Blackadder

Blackadder (1983, 1986-89, 1999) is a television show which originally aired on BBC One written by Richard Curtis, Ben Elton, and Rowan Atkinson. It traces members of the Blackadder dynasty and their associates through different periods of history.

[Percy is surrounded by chemical apparatus. On the table in front of him is a green blob]

Percy:
My Lord! Success! After literally an hour's ceaseless searching, I have succeeded in creating gold! Pure gold! Behold!

Blackadder:
Percy, it's green.

Percy:
That's right, my Lord.

Blackadder:
Yes Percy, I don't want to be pedantic or anything but the colour of gold is gold. That's why it's called "gold". What you have discovered, if it has a name, is some "green".

Percy:
[astonished, picking up the blob] Oh Edmund! Can it be true? That I hold here, in my mortal hand, a nugget of purest green?

Blackadder:
Indeed you do, Percy. Except it's not really a nugget, is it? It's more of a splat.

Percy:
Well, yes, a splat today, but tomorrow - who knows, or dares to dream?

Blackadder:
[dryly] So, we three alone in all the world can create the finest green at will?

Percy:
Just so! Not sure about counting in Baldrick, actually.

Blackadder:
Of course, you know what your great discovery means, don't you, Percy?

Percy:
Perhaps, my lord...

Blackadder:
That, you Percy, Lord Percy, are an utter berk!

[Percy smiles and clenches his fist in the air]

Blackadder:
Baldrick!

Baldrick:
My lord?

Blackadder:
Pack my bags, I'm going to sell the house.

Percy and Baldrick:
What?!

Blackadder:
There's nothing else for it. I mean I shall miss the old place, I know. I've had some happy times here, when you and Percy have been out. But needs must when the devil vomits into your kettle. Baldrick, go forth into the streets and let it be known that Lord Blackadder wishes to sell his house. Percy, just go forth into the streets.

[Prince George believes William Pitt the Younger to be a schoolboy]

Blackadder:
Mr. Pitt is the Prime Minister, sir.

George:
[in disbelief] Oh, go on! Is he? What, young Snotty here?!

Pitt:
I'd rather have a runny nose than a runny brain.

George:
... Eh?

Blackadder:
Um, excuse me, Prime Minister, but we do have some lovely jelly in the pantry. I don't know if you'd be interested at all?

Pitt:
Don't patronise me, you lower-middle class yobbo! [quietly] What flavour is it?

Blackadder:
Blackcurrant.

Pitt:
EURGH!

George:
I say, Blackadder, are you sure this is the PM? Seems like a bit of an oily tick to me! I remember when I was at school, we used to line up four or five of his sort, tell them to bend over and use them for a toast-rack!

Pitt:
You don't surprise me, sir - I know your sort. Once, it was I who stood in the big, cold schoolroom, a hot crumpet burning my cheeks with shame. But since that day, I have been busy every hour God sends, working to become Prime Minister and to fight sloth and privilege wherever I found it!

Blackadder:
I trust you weren't too busy to remove the crumpet...!

Pitt:
You will regret this, gentlemen! You think you can thwart my plans to bankrupt the Prince by fixing the Dunny-on-the-Wold by-election... but you will be thrashed - I intend to put up my own brother as a candidate against you!

Blackadder:
[smugly] Oh, and which Pitt would this be? Pitt the Toddler? Pitt the Embryo? Pitt the Glint in the Milkman's Eye?

Pitt:
[glares at Blackadder before he starts a journey for the door] Sirs, as I said to Chancellor Metternich at the Congress of Strasburg: "Pooh to you with knobs on!" We shall meet, sirs, on the hustings! [storms out]

George:
I say, Blackadder, what a ghastly squit! He's not going to win, is he?

Blackadder:
No sir, because firstly, we shall fight this campaign on issues, not personalities. Secondly, we shall be the only fresh thing on the menu. And thirdly, of course... we'll cheat!

[Blackadder has fallen asleep rewriting the dictionary]

Baldick:
Mr Blackadder, time to wake up.

Blackadder:
What time is it?

Baldrick:
Monday morning.

Blackadder:
[Panicking] Monday morning? Oh my god, I've overslept! Where's the quill? Where's the parchment?

