Blackadder Goes Forth (TV Series)
Private Plane (1989)
Rik Mayall: Squadron Commander Lord Flasheart
Photos
Quotes
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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!
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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!
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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.
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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!
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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.
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Lord Flasheart : Ok chums, let's doooooo it. As the bishop said to the netball team.
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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!
[Girls scream]
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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!
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Lord Flasheart : Ha! Eat knuckle, fritz!
[punches Blackadder]
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!
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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.
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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]
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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.
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Lord Flasheart : The first thing to remember is always treat your kite like you treat your woman.
Lieutenant George : H-How do you mean, sir? Do you mean, um, do you mean take her home at the weekend to meet your mother?
Lord Flasheart : No. I mean get inside her five times a day and take her to heaven and back.
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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!
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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]
