Tuesday, 1 July 2014

Digression: The White Queen - A Much-Needed Sequel

Because it's needed to forestall The White Princess, the Armed Man feels it his public duty to present a radical new theory on what really happened to the Princes in the Tower:


Episode 1 - Arrival of the Time-Travelling Slugmen from Planet Thwonk

[Scene - a chamber in the Tower of London. Edward V and Richard of Shrewsbury are sleeping soundly in a large bed. Lurking in the shadows are Margaret Beaufort, Anne Neville, Frodo of Gloucester and Barrel Dude, all brandishing pillows nervously. King Edward awakes suddenly with a start]
Edward: Eek! A giant slug wearing a fishbowl (not that they've been invented yet, but by this stage nobody cares)!
Slug: Hold, all of you! I am Space Inspector Korlz from the Thwonkian Star Fleet. I come from across the galaxy and far in the future to rescue you from a terrible fate.
Edward: So, you are... An Inspector Korlz?
Slug: Tragic, isn't it? Anyway, you must come with me before one of more of these shifty types does you in.
Omnes [hurriedly hiding pillows]: "Surely not!" "God wills it!" "Just making sure they're comfortable!" "Mar-nen!"
Slug: No, really.
Frodo: Not before time! Thank goodness I don't have to smother them. It would ruin my image and ensure my reconstructed head would never get any hot action with my many groupies!
Anne: FROH-DOH?!?!?!?!?
Frodo: Er, nothing dear!
Slug: So come quickly.
Edward: Righty-ho. Come along Richard.
Frodo: But I want to stay here and be king. Briefly.
Edward: No, the other Richard.
Frodo: Ah yes. Got you. Off you go...
Slug: Ooh - tallow candles, delicious! [swallows candle whole, plunging room into darkness]
Slug: Shite.
[To be continued]

Friday, 8 November 2013

Digression: The White Queen - Episode 9

Her husband died in battle
Her weird hat makes a rattle
She treats her kids like cattle
It's Duchess Ce-ci-leeeeeeeeeee

