Tell me, young crone, is the rumour true?
That it be! That it be!
After an absence of 26 years – not including the specials — Blackaddermay return to our screens. Hath not the man who played Baldrick hinted thus? What, pray, is his name again?
Indeed, sire. Tony Robinson, lately of Time Team, hath hinteth at the return of the genius sitcom Blackadder, provided, he joked, that someone can pay sufficient monies to hasten Hugh Laurie’s return from the Americas where he has amassed a vast personal fortune playing a grumpy medic.
Surely the BBC has some small savings, carefully harvested from its weekly allowance, set aside against catastrophes such as Young Welsh and Pretty Skint?
Ah, but these are volatile times, Your Highness.
But we desperately need more intelligent comedies! Russell Howard — may Richard Curtis and Ben Elton smite you down with a well-turned pun about pointy hats. Or they could just cut off his head . . .
Well, yes, my lord. But the youth of today . . . they have the education of peasants. They gravely lack the historical references. It is feared that even the word “codpiece” leaveth them bewildered.
Nonsense! Good jokes transcend the decades, crone. Only a turnip could fail to laugh at a double-entendre about “banging”. Or — ha! — do you remember the one where Lord Blackadder is in charge of religious genocide?
I’m afeard such humour may be deemed politically incorrect in these anxious times, sire.
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Silence, numbskull! Everyone on Blackadder went on to become a pop-culture icon! Stephen Fry tweeteth about his depression; Rowan Atkinson hath found fame even in the Caucasus, as Mr Bean. They just need to come up with a plan so cunning you could stick a tail on it and call it a fox.
’Twas actually a weasel, my lord.