ftp.ee.pdx.edu/2014.02.ftp.ee.pdx.edu.tar/ftp.ee.pdx.edu/pub/blackadder/misc/fake.5-1

Text File | 1992-06-23 | 13KB | 425 lines

BLACKADDER 5:  THE VILLAGE YEARS
EPISODE 1 - A RIVAL

An Unauthorized BLACKADDER/THE PRISONER parody

Written by
Melanie Miller

With heartfelt thanks to Mitch (Take my Baldrick--please!)
Patterson and Lyndon Fletcher

Some dialogue and scenes written by Tom Golden
-------------------------------------------------------------------
The opening sequence is a long, deserted runway.  A  thunderclap is
heard, followed by a hauntingly familiar trumpet, bongo drums,
electric guitar, brass section and snare drum theme. . .The runway
is empty except for one vehicle in the distance, speeding toward
the  camera. . .it's a sporty Lotus 7, driven by a grim man with
laser-blue eyes and an intense expression.  The car drives under
the camera, which then pans off to the left. . .where a beat-up
Citroen 2CV is parked.  The wind from the Lotus blows the hood
down, whacking the driver neatly in the forehead.  The driver
straightens up, and we see Edmund Blackadder (Rowan Atkinson)
glaring down the road at the retreating Lotus 7.  He cocks his arm
and gives an age-old signal to the driver.

Cut to overhead shot of Edmund in his Citroen, puttering through
the streets of London.  While the titles are rolling, he manages to
get cut off by everything from a lorry to a little old lady on a
bicycle, finally pulling into an underground garage right behind
the Lotus 7.  As he tries to operate an official-looking passcard
slot, it promptly shreds his pass.

Cut to Edmund walking down a long, empty corridor, obviously angry.
Abruptly, two guards jump out of alcoves and grab him, slamming him
against the wall in spreadeagle position and roughly searching him.
We can't hear anything, but Blackadder is obviously being searched
everywhere, including places he doesn't allow his doctor to see.
During the search, one of the guards locates an MI5 pass, and calls
off the other guard.  They shrug and retreat down the corridor.
Edmund staggers into a small, drab office, where George Hanover
(Hugh Laurie) is puttering with a tall stack of paperwork.

EDMUND  (throwing himself into a chair)  You would not believe what
I just went through.

GEORGE  Oh, not the strip search again?

EDMUND  Well, no--

GEORGE  With the body cavity probe?

EDMUND  George--

GEORGE  And those cold metal pliers?  Gosh, I remember once how
they stuck them up your--

EDMUND  George, if you don't shut up immediately I'll be forced to
rip out your tongue with this staple remover.

GEORGE  (thoughtfully)  Ah.  Well, then, I shan't say another word
about it.

EDMUND  Good.

GEORGE  I know when to keep my mouth closed.

EDMUND  Excellent.

GEORGE  In fact, I once kept so quiet that people didn't know I was
around--

Edmund bounces dictionary off George's head.

EDMUND  I don't know how long I can put up with this.  (notices
paperwork for first time)  Please tell me Sir Charles doesn't want
that sorted by the number of vowels per sheet again.

GEORGE  We should be so lucky, eh?  No, Sir Charles' secretary went
on holiday, and I was asked to fill in for her.  Quite a step up
from chief paper shredder, eh?

EDMUND  Congratulations--I'll send fruit.

GEORGE  You know, Blackadder, you might be happier if you showed a
bit more team spirit.

EDMUND  Why should I be happy?  Two months ago I was a top-level
agent, knee-deep in danger, excitement, and oversexed women with
double entendre names.  And now I'm filing reports on "Possible
Russian Influences in Sussex Arts and Crafts Associations."  What
is there in this miserable existance that I should be happy about?

GEORGE  Well, you have me as an officemate.

EDMUND  Remind me to slit my wrists tomorrow.  You know, this
really isn't fair.  I didn't know she was the Russian ambassador's
wife--I thought she was just some Slavic slottie with a taste for
British manhood.

GEORGE  And wound up with you instead, eh?



EDMUND  (to himself)  If it wasn't for ZM73, _I'd_ be engaged to
Janet right now, lazing about in the good will of Sir Charles.
I'll bet Zed-Em never gets a paper cut from filing, does he?  Well,
we'll just have to see what we can do about that.



EDMUND  It's come to my attention that one of our top operatives
(looks around) may be going over.

GEORGE  You mean he's spoiling?

EDMUND  No, you abysmal git, I mean he's defecting.

GEORGE  Oh!  Well, then, we're going to look pretty silly if the
Other Side finds out about that!

