Blackadder: The Cavalier Years (1988) - full transcript
In 1648, Sir Edmund Blackadder, descendant of Prince Edmund Plantagent and currently the sole member of the noble dynasty, is one of two people who stayed loyal to King Charles I after Oliver Cromwell's threat, the other being Baldrick, descendant of a pig farmer and a bearded lady. To protect his liege, Sir Edmund has hid the king (the series has already proven to us that the royals are insane) in Blackadder Hall, but Baldrick unwittingly betrays the ruler when Cromwell arrives at the Hall. Blackadder decides he must save the king when he is sentenced to execution, and becomes frustrated when Baldrick cluelessly accepts a job as executioner- until he realizes he may be able to use it to save Charles...
BLACKADDER
"The Cavalier Years"
In 1648, king Charles was in flight
from the wrath of Cromwell & his Roundheads.
Only two men remained faithful,
risking certain death by their fidelity to the crown.
One was the sole descendent of a
great historical english dynasty.
his name, Sir Edmund Blackadder.
The other was the sole descendent of an unfortunate
meeting between a pig-farmer and a bearded lady.
History has, quite rightly, forgotten his name.
- Baldrick!
- Yes, sir?
Get me some mulled ale, will you?
I'm freezing.
How's the King, sir?
About as comfortable
as can be expected...
...for a man who's spending the winter
in a blackcurrant bush.
Do you think
the Roundheads will find him?
Certainly not. I've assured him
that he's as likely to be caught...
...as a fox being chased by a pack
of one-legged hunting tortoises.
Is that true?
Yes, of course it's true.
Have you ever known me
to lie to the King?
Yes.
- No.
- Exactly.
He's absolutely safe as long as
you keep your fat mouth shut.
You can trust me, sir.
Right, Baldrick,
I'm off to answer the call of nature.
If, by any freak chance, Cromwell
drops in here for a cup of milk...
...in the next 90 seconds,
remember:
- "The King is not hiding here."
- Yes, sir.
# Greensleeves... #
Good evening, citizen.
I am Oliver Cromwell.
My men have surrounded your house,
and I'm looking for royalist scum.
Is the King hiding here?
No.
On pain of death and damnation,
are you absolutely sure?
Yes, I am.
I see.
Well then, my proud beauty,
you won't mind if my men
come in from the cold, will you?
Men, come in from the cold,
will you?
Now, we'll all have a cup of milk
by your fireside.
All right, but don't touch
the purple cup.
- Why not?
- That's the King's.
Thank you, citizen. You may
leave me alone with King Charles.
Mr. Cromwell,
how delightful to see you again.
Don't get up. Don't get up.
Tell me, have you come far?
I have, sir.
From country squire
to Lord Protector of England.
Fascinating,
absolutely fascinating.
Tell me, what exactly
does a lord protector do?
He spells your doom, sir.
He spells my doom? Wonderful!
That's particularly exciting...
...because so many people these days
can't spell at all.
Particularly in the inner cities,
which is my area of interest.
Speak, sir. But all your fine words
won't save you from the scaffold.
Jolly good! Fascinating!
Carry on.
A priest, sir. To help you make
your peace with God before you die.
- Oh, hello.
- Your Majesty,
I've arranged for certain monies
to be paid to allow you to escape.
Blackadder!
You're dressed as a priest!
How dangerous and stupid...
...and perverted!
It's just like school.
Sire, this is a matter
of life and death.
Nonsense, Blackadder.
I don't think any jury in England...
...would bring in a verdict
of guilty against me.
Your Majesty,
the verdict of the jury.
So, what does it say?
Guilty or not guilty?
I'll give you two guesses.
Not guilty.
One more guess.
Oh, damn!
One measly civil war
in the entire history of England,
and I'm on the wrong bloody side!
Something wrong, sir?
Yes, Baldrick. If the King dies,
we royalists are doomed.
We will enter
a hideous age of Puritanism.
They'll close all the theatres.
Lace handkerchiefs for men
will be illegal.
And I won't be able to find
a friendly face to sit on...
...this side of Boulogne.
If they so much as suspect
our loyalties,
our property will be forfeit
and we'll be for the chop.
Oh, I love chops.
Baldrick, your brain...
...is like the four-headed man-eating
haddock fish beast of Aberdeen.
- In what way?
- It doesn't exist.
- Oh, God. What will we do?
- Don't despair, something'll pop up.
Not under Puritanism it won't.
