Значение ЧЁРНАЯ ГАДЮКА ИДЁТ ВПЕРЁД в Цитатнике Wiki


Data: 2008-10-06 Time: 15:11:20

=Капитан Повар=

: Блэкэддер. Baldrick, what are you doing out there?: Болдрик. I’m carving something on this bullet, sir.: Блэкэддер. What are you carving?: Болдрик. I’m carving «Baldrick», sir.: Блэкэддер. Why?: Болдрик. It’s a cunning plan, actually.: Блэкэддер. Of course it is.: Болдрик. You see, you know they say that somewhere there’s a bullet with your name on it?: Блэкэддер. Yes.: Болдрик. Well, I thought if I owned the bullet with my name on it, then I’ll never get hit by it. Because I won’t ever shoot myself.: Блэкэддер. Shame.: Болдрик. And the chances of there being two bullets with my name on them are very small indeed.: Блэкэддер. Yes, that’s not the only thing around here that’s very small indeed. Your brain’s so minute, Baldrick, that if a hungry cannibal cracked your head open, there wouldn’t be enough to cover a small water biscuit.

: Джордж. Tally-ho, pip pip and Bernard’s your uncle.: Блэкэддер. In English we say 'Good morning'.

: Джордж. Look what I’ve got for you, sir!: Блэкэддер. What?: Джордж. The latest issue of ''King and Country''. Damn inspiring stuff. 'The magazine that tells the Tommies the truth about the war'.: Блэкэддер. Or, alternatively, the greatest work of fiction since vows of fidelity were included in the French marriage service.: Джордж. Come come, sir, you can’t deny that this fine newspaper is good for the morale of the men.: Блэкэддер. Certainly not. I just feel that more could be achieved by giving them some real toilet paper.: Джордж. Not with you at all, sir. What could any patriotic chap have against this magnificent mag?: Блэкэддер. Apart from his bottom?: Джордж. Yes.: Блэкэддер. Well, look at it. This stuff is about as convincing as Dr Crippin’s defence lawyer! The British Tommies are all portrayed as six foot six with biceps the size of Bournemouth.

: Джордж. Great Scott, sir, you don’t think the moment’s finally arrived to give Harry Hun a darn good British-style thrashing, six o' the best, trousers down?!: Блэкэддер. If you mean, are we all going to get killed, the answer is 'yes'. Clearly Field Marshal Haig is about to make yet another gargantuan effort to move his drinks cabinet six inches closer to Berlin.: Джордж. Bravo-issimo! Let’s make a start, eh — up and over to glory! Last one in Berlin’s a rotten egg!: ''Blackadder stops George climbing up the trench.'': Блэкэддер. Give me your helmet, Lieutenant.: ''George gives Blackadder his helmet, Blackadder throws it into the air above the trench. Machine gun fire is heard. Helmet falls back, perforated with bullet holes.'': Джордж. Yes, some sort of clever hat camouflage might be in order.

: ''General Melchett, attended by Captain Darling, is briefing Captain Blackadder on the 'secret' plan.'': Дарлинг. List of personnel cleared for Mission Gainsborough, as dictated by General C.H. Melchett: You and me, Darling, obviously, Field Marshal Haig, Field Marshal Haig’s wife, all of Field Marshal Haig’s wife’s friends, their families, their families' servants, their families' servants' tennis partners and some chap I bumped into in the mess the other day called Bernard.: Мелчетт. So it’s maximum security. Is that clear?: Блэкэддер. Quite clear, sir. Only myself and the rest of the English-speaking world is to know.: Мелчетт. Good man! Now, Field Marshall Haig has formulated a brillant new tactical plan to ensure final victory in the field.: Блэкэддер. Would this brillant plan involve us climbing over the top of our trenches and walking very slowly towards the enemy?: Дарлинг. How did you know that, Blackadder? It’s classified information.: Блэкэддер. It’s the same plan we used last time, sir. And the seventeen times before that.: […] : Мелчетт. There is, however, one small problem.: Блэкэддер. That everyone always gets slaughtered in the first ten seconds?: Мелчетт. Exactly. And Field Marshal Haig is worried that this may be depressing the men a tadge, so he’s looking for a way to cheer the men up.: Блэкэддер. His resignation and suicide seem the obvious answer.: Мелчетт. Интересная мысль. Запиши это, Дарлинг.