Frodo: As it's the start of a new episode, I thought I'd better line you all up and address you by name so the viewers can work out who's who while ironically appealing to your loyalty.
[outbreak of mass coughing and shuffling]
Frodo: Anyone for bling?
Omnes: Ra-ther!
Anne: It's definitely for the good of England, you know.
Frodo: Absolutely.
Anne: I mean, being queen is neither here nor there.
Frodo: Absolutely.
Anne: I mean, you know I'm from a family where we've never been ambitious.
Frodo: Mhm....
Anne: And nobody wants a Woodville on the throne.
Frodo: Except the Woodvilles. There's *hundreds* of them...
Anne: FRO-DOH!
Frodo: I mean, of course not. Nobody wants that. Look, this is me agreeing...
Princess Ginger Ninja: Argh! We're all going to die.
Elizabeth: Oh for heaven's sake, just because you've lost your wifi connection stop panicking! Haven't you checked your wikipedia bio often enough?
Stanley: There's a whole plot of shakin' going on.
Margaret: So now we are the Jerry Lee Lewis party, opposed to the Motown faction, are we?
Stanley: Why not? But even if we overthrow Richard there are the boys in Henry (Tudor)'s way...
Margaret: I have a solution.
Stanley: What of?
Margaret: Sulphuric acid.
Barrel dude: Lady Anne?
Anne: I've come to the Tower to see the Princes. Does my bum look big in this?
Barrel dude: Frankly, yes.
Anne: That's because I'm hiding some pillows up there...
Barrel dude: Fair do's, yer ladyship. Are you going to smother them?
Anne: Of course not. You are.
Barrel dude: Shite.
Anne: Remember to whom you are talking.
Barrel dude. Sorry. Shite, Your Grace.
Anne: That's better
Doctor: Lots of people are willing to help, but basically they all want the moon on a stick.
Elizabeth: Shite.
Doctor: And one of your children to marry.
Elizabeth: Just as well I've got plenty then, isn't it?
Margaret (types e-mail): My son Henry Tudor, of whom both the viewers have constantly to be reminded, here's a really complicated and doomed idea for a plot...
Stanley: So - what's the plan, Mags?
Margaret: It is God's plan.
Stanley: Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight. Let me put it another way - are we going to rescue the princes or are they accidentally going to get their heads cut off?
Margaret: I feel all wobbly. They're just little boys. I nursed one myself...
Stanley: Look, they're in Henry's way to the throne.
Margaret: Good point. Chop 'em up.
Stanley: That's the spirit...
Barrel dude: CLOSE THE GATE!
Stanley: QUICK MEN!
Stanley: The why are we shouting?
Barel dude: Mekkin' up fer lack o'numbers.
Elizabeth: Thomas?
Thomas Grey: We were outnumbered. There were three of them.
Elizabeth: Bugger.
Barrel dude: Letter for you your majesty.
[Frodo reads it]
Anne: What is it?
Frodo: It's a piece of paper with ink marks all over it.
Anne: When did we turn into a 'Police Squad' tribute act?
Frodo: It's from Barrel Dude.
Anne: What does he say?
Frodo: He says "Mar-nen".
Anne: Obviously. But apart from that?
Frodo: Somebody tried to take the boys.
Anne: It's the witch.
Frodo: Unknown men tried to burst in but -
Anne: It's the witch.
Frodo: They were foiled by -
Anne: Frodo. It's. The. Witch.
Frodo: Absolutely darling. Look, this is me agreeing...
Margaret: God? Me again...
God: Oh Me...
Margaret: If you really want Snotty Pipsqueak and Vent-Boy on the throne, give me a sign.
Stanley: What are we doing at Barnet? And is there a Plan B?
Margaret: There is, but it's just between me and God.
Stanley: My neck's at stake here.
Margaret: OK, I'm going to have a chat to Buckingham. He's got a security pass for The Tower.
Stanley: Righty-ho.
Buckingham: You are older and wiser than I am.
God: I wouldn't count on that... 
Margaret: God? I'm talking! God: Yes ma'am. Sorry ma'am.
Buckingham: So, what's the plan?
Margaret: Well, everyone will now believe Frodo will want to get rid of the boys.
Buckingham: And if he doesn't?
Margaret: You do it and everyone will believe it was him. Simples.
Buckingham: And then Henry Tudor will be king. And if he dies?
Margaret: Whoopy-doo. Where do I sign?
Edward of Middleham: Will I be king one day?
Frodo: Absolutely.
Edward: Can I look on wikipedia now?
Frodo: I wouldn't do that if I were you...
Princess Ginger: So nobody has seen my brothers, our e-mails ping back unread, and Spawn of Frodo is Prince of Wales.
Elizabeth: Yes, all going according to plan.
Princess Ginger: What plan?
Elizabeth: The incredibly clever and subtle one.
Princess Ginger: Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight
Thomas: Psst! Your Grace Queen Elizabeth.
Elizabeth: I prefer mummy...
Thomas: Yes, but the viewers might lose track. Anyway, letter from Belgium!
Elizabeth: My boy Richard! He's safe! He's changed his name to Perkin Warbeck and is studying at the John Strewe Academy for young pretenders!
Margaret (types e-mail): Dear Jasper and Henry, have arranged the tournament thus - Richard will fight Buckingham and the boys outside London, you get to play the winner of that fixture at Tenby. Love and kisses, Mags. PS, God says 'Hi'.
Anne: What's up Frodo?
Frodo: Henry Tudor is betrothed to Princes Gingernut.
Anne: How do you know?
Frodo: Wikipedia.
Anne: Who edited the article?
Frodo: Lord Stanley.
Stanley (entering smoothly, as always): Your grace? It was all a mix-up. Wife. Out of control and stuff. It won't happen again.
Frodo: Fair enough. You can go.
Anne: You have to arrest Margaret.
Frodo: You can't tell me what to do. You're not the boss of me. I'm going to my room
Anne: This *is* your room.
Frodo: Shite
Stanley: Mags, come on. Are the princes dead?
Margaret: Yes.
Stanley: You're sure?
Margaret: Yes.
Stanley: You're absolutely sure?
Margaret: Yes.
Stanley: You're absolutely, totally sure?
Margaret: Yes.
Stanley: You saw them dead?