We must do something.
We must do something, otherwise
the Blackadders are as doomed as that ant.
What ant?
That one.
So this is the day
of the execution of Charles I.
Absolutely not, Your Majesty.
Those Roundhead traitors...
...have one final hurdle
that they will never straddle.
Fascinating.
What is that exactly?
They will never find
a man to behead you.
They'd have hundreds of volunteers
to execute Cromwell, he's so ugly.
He's got so many warts on his face...
...it's only when he sneezes that
you find out which one is his nose.
But they'll never find
a man to execute you.
Well, I find that absolutely tragic.
There are so many young people
who would leap at a chance like this.
All they need
is the initiative, somehow.
I suppose, in a sense, that's what
my award scheme is all about.
- Really?
- Yes.
On the other hand, of course,
I don't want my head cut off.
- It's a question of balance, like...
- Shut up! With respect Your Majesty.
They'll never find an executioner.
And if they do,
may my conjugal dipstick
turn into a tennis racket.
A message for the King.
# There's a tavern in the town... #
For God's sake, stop that Baldrick!
It's bad enough having one's life
in ruins, without being serenaded...
...by a moron with all the entertainment
value of a tap-dancing oyster.
I'm sorry, sir.
I can't help it.
You see, I've just had
a little windfall.
Baldrick, I've told you before, if you're
going to do that, go into the garden.
No, I mean
I've come into some money.
Really?
Family inheritance?
No, I ate that ages ago.
Yes, of course. Your thoughtful
father bequeathed you a turnip.
No, it was 50 pounds actually,
it was delicious.
But this is just a little something
that fell in my lap.
Not the first time that there's been
a little something in your lap.
- No, but this one is a job.
- Really? I just don't understand it.
Where on earth did they find a man
so utterly without heart and soul,
so low and degraded
as to accept the job...
...of beheading
the King of England?
- Baldrick?
- Yes.
- That little job that fell into your lap...
- Yes.
It wasn't by any chance
something to do with an axe, a basket,
a little black mask
and the King of England?
- No.
- Go on.
I couldn't find a basket.
You very small total bastard!
Please, sir, don't kill me. I have
a cunning plan to save the King.
Forgive me if I don't
do a cartwheel of joy.
Your family's record
in cunning planning...
...is about as impressive
as "Stumpy" Oleg McNolegs'...
...personal best in the
Market Harborough marathon.
All right, what's the plan?
A pumpkin...
is going to save the king.
But over here, I have one
that I prepared earlier.
I'll balance it
on the King's head, like this.
Then I'll cover his real head
with a cloak...
...and then, when I execute him,
instead of cutting off his real head,
I'll cut off the pumpkin
and the King survives!
- I'm not sure it's going to work, Baldrick.
- Why not?
Because once you've cut it off
you have to hold it up and say,
"This is the head of a traitor."
At which point, they'll shout back,
"No, it's a large pumpkin with
a pathetic moustache drawn on it."
I suppose it's not 100% convincing.
It's not 1% convincing.
However, I am a busy man...
...and I can't be bothered
to punch you at the moment,
Here's my fist, kindly run towards it
as fast as you can.
I just don't understand it.
What possessed you to take the job?
I'm sorry, sir. It was just
a wild silly foolish plan.
I thought with the money I got
from executing the King,
I could sneak out and buy a new king
when no one was looking...
...and pop him back on the throne
without anyone noticing.
Your head is as empty
as a eunuch's underpants.
You'd do anything for
30 pieces of silver, wouldn't you?
It was a thousand pounds actually sir,
plus tip.
Well I suppose somebody's
got to do it, haven't they?
And when it's gonna be done,
it's got to be done in single stroke,
by someone
who actually owns an axe.
We don't want you hacking
away at it all afternoon...
...with your cheap penknife
of yours.
It would be so embarrassing
to have King Charles...
...staggering around Hampton
Court tomorrow morning...
...with his neck flapping
like fish's gills.
- Sir, you don't mean?
- Yep, I'm doing it.
Lend me your costume,
then go immediately to the King,
and inform him that Edmund Blackadder
cannot be with him tomorrow.
And make sure you think up
a bloody good excuse.
So that's why
he can't be here. Sorry.
I see.
I quite understand, yes.
Sir, the moment has arrived.
Are you ready to meet your maker?
I'm always absolutely fascinated
to meet people from all walks of life...
...but yes, particularly
manufacturing industry.