: Блэкэддер. Alright — total and utter quiet, do you understand? So, for instance, if any of us crawl over barbed wire they must on no account go (''screams'') «AARRRRGHH!»: Болдрик. Did you just crawl over some barbed wire, sir?: Блэкэддер. No, Болдрик, I’ve put my elbow in a blob of ice-cream. Now, where the hell are we?: Джордж (''consults his map''). We-e-ell, it’s a bit difficult to say. We’ve crawled into an area marked with little mushrooms…: Блэкэддер. Yes, and what do these symbols denote?: Джордж. Uhm… that we’re in a field of mushrooms?: Блэкэддер. Lieutenant, that is a military map. It is unlikely to list interesting flora and fungi. Look in the key and I think you’ll find those mushrooms aren’t for picking.: Джордж. Ah yes, you’re right, sir — it says 'mine' — so these mushrooms must belong to the man who made the map.: Блэкэддер. Either that or we’re in the middle of a ''mine'' field.: Болдрик. Oh, dear!: Джордж. So, he owns the field as well.

: Джордж. If we ''should'' happen to tread on a mine, what do we do?: Блэкэддер. Well, normal procedure is to jump 200 feet into the air and scatter yourself over a wide area.

: Блэкэддер. One thing puzzles me, Болдрик. How did you manage to get so much custard out of such a small cat?

= Капрал Наказание =

: Блэкэддер (''по телефону''). Вы хотите заказать столик на троих, у окна, на 21:30, не слишком близко к оркестру, на имя оберлейтенанта фон Геншлера. Да. Да. Я думаю, вы, скорее всего, ошиблись номером.

: Блэкэддер. Now, if anyone asks, we didn’t recieve any messages, and I definately did not shoot this delicious plump breasted pigeon.: Болдрик (''later, while being questioned by General Melchett''). We didn’t receive any messages and Captain Blackadder definitely did not shoot this delicious plump breasted pigeon.

: Дарлинг. You’re for it now, Blackadder! Frankly Sir, I’ve been suspecting this for some time. Clearly Captain Blackadder has been disobeying orders with a breathtaking impertinence.: Мелчетт. Да мне всё равно, пусть он хоть трахает герцога Йоркского луком-пореем рекордсменом! ''Он застрелил моего голубя!''

: ''At the cell.'': Перкинс (Edmund’s guard). Sadder than a happy hour then, Sir? Wave all our last goodbyes.: Блэкэддер. 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.: Перкинс. Oh, your lawyer now, yes Sir. Don’t you think that might be a bit of a waste of money, sir?: Блэкэддер. Not when he’s the finest mind in English legal history. Ever heard of Bob Massingbird?: Перкинс. Oh, yes indeed, Sir! A most gifted gentleman!: Блэкэддер. 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.: Перкинс. And he’s a dab hand at the prosecution, Sir.: Блэкэддер. Yes, well, look at Oscar Wilde.: Перкинс. Oh, butch Oscar.: Блэкэддер. 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.

: ''At his court martial, Blackadder confronts a smirking Captain Darling.'': Дарлинг. Good luck, Blackadder.: Блэкэддер. Why, thank you, Darling. And what’s your big job here today? Straightening chairs?: Дарлинг. No. In fact, I’m appearing for the prosecution. I woudn’t raise your hopes too much — you’re guilty as hell, you haven’t got a chance!: Блэкэддер. Why, thank you, Darling, and… and I hope your mother dies in a freak yachting accident.

