Lord Flasheart: All right men, let's do-oo-oo it! The first thing to remember is: always treat your kite
[Flashheart taps the picture of the Sopwith Camel with his cane]
Lord Flasheart: like you treat your woman!
[Flashheart whips the air with his cane]
Lieutenant George: How, how do you mean, Sir? Do you mean, do you mean take her home at weekends to meet your mother?
Lord Flasheart: No, I mean get inside her five times a day and take her to heaven and back.
Captain Blackadder: I'm beginning to see why the suffragette movement want the vote.
Lord Flasheart: Hey! Any girl who wants to chain herself to *my* railings and suffer a jet movement gets *my* vote!
Lord Flasheart: Mind if I use your phone? If word gets out I'm missing, five hundred girls will kill themselves. And I wouldn't want them on my conscience, not when they ought to be on my *face*! Hello? Cancel the state funeral, tell the king to stop blubbing, Flash is not dead! I simply ran out of juice! And before five hundred girls all go 'oh, what's the point in living any more?' I'm talking about petrol! Woof! Send someone along to pick me up. General Melchett's driver will do, she hangs round with a big knob so she'll be used to a fellow like me. Woof!
Captain Blackadder: Look, do you think you could make your obscene phone call somewhere else?
Lord Flasheart: No, not in half an hour you rubber desk-johnny! Send the bitch with the wheels right now or I'll fly back home and give your wife something to hang her towels on!
Lord Flasheart: [hangs up] Right! Let's dig out your best booze and talk about me till the car comes!
Lord Flasheart: Enter the man who has no underwear. Ask me why.
Lieutenant George: Why do you have no underwear, Lord Flash?
Lord Flasheart: Because the pants haven't been built yet that'll take the job on!
Captain Blackadder: Flasheart, this is Captain Darling.
Lord Flasheart: Captain Darling? Funny name for a guy isn't it? Last person I called darling was pregnant twenty seconds later.
General Melchett: If nothing else works, a total pig-headed unwillingness to look facts in the face will see us through.
Captain Darling: Excuse me, Sir
Lord Flasheart: Yes, yes, prat at the back.
Captain Darling: I'm sure we'd all like to know... Why are you called the Twenty Minuters?
Lieutenant George: Oh, Mr Thicko, fancy not knowing that!
Lord Flasheart: It's simple! The life expectancy of a new pilot is twenty minutes!
Captain Blackadder: Life *expectancy* of twenty minutes?
Lord Flasheart: That's right! Goggles on, last one back's a homo! Hooray!
[Flash leaves with the other trainees, leaving Blackadder and George in their seats]
Captain Blackadder: So we take off in ten minutes, we're in the air for twenty minutes, so we should be dead by twenty five to ten.
Lieutenant George: Hairy blighters, sir, this is a bit of a turn-up for the plus fours.
Captain Blackadder: [during a German air raid] Where's our air force? They're meant to defend us against this sort of thing. Right, that's it!
[picks up telephone]
Captain Blackadder: Hello? Yes, yes, I'd like to leave a message for the head of the Flying Corps, please. That's Air Chief Marshall Sir Hugh Massingbird-Massingbird, VC, DFC and Bar. Message reads "Where are you you bastard".
Lord Flasheart: Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait a minute. Now I may be packing the kind of tackle that you'd normally expect to find swinging about between the hindlegs of a Grand National winner, but I'm not totally stupid. I've got the kind of feeling you'd rather we hadn't come.
Captain Blackadder: No, no, no, I'm very grateful. It's just that I'd slow you up.
Lord Flasheart: I think I'm beginning to understand.
Captain Blackadder: Are... are you?
Lord Flasheart: Just because I can give multiple orgasms to the furniture just by sitting on it, doesn't mean that I'm not sick of this damn war: the blood, the noise, the endless poetry.
Captain Blackadder: Unfortunately most of the infantry think you're a prat. Ask them who they'd rather meet, Squadron Commander Flasheart or the man who cleans out the public toilets in Aberdeen, and they'd go for Wee Jock Poo-Pong McPlop every time.
[Flashheart laughs then punches Blackadder in the face]
Lord Flasheart: Ok chums, let's doooooo it. As the bishop said to the netball team.
Captain Blackadder: Baldrick, what are you doing?
Private Baldrick: I'm a Sopwith Camel, sir.
Captain Blackadder: Ah, it is a Sopwith Camel. I always get confused between the sound of a Sopwith Camel, and the sound of a malodorous runt wasting everybody's time.
Lieutenant George: Crikey, sir. I'm looking forward to today. Up diddly up, down diddly down, whoops, poop, twiddly dee - decent scrap with the fiendish Red Baron - bit of a jolly old crash landing behind enemy lines - capture, torture, escape, and then back home in time for tea and medals.