Well then, have a quick walk and talk
with your executioner,
- and let's get on with it.
- Right.
Well, I'm sorry, my friend.
I'm alone here today.
I'd hoped that my loyal chum
Sir Edmund Blackadder would be here,
but unfortunately his wife's sister's
puppy fell into the strawberry patch.
So, naturally, he can't be with us.
All I can do is bid
you do your duty well.
Well, thank you, Your Majesty.
May I say
how much I mourn for your lot,
and bid you remember others
before you who have died unjustly.
Thank you.
I take great solace from that.
Sir Thomas More, for instance.
A great generous man to the last.
He apparently tipped
his executioner, handsomely.
I'm so sorry,
I thought service was included.
Here you are.
- And then there was the Earl of Essex.
- Was there?
A truly great man.
They still sing his famous ballad
in The Chepstow Arms.
What ballad is that?
# The Earl he had a thousand
sovereigns, hey nonny no #
# He gave them all away
to the man with the axe... oh. #
- A thousand sovereigns?
- You can't take it with you, Majesty.
Very true.
There you are. Keep the change.
Thank you, Your Majesty.
Right, should we go?
Just a moment!
That voice has
a strangely familiar ring.
And so does that finger.
Blackadder!
Hello, Your Majesty!
You cunning swine!
Yes, well...
Marvellous! Splendid!
You've duped Cromwell and you've
concocted a cunning plan...
...to help me and my infant son
escape to France.
Yes, that's right. Yes.
So, let's put your cunning plan
into operation straight away.
Yes, let's...
- Well, you start the ball rolling.
- No, no, after you.
Right... yes...
Oh, yes, right.
And it's a very good plan.
It's a staggering
bowel-shatteringly good plan.
- Is the King ready?
- He is. Come, Your Majesty.
This is the head of a traitor.
No, it's not.
It's a huge pumpkin...
...with a pathetic moustache
drawn on it.
Oh yes, so it is. Sorry.
I'll try again.
Well sir,
they can't say you didn't try.
Now the future
of the British monarchy...
...lies fast asleep in your arms,
in the person of this infant prince.
And with the money you've earned
you and he can escape to France.
Well, quite.
On the other hand, you can stay here
and as a known loyalist,
the Roundheads will come
and cut your head off.
Exactly, Baldrick.
- Oh, my God.
- Surround the house, men.
Oh no! We're surrounded!
What'll we do?
At times like this Baldrick,
there's no choice for a man of honour.
He must stand and fight and die
in defence of his future sovereign.
Unfortunately,
I'm not a man of honour.
Thank God you've come!
Seize the royalist scum!
"The Cavalier Years"
In 1648, king Charles was in flight
from the wrath of Cromwell & his Roundheads.
Only two men remained faithful,
risking certain death by their fidelity to the crown.
One was the sole descendent of a
great historical english dynasty.
his name, Sir Edmund Blackadder.
The other was the sole descendent of an unfortunate
meeting between a pig-farmer and a bearded lady.
History has, quite rightly, forgotten his name.
- Baldrick!
- Yes, sir?
Get me some mulled ale, will you?
I'm freezing.
How's the King, sir?
About as comfortable
as can be expected...
...for a man who's spending the winter
in a blackcurrant bush.
Do you think
the Roundheads will find him?
Certainly not. I've assured him
that he's as likely to be caught...
...as a fox being chased by a pack
of one-legged hunting tortoises.
Is that true?
Yes, of course it's true.
Have you ever known me
to lie to the King?
Yes.
- No.
- Exactly.
He's absolutely safe as long as
you keep your fat mouth shut.
You can trust me, sir.
Right, Baldrick,
I'm off to answer the call of nature.
If, by any freak chance, Cromwell
drops in here for a cup of milk...
...in the next 90 seconds,
remember:
- "The King is not hiding here."
- Yes, sir.
# Greensleeves... #
Good evening, citizen.
I am Oliver Cromwell.
My men have surrounded your house,
and I'm looking for royalist scum.
Is the King hiding here?
No.
On pain of death and damnation,
are you absolutely sure?
Yes, I am.
I see.
Well then, my proud beauty,
you won't mind if my men
come in from the cold, will you?
Men, come in from the cold,
will you?
Now, we'll all have a cup of milk
by your fireside.
All right, but don't touch
the purple cup.
- Why not?
- That's the King's.
Thank you, citizen. You may
leave me alone with King Charles.
Mr. Cromwell,
how delightful to see you again.
