Audition parts

Baldrick
Blackadder: What a clot. The most absurdly dressed creature in Christendom.
Baldrick enters. He has also made an effort to look nautical, with two little oars sticking out
of his hat like antlers.
Blackadder: With one exception.
Baldrick: My lord?
Blackadder: Baldrick, you look like a deer.
Baldrick: Thank you, my lord. You look a bit of a duckie yourself.
Blackadder: Oh, God. What do you want?
Baldrick: I was wondering if I might have the afternoon off.
Blackadder: Of course not. Who do you think you are? Wat Tyler? You can have the
afternoon off when you die. Not before.
Baldrick: But I want to cheer brave Sir Walter home. Oh, dear sir, on a day like
today, I feel so proud to be a member of the greatest kingdom in the world.
Blackadder: And doubtless many other members of the animal kingdom feel the same
way, Baldrick.
Blackadder: Oh, look, will you shut up. Bloody explorers, ponce off to Mumbo Jumbo
land, come home with a tropical disease, a suntan and a bag of brown
lumpy things, and Bob’s your uncle, everyone’s got a picture of them in the
lavatory. I mean, what about the people who do all the work?
Baldrick: The servants.
Blackadder: No, me. I’m the people who do all the work. I mean, look at this, what is it?
He picks up a potato.
Baldrick: I’m surprised you’ve forgotten, my lord.
Blackadder: I haven’t forgotten. It’s a rhetorical question.
Baldrick: No. It’s a potato.
Percy
Blackadder: Oh, God! This place stinks like a pair of armoured trousers after the
Hundred Years War. Baldrick, have you been eating dung again?
Baldrick is just visible with a pair of bellows. Percy emerges blasted and bruised.
Percy: My lord! Success!
Blackadder: What?
They go across to the table in Blackadder’s room, on which there is an alchemy set.
Percy: After literally an hour’s ceaseless searching, I have succeeded in creating
gold, pure gold!
Blackadder: Are you sure?
Percy: Yes, my lord ... behold!
He uncovers a silver platter, which has a lump of something green on it.
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’s face holds an expression of joyous amazement. He holds the green out in front of
him.
Percy: 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, of course, 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: So we three alone in all the world can create the finest green at will.
Percy: Just so.
Bishop of Bath and Wells
Bishop: The time has come, Blackadder . . .
Blackadder turns casually.
Blackadder: Oh, hullo, Bish.
Bishop: The Black Monks will have their money ... or I will have my fun.
Blackadder: You enjoy your work, don’t you?
Bishop: Bits of it, yes.
Blackadder: The violent bits?
The bishop puts the skull and poker down and stands behind Blackadder.
He starts to massage his shoulders.
Bishop: Yes. You see I am a colossal pervert. No form of sexual depravity is too low
for me. Animal, vegetable or mineral, I’ll do anything to anything.
Blackadder: Ah - fine words for a bishop. Nice to hear the Church speaking out for a
change on social issues.
Bishop: Have you got the money?
Blackadder: Nope.
Bishop: Good, I hate it when people pay up. Say your prayers, Blackadder. It’s
poker time!
He brandishes the red-hot poker at Blackadder who stands up and calmly
turns to face him.
Blackadder: Fine. Are you ever concerned that people might find you out?
Bishop: Where am I? (He sees Blackadder) Ah. I remember, drugged!
Blackadder: That’s right.
Bishop: Well, you should have killed me while you had the chance. You have
looked in wonder at your last dawn, Blackadder.
Blackadder: Well, I’m not so sure about that. I did wonder, though, what people who
saw this might think ...
He reveals the painting [a porno blackmail “snapshot”] to the bishop.
Bishop: Heavens above! What creatures from hell are these?
Blackadder: Yes, they make an unusual couple, don’t they - though, in fact, I think you
probably recognize this huge sweating mound of blubber here, eh, fatso?
The bishop cries out and lunges for the painting.
Bishop: By the horns of Beelzebub! How did you get me into that position?
Bishop: You fiend - never before have I encountered such corrupt and foul-minded
perversity. Have you ever considered a career in the Church? 

Ploppy the Gaoler
Mistress Ploppy the cook
Blackadder: Right, good morning, team. My name is Edmund Blackadder, and I am the
new minister in charge of religious genocide. Now, if you play straight with
me, you’ll find me a considerate employer ... But cross me, and you’ll soon
discover that under this boyish, playful exterior beats the heart of a
ruthless, sadistic maniac. Now, my man, you are?