Baldrick:
I dunno. Maybe Doctor Johnson has got some with him.

Blackadder:
WHAT?!

Baldrick:
He's outside!

Blackadder:
[Screams in horror] AAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

[Johnson enters]

Johnson:
Are you ill, sir?

Blackadder:
No, you can't have it! I know I said Monday, but I want Baldrick to read it. Which, unfortunately, will mean teaching him to read, which will take about 10 years. But time well spent, I think, because it is such a very good dictionary!

Johnson:
I don't think so.

Blackadder:
Oh God, we've been burgled! ... What?

Johnson:
I think it's an awful dictionary full of feeble definitions and ridiculous verbiage. I've come to ask you to chuck the damned thing in the fire.

Blackadder:
Are you sure?

Johnson:
I've never been more sure of anything in my life, sir.

Blackadder:
I love you, Doctor Johnson, and I want to have your babies. [They embrace, before a random woman appears behind Johnson] Oh, I'm sorry. Excuse me, Doctor Johnson, but my Auntie Margery's just arrived. [Turns around - Baldrick now has a dog's head] Baldrick? Who gave you permission to turn into an Alsatian?! [Baldrick waves] Oh God, it's a dream, isn't it? [Johnson, Baldrick and Auntie Margery dance out of the scene, a la sugar plum fairies] It's a bloody dream! Doctor Johnson doesn't want us to burn his dictionary at all.

Mrs Miggins:
You just seem to keep missing each other, I can't imagine why! [MacAdder bursts in]

MacAdder:
I'll tell you why; it's because there's no coffee shop in England big enough for two Blackadders!

Blackadder:
Ah, good day cousin MacAdder! I trust you are well?

MacAdder:
Aye, well enough.

Blackadder:
And Morag?

MacAdder:
She bides fine.

Blackadder:
And how how stands that mighty army, the clan MacAdder?

MacAdder:
They're both well.

Blackadder:
I always thought Jamie and Angus were such fine boys.

MacAdder:
Angus is a girl. [pause] So, tell me cousin, I hear you have a cunning plan.

Blackadder:
I do, I do. I want you to take the place of the Prince Regent, and kill the Duke of Wellington in a duel.

MacAdder:
Aye, and what's in it for me?

Blackadder:
Enough cash to buy the Outer Hebrides. What do you think?

MacAdder:
Fourteen shillings and sixpence? Well, it's tempting...but I've got an even better plan. Why don't I pretend to be the Duke of Wellington and kill the Prince of Wales in a duel? Then I could kill the King and be crowned with the ancient stone bonnet of MacAdder!

Mrs. Miggins:
And I shall wear the granite gown and limestone bodice of MacMiggins, Queen of all the herds!

Blackadder:
For God's sake, MacAdder, you are not Rob Roy! You're a top kipper salesman with a reputable firm of Aberdeen fishmongers; don't throw it all away! If you kill the Prince, they'll just send the bailiffs round and arrest you!

MacAdder:
Oh blast! I forgot the bailiffs.

Blackadder:
So we can return to our original plan?

MacAdder:
No, I'm not interested! I'd rather go to bed with the Loch Lomond Monster...and besides, I have to be back in the office by Friday; I promised Mr. McNulty I'd shift a particularly difficult bloater for him! No, forget the whole thing, I'm off home with Miggsie!

Mrs. Miggin:
Yes, yes! Show me the glen where the kipper roams free! And forget Morag forever!

MacAdder:
No, never! We must do right by Morag; we must return to Scotland and you must fight her in the old Highland way...bare breasted and each carrying an eight pound baby!

Mrs Miggins:
Oh, yes, yes! I love babies!

MacAdder:
You're a woman of spirit; I look forward to bedding you in the old Highland manner! Farewell Blackadder, ya spineless goon! [he and Miggins depart]

Blackadder:
Oh God. Fortune vomits on my eiderdown once more!

[Blackadder's rather jovial firing squad visits him in his cell]

Squad Leader:
You see, us firing squads are a bit like taxmen, sir - everyone hates us, but we're just doin' our job, aren't we, lads? [he and the squad laugh]

Blackadder:
[dryly] My heart bleeds for you.

