A muddy, rain-lashed forward observation post near the Somme, 1917. GENERAL MELCHETT’s dugout is as opulent as possible under the circumstances: a stolen Persian rug, a bottle of ’04 Burgundy, and a portrait of Field Marshal Haig with darts stuck in it.
(Rolling her ‘r’s with volcanic fury) “Signor Blackadder, you will listen. The Holle 40 is not a toy. It is not a tea cozy. It is a disintegration ray .”
(Flatly) “A disintegration ray. Of course. And I suppose Field Marshal Haig has ordered a dozen to turn the Germans into small, apologetic piles of dust just in time for the annual Christmas pudding competition?” blackadder gisella moretti the holle 40
“Captain Blackadder, I’ve made you a warm drink. I used a bit of old sock for a strainer, but I think it adds flavor.”
There is no bang. No flash.
“Blackadder! Splendid news! The Germans have invented a gun that shoots exploding ferrets! We must counter with something even more ridiculous! What’s this?” (He spots the cube.)
“Let me guess. He was testing it on a small Italian village, and now all that remains is a single bewildered goat and a very clean piazza?” A muddy, rain-lashed forward observation post near the
“Don’t say it.”