Gaoler: (Shuffling to attention) Gaoler, sir, my lord.
Blackadder: Good, well done. And your name is?
Gaoler: Ploppy, sir.
Blackadder: Ploppy?
Gaoler: Yes, sir.
Blackadder: Ploppy the gaoler.
Gaoler: That’s right, sir. Ploppy, son of Ploppy.
Blackadder: Ploppy, son of Ploppy the gaoler.
Gaoler: Oh, no, sir. I’m the first Ploppy to rise to be gaoler. My father, Daddy
Ploppy, was known as Ploppy the Slopper. It was from him that I inherited
my fascinating skin diseases.
Blackadder: You are to be congratulated, my friend. We live in an age where illness and
deformity are commonplace, and yet, Ploppy, you are, without a doubt, the
most repulsive individual I have ever met. I would shake your hand, but I
fear it would come off.
Gaoler: There’s no’ many bosses would be that considerate, sir.
Blackadder: Thank you, Ploppy. I do my best.
He moves on to the rotund and dirty woman.
Blackadder : Now then, woman, if indeed you are a woman, what is your function on
Death Row?
Cook: I’m the last-meal cook, sir. The prisoners may ask me for what they fancy
for their last meal.
Blackadder: And you cook for them what they desire?
Cook: Oh, yes, sir! Provided they ask for sausages. Otherwise they tend to get a
tiny bit disappointed. Sausages is all I got.
Blackadder: You are clearly a woman of principle and compassion, Mistress ...
Cook: Ploppy, sir.
Blackadder: Ah, so you are married to ...
 Cook: No. Many people think that, but it’s pure coincidence. We did laugh when
first we found out. ‘Good morning, Mistress Ploppy,’ he’d say, and I’d say
‘Good morning, Mister Ploppy.’
She and the gaoler laugh.
Blackadder: The long winter evenings must just fly by.
He moves on to the third figure, who is wearing an executioner’s mask and
carrying an axe.
Blackadder: Ah. And you must be the boy who makes the tea.
He laughs at his joke.
Gaoler: Oh, no, sir, he’s the executioner. But he does sometimes make the tea.
Blackadder: And your name is?
Baldrick: Baldrick, my lord.
Blackadder whips off the hood.
Baldrick: But I’ll change it to Ploppy if it will make things easier for you.
Blackadder: No, thank you. I can cope with more than one name. What are you doing
here?
Baldrick: Well, it’s a hobby.
Cook: It would be more fun, sir, if he were to change his name - give the place a
more family atmosphere.
Blackadder: A family atmosphere! This is meant to be a place of pain and misery and
sorrow.
Cook: That’s what I mean, sir.
Gaoler: Mistress Ploppy’s a bit of a social
Lady Farrow
Lady Farrow: James.
Blackadder: My darling.
Lady Farrow: How are you?
Blackadder: Oh, fine, fine. Food’s not bad. Apart from the sausages.
Lady Farrow: Your voice is somehow different.
Blackadder: (Going deeper) Oh, how?
Lady Farrow: Somehow lighter, not as deep nor booming as once it was.
Blackadder: (Now absurdly deep) Is that better?
Lady Farrow: Oh, my darling.
She moves towards him but then stops, a little coyly.
Lady Farrow: Call me by that name you always called me to show your love is still
strong.
Blackadder: Ah yes ... Aaaahm, look, do you think this is quite the time and the place
for that sort of thing?
Lady Farrow: Please.
Blackadder: Ahm, this is the specific, secret little name that I always used to call you.
You want to be called it again, is that right?
Lady Farrow: Yes. The one ... the one like ‘your little pumpkin’.
Blackadder: The one like ‘your little pumpkin’. But not actually ‘your little pumpkin’.
Lady Farrow: No.
Blackadder: Ahm, right then, my little . .. pumpkiniwumpkini.
She rushes at him with great passion: he has got it right.
Lady Farrow: Oh, my darling!
But the moment she gets to hug him, she screams.
Lady Farrow: Aaaarrrrrgggghhhh! Your arm!
Blackadder: What’s wrong with it?
Lady Farrow: What happened to it?
Blackadder: I’m rather hurt you don’t remember yourself, in fact.
Lady Farrow: But it was only cut off at the elbow.
Blackadder: Ah.
Lady Farrow: What happened to the rest?
Blackadder: Ah, well, yes. I got into a little scrap here, with a fellow who called you a
nosey little strumpet who’s always going blubbing to the queen, and we
got into a fight and he cut off the top half.
Lady Farrow: Alas!