Captain Blackadder: George, who's using the family brain cell at the moment? This is just the training - 6 months of dull men looking at machinery.
Lord Flasheart: [Voice from outside the room] Hey, girls - look at my machinery!
Baron von Richthoven: Ah, and the Lord Flasheart. This is indeed an honour. Finally, the two greatest gentleman fliers in the world meet. Two men of honour, who have jousted together in the cloud-strewn glory of the skies, face to face at last. How often I have rehearsed this moment of destiny in my dreams. The panoply to encapsulate the unspoken nobility of a comradeship.
[Flasheart shoots von Richthoven]
Lord Flasheart: What a poof!
Gen. Sir Anthony Cecil Hogmanay Melchett: Now then, then now, now then, then, then, then now.
Gen. Sir Anthony Cecil Hogmanay Melchett: Now then, what's all the fuss about?
Captain Blackadder: I was wondering whether, after being tortured by the most vicious sadist in the German army, I might be allowed a week's leave to recuperate.
General Melchett: Excellent idea. Your commanding officer would have to be stark raving mad to refuse you.
Captain Blackadder: You are my commanding officer.
General Melchett: Well?
Captain Blackadder: Can I have a week's leave to recuperate, sir?
General Melchett: Certainly not!
Captain Blackadder: Thank you sir.
General Melchett: Baaa!
General Melchett: [explaining why they can't rescue Captain Blackadder] 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, do you remember?
Lieutenant George: Flossie.
General Melchett: That's right, Flossie! Do you remember what happened to Flossie?
Lieutenant George: You shot him.
General Melchett: That's right! It was the kindest thing to do after he'd been run over by that car.
Lieutenant George: By *your* car, sir.
General Melchett: Yes, by my car. But that, too, was an act of mercy when you remember that that dog had been set on him.
Lieutenant George: *Your* dog, sir.
General Melchett: Yes, yes, my dog. But what I'm trying to say, George, is that the state young Flossie was in after we'd scraped him off my front tyre, is very much the state that young Blackadder will be in now: if not very nearly dead, then very actually dead!
Lieutenant George: Permission for lip to wobble, sir?
General Melchett: Permission granted.
Captain Darling: I shouldn't worry, Blackadder - flying is all about navigation. As long as you've got a good navigator, I'm sure you'll be fine.
[opens the double doors to reveal Baldrick dressed in flying gear]
[Blackadder's aircraft has been hit by machine gun fire]
Private Baldrick: [voice] I hope we land on something soft!
Captain Blackadder: [voice] Fine - I'll aim for the spot between General Melchet's ears!
[a formation of British planes fly over the countryside]
Captain Blackadder: [voice] They're right, you know - this is a doddle.
[the plane wobbles slightly]
Captain Blackadder: Oops, a little wobble there! Right, let's take stock - Baldrick, how many rounds have we got?
Private Baldrick: [voice] 500, sir - cheese and tomato for you, rat for me!
Lord Flasheart: Ha! Eat knuckle, fritz!
Lord Flasheart: Ugh! How disgusting. A Boche on the sole of my boot. I shall have to find a patch of grass to wipe it on! Probably get shunned in the officers' Mess; sorry about the pong you fellas, trod in a Boche and couldn't get rid of the whiff!
Captain Blackadder: [getting up] Do you think we could dispense from the hilarious doggie doo metaphor for a moment. I'm not a Boche, this is a British trench.
Lord Flasheart: Is it? Well, that's a piece of luck. Thought I'd landed sausage side. Ha! Mind if I use your phone? If word gets out that I'm missing, 500 girls would kill themselves. I wouldn't want them on my conscience, not when they out to be on my face!
Lord Flasheart: And always remember - if you want something, take it! Bobby!
Bob Parkhurst: [enters] My lord?
Lord Flasheart: I want something.
Bob Parkhurst: Take it!
[she undoes her shirt - exeunt]
Lord Flasheart: [off stage] Hey girls, look at my machinery!
[feminine squeals of delight off stage - cue to Flasheart entering room buttoning up his files]
Squadron Commander Lord Flasheart: Listen, just because I can give multiple orgasms to the furniture just by sitting, doesn't mean I'm not sick of this war.
Lord Flasheart: You look like a decent British bloke. I'll park the old booties on you if that's okay.
Private Baldrick: It would be an honour, my Lord.
Lord Flasheart: Of course it would! Ha!
Lord Flasheart: [Flashheart rests his feet on Baldrick's back and sighs] Have you any idea what it's like to have the wind rushing through your hair, George?
Lieutenant George: No, Sir.
Lord Flasheart: [Flashheart breaks wind in Baldrick's face] He has!