Squad Leader:
Well, sir, we "aim" to please! [he and the squad laugh]

Squad man:
Just a little firing squad joke there, sir!

Squad 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? We can aim anywhere.

Blackadder:
Well, in that case, just above my head might be a good spot.

[The firing squad laugh]

Squad 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:
[observing Blackadder closely] No! And a lovely roomy forehead...

Squad man 2:
A good pulse and jugular there as well...

Blackadder:
[abruptly] 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!

[The firing squad soldiers are offended and start to complain]

Squad Leader:
No, no, no, fair enough. 'Course not, sir. No one likes being shot first thing in the morning, do they, lads? [the rest of the firing squad voices agreement] 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!"

Blackadder:
Can I ask you to leave a pause between the word "aim" and the word "fire"? Thirty or forty years, perhaps?

[The firing squad laugh]

Squad Leader:
Ahh, wish I could pause, sir, I really wish I could. But I can't, you see, 'cos I'm a gabbler, me, you see. "READYAIMFIRE!!!" [laughs]

[Flashheart jumps into the trench]

Flashheart:
Ha! Eat knuckle, Fritz!

[Flashheart punches Blackadder and he falls to the ground. Flashheart places a foot on his chest.]

Flashheart:
How disgusting. A boche on the sole of my boot. I shall have to find a patch of grass to wipe it on.

[Flashheart gets off Blackadder]

Flashheart:
Probably get shunned in the officers' mess! "Sorry about the pong, you fellows. Trod in a boche and can't get rid of the wiff!"

[Blackadder gets up]

Blackaddder:
Do you think we could dispense with the hilarious doggy-do metaphor for a moment? I'm not a boche, this is a British trench.

Flashheart:
Is it? Oh that's a piece of luck. Thought I'd landed sausage-side! Ha!

[Flashheart pushes Blackadder]

Flashheart:
Mind if I use your phone? If word gets out that I'm missing, 500 girls will kill themselves. I wouldn't want them on my conscience, not when they ought to be on my face!

[Flashheart kicks the phone]

Flashheart:
Hi. Flashheart here. Yeah, cancel the state funeral, tell the king to stop blubbing. Flash is not dead! I simply ran out of juice! Yeah, and before the girls start saying "Oh, what's the point of living anymore". I'm talking about petrol! Woof, woof! Yeah, I dumped the kite on the proles, so send a car. General Melchett's driver should do. She hangs around with a big nob, so she'll be used to a fellow like me! Woof, woof!

Blackadder:
Look, do you think you can make your obscene phone call somewhere else?

Flashheart:
[taking not a blind bit of notice] No, not in half an hour, you rubber-desk Johnny! Send the bitch with the wheels right now, or I'll fly back to England and give your wife something to hang her towels on!

[Flashheart slams the phone down]

Flashheart:
Okay, dig out your best booze and lets talk about me 'till the car comes! You must be pretty impressed having squadron commander The Lord Flashheart drop in on your squalid bit of line!

Blackadder:
Actually, no, I was more impressed by the contents of my handkerchief, the last time I blew my nose.

Flashheart:
Yeah, like hell. You've probably got little piccies of me on the wall of your dugout, haven't you? I bet you go all girly and giggly every time you look at me!

Blackadder:
I'm afraid not. Unfortunately, most of the infantry think you're a prat. Ask them who they'd prefer to meet, Squadron Commander Flashheart and the man who cleans out the public toilets in Aberdeen, and they'd go for Wee Jock 'Poo-Pong' Mcplop every time!

[Flashheart laughes and then punches Blackadder in the face]

Blackadder:
Flashheart, this is Captain Darling.

Flashheart:
"Captain Darling"?! Funny name for a guy, isn't it? [jumps off table and faces Darling] Last person I called "Darling" was pregnant 20 seconds later! Hear you couldn't be bothered to help old Slackie here.

Darling:
[stuttering nervously] Oh, well, it... It wasn't quite like that, sir. It's just that we... weighed up the pros and cons and... decided it wasn't a reasonable use of our time and resources. [laughs nervously]

Flashheart:
Well, this isn't a reasonable use of my time and resources, but I'm gonna do it anyway.

