Blackadder Back & Forth Page #4

Right, that is it!

Shoot him, boys.

I'm great and he's not.

Robin Hood and his

band of merry morons.

Ready... aim...

...fire!

Can I say that I think you made

the right decisin.

So do I, gorgeous.

Ding dong!

Well, Maid Marion

was pretty friendly.

So was Will Scarlet,

a really nice guy.

Still, the sooner we get home

the better.

We've started to affect history,

and that's dangerous.

We've already wiped out

the dinosaurs and killed Robin Hood.

God only knows

what's going to happen next time.

My Lord Emperor,

I, the Duc de Darling, bring news.

The English have reached Waterloo.

- Good. Prepare to attack.

- Very well.

But first, I would like to ask,

why do we want

to invade Britain in the first place?

I mean, their wine is made

of the peepee of cows,

and their women

all have big beards.

We invade, Darling, because

the British think they are so tough.

They think we French are sissies,

they call us weeds and whoopsies

and big girl's blouses.

With respect, my emperor,

we are whoopsies.

We invented the tapestry, the souffl

and the sweet liqueur.

We will be slaughtered

the minute we mince up the hill.

Do not despair. It is my firm belief

that God hates the British.

He will intervene miraculously

and send us a glorious victory

on this field of Waterloo.

Oh, bravo!

- Lovely uniform today, by the way.

- Oh, thank you. I think it works.

The French are approaching.

Excellent, I've a superb plan

which can't fail to result in

the complete destruction

of the French army.

Splendid. Tell me, and

I'll spread the news to the troops.

Very well. The plan is...

God, I'm brilliant, I surprise myself

sometimes. The plan is...

to allow the French within

And this is

the completely brilliant part...

- Yes?

- Then...

Your Grace!

- The Duke of Wellington is dead!

- Whoops.

Alas. Without the plan

the day is lost.

Pardon me.

Thanks very much.

May as well try and win

that cash anyway.

Why don't we try

pressing this button?

Well, fingers crossed.

- What can you see, Balders?

- People in very short skirts, my Lord.

Excellent. The 1960s,

at last, we're getting close.

I might stay a while actually

for a bit of hippy free love.

Free love wouldn't make

any difference to you, Balders.

I mean, what would a sheep

do with money?

Not giris in skirts, my Lord,

men.

Ah, Spandau Ballet, 1983.

I think not, my Lord.

Romans! We're still centuries out.

Come on, let's go.

Although, I might just steal myself

a Roman helmet while we're here.

Interesting. The machine seems to

be seeking out our DNA across time.

- Just brilliant!

- What, oh centurion?

We're facing a hoard

of ginger maniacs

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