Blackadder: Well, quite. Gosh, I think you’d better be going. Lord Blackadder said he
was going to be sending in his servant Baldrick to collect me.
Lady Farrow: (In a new intimate tone) Perhaps, my lord, he is leaving us for a little
longer.
Blackadder: Oh, no, I shouldn’t think so. Baldrick! (shouted) is usually very punctual.
Lady Farrow: Perhaps this Baldrick is doing it out of kindness?
Blackadder: Oh, no. I shouldn’t think so. Baldrick! (shouted) is a very unkind person.
He couldn’t be shouting ‘Baldrick’ louder -but to no avail.
Lady Farrow: Well, then, let us leap on the moment that we have been given and use it
to its full.
Blackadder: What?
Lady Farrow: Let me do this last thing for you. What wife could do more?
Walter Raleigh
Queen: I’m sorry. I’m so excited I don’t know what I’m saying. Come on, Sir Walter,
I want to hear about absolutely everything.
Walter: Then prepare to hear tales of terrible hardship, endurance and woe. We
set sail from Plymouth in the spring of 1552.
Blackadder yawns a little loudly.
Queen: You remember Lord Blackadder.
Walter turns and inspects him carefully.
Walter: No. But I can see he is the sort of pasty landlubber I have always
despised.
They all laugh at Blackadder.
Queen: Well, quite. Don’t crowd Sir Walter, Edmund.
Walter: Twice last week, I fought in hand-to-hand combat with a man with two
heads and no body hair. I’ll warrant the most exciting thing that has
happened to that limpid prawn in a whole year was the day his servant
forgot to put sugar in his porridge.
Blackadder tries to laugh this off Queenie is utterly enthralled.
Queen: Gosh, you’ve got nice legs.
Walter: While I hold the six seas of the world in my hand, this fellow here couldn’t
even put six gobstoppers in his mouth.
Queen: Ha ha ha -he’s a complete no-hoper, isn’t he, Walt!
Walter: He certainly is.
They both laugh.
Queen: My bedroom’s just upstairs, you know.
Melchett: I apprehended, Sir Walter, that there were only seven seas.
Walter: Only numerically speaking. We sailors do not count the sea around the
Cape of Good Hope. It is called the Sea of Certain Death, and no sailor
has crossed it alive.
Blackadder: Well, well, well. What an Extraordinary Coincidence.
Queen: What’s an Extraordinary Coincidence?
Blackadder is so, so, so casual.
Blackadder: Yes, it’s just that I was planning a jaunt around the Cape of Good Hope
myself, leaving as soon as I can find a ship.
Queen: Really?
Blackadder: Yes. And now that - sorry, I’ve forgotten your name - has returned and the
whole Court smells of fish, I’ve half a mind to set off this afternoon.
Walter: If you attempt that journey, you’ve no mind at all.
Blackadder: Or perhaps a mind that knows no fear?
Queen: Is that true Edmund? Do you know no fear?
Blackadder: Well, yes, I do rather laugh in the face of fear and tweak the nose of terror.
Queen: Gosh, Edmund, I’d forgotten how dishy you are.
Walter: You’d never dare. Why, round the cape, the rain beats down so hard, it
makes your head bleed.
Blackadder: So some sort of hat is probably in order.
Walter: And great dragons leap from the water and swallow ships whole.
Blackadder: I must remember to pack the larger of my two shrimping nets.
Queen: Oh, Edmund, you’re completely wonderful. If you do this, I’ll probably
marry you.
Now things are definitely slipping away from Walter.
Walter: Oh, yes, and who’ll be your captain? To my mind, there’s only one seafarer
with few enough marbles to attempt that journey.
Blackadder: Oh, yes, and who’s that?
Walter: Why Rum, of course, Captain Redbeard Rum.
Blackadder: Well done. Just testing. And where would I find him on a Tuesday?
Walter: Well, if I remember his old habits, he’s normally up the Old Sea Dog.
Blackadder: Oh, yes. And where is the Old Sea Dog?
Walter: Well, on Tuesdays, he’s normally in bed with the captain.
Arthur the Sailor
Arthur the Sailor: Give me a kiss, I’ll give you a penny.
Blackadder pops out as from nowhere, on the bargain.
Blackadder: A penny?!
Arthur: All right. Tuppence.
Blackadder: All right. Go on.
Blackadder nods and pops out of sight again.
Arthur: Nothing fancy, just a peck. I miss my mum, you see. When I was a little
kid, my mother always used to ...
Blackadder pops up again.