Don't get up. Don't get up.
Tell me, have you come far?
I have, sir.
From country squire
to Lord Protector of England.
Fascinating,
absolutely fascinating.
Tell me, what exactly
does a lord protector do?
He spells your doom, sir.
He spells my doom? Wonderful!
That's particularly exciting...
...because so many people these days
can't spell at all.
Particularly in the inner cities,
which is my area of interest.
Speak, sir. But all your fine words
won't save you from the scaffold.
Jolly good! Fascinating!
Carry on.
A priest, sir. To help you make
your peace with God before you die.
- Oh, hello.
- Your Majesty,
I've arranged for certain monies
to be paid to allow you to escape.
Blackadder!
You're dressed as a priest!
How dangerous and stupid...
...and perverted!
It's just like school.
Sire, this is a matter
of life and death.
Nonsense, Blackadder.
I don't think any jury in England...
...would bring in a verdict
of guilty against me.
Your Majesty,
the verdict of the jury.
So, what does it say?
Guilty or not guilty?
I'll give you two guesses.
Not guilty.
One more guess.
Oh, damn!
One measly civil war
in the entire history of England,
and I'm on the wrong bloody side!
Something wrong, sir?
Yes, Baldrick. If the King dies,
we royalists are doomed.
We will enter
a hideous age of Puritanism.
They'll close all the theatres.
Lace handkerchiefs for men
will be illegal.
And I won't be able to find
a friendly face to sit on...
...this side of Boulogne.
If they so much as suspect
our loyalties,
our property will be forfeit
and we'll be for the chop.
Oh, I love chops.
Baldrick, your brain...
...is like the four-headed man-eating
haddock fish beast of Aberdeen.
- In what way?
- It doesn't exist.
- Oh, God. What will we do?
- Don't despair, something'll pop up.
Not under Puritanism it won't.
We must do something.
We must do something, otherwise
the Blackadders are as doomed as that ant.
What ant?
That one.
So this is the day
of the execution of Charles I.
Absolutely not, Your Majesty.
Those Roundhead traitors...
...have one final hurdle
that they will never straddle.
Fascinating.
What is that exactly?
They will never find
a man to behead you.
They'd have hundreds of volunteers
to execute Cromwell, he's so ugly.
He's got so many warts on his face...
...it's only when he sneezes that
you find out which one is his nose.
But they'll never find
a man to execute you.
Well, I find that absolutely tragic.
There are so many young people
who would leap at a chance like this.
All they need
is the initiative, somehow.
I suppose, in a sense, that's what
my award scheme is all about.
- Really?
- Yes.
On the other hand, of course,
I don't want my head cut off.
- It's a question of balance, like...
- Shut up! With respect Your Majesty.
They'll never find an executioner.
And if they do,
may my conjugal dipstick
turn into a tennis racket.
A message for the King.
# There's a tavern in the town... #
For God's sake, stop that Baldrick!
It's bad enough having one's life
in ruins, without being serenaded...
...by a moron with all the entertainment
value of a tap-dancing oyster.
I'm sorry, sir.
I can't help it.
You see, I've just had
a little windfall.
Baldrick, I've told you before, if you're
going to do that, go into the garden.
No, I mean
I've come into some money.
Really?
Family inheritance?
No, I ate that ages ago.
Yes, of course. Your thoughtful
father bequeathed you a turnip.
No, it was 50 pounds actually,
it was delicious.
But this is just a little something
that fell in my lap.
Not the first time that there's been
a little something in your lap.
- No, but this one is a job.
- Really? I just don't understand it.
Where on earth did they find a man
so utterly without heart and soul,
so low and degraded
as to accept the job...
...of beheading
the King of England?
- Baldrick?
- Yes.
- That little job that fell into your lap...
- Yes.
It wasn't by any chance
something to do with an axe, a basket,
a little black mask
and the King of England?
- No.
- Go on.
I couldn't find a basket.
You very small total bastard!
Please, sir, don't kill me. I have
a cunning plan to save the King.
Forgive me if I don't
do a cartwheel of joy.
Your family's record
in cunning planning...
...is about as impressive
as "Stumpy" Oleg McNolegs'...
...personal best in the
Market Harborough marathon.
All right, what's the plan?
A pumpkin...
is going to save the king.
But over here, I have one
that I prepared earlier.
I'll balance it
on the King's head, like this.
Then I'll cover his real head
with a cloak...
