Dictionary disaster thatleft Blackadder lostforwords
TO MARK Weekend magazine’s 25th anniversary, Mail TV critic Christopher Stevens has picked his favourite TV comedy scripts. Today, we start with an excerpt from 987’s Blackadder The Third, starring Rowan Atkinson as the scheming palace butler toadying to Hugh Laurie’s gormless Prince Regent with Tony Robinson as the long-suffering — and equally stupid — servant Baldrick.
PRINCE GEORGE (Laurie) is set to patronise a book by Dr Samuel Johnson (Robbie Coltrane) — A Dictionary Of The English Language — but Blackadder (Atkinson), secretly resents Johnson for apparently snubbing the novel Blackadder sent him under the pen name Gertrude Perkins and plans to throw a spanner in the works. The scene is Prince George’s chambers. There is a knock at the door. PRINCE GEORGE: Enter! BLACKADDER: Dr Johnson, Your Highness. PRINCE GEORGE: Ah, Dr Johnson. Damn cold day. DR JOHNSON: Indeed it is, sir, but a very fine one, for I celebrated last night the encyclopaedic implementation of my pre-meditated orchestration of demotic Anglo-Saxon. Prince George nods sagely for a good while, then . . . PRINCE GEORGE: Nope, didn’t catch any of that.
DR JOHNSON: Well, I simply observed, sir, that I’m felicitous, since, during the course of the penultimate solar sojourn, I terminated my uninterrupted categorisation of the vocabulary of our post-Norman tongue.
PRINCE GEORGE: Well, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but it sounds damn saucy, you lucky thing! I know some fairly liberal-minded girls, but I’ve never penultimated any of them in a solar sojourn, or, for that matter, been given any Norman tongue!
BLACKADDER: I believe, sir, that the Doctor is trying to tell you that he is happy because he has finished his book. It has taken him ten years. PRINCE GEORGE: (Sympathetically) Yes, well, I’m a slow reader myself. DR JOHNSON: Here it is sire. ( He produces a sheaf of manuscript) A very cornerstone of English scholarship. This book, sir, contains every word in our beloved language. PRINCE GEORGE: Hmm. BLACKADDER: Every single one, sir? DR JOHNSON: Every single word, sir! BLACKADDER: In that case, sir, I hope you will not object if I also offer the Doctor my most enthusiastic contrafibularities. DR JOHNSON: What, sir? BLACKADDER: Contrafibularities, sir? It is a common word down our way.
DR JOHNSON: Damn! He starts writing in the dictionary. BLACKADDER: Oh, I’m sorry, sir. I’m anaspeptic, phrasmotic, even compunctious to have caused you such pericombobul at ion. DR JOHNSON: What, what, what? He’s now frantic, scribbling down all these new words.
PRINCE GEORGE: What are you on about, Blackadder? This is all beginning to sound a bit like dago talk to me.
BLACKADDER: I’m sorry, sir. I merely wished to congratulate the Doctor on not having left out a single word. (He smiles at Johnson. Johnson glares.) Shall I fetch the tea, Your Highness? PRINCE GEORGE: Yes, yes — and get that damned fire up here, will you? BLACKADDER: Certainly, sir. I shall return inter-frastically. A smug nod and he leaves. PRINCE GEORGE: So, Dr Johnson. Sit ye down. Now, this book
of yours. Tell me, what’s it all about? DR JOHNSON: It is a book about the English language, sir. PRINCE GEORGE: I see! And the hero’s name is what? DR JOHNSON: There is no hero, sir.
PRINCE GEORGE: No hero? Well, lucky I reminded you! Better put one in pronto! Call him George, that’s a good name for a hero. What about heroines?
DR JOHNSON: There is no heroine, sir — unless it is our Mother Tongue.
PRINCE GEORGE: Ah, the mother’s the heroine. Nice twist. How far have we got, then? Old
Mother Tongue is in love with George the hero . . . Now what about murders? Mother Tongue doesn’t get murdered, does she?
DR JOHNSON: No she doesn’t. No one gets murdered, or married, or in a tricky situation over a pound note!
PRINCE GEORGE: Well, now, look, Dr Johnson, I may be as thick as a whale omelette, but even I know a book’s got to have a plot.
DR JOHNSON: Not this one, sir. It is a book that tells you what English words mean.
PRINCE GEORGE: I know what English words mean. I speak
English! You must be a bit of a thicko. That is it. Johnson is seriously angry. He rises to his feet. DR JOHNSON:
rather not be patron Perhaps of my you book would if you can see no value in it whatsoever, sir! PRINCE GEORGE:
it sounds to me as Perhaps if my being so, sir patron since of set this the complete seal once cowpat and for of a all book on will my reputation as an utter turnip-head!
deserved, DR JOHNSON: sir! Farewell. It is a reputation well He marches towards the double doors and flings them open. Blackadder is revealed very calmly. BLACKADDER: Doctor? Not staying Leaving for already, your pendigestatery interludicule? DR JOHNSON: No, sir, show me out! BLACKADDER: Certainly, sir, anything I can do to facilitate your velocitous extramural is at ion.
DR JOHNSON: (To Prince George.) You will regret this doubly, sir. Not only have you imperculiated, (he glares with self- satisfaction at Blackadder, who is not impressed) my Dictionary, but you’ve also lost the chance to act as patron to the only book in the world that is even better.
BLACKADDER: Oh, and what is that, sir? Dictionary 2: Return Of The Killer Dictionaries?
DR JOHNSON: No, sir! It is Edmund: A Butler’s Tale by Gertrude Perkins. Blackadder nearly drops the teapot that he’s holding.
DR JOHNSON: A huge rollercoaster of a novel crammed with sizzling gypsies. ( Turns to Prince George.) Had you supported it, sir, it would have made you and me and Gertrude millionaires. BLACKADDER: (with real anguish) Millionaires! (Clears his throat as Dr Johnson and Prince George look at him oddly.) DR JOHNSON: But that sir is not to be. I bid you farewell; I shall not return. He exits in a fury. BLACKADDER: (To Prince George.) Excuse me, sir. (He shoots out.) The vestibule. Outside the door. BLACKADDER: Dr Johnson, sir, a word, I beg you . . .
DR JOHNSON: A word with you, sir, can mean seven million syllables. You might start now and not be finished by bedtime! (pauses, realises he’s
forgotten something) Oh, blast my eyes! In my fury, I have left my Dictionary with your foolish master! Go fetch it, will you?
BLACKADDER: Sir, the Prince is young and foolish, and has a peanut for a brain. Give me just a few minutes and I will deliver both the book and his patronage.
DR JOHNSON: Oh, will you, sir . . . I very much doubt it. A servant who is an influence for the good is like a dog who speaks. Very rare.
BLACKADDER: I think I can change his mind.
DR JOHNSON: Well, I doubt it, sir. A man who can change a prince’s mind is like a dog who speaks Norwegian — even rarer! I shall be at Mrs. Miggins’ Literary Salon in 20 minutes. Bring the book there. (He storms out.) Prince George’s chambers. The Prince is standing in front of a raging fire of Baldrick’s making. Blackadder enters. BLACKADDER: Your Highness, may I offer my congratulations? PRINCE GEORGE: Well, thanks, Blackadder. That pompous baboon won’t be back in a hurry. He laughs contentedly.
BLACKADDER: Oh, on the contrary, sir. Dr Johnson left in the highest of spirits. PRINCE GEORGE: What? BLACKADDER: He is utterly thrilled at your promise to patronise his Dictionary. PRINCE GEORGE: I told him to sod off, didn’t I? BLACKADDER: Yes, sir, but that was a joke surely. PRINCE GEORGE: ( Confused.) Was it? BLACKADDER: Certainly! And a brilliant one what’s more. PRINCE GEORGE: Yes. I suppose it was rather, wasn’t it.
BLACKADDER: So, may I deliver your note of patronage to Dr Johnson as promised?
PRINCE GEORGE: Well, of course. If that’ s what I promised, then that’s what I must do. And I remember promising it distinctly. BLACKADDER: Excellent. Nice fire, Baldrick.
BALDRICK: Thank you, Mr B. BLACKADDER: Right, let’s get the book. Now, Baldrick, where’s the manuscript? BALDRICK: You mean the big papery thing tied up with string? BLACKADDER: Ye s , Baldrick, the manuscript belonging to Dr Johnson. BALDRICK: You mean the batey fellow in the black coat who just left? BLACKADDER: Yes, Baldrick, Dr Johnson.
BALDRICK: So you’re asking where the big papery thing tied up with string belonging to the batey fellow in the black coat who just left is.
BLACKADDER: Yes, Baldrick, I am, and if you don’t answer, then the booted bony thing with five toes at the end of my leg will soon connect sharply with the soft dangly collection of objects in your trousers. For the last time, Baldrick, where is Dr Johnson’s manuscript? BALDRICK: On the fire.
BLACKADDER: On the what? BALDRICK: The hot orangey thing under the stony mantelpiececy thing.
BLACKADDER: ( Aghast.) You’ve burned the Dictionary? BALDRICK: That’s right. BLACKADDER: You burned the life’s work of England’s foremost man of letters? BALDRICK: Well, you did say burn any old rubbish. Blackadder has nearly turned to stone. BLACKADDER: Yes, fine. PRINCE GEORGE: Isn’t it, er . . . isn’t it going to be a bit difficult for me to patronise this book if we’ve burnt it? BLACKADDER: Yes, it is, sir. If you would excuse me a moment . . .
PRINCE GEORGE: Oh, of course, of course. Now that I’ve got my lovely fire, I’m as happy as a Frenchman who’s invented a pair of self-removing trousers.