cos I completely arsed up his defence.
Baldrick: Yes, I know, Sir, but...
George: I'm thick, you see. I'm as thick as the big-print version of The complete works of Charles Dickens. If only I could've saved him. If only!
Baldrick: But you *can*, Sir.
George: What, how?
Baldrick: You send a telegram.
George: Of course! I send a telegram.
Baldrick: Yeah!
George: Who to?
Baldrick: To the person in the letter.
George: What letter?
Baldrick: To your mother.
George: I send a telegram to my mother?!
Baldrick: No!
George: No!
Baldrick: You send a telegram in the person in the letter to your mother.
George: Who was in the letter to my mother?
Baldrick: I can't remember!
George: Well, think, think!
Baldrick: No, you think think!
George: Well, I ahh... yes, of course, the Pony Club Trials. Yes! See here, they can leap over the walls over the prison and save him.
Baldrick: No, no!
George: No, no, ahhhmm. Yes, cricket. Yes, I've got Cousin Freddie, of course. He can knock out the firing squad with his cricket bat!
Baldrick: No, there's someone else!
George: (excited) Oh well, who!?
Baldrick: I don't know.
George: Well, neither do I!
Baldrick: Well, think!
George: You think!
Baldrick: You think that!
(Both continue arguement, then...)
George: No, it hasn't helped.
Baldrick: Yes it has, Sir. Your Uncle Rupert who's just been made Minister of War.
George: Of course. Uncle Rupert's just be made Minister of War, Baldrick! I'll, I'll send him a telegram and he'll, he'll pull strings and scratch backs and fiddle with nobs, and get the Captain off!
Baldrick: Hooray!
George: Well, we got there in the end, eh Baldrick?
Baldrick: Oh, just about, Sir.
George: Ah, I think this calls for a celebration, don't you? What about a toast of old Morehen's shredded sporrin, which Mummsie's just sent me? I think a toast, don't you, to Captain Blackadder and freedom!
Baldrick: Captain Blackadder and freedom, Sir.
(Outside, where Edmund is to be executed; Dawn, a cock crows)
Edmund: 'Morning. Firing Squad (all): 'Morning.
Perkins: I must say, Captain, I've got to admire your balls.
Edmund: Perhaps later. (to Firing Squad) How are you doing?
All: Very well, good.
Edmund: Robinson, good to see you.
Robinson: Good to see you, too, Sir.
Edmund: Ahh, Corporal, how's the voice? Corporal (referred to as Leader in an earlier scene): Excellent, Sir. Ready-aim-fire! Wait for it... wait for it.
Edmund: So the phone's *on* the hook, is it Perkins?
Perkins: Oh yes, Sir.
Edmund: So... Where do you want me?
Corporal: Well, up against the wall is traditional, Sir.
Edmund: Course it is. Pah! This side or the other side? (all laugh) No messengers waiting, Perkins?
Perkins: Oh, I'm afraid not, Sir.
Edmund: Oh well.
Corporal: Alright, lads, line up.
Edmund: Yes, uahh... now look, I think there might have been a bit of a misunderstanding, you see I was expecting a telegram.
Corporal: ATTENTION!
Edmund: Quite an imporant one, actually.
Corporal: TAKE AIM!
Perkins: Stop!
Edmund: I think that's what they call 'the nick of time'.
Perkins: Letter for the Captain.
Edmund: Of course it is. Read it please.
Perkins: Eh, 'Here's looking at you. Love from all the boys in the firing squad.'
Corporal: You soft bastards, you!
Squad Man 2: I saw the card. I couldn't resist it.
Edmund: (sarcastically) How thoughtful!
Corporal: ATTENTION!
Edmund: Now look, ah, something has gone spectacularly badly wrong.
Corporal: TAKE AIM!
Edmund: Baldrick, you're mincemeat!
Corporal: Fffffff...
(At Edmund's quarters)
George: (awaking) Oh, my head! Ah, my head! Feels like the time I was initiated into the Silly Buggers society at Cambridge. I misheard the rules and pushed a whole obergene into my earhole.
Baldrick: Permission to die, Sir.
George: Oh! Bu-bu-bu-what started this drinking? Oh, yes, well, we were celebrating getting Captain Blackadder off scot... (realises it's too late) free. Oh my sainted trousers, we forgot!
Baldrick: Oh whoops.
George: Oh no. He's dead, you see. He's dead dead dead because we're a pair of selfish so and so's... (despairingly) oh, course, if I have a rope, I'd put it around my neck and bally well hang myself until it really hurt.
(Edmund walks in)
Edmund: Hi, George, 'morning, Baldrick. Still the striking resemblence to guppy fish at feeding time. Yep, it arrived in the nick of time.
George: Oh, excellent!
Edmund: Ah, so you've got the Scotch out, anyway.
George: Oh, well, well, of course, sir, yes. We wanted to lay on a bit of a bash for your safe return, ah... here you go. (gives Edmund a drink, laughs)
Edmund: There was a second telegram that arrived actually George, addressed personally to you from your Uncle.
George: Oh, thank you, I... (tries to get letter from Edmund, who opens and reads it)
Edmund: (reads) 'George, my boy, Outraged to read in dispatches how that ass Melchett made such a pigs-ear out of your chum Blackadder's court-martial. Have reversed the decision forthwith. Surprised you didn't ask me to do it yourself, actually.' Now this *is* interesting, isn't it?
George: Uh, uhh, yes, well, I, you see, Sir. Uh... the thing is...
Edmund: You two got whammed last night, didn't you?
George: We-well, well, no, uh, uh, not whammed exactly. A little tiddly, perhaps.
Edmund: And you forgot the telegram to your Uncle!
George: Well, n-n-n-no. Not, not, not completely. Partially, umm... Well yes, yes. Entirely.
Baldrick: I think I can explain, Sir.
Edmund: Can you, Baldrick?
Baldrick: (pause) No.
Edmund: As I suspected. Now, I'm not a religious man, as you know, but henceforth, I shall nightly pray to the God who killed Cain and squashed Sampson, that He comes out of retirement and gets back into practice on the pair of you!
(The phone rings; Edmund answers it)
Edmund: Captain Blackadder. Ah, Captain Darling. Well, you know, some of us just have friends in high places, I suppose. Yes, I can hear you perfectly. You want what? You want two volunteers for a mission into No-Man's-Land, Code name: Operation Certain Death. Yes, yes I think I have *just* the fellows. (hangs up; to George and Baldrick) God is *very* quick these days.