Darling:
What?

Flashheart:
This! [headbutts Darling hard, knocking him unconscious] Alright Slackie, alright Slackie, I've gotta fly; two million chicks and only one Flashheart! And always remember, if you want something, take it! BOBBY!

[Bob walks in]

Bob:
My lord?

Flashheart:
I want something!

Bob:
[unbuttoning her coat] Take it!

Flashheart:
WOOF!

Blackadder:
[under his breath] Git.

[As Flashheart exits Melchett enters the room]

Melchett:
Ah, Blackadder! So you escaped?

Blackadder:
Yes sir.

Melchett:
Bravo! [briefly glances at the unconscious Darling] Don't slouch, Darling.

Blackadder:
I wonder whether, having been tortured by the most vicious sadist in the German army, I might have a week's leave to recuperate.

Melchett:
Splendid idea! Your commanding officer would have to be stark raving mad to refuse you!

Blackadder:
Well, you are my commanding officer.

Melchett:
Well?

Blackadder:
Can I have a week's leave to recuperate, sir?

Melchett:
[outraged] Certainly not!

Blackadder:
Thank you, sir.

Melchett:
BAAA!

George:
I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with... "M"!

Baldrick:
Err... Ummm...

George:
[indicating a mug on the table] Mmmm...?

[George and Baldrick continue to go "Mmmm" for some time, until Blackadder loses patience]

Blackadder:
MUG!

George:
Oh, I say, well done, sir! Your turn!

Blackadder:
I spy, with my bored little eye... something beginning with "T".

Baldrick:
Breakfast!

Blackadder:
What?

Baldrick:
My breakfast always begins with tea. Then I have a little sausage. Then a egg with some little soldiers.

Blackadder:
Baldrick, when I said it begins with "T," I was talking about a letter.

Baldrick:
No, it never begins with a letter! The postman don't come 'til 10:30!

Blackadder:
Oh, I can't go on like this. George, take over.

George:
All right, sir. Um... I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with "R".

Baldrick:
Army!

Blackadder:
FOR GOD'S SAKE, BALDRICK! "Army" starts with an "A"! He's talking about something with an "R"! [trills the R]

Baldrick:
Motorbike!

Blackadder:
WHAT?!

Baldrick:
A motorbike starts with a Rrrrr!

Blackadder:
Right! My turn again. What begins with "Come here" and ends with "OW"?

Baldrick:
I dunno.

Blackadder:
Come here. [punches Baldrick in the face]

Baldrick:
OW!

Blackadder:
Well done.

George:
Now I... [laughs nervously] I don't think you've quite got the hang of this game, sir. Tell you what, let's try another one. I hear, with my little ear... something beginning with "B".

Blackadder:
What?

George:
Bomb.

Blackadder:
[surprised] I can't hear a bomb.

George:
Listen very carefully. [the faint whistle of an incoming bomb is heard]

Blackadder:
Oh yes...! [there is an almighty explosion as the bomb hits]

[Blackadder interrogates Darling, who is tied up and blindfolded]

Darling:
This is completely ridiculous, Blackadder! You can't suspect me, I've only just arrived.

Blackadder:
The first rule of counter-espionage, Darling, is to suspect everyone. Believe me, I will be asking myself some pretty searching questions later on. Now, tell me: What is the colour of the Queen of England's favourite hat?

Darling:
How the hell should I know?!

Blackadder:
I see. Well, let me ask you another question: What is the name of the German head of state?

Darling:
Well, Kaiser Wilhelm, obviously.

Blackadder:
So you're on first-name terms with the Kaiser, are you?!

Darling:
Well, what did you expect me to say--?!

Blackadder:
Darling, Darling, shh. Cigarette?

Darling:
Hm. Thank you.

[Blackadder places a cigarette in his mouth and lights it. He smokes for a few seconds, before Blackadder suddenly slaps it away and turns nasty]

Blackadder:
ALL RIGHT, YOU STINKING PIECE OF CRAP!

Darling:
I beg your pardon?!

