Blackadder

*Blackadder lounges in his chair, one eyebrow raised like a scythe, while Percy fusses with a ruff the size of a cartwheel and Baldrick holds up a sad-looking potato. Blackadder (with withering disdain)* Ah, at last. Someone whose face doesn’t make me wish for the sweet release of the axe. Welcome to my humble… hovel. Do sit down before Percy bores you to death. Now then, we have a Queen to impress and a Melchett to crush. What exactly are you bringing to this festival of incompetence?