: Blackadder. Well any reasonably impartial judge is bound to let me off.: Дарлинг. Well, exactly.: Блэкэддер. Who is the judge by the way?: Мелчетт. Baaa!: Блэкэддер. I’m dead.

: Мелчетт. The case before us today is that of the Crown versus Captain Edmund Blackadder, ''the Flanders pigeon murderer''! Oh, um… clerk, hand me the black cap, shall you? I’ll be— I’ll be needing that. Thank you!: Блэкэддер. I love a fair trial.

: Блэкэддер. Отрицай всё, Болдрик.: Джордж. Вы рядовой Болдрик?: Болдрик. Нет!: Джордж. But you are Captain Blackadder’s batman?: Болдрик. Нет!: Джордж. Oh, come on, Болдрик! Be a bit more helpful, it’s ''me''!: Болдрик. No, it isn’t!!

: ''George is reading from his prepared closing statement.'': Джордж. …and I firmly believe that, like me, you will conclude that Captain Blackadder is, in fact, totally and utterly… ''guilty''!: ''He sits. Blackadder turns over the page. George stands up again.'': Джордж. …of nothing more than trying to do his duty under difficult circumstances!

: ''After Baldrick and George got drunk and screwed up Blackadder’s appeal, almost getting Blackadder shot by firing squad.'': Блэкэддер. I’m not a religious man, as you know. But from now on I shall pray nightly to the God that killed Cain and squashed Samson that he come out of retirement and gets into practice on the pair of you!: ''The phone rings; Blackadder answers.'': Блэкэддер. Captain Blackadder. Ah, Captain Darling. Well, you know, some of us just have friends in high places. Yes, I can hear you perfectly. What’s that? You need two volunteers for a mission into No Man’s Land? Codename — Operation Certain Death. Yes, I think I have just the fellows.: ''Blackadder hangs up and turns to George and Baldrick.'': Блэкэддер (''Very maliciously''). God is ''very'' quick these days.

= Майор Звезда =

: ''Baldrick tells George how much he admires Charlie Chaplin.'': Болдрик. He’s as funny as a vegetable that’s grown into a rude and amusing shape, sir!

: ''Blackadder kicks Baldrick twice, to demonstrate the amusiveness of slapstick.'': Болдрик. No sir, and you mustn’t do that to me, sir, 'cause ''that''… is a ''bourgeois act'' of repression, sir!: Блэкэддер. What?: Болдрик. Haven’t you smelt it, sir? (''portentous'') There’s something afoot in the wind! The huddled masses, yearning to be free!: Блэкэддер. Болдрик, have you been in the diesel oil again?

: Болдрик (''ever more portentously''). No sir, I’ve been supping the milk of freedom! Already our Russian comrades are poised on the brink of revolution. And here too, sir, the huddled what’s-names — such as myself, sir — are ready to throw off the hated oppressors like you and the lieutenant! (''normal'') Present company excepted, sir.: Блэкэддер. Go and clean out the latrines.: Болдрик. Yes, sir! Right away, sir!

: Болдрик. They’ve already taken down Nicholas II, who used to be bizarre!: Блэкэддер. That’s ''the tsar'', Болдрик.

: ''George suggests Blackadder should go on the boards with his Cockney comedy act.'': Блэкэддер. Thank you, George. But if you don’t mind, I’d rather have my tongue beaten waferthin by a steak tenderizer, and then stapled to the floor with a croquet hoop.

: ''Blackadder asks private Bob Parkhurst whether he’s in fact a girl.'': Паркхерст (''panicking''). Oh, definitely not, Sir! I understand cricket! I fart in bed! Everything!: Блэкэддер. Well, let me put it another way, Bob, you ''are'' a girl! And you are a girl with as much talent for disguise as a giraffe in dark glasses trying to get into a polar bears-only golf club.: Паркхерст. Oh, sir, oh, sir! Please don’t give me away, sir. I just wanted to be like my brothers and join up. I want to see ''how'' a war is fought ''so badly!'': Блэкэддер. Well, you’ve come to the right place, Bob… The war hasn’t been fought so badly since Olaf the Hairy, high chief of all the Vikings, accidently ordered 80,000 battle-helmets with the horns on the inside.

