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“My Lord,” said Baldrick, “I have a cunning plan.”
Edmond Blackadder knew all too well that whenever Baldrick said that particular sentence they were all headed for big trouble, but for some reason his brain told him to inquire as to the nature of this particular plan anyways.
“Well, you stupid sausage of a person, what is it this time?” he asked resignedly.
“Well, I just thought…” Baldric started but was immediately cut off.
“Oh, well than we know there is a big problem.” Said Blackadder, rather sarcastically, thought Baldric as he continued,
“…I just thought that I could get back all that money I spent on that giant turnip, by selling all the little pieces to a museum off the modern turnip, and then I can get a new one out in the country instead. It would be my dream turnip, see. You could come live there with me, ya know, and not worry about that old prince what you’re always complaining about.”
When he finished, he looked at Blackadder for a response, and on that face he saw a rare expression flash across it. Being Baldric, of course, he had no way of knowing that it was a minuscule amount of pity that he was seeing, but it disappeared almost immediately as Edmond let out a laugh.
“Baldric, you really are an idiot. There is no museum of the modern turnip and even if there was it would not give you enough money to make me want to leave here and live with you and your dream turnip. Even if you had that much money, I would steel it and live a life of luxury far away from you, and his royal, sock loving, majesty.”