Margaret: No.
Stanley: Shite,
Frodo: They've booked ticket on the Brittany ferry...
Anne: We knew that.
Frodo: And Buckingham is saying  *I killed the princes in the tower.
Anne: Surely not! <splutter, cough> 
Elizabeth: Sir John?
Random fat bloke: I am so sorry Your Grace , you see ...
Elizabeth: What for? 
RFB: We tried to rescue the princes but..
Elizabeth: But what?
RFB: Are you actually going to let me finish a...
Elizabeth: No. It's in your contract
RFB:  Well they're dead, and....
Elizabeth: Shite.
Frodo: Buckingham is in Wales... 
Anne: Are you sure? I thought it was in the Home Counties.
Frodo: The person, not the place.
Anne: Whatever.
Frodo: So I'm going to defeat him. 
Anne: Have a nice time dear, and dont forget your other spaulder.
Frodo: What other spaulder?
Anne: Shite.
At this point, 15 minutes or so shy of the end of Episode 9, the Armed Man gave up, unable to face any more....

Thursday, 22 August 2013

Digression: The White Queen, Episode 8

She left King Ed's lust slakéd
(And that just can't be fakéd)
You'll get to see her naked!
It's Jane Shore (Hubba! Schwing!)

1st man with no helmet: I shall slash at your body, avoiding your unprotected head.
2nd MWNH: Me too, trying to avoid the trees in this oddly-placed forest.
MWNH: Have at you! Yeah me!
Jasper: Well done Henry Tudor (redirects to Henry VII)! For it is you, albeit played by a different actor.
Henry: Thank you Uncle Jasper Tudor, in case anyone wasn't paying attention. But answer me one thing?
Jasper: Of course, my nephew Henry Tudor, whom I am training to fight to recover his kingdom!
Henry: If this is Brittany, how come it looks suspiciously like Barnet?
Margaret: Thank you your gracious, wonderful majesty. Thank you so much. Thank you so, SO much. Thank you...
Elizabeth: Hush, fool. What are you thanking me for anyway?
Margaret: For allowing my son Henry (Tudor, obviously), to return from exile.
Elizabeth: Well, now that Edward feels secure on his throne, with nobody seriously thinking about challenging Yorkist rule, with an heir and a spare poised to grow up into fine men, then.... Gosh that's a nasty cough you have there.
Margaret: <splutter, choke>
Edward: FOOOOOOOD! More food. Fish. 'Shnishe, fish. <hic>
Random ginger ninja: Oh really father, you shouldn't eat so much.
Edward: Nonshenshe my daughter Elizhabeshch, shubshequently to become mother of Henry VIII and shit. Jusht in cashe any viewersh haven't been keeping up. <hic>
Elizabeth: What viewers? They're all watching The Hairy Bikers by now.
Edward: Ah. I *wondered* where barrel-dude had got to...
Margaret (sings): "Henry's coming come, he's coming home, he's coming home! Three lions and some fleurs-de-lys on a shirt, golden crown still gleaming..."
Stanley: It could be worse, it could be Motown. Still, Henry's not coming back as contender for the throne. For that, someone would have to ask God for a miracle.
[Margaret pulls handle, drops through hatch and slides down James Bond-style bendy perspex tube into chapel, landing on her knees]
Edward: <cough, splutter, retch>
Elizabeth: Are you *sure* you're all right?
Edward: Never better. [collapses]
Elizabeth: Help! The king has fallen over! See this chessboard!
Edward: I thought you meant me.
Elizabeth: That too.
Edward: Send for Frodo.
Elizabeth: Nonsense. You'll get better soon.
Elizabeth: Thomas?
Thomas Grey: Yes mother, in case the audience aren't clear who I am?
Elizabeth: Go and get Frodo, the Privy Council, and Uncle Anthony.
Barrel Dude (sings): And Uncle Tom Cobbley and aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalllllll.....
Elizabeth: I thought you were doing the Hairy Bikers show?
Barrel dude: Oops! [dodges quickly back to BBC2]
Frodo: Get my 4-hoof drive sports utility horse ready!
Anne: Wassup?
Frodo: Edward's sick.
Anne: But his sons, you know, the princes. In the tower. They're just boys. Temporarily...
Stanley: Mags? Did you order God to do this?