: Блэкэддер. Bob, take a telegram: 'Mr. C. Chaplin, Sennett Studios, Hollywood, California. Congrats. Stop. Have found only person in world less funny than you. Stop. Name Baldrick. Stop. Yours E. Blackadder. Stop.' Oh, and put a P.S.: 'Please, please, please. Stop.'

: ''The show produced by Blackadder is a hit!'': Блэкэддер. Yes, in one short evening, I’ve become the most succesful impressario, since the manager of the Roman Colosseum thought of putting the Christians and the lions on the same bill.

: ''Blackadder comments on Baldrick’s Charlie Chaplin routine.'': Блэкэддер. Болдрик, in the Amazonian rain forest there are tribes of Indians as yet ''untouched'' by civilization who’ve developed more convincing Charlie Chaplin impressions than yours.

: ''Melchett comments on Baldrick’s Charlie Chaplin routine.'': Мелчетт. Well, it was mostly awful, but, er, I enjoyed the slug balancer.: Блэкэддер. А! Рядовой Болдрик, сэр.: Мелчетт. That’s right, yes! The slug fell off a couple of times but you can’t, er, can’t have everything, can you? I just suggest a bit more practice and, er, perhaps a little sparkly costume for the slug!

: ''Melchett is practicing what he is going to say to Georgina in front of Darling.'': Мелчетт. I know exactly what I’m going to say to her… "Darling…: Дарлинг. Yes, sir?: Мелчетт. What?: Дарлинг. Um… I don’t know, sir.: Мелчетт. Well, don’t butt in!: Дарлинг. Very well, sir.: Мелчетт. «I want to make you happy, darling…»: Дарлинг. Well, that’s very kind of you, sir.: Мелчетт. Will you kindly stop interupting? If you don’t listen to what I have to say, how can you tell me what you think?: Дарлинг. Sorry, sir.: Мелчетт. «I want to make you happy, darling, I want to build a nest for your ten tiny toes. I want to cover you in pepper and sneeze all over you!»: Дарлинг. Sir, I must protest!: Мелчетт. What is the matter with you, Darling?: Дарлинг. Well, it’s all just so sudden… I mean, the nest may be alright, but the pepper business is definitely out!: Мелчетт. How dare you try to tell me how to treat my dear Georgina!: Дарлинг. Oh… Georgina?: Мелчетт. Yes! I’m working on what I’m going to say to her tonight!: Дарлинг. Oh, sorry sir. Carry on.: Мелчетт. Really, Darling, you are the most graceless, dimwitted bumpkin I’ve ever met!: Дарлинг. Oh, I don’t think you should say that to her, sir!: Мелчетт. No!

: Мелчетт. I’m in love with Georgina, Blackadder. I’m going to marry her on Saturday and I want you to be the best man!: Блэкэддер. Oh… sir, I don’t think that’s a very good idea.: Мелчетт. Oh, why not?: Блэкэддер. Because… there’s something wrong with Georgina.: Мелчетт. Oh God! She’s not Welsh, is she?

: Капитан Дарлинг. We received a telegram this morning from Mr. Chaplin himself at Sennett Studios. 'Twice nightly screening of my films in trenches: excellent idea. Stop. But must insist E. Blackadder be projectionist. Stop.' Oh, 'P.S. Don’t let him ever… Stop.'

= Рядовой Самолёт =

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

: Блэкэддер. This is just the beginning of the training. Five months of very clever, very dull men talking about machinery.: Флэшхарт. Hey girls! Come and look at my machinery!: (''Accompanied by ecstatic female screams, Flashheart enters the training room.''): Флэшхарт. Enter the man who wears no underwear. Ask me why!: Класс. Why do you wear no underwear, Lord Flash?!: Флэшхарт. Because the pants haven’t built yet that’ll take the job on!: […] : Флэшхарт. The first thing to remember is… always treat your kite like you treat your woman.: Джордж. Hah! How do you mean, sir? You mean, um… you mean, take her home over the weekend to meet your mother?: Флэшхарт. No. I mean, get inside her 5 times a day and take her to heaven and back!