Blackadder:
[getting up close] Shut your cakehole, sonny, I know you! Tell me, Von Darling, what was it that finally won you over, eh?! Was it the pumpernickel, or was it the thought of hanging around with a big man in leather shorts?!

Darling:
[strangled voice] I'll have you court-marshaled for this, Blackadder!

Blackadder:
What, for obeying the General's orders? That may be what you do in Munich - or should I say München - but not here, Werner! You're a filthy Hun spy, aren't you?! Baldrick, the cocker spaniel, please.

Darling:
[desperate] Ah! No, no, no, wait! No, look, I'm English! I was born in Croydon! [breathing heavily] I was educated at Ipplethorpe Primary School! I've got a girlfriend called Doris! I know the words to all three verses of "God Save the King!"

Blackadder:
Four verses!

Darling:
Four verses! Four verses! I meant four verses! Look, I'm as British as Queen Victoria!

Blackadder:
So your father's German, you're half-German and you married a German?!

Darling:
[breaking into tears] No, no! LOOK, FOR GOD'S SAKE, I'M NOT A GERMAN SPYYYYYYYYYY!

Blackadder:
Good, thanks very much. Send the next man in, would you? [Nurse Mary bursts in]

Nurse Mary:
What is all this noise about?! Don't you realise this is a hospital?!

Darling:
[is released and stands up] You'll regret this, Blackadder! You'd better find the real spy or I'll make it very hard for you!

Blackadder:
Please, Darling, there are ladies present.

[Last lines of the series; Blackadder, Baldrick, George and Darling are ready to go over the top]

Darling:
Listen... Our guns have stopped.

George:
You don't think...?

Baldrick:
[with rising hope] Maybe... the war's over. Maybe it's peace!

George:
[overjoyed] Oh, hurrah! The big knobs have gone round the table and yanked the iron out of the fire!

Darling:
[also overjoyed] Thank God! We lived through it! The Great War, 1914 to 1917!

George:
Hip-hip...

George, Baldrick and Darling:
HOORAY!

Blackadder:
[sadly] 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.

George:
[afraid] So we are, in fact, going over? This is, as they say, "it"?

Blackadder:
I'm afraid so. Unless I can think of something very quickly.

Captain in background:
COMPANY, ONE PACE FORWARD! [the group obey]

Baldrick:
Oh, there's a nasty splinter on that ladder, sir! A bloke could hurt himself on that!

Captain in background:
STAND READY!

Baldrick:
I have... a plan, sir.

Blackadder:
Really, Baldrick? A cunning and subtle one?

Baldrick:
Yes, sir.

Blackadder:
As cunning as a fox who's just been appointed Professor of Cunning at Oxford University?

Baldrick:
Yes, sir.

Captain in background:
ON THE SIGNAL, COMPANY WILL ADVANCE!

Blackadder:
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 round here? [a whistle is heard] Good luck, everyone. [blows whistle, and they go over the top]

Blackadder:
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? [as his words sink in, Blackadder has a realisation] Baldrick? That little job that fell into your lap? It wasn't, by any chance, something to do with an Axe, a basket, a little black mask and the king of England?

Baldrick:
No.

Blackadder:
Go on...

Baldrick:
I couldn't find a basket.

Blackadder:
You very small, total bastard! [grabs a meat cleaver and holds it to Baldrick's throat]

Baldrick:
Sir, please don't kill me, I have a cunning plan to save the king

Blackadder:
Forgive me if I don't do a cartwheel of joy, your family's record in the department of cunning planning is about impressive as Stumpy Oleg McNoLeg's personal best in the Market Harbor marathon! [sighes] All right, what's the plan?

Baldrick:
This. [holds up a pumpkin]

Blackadder:
A pumpkin is going to save the king?

Baldrick:
But here I have one that I made earlier. [holds up a pumpkin with a face and wig] I will cover his real head with a cloak and balance the pumpkin on top and cut that off instead and the king survives.

Blackadder:
I'm not sure it's going to work, Baldrick. You see, when you've cut it off you have to hold it before the crowd and say "This is the head of a traitor," at which point they will shout back "No, it isn't. It's a large pumpkin with a pathetic mustache drawn on it!"

Baldrick:
I suppose it's not 100 percent convincing...