Blackadder: Get a move on, he’s a prostitute, not an agony aunt.
Arthur: Oh, go on, please. Just a peck on the cheek and say, ‘There, there
Arthur, Mummy kiss it better and you shall have a story.’
Blackadder: Well, I don’t know. Do you do requests, Baldrick?
Arthur: Please. (He is crying now) I miss my mother so much. I mean, she was
like a mother to me.
Blackadder: Oh, all right. Go on, Baldrick.
Blackadder disappears.
Baldrick: I’ve forgotten what I’m supposed to say.
Blackadder reappears, takes Baldrick to one side and grabs the sign
from him.
Blackadder: Oh, get out of the way: I’ll do it. There, there, Arthur. (He kisses Arthur -
horrible experience) Mummy kiss it better and you shall have a story.
Arthur: (So happy) What kind of story?
Blackadder: I don’t know. One about a squirrel, I suppose.
A little later ... Arthur has his arms around Blackadder and Baldrick.
Blackadder: ... and then Squirry the Squirrel went ...
Arthur and Baldrick: ... Neep, neep, neep.
Blackadder: And they all went home for tea.
Arthur: Oh, thanks very much, me old shivering mateys. That was wonderful.
(Takes his arms down) Now then, what do you charge for a good, hard
shag?
Pause.
Blackadder: A thousand pounds.
Arthur: A thousand pounds! You’ve got to be joking! 

Mrs Pants / Mr Pants
Blackadder: And this is the den.
Mrs Pants: Oh, dear.
Blackadder: But I have to tell you, Mr Pants, that I have had an extremely
encouraging nibble in other quarters, and I think you know me well
enough to know that I’m not the sort of man to ignore a nibble for long.
Mrs Pants stands by the fireplace.
Mrs Pants: I noticed some dry rot in the bedrooms, Timothy.
Blackadder: Well, Mrs Pants, dry rot is as dry rot does. Stop me if I’m getting too
technical.
Mrs Pants: And the floors are perhaps a little uneven.
Blackadder: Indeed yes, madam, and at no extra cost.
Mrs Pants is now by Baldrick’s door.
Mrs Pants: Strange smell.
Blackadder: Yes, that’s the servant; he’ll be gone.
Mr Pants: (Laughing) You’ve really worked out your banter, haven’t you?
Blackadder: No, not really. This is a different thing; it’s spontaneous and it’s called
wit.
Mrs Pants: What about the privies?
Blackadder: When the master craftsman who created this home was looking into
sewage, he said to himself, ‘Romeo’, for ‘twas his name, ‘Romeo, let’s
make ‘em functional and comfortable.’
Mr Pants: Oh, well that seems nice, doesn’t it, dear?
Blackadder: I think we understand each other, sir. So, sold then. Drink?
Blackadder pours and picks up two goblets from the small table.
Mrs Pants: But what about the privies?
It is clear she is not going to let this one go.
Blackadder: Uhm, well, what we are talking about in privy terms, is the very latest in
front-wall fresh air orifices combined with a wide capacity gutter
installation below.
Mrs Pants: You mean you crap out of the window?
Blackadder: Yes.
Mrs Pants: Well, in that case, we’ll definitely take it. I can’t stand those dirty indoor
things.
Nurse
Queen: Nursie, do you know what I'm going to do?
Nursie: What?
Queen: I'm going to go along and find out exactly what happens at these 'boys'
nights'.
Nursie: Good idea, poppet.
Queen: And I'll wear a cloak with a cowl so no one will recognise me.
Nursie: Another good idea. You're so clever today, you better be careful your
foot doesn't fall off.
Queen: Does that happen when you have lots of brilliant ideas - your foot falls
off?
Nursie: Certainly does. My brother, he had this brilliant idea of cutting his
toenails with a scythe and his foot fell off.

AND:
Nursie: You almost were a boy, my little cherry pip.
Queen: What?
Nursie: Yeah. Out you popped from your mummy's tumkin and everyone
shouted, 'It's a boy! It's a boy!' And then someone said, 'But it hasn't got
a winkle!' And then I said, 'A boy without a winkle! God be praised -it's a
miracle! A boy without a winkle!' And then Sir Thomas More pointed out
that a boy without a winkle is a girl, and everyone was really
disappointed. 

 Bla Bal Per Qu Nur Mel Mol Bis Beg Me Plo Co LF EF Wal Art Mrs Mr Leo
ck d cy een se ch lie hop gar sse ppy ok t hur Pan Pan
nge ts ts
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Minor parts in same colours may be doubled up.