: Оберлейтенант фон Герхардт. Prepare for a fate vorse than death, english flying fellow.: Блэкэддер. So, it’s a traditional warm german welcome?: Оберлейтенант фон Герхардт. Also, he is saying do not try to escape, or you shall suffer ''even vorse''.: Блэкэддер. A fate worse, than a fate worse than death. That’s ''pretty bad''.

: ''George is trying to get permission to rescue Blackadder.: Мелчетт. Now George, you remember when I came down to visit you when you were a nipper, for your sixth birthday? You used to have a lovely little rabbit, beautiful little thing, remember?: Джордж. Yes sir. Flossy, sir.: Мелчетт. Thats right, Flossy. Do you remember what happened to Flossy?: Джордж. You shot him.: Мелчетт. Thats right. It was the kindest thing to do after it’d been run over by that car.: Джордж. By your car, sir.: Мелчетт. Yes, by my car. But that too was an act of mercy when you remember that dog had been set on him.: Джордж. Your dog sir.: Мелчетт. Yes, my dog, my dog. But the point is, George, that the state young Flossy was in after we’d scraped him off my front tire, will be very much the state young Blackadder will be in now. If not very nearly dead, then very actually dead.: ''…: Джордж. But surely you must let me at least try to save him: Мелчетт. No George, it would be as pointless as trying to teach a woman the value of a good forward defensive stroke. It would take a superman to get him out of there, not the kind of weed who blubs just because someone gives him a slice of rabbit pie instead of birthday cake, hmm?

: Flasheart: Now, I may be ''packing'' the kind of ''tackle'' that you’d normally expect to find swinging about between the hind legs of a grand national winner, but I’m not ''totally'' stupid.

= Генерал Госпиталь =

: ''Blackadder, Baldrick, and George are killing time in the dugout.'': Блэкэддер. I spy with my ''bored'' little eye… something beginning with 'T'.: Болдрик. Breakfast!: Блэкэддер. What?!: Болдрик. My breakfast ''always'' begins with tea. Then, I have a little sausage. Then, a egg with some little soldiers.: Блэкэддер. Болдрик, when I said it begins with 'T', I was talking about a ''letter''.: Болдрик. Nooo, it never begins with a letter! The postman don’t come 'til 10:30.: Блэкэддер. I can’t go on with this. George, take over.: Джордж. All right, sir. Um… I spy with my little eye… something beginning with 'R'.: Болдрик. Army!: Блэкэддер. Ради бога, Болдрик! 'Army' starts with an 'A'. He’s looking for something that starts with an 'R'. Rrrrrrrr!: Болдрик. Motorbike!: Блэкэддер. What?: Болдрик. A motorbike starts with a 'Rrrrrrrrmmm'! Rrrrrrrr…: Блэкэддер. All right! Right, right, right! My turn again. What begins with 'Come here' and ends with 'Ow'?: Болдрик. I don’t know.: Блэкэддер. Come here.: ''Болдрик steps closer. Blackadder punches him in the face.'': Болдрик. Ooh!: Блэкэддер. Well done.

: Джордж. I ''hear'', with my little ''ear'', something beginning with 'B'.: Блэкэддер. What?: Джордж. Bomb.: Блэкэддер. I can’t hear a bomb.: Джордж. Listen very closely.: ''Pause. The sound of a bomb — getting very close indeed — can slowly be heard.'': Блэкэддер (''Impressed''). Oh, yes.: ''The bomb hits; massive explosion.''

: ''After Blackadder has been searched by Darling.'': Блэкэддер. What in God’s name is going on?: Дарлинг. Security, Blackadder.: Блэкэддер. Security?: Мелчетт. «Security» isn’t a dirty word, Blackadder… «crevice» is a dirty word, but not «security».: Блэкэддер. So in the name of security, all men entering the premises must have their bottom fondled by this drooling pervert?: Дарлинг. I’m only doing my job, Blackadder.: Блэкэддер. Well, how fortunate that your job is also your hobby!: Мелчетт. Now there’s another dirty word: job!: […] : Дарлинг. The problem, Blackadder, is that there’s a leak.: Мелчетт. Now, «leak» is a positively disgusting word.

: Дарлинг. So you see Blackadder, фельдмаршал Хейг is most anxious to eliminate all these German spies.: Мелчетт. Filthy hun weasels, fighting their dirty underhand war!: Дарлинг. And fortunately, one of our spies…: Мелчетт. Splendid fellows, brave heroes risking life and limb for blighty!

: ''Melchett giving instructions on spycatching.'': Мелчетт. Yes, three weeks to smoke the bugger out. Use any method you see fit. Personally, I’d recommend you get a hold of a cocker spaniel, tie your suspect down on a chair with a potty on his head, then pop his todger between two floury buns and shout «Dinner time Fido!»

: ''Darling expressing his concer about Blackadder’s copetence.'': Дарлинг. I think I should go and keep an eye on Captain Blackadder: Мелчетт. You’ll need a convincing wound.: ''Melchett shoots Darling’s foot.'': Мелчетт. Yes. A convincing wound…

: ''Blackadder is interrogating Darling — on Darling’s first night in the hospital.'': Дарлинг. This is ridiculous, Blackadder! You can’t suspect me — I’ve only just arrived.: Блэкэддер. The first rule of counter-espionage is to suspect everyone, Darling. Believe me, I shall be asking myself some pretty searching questions later on. Now, what is the colour of the Queen of England’s favourite hat?: Дарлинг. How the hell should I know?!: Блэкэддер (''Sinister''). I ''see''. What is the name of the German leader?: Дарлинг. Well, кайзер Вильгельм, obviously.: Блэкэддер. ''So, you’re on first name terms with the Kaiser, are you''?!

: ''Blackadder has tied up Captain Darling and is grilling him as if he were a German spy.'': Дарлинг. Look, I’m as British as Queen Victoria!: Блэкэддер. Значит, твой отец — немец, ты наполовину немец и женат на немце?: […] : Дарлинг. Ты пожалеешь об этом, Блэкэддер! You better find the ''real'' spy, or I’ll make it very hard for you!: Блэкэддер. Please, Darling, there are ladies present.

: ''Blackadder tells how he determined that Nurse Fletcher-Brown is the German spy.'': Блэкэддер. I then leapt on the opportunity to test you. I asked if he’d been to one of the great universities: Оксфордский, Кембриджский или Гулльский / Халлский.: Сестра Флэтчер-Браун. И?: Блэкэддер. You failed to spot that only two of those are great universities!: Сестра Флэтчер-Браун. Свинья!: Мелчетт. That’s right! Oxford’s a complete dump!

= До свидания-а-а… =

: Блэкэддер. Hello the Somme public baths. No running, shouting or piddling in the shallow end.

: ''Blackadder is bewildered by George’s enthusiasm for going 'over the top'.'': Блэкэддер. Well, for God’s sake, George, how long have you been in the army?: Джордж. Oh, me? Oh, I joined up straight away, sir! August the 4th, 1914. God, what a day that was! Myself and the rest of the fellows, leapfrogging down to the Cambridge recruiting office and then, playing tiddlywinks in the queue. We’d hammered Oxford’s tiddlywinkers only the week before and there we were, off to hammer the Boche! Crushingly superb bunch of blokes. Fine, clean-limbed… even their acne had a strange nobility about it.: Блэкэддер. Yes, and how are all the boys now?: Джордж. Oh, uh, well… Jacko and the Badger bought it at the first Ypres, unfortunately. What a shock, there. I remember Bumfluff’s house-master wrote and told me that Sticky’d been out for a duck, and the Gubber had snitched a parcel sausage-end and gone goose-over-stump frogside.: Блэкэддер. Meaning?: Джордж. I don’t know, sir, but I read in the «Таймс» that they’d both been killed.