EDMUND  Yes--

GEORGE  I mean, one of our top spies, not potty-trained yet.

EDMUND  George, how did you get into MI5?

GEORGE  I was recruited.

EDMUND  Yes, from the Home for Mental Defectives.  Never mind--just
get this to Sir Charles.



SIR CHARLES     So Blackadder wants to retire, eh?  About bloody time--I
was running out of mindless makework for him

AIDE    But sir, he did have access to certain levels of
information.  It may not be a good idea to have him leave the
organization.  A loose cannon, one might say.

SIR CHARLES     A loose popgun is more like it.  But you're right--it's not
worth having him on the streets.  Get me Number One--we'll have to
make some special arrangements for our Mr. Blackadder.



EDMUND  Maybe I should just chuck it all.  Buy myself a chicken
farm in Kent, find some oversexed milkmaid with the IQ of straw,
and settle down to a mindless life of abusing farm animals.

FRED    Good work if you can get it, mate.

EDMUND  Yes, I'm sure you speak from experience.


Edmund heads to the men's room.  We see a stall, with two men
dressed as undertakers standing outside it.  A sudden burst of gas
is released beneath the bottom of the stall

(Sudden break to opening credits)

He said he wanted to resign,
And find a farmwife to encumber;
But in the Village he will find--
Blackadder's just another Number!

Blackadder!  Blackadder!
The shame of MI5!
Blackadder!  Blackadder!
He won't get out alive!

Edmund wakes up in a mail sack.  Poking his head out, he sees that
he is in an apartment which is decorated like his own home.  He
stuggles to get out of the sack and staggers to the window.

EDMUND  Oh, God, I'll never drink with Bottomless Fred again.

EDMUND looks out the window and sees something drastically
different from Guildford...

EDMUND  Bloody hell.

VOICE   You are in The Village.

Edmund whirls around, trying to locate the voice.

EDMUND  (curiously)  That's the first time I've ever _heard_
capitalized letters.  (in a normal tone)  I don't suppose you'd
care to part with some more news, such as--where on God's green
earth is The Village?

VOICE   That would be telling.

EDMUND  (nods)  Right--I'm locked up in some knock-off of my flat,
and someone with the mental capacity of a prawn is attempting to
playing mind games for which he's not equipped.  By any chance,
does your name happen to be--

VOICE   I am Number Two.

EDMUND  Oh.  I was about to say Baldrick, but you couldn't be
him--he can't count that high.

VOICE   You are Number Five.

EDMUND  5?  (to himself)  That's all?  What do you want from me?

VOICE   We want INFORMATION . . . INFORMATION . . . INFORMATION . .
.

EDMUND  I'm stuffed with it.  The name of Her Majesty's dressmaker,
the air speed velocity of an unladen swallow, a complete set of
naughty lyrics to "Knees Up Mother Brown"--

VOICE   By hook or by crook, we'll get it...

EDMUND  (tightens up, wincing)  By any chance, did you train with
the MI5 security forces?  They've developed this similar fondness
for instruments--

VOICE   Hahahahahahahahahahahaha. . .

EDMUND  I thought so.  Now where the _hell_ am I?

The phone rings.  Edmund picks it up.

NEW
VOICE   Good morning, 5.  Trust you slept well.  Ignore the
mysterious voice--it's a tape, I'm afraid.  We play it to
intimidate all our new arrivals.  Come and have breakfast with me.
Number Two -- the Green Dome.

Edmund hangs up.  For the first time, he notices the lava lamps
positioned in various places around the room.

EDMUND  Good Lord--I've been kidnapped by hippies.

Edmund approaches the door, which opens for him automatically.  He
looks around and, finding he is lost, stops a passer-by -- Number
Six (Patrick McGoohan)

EDMUND  Pardon me, but could you tell me how to get to Number Two's
place-- (he realizes who he's speaking to)  Oh, God, it's you.

NUMBER 6        I didn't expect to see you either, old boy.  I
assume it's your turn with Number Two--although I can't see why
they bothered.  (he turns and gives the dome a cold glance)  Down
the hill, down the street, across the square and up the steps.  You
can't miss it.  Be seeing you.  (Gives Village salute and walks
briskly away, smiling enigmatically)

EDMUND  (looking to the sky)  All right, let's tot up this
list--I've been gassed, kidnapped, dumped in a lookalike flat, been
told that I'm in some cocked-up Village, instructed to meet with
some warty-nosed number in a pus-green dome, and have run into ZM
73, the one man I'd gladly see wrapped in cellophane and thrown
into the Thames.  What else could go wrong--

Baldrick enters, wearing a striped shirt and a straw hat.

BALDRICK        Hello, Mr. B.