Blackadder:
It's not 1 percent convincing, Baldrick. However, I am a busy man and I can't be bothered to punch you at the moment. Here is my fist. Kindly run towards it as fast as you can. [Baldrick does so]

[Baldrick opens the door to find Queen Victoria, Prince Albert and their aide prepared to give Blackadder a reward for his generosity.]

Queen Victoria:
We are Queen Victoria.

Baldrick:
What, all three of you?

Queen Victoria:
[laughes] My dear little hobgoblin...here is our Royal Seal [she presents it to Baldrick, who goes down on one knee]. We are here to present your master with £50,000 and the title of Baron Blackadder for being the kindest man in England!

Baldrick:
Lovely, your Majesty. [Blackadder, not realising what's going on, storms over]

Blackadder:
Baldrick, what did I tell you I'd do if you didn't slam the door in the faces of these scrounging loafers?!

Baldrick:
But, Mr. Blackadder, it's-! [As promised, Blackadder slams the door in Baldrick's face, then slams it shut on the royals]

Blackadder:
I am not at home to guests! [the royals let themselves in again]

Prince Albert:
I flatter myself, we are rather special guests.

Blackadder:
[not realising who they are] But of course! I must apologise; it is not often that one receives a Christmas visit from two distinguished guests!

Prince Albert:
Ah, so you recognise us at last?

Blackadder:
Yes, unless I'm very much mistaken, you're the winner of the "Round Britain Shortest, Fattest, Dumpiest Woman" competition! And for her to be accompanied by the winner of this year's "Stupidest Accent Award" is really quite overwhelming! [Victoria and Albert look mortified]

Queen Victoria:
Sir, I cannot believe-!

Blackadder:
Cork it, fatso! Don't you realise that this is the Victorian Age where, apart from Queen Piglet Features herself, [Albert covers her ears] women and children are to be seen and not heard!?

Prince Albert:
[outraged] Queen Piglet Features!?

Blackadder:
Yes, Empress Oink, as lads call her! The only person in the kingdom that looks dafter than her is that stupid frankfurter of a husband! [Albert covers his own ears] "The Pig and the Prig", we call them! How they ever managed to produce their 112 children is quite beyond me! The bed chambers at Buckingham Palace must be copiously supplied with blindfolds!

Queen Victoria:
Sir, we have never been so insulted in our entire lives! [they storm out]

Blackadder:
Well, all I can say is you've been damned lucky!

Blackadder:
[crouched beneath Hadrian's Wall] That's odd; the machine seems to be seeking out our DNA across time!

[Atop the wall, a Roman Blackadder and Baldrick stand at attention]

Centurion Blaccadicus:
Just brilliant!

Legionary Baldricus:
What, O Centurion?

Centurion Blaccadicus:
We're facing a horde of ginger maniacs, with wild goats nesting in their huge orange beards-or to put it another way, the Scots!-and how does our inspired leader Hadrian intend to keep out this vast army of lunatics!? By building a a three-foot high wall! [sarcastic] A terrifying obstacle! About as frightening as a little rabbit with the word "Boo!" painted on its nose! [Baldricus shudders]

Consul Georgius:
Oh come now, Centurion! I won't have that! This wall is a terrific defence mechanism! Surely you're not suggesting that a rabble of Scots could get the better of Roman soldiers!?

[Further conversation is halted by the arrival of General Melchicus]

Consul Georgius:
Ah, welcome General!

General Melchicus:
Splendid! Good to see you practicing your English, Georgius! [continues in Latin] However, important news- Rome is being attacked on all sides, and so far the Emperor's only response has been to poison his mother and marry his horse. The Senate is therefore withdrawing troops from Britain to defend our Imperial city.

Centurion Blaccadicus:
Did you hear that, Balders?

Legionary Baldricus:
I certainly did, Centurion!

Centurion Blaccadicus:
Back to Rome, at last!

General Melchicus:
[in Latin] BAAA!

Consul Georgius:
[looking beyond the wall] I say, this is interesting! There appears to be a large orange hedge moving towards us!

Centurion Blaccadicus:
That's not a hedge, Consul. That's the Scots!


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