: Блэкэддер. Мы сидим здесь с Рождества 1914-го, за это время миллионы людей погибли, а мы продвинулись не дальше, чем муравей-астматик, несущий тяжелый груз.

: Блэкэддер (''Болдрику''). Это кризис. Большой кризис. In fact, if you’ve got a moment, it’s a twelve-storey crisis with a magnificent entrance hall, carpeting throughout, 24-hour porterage and an enormous sign on the roof, saying «Это большой кризис». Большой кризис требует большого плана. Принеси мне два карандаша и трусы.

: Блэкэддер. 'Til then, we’ve got bugger-all to do, except sit and wait.: Джордж. Oh, I don’t know, sir! We could, uh… we could have a jolly game of charades!: Болдрик. Oh, yes!: Джордж. And, uh… sing-along with musical hits, like 'Birmingham Bertie' and, ah, 'Whoops, Mrs Miggins, You’re Sitting on My Artichokes'.: Блэкэддер. Yes, I think 'bugger-all' might be rather more fun.

: Блэкэддер. Теперь, Болдрик, сделай мне кофе, и на этот раз сделай его вкус чуть менее похожим на грязь.: Болдрик. Боюсь, это не так просто, сэр.: Блэкэддер. И почему же?: Болдрик. Потому что это грязь. Кофе у нас закончилось 13 месяцев назад.: Блэкэддер. Блестяще. То есть каждый раз, когда я пил твой кофе, эти 13 месяцев я на самом деле пил горячую грязь.: Болдрик. С сахаром…: Блэкэддер. …Что существенно меняет дело.: Болдрик. Ну, если бы у нас был сахар, но он закончился в канун нового 1915 года. С тех пор я использую заменитель сахара…: Блэкэддер. …И это?..: Болдрик. Перхоть. Но я могу добавить молока на этот раз, то есть слюны.: Блэкэддер. Нет, спасибо, Болдрик. Можешь считать меня слишком разборчивым, но я думаю, я откажусь.: Болдрик. Наверно, потому что вы сумасшедший, сэр!: Блэкэддер. Да, вполне!

: ''In probably the most poignant scenes of the series, Blackadder, Baldrick, and George sit in the dug-out, waiting for the big push. There is a real sense of time being on their hands.'': Болдрик. Permission to ask a question, sir.: Блэкэддер. Permission granted Baldrick, as long as it isn’t the one about where babies come from.: Болдрик. No. The thing is — the way I see it, these days there’s a war on, right? And ages ago, there wasn’t a war on, right? So there must have been a moment where there not being a war on went away, right, and there being a war on came along, right? So, what I really want to know is how we went from one case of affairs to the other case of affairs.: Блэкэддер. You mean, how did the war start?: Болдрик. Да, сэр.: Джордж. The war started because of the vile hun and his villainous empire-building.: Блэкэддер. George, the British Empire at present covers a quarter of the globe while the German Empire consists of a small sausage factory in Tanganyika. I hardly think we can be entirely absolved from blame on the imperialistic front.: Джордж (''громко''). Oh, no sir! Absolutely not! (''Тихо; Болдрику.'') Mad as a bicycle.: Болдрик. I heard that it started when a bloke called Archie Duke shot an ostrich 'cause he was hungry.: Блэкэддер. I think you mean it started when the Archduke of Austro-Hungary got shot.: Болдрик. No, there was definitely an ostrich involved, sir.: Блэкэддер. Well possibly. But the real reason for the whole thing is that it would be too much effort not to have a war… you see, Болдрик, in order to prevent a war in Europe, two super blocs developed: us, the French and the Russians on one side, and the Germans and Austro-Hungary on the other. The idea was to have two vast, opposing armies, each acting as the other’s deterrent. That way, there could never be a war.: Бордрик. Except, well, this is sort of a war, isn’t it?: Блэкэддер. That’s right, there was one tiny flaw in the plan.: Джордж. Oh, what was that?: Блэкэддер. It was bollocks.: Болдрик. So the poor old ostrich died for nothing.

: Болдрик. Hear the words I sing, war’s a horrid thing, so I sing, sing, sing… ding a ling a ling.

: Болдрик. Это я назвал «Немецкие орудия».: Джордж. О, первоклассно! Да, давайте послушаем!: Болдрик. Бум, бум, бум, бум, / Бум, бум, бум, / Бум, бум, бум, бум.: Эдмунд. БУМ, БУМ, БУМ?: Болдрик. Как вы догадались, сэр?: Джордж. Надо же, сэр! Это жутко!

: Блэкэддер. Я думаю, эта фраза рифмуется с «подстрахуй». /I think the phrase rhymes with Clucking Bell. {Go to hell! — Пошел к чёрту!}/

: ''Вспоминая 1914 года.'': Болдрик. Remember the football match?: Блэкэддер. Remember it — how could I forget it — I was ''never'' offside! I could not ''believe'' that decision.

: ''Darling has joined Blackadder, Baldrick and George on the front line.'': Блэкэддер. Капитан Дарлинг. (''Это первый раз, когда он так к нему обратился.''): Дарлинг. Капитан Блэкэддер.: Блэкэддер. Here to join us for the last waltz?: Дарлинг. Yes. Got tired of… folding the general’s pyjamas.: Джордж. Well, this is splendid! Four comrades, going over, in the spirit of… sir?: Блэкэддер. Да, Джордж?: Джордж. Я… боюсь, сэр.: Болдрик. Я тоже боюсь, сэр.: Джордж. I mean, I’m the last of the Trinity Tiddlers. Я не хочу умирать! I’m not… overly keen on dying at all, sir.: Блэкэддер. How are you, Darling?: Дарлинг. Not all that good, Blackadder. Rather hoped I’d make it through the whole show. Return to work at Pratt and Sons, keep wicket for the Croydon Gentlemen… marry Doris. Made a note in my diary on the way here. It simply says… «Bugger (черт, черт побери, твою мать, блин)».: Блэкэддер. Well, quite.

: Блэкэддер. Don’t forget your stick, лейтенант.: Джордж. Oh no, sir — wouldn’t want to face a machine gun without this!

: ''Заключительная сцена. After the British guns have stopped shelling.'': Дарлинг. Listen. Our guns have stopped.: Джордж. You don’t think…?: Болдрик. Maybe the war is over. Maybe it’s peace?: Джордж. Well hurrah! The big knobs have finally gotten around the table and yanked the iron out of the fire!: Дарлинг. Thank God! We lived through it! The Great War, 1914—1917! Гип-гип!: Все. Ура!: Блэкэддер (''Gently''). 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.: Джордж. So we are, in fact, going over. This is, as they say… it.: Блэкэддер. Yes. Unless I can think of something very quickly…: ''A call: «Company take one step forward!»'': Болдрик (''About the ladder''). Ooh, that’s a nasty splinter on that ladder, sir!A bloke could hurt himself on that!: ''Another call: «Fix bayonets!»'': Болдрик. У меня есть план, сэр.: Блэкэддер. Really, Болдрик. A cunning and subtle one?: Болдрик. Да, сэр.: Блэкэддер. As cunning as a fox who’s just been appointed Professor of Cunning в Оксфордском университете?: Болдрик. Да, сэр.: ''Another call is heard: «On the signal, company will advance!»'': Блэкэддер. 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’ve noticed another madman around here?: ''A whistle blows, and is joined by several others.'': Блэкэддер. Good luck, everyone.: ''He blows his whistle; the men go over the top.''

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