Edmund turns, looks at him.

EDMUND  (to heaven again)  I had to ask.  Baldrick, I'm appalled to
hear myself say this, but I'm actually glad to see you.  How did
you get here?

BALDRICK        I fell asleep in your wardrobe.

EDMUND  Much like the average household pest.

BALDRICK        And when I woke up, I was here.  Oh, and you
shouldn't call me by my name anymore, Mr. B.

EDMUND  Assuming that I should ever become completely deranged and
want to call you, what should I use?

Baldrick holds out his pennyfarthing badge proudly.

BALDRICK        I made it myself.

EDMUND  (reading)  One-tenth.  Tell me, Baldrick, is that your
number or your IQ?

SCENE 4:  NUMBER TWO'S CONTROL ROOM

Number Two (PETER COOK) is speaking on several wireless phones,
pacing nervously as he speaks--

NUMBER 2        Of course you give _me_ the toughies.  ZM 73 is a
legend, and my predecessor walks out, leaving me with the bag.
(listens)  5?  Why bother?

Edmund enters, looking around the room suspiciously.

NUMBER 2        Ah.  Good morning, Number 5.  I trust you slept
well.

Edmund sits down.

EDMUND  Oh, I thoroughly enjoy being gassed and stuffed into a mail
sack.  Do it every weekend.  I suppose you're going to explain to
me why I'm here.

NUMBER 2        Of course.  I am Number 2, and--

EDMUND  Look, if this is about the Russian ambassador's wife, the
caviar, and the horse, I can explain--

NUMBER 2        No, no.  I'm not interested in. . .a horse?

EDMUND  Er, yes.  She was demonstrating a bit of Russian history to
me, one of their personages, you might say.

NUMBER 2        Such as?

EDMUND  Catherine the Great.

NUMBER 2        (rolls his eyes) Before our little segue through the
animal kingdom, I was talking about your resignation from MI5.  And
the reason you gave--

EDMUND  What reason?  (thinks, then jumps up) Wait a minute-- _I_
didn't want to quit--

NUMBER 2        That's not what we were told.  According to a
certain G. Hanover, you were reported as wanting to retire because
of (he reads from a paper) "spoilage."  And according to MI5 rules
regarding agents with top secret information, we can't let them
leave the service without making sure that they haven't been
recruited by the Other Side.

EDMUND  (suddenly filled with self-importance) Oh, well, that's
different.  Top secret agents and all--

NUMBER 2        Unfortunately, Number 5, we don't want anything
from you

EDMUND  What?

NUMBER 2        Quite true, I'm afraid.  We don't give a tinker's
dam for what's in that pointed skull of yours.  It's perfectly
useless.

EDMUND  (gets to his feet)  Now, wait a minute.  I was a top-level
spy--

NUMBER 2        (yawning) Oh, and I'm sure you typed neatly, too.
Color-coded with the best of them, licked envelopes to perfection.
No, you're here simply to keep you out of the way until you do the
world a favor and die.

EDMUND  Look, I will not be pushed, filed, stamped, indexed,
briefed, debriefed--unless it's by scantily-clad nurses--or
numbered.  (he kneels abruptly)  Apart from that, my life is yours.

NUMBER 2        Sorry, we're not interested.

Number Two presses a button on the console, and a table with a
plate of eggs, bacon, toast and orange juice pops up from the floor
in front of Edmund.

NUMBER 2        I do enjoy doing that.  Breakfast?

EDMUND  No, thanks.  I'll just chew on my arm for awhile.



EDMUND  I'd be good for your organization, really I would.

NUMBER 2        No thanks.

EDMUND  I could be an undercover agent, root out the undesirables.

NUMBER  But they're all undesirable.

EDMUND  Oh.  Well. . .what about ZM-73?

Number 2 stops in his tracks.

NUMBER 2        You know about Number 6?

EDMUND  Ran into the bugger when I was coming here.  Look, I can
help you break him.

NUMBER 2        Annoying him to death wasn't what we had in mind.



EDMUND  Oh, God, this is embarrassing--Edmund Blackadder,
descendent of kings, mauled to death by a weather balloon.

Rover rolls over him, and he starts to smother.  Fade to black.



EDMUND  Where am I?

NURSE   In hospital.

EDMUND  Thank God!  It was all a horrible dream!


A different Number Two (Brian Blessed) walks in.


NUMBER 2        Hallo, Number 5!  Feeling any better?

EDMUND  Ahhhhhhhhh!



NUMBER 2        Look, if you can find out why he wanted to
retire--and bring us proof of it--we'll let you go.  But not until
then.



********************************************************************************

Grog!!