...and then, when I execute him,
instead of cutting off his real head,
I'll cut off the pumpkin
and the King survives!
- I'm not sure it's going to work, Baldrick.
- Why not?
Because once you've cut it off
you have to hold it up and say,
"This is the head of a traitor."
At which point, they'll shout back,
"No, it's a large pumpkin with
a pathetic moustache drawn on it."
I suppose it's not 100% convincing.
It's not 1% convincing.
However, I am a busy man...
...and I can't be bothered
to punch you at the moment,
Here's my fist, kindly run towards it
as fast as you can.
I just don't understand it.
What possessed you to take the job?
I'm sorry, sir. It was just
a wild silly foolish plan.
I thought with the money I got
from executing the King,
I could sneak out and buy a new king
when no one was looking...
...and pop him back on the throne
without anyone noticing.
Your head is as empty
as a eunuch's underpants.
You'd do anything for
30 pieces of silver, wouldn't you?
It was a thousand pounds actually sir,
plus tip.
Well I suppose somebody's
got to do it, haven't they?
And when it's gonna be done,
it's got to be done in single stroke,
by someone
who actually owns an axe.
We don't want you hacking
away at it all afternoon...
...with your cheap penknife
of yours.
It would be so embarrassing
to have King Charles...
...staggering around Hampton
Court tomorrow morning...
...with his neck flapping
like fish's gills.
- Sir, you don't mean?
- Yep, I'm doing it.
Lend me your costume,
then go immediately to the King,
and inform him that Edmund Blackadder
cannot be with him tomorrow.
And make sure you think up
a bloody good excuse.
So that's why
he can't be here. Sorry.
I see.
I quite understand, yes.
Sir, the moment has arrived.
Are you ready to meet your maker?
I'm always absolutely fascinated
to meet people from all walks of life...
...but yes, particularly
manufacturing industry.
Well then, have a quick walk and talk
with your executioner,
- and let's get on with it.
- Right.
Well, I'm sorry, my friend.
I'm alone here today.
I'd hoped that my loyal chum
Sir Edmund Blackadder would be here,
but unfortunately his wife's sister's
puppy fell into the strawberry patch.
So, naturally, he can't be with us.
All I can do is bid
you do your duty well.
Well, thank you, Your Majesty.
May I say
how much I mourn for your lot,
and bid you remember others
before you who have died unjustly.
Thank you.
I take great solace from that.
Sir Thomas More, for instance.
A great generous man to the last.
He apparently tipped
his executioner, handsomely.
I'm so sorry,
I thought service was included.
Here you are.
- And then there was the Earl of Essex.
- Was there?
A truly great man.
They still sing his famous ballad
in The Chepstow Arms.
What ballad is that?
# The Earl he had a thousand
sovereigns, hey nonny no #
# He gave them all away
to the man with the axe... oh. #
- A thousand sovereigns?
- You can't take it with you, Majesty.
Very true.
There you are. Keep the change.
Thank you, Your Majesty.
Right, should we go?
Just a moment!
That voice has
a strangely familiar ring.
And so does that finger.
Blackadder!
Hello, Your Majesty!
You cunning swine!
Yes, well...
Marvellous! Splendid!
You've duped Cromwell and you've
concocted a cunning plan...
...to help me and my infant son
escape to France.
Yes, that's right. Yes.
So, let's put your cunning plan
into operation straight away.
Yes, let's...
- Well, you start the ball rolling.
- No, no, after you.
Right... yes...
Oh, yes, right.
And it's a very good plan.
It's a staggering
bowel-shatteringly good plan.
- Is the King ready?
- He is. Come, Your Majesty.
This is the head of a traitor.
No, it's not.
It's a huge pumpkin...
...with a pathetic moustache
drawn on it.
Oh yes, so it is. Sorry.
I'll try again.
Well sir,
they can't say you didn't try.
Now the future
of the British monarchy...
...lies fast asleep in your arms,
in the person of this infant prince.
And with the money you've earned
you and he can escape to France.
Well, quite.
On the other hand, you can stay here
and as a known loyalist,
the Roundheads will come
and cut your head off.
Exactly, Baldrick.
- Oh, my God.
- Surround the house, men.
Oh no! We're surrounded!
What'll we do?
At times like this Baldrick,
there's no choice for a man of honour.
He must stand and fight and die
in defence of his future sovereign.
Unfortunately,
I'm not a man of honour.
Thank God you've come!
Seize the royalist scum!