Margaret: Look, my husband Lord Stanley - why do we never get to find out your first name? - if the queen can't cure her with witchcraft, then it's her fault.
Stanley: Sounds reasonable. But I think Henry Tudor should stay in Brittany for now. You know, options open and all that.
Margaret: Righty-ho. Still; one down, eh? [crosses Edward off list]
Duchess Cecily: Frodo! Anne! Nice to see you. Beware of the queen. Ah - Brackenbury! Buckingham! Another Extra! Pointy-Headed Guard! Barrel Dude!
Barrel Dude: Aaaarf-ernoooon!
[Awkward pause]
Barrel Dude: Sorry. [dodges quickly back to BBC2]
Edward: You'll all make sure my son becomes a good king, won't you?
Frodo: Oh yes, absolutely.
Edward: Frodo, look after my boy.
Elizabeth: *Him?* You're avin' a laugh!
Edward: No, he's definitely Lord Protector. I googled it.
Elizabeth: Shite
Edward: Dying now. Love you. Bye.
Elizabeth: Why aren't you bowing to me?
Duchess: We're equal now. Both mothers to a king. Or in my case, two kings.
Elizabeth: What a giveaway...
Duchess: Get the boy. Don't trust the witch.
Anne: Right. She had George executed, poisoned my sister, dropped a slug in my mulled wine and caused a major anticyclone to blow in from the west.
Frodo: But surely -
Frodo: Right. This is me going to be Lord Protector. See me running?
Anne: Sir Robert? Throw Jane Shore out. We don't want her sort here.
Barrel Dude, wearing Posh Doublet and hoping nobody notices: Roighty-ho. What soort is thaaart ennyhoo?
Anne: She's an actress, wearing an authentic costume.
Jane Shore: 'Tis an fair cop. Shall we both pop over to BBC2 then?
Barrel Dude: Praaper jaaarb!
Jasper: Change of plan. Stayin' ere like.
Henry: Is it God's will?
Jasper: It's from higher up than that. It's your mother's orders.
Henry: Merde.
Barrel Dude: Oi'm tekkin' the boy ter Lunnon.
Edward V: I don't think so, fatso. You could never put up with my ill-tempered petulance long enough! [puts frog down Barrel Dude's hose, spill ink on royal warrant]
Barrel Dude: Why are you such a nasty little tick?
Edward V: So the viewers start thinking that murder is too good for me.
Grey: What viewers?
Man in darkened doorway, might be Anthony, but by this point nobody really cares: Jane? What are you doing here?
Jane Shore: <sob> I am banished from court, and I can't find Hastings anywhere in the script.... I could have been in EastEnders you know,  but I thought this would be a serious costume drama <breaks down sobbing>
Whoever he is: Fancy a shag?
Jane Shore: Oh what the hell.... Go on then. Just explain the political situation first.
Frodo: You're safe here.
Edward V: Says you. I think you're all horrible. You're the Duke and Duchess of Poop. And you live in a castle made of poop.
Anne: I'll just go and make sure there are enough pillows on your bed...
Elizabeth: Bum. Right, everyone into sanctuary, while I blame everyone else.
Stanley: She's taken the whole treasury off into sanctuary.
Margaret: That's bad.
Stanley: No, that's good - it means she doesn't trust Frodo and vice versa.
Margaret: But then it would be terrible - they'd fight each other, the throne would be vacant and - ah. You know, I was right to marry you, you devious bastard.
Stanley: One does one's best.
Barrel Dude: All in th'abbey.
Frodo: Bugger. Go and arrest some people. Lots of people.
Barrel Dude: Righty-ho.
Frodo: What could she do from sanctuary though?
Anne: Well, last time she summoned up a magical fog to conceal the fact that you were doing the Battle of Barnet with only 15 men.
Frodo: Would it help if I keep saying how loyal I am to King Rotten Tick Snot-Features?
Princess Ginger: Mother! We're surrounded by seven pointy-headed guards! All is lost!
Elizabeth: Hush, fool. Do you think your father was intimidated to face a Lancastrian army four times the size of his own?
Princess: You mean there were twelve of them? Gosh, that *is* quite a lot, yes...
Margaret: In witchy what's-her-face's absence, might I make myself subvers- er, I mean *useful* to you?
Anne: Whatever.
Frodo: Erm, we're going to crown thingy. Yes. Definitely.
Anne: Not bothered. See me not getting a new frock? That's me not being bothered.
Hooded figure: Let me in. [removes hood]
Elizabeth: Jane Shore! I thought you were with Hastings!
Jane: He's not even in the script. Look, Anthony has a plan. Coronation, pointy-headed guards go away, everything is whoopy-doo.
Elizabeth: Hmmm.
Margaret: Righty-ho.
Margaret: You know, old rumours, Edward was a bastard, that sort of thing. I won't stand for it!
Elizabeth: Who said so?
Margaret: The entire army. I wouldn't worry about it if I were you, there's only seven of them.
Elizabeth: Why are you telling me?
Margaret: Because I'm stirring things - er, I mean I'm genuinely concerned. You know me. Oh, and Anne is refusing to get a new frock for your son's coronation. I wouldn't worry about it. I mean, trust Frodo by all means.
Elizabeth: Shite.
Stanley: ....and Jane Shore's been passing messages for her. Wouldn't worry about it if I were you...
Frodo: Why are you worried?
Stanley: I care only for you, your stumpy tousle-haired magnificence.
Frodo: Ah. Right.
Jane: How's the poem coming on?
Anthony: "There was a young lady name Shore, Who was known as a bit of a -"
Jane: Yes?
Anthony: Can't think of a rhyme...
Jane: My what a big sword you have...
Anthony: Why thank you.
Jane: I wasn't talking to you, I was talking to that man who's just burst in.
Anthony: Shite.
Frodo: I am sworn to protect them all.
Anne: Yes, but the best way to avoid violence is with more violence.
Frodo: Fair enough.
Jane: I'm being forced to walk naked through London. Why is everyone looking at me?
Omnes: Er, no idea love... <cough, splutter, make tempera-on-panel paintings>
Elizabeth: Right family, gather round - everything's a bit shite.
Chorus of Woodvilles: You think we hadn't noticed?
Elizabeth: We need a double...
Random Woodvilles: But the bar isn't open yet.
Elizabeth: No, I mean dressing up Harry Potter as the prince.
Anne: She has cursed you! I recognise the signs of overacting.
Frodo: ARGH! MY ARM! [morphs into Laurence Olivier in Richard III]
Barrel Dude: Come to search the house, y'ladyship...
Margaret: B-b-b-b-but we're on your side. I think. How many sides are there now?
Barrel Dude: Let's have a look in here...
Barrel Dude: Fair enough. You're good to go.
Elizabeth: Let's do something so complicated nobody will be able to follow it.
Princess Ginger: Is anyone still trying?
Elizabeth: That's why it's so fiendishly clever.
Princess Ginger: Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight...
Frodo: Look Snotty Tick-Features, I've brought your brother to see you! [Brandishes ventriloquist's dummy with bag over it's head]
Edward V: Hello Titch.
Frodo [through gritted teeth, while waving dummy]: Greetings, your greatly gracious grace.
Edward: No need to be so formal, Richard. Why don't you call me Bouncy Bubble-Bonce like you used to, and offer me a bottle of beer?
Frodo: Shite...
Anne: He'll only grow up to be even more annoying, you know.
Frodo: Well what do you suggest, daughter of a family with an established record of getting rid of kings on a regular basis with no regard for succession?
Anne: Make yourself king.
Frodo: I couldn't possible. It would be stealing.
Duchess: No it wouldn't.
Frodo: I can't say yes it would or it would look like *I'm* doing the bad panto thing.
Stanley: Well there you go.
Duchess: Edward was married before.
Frodo: Only a few times.
Anne: Well there you are.
Frodo: OK, summon the MPs and get the free beer ready...
Margaret: Dissolve the princes in an acid bath, marry the Ginger Ninja to Henry and bob's yer uncle! What could possibly go wrong?
Stanley: That's the spirit!
Margaret's doctor: Forgive the plague mask, but I have plague.
Ginger: Eauw.
Doctor: Parliament have been bribed with free beer to declare your marriage invalid and your children illegitimate. Frodo is now King.
Ginger: He can't!
Doctor: He has!
Elizabeth: Shite.
Anthony: Did you read my e-mail?
Frodo: Makes no difference. I'm the King.
Anthony: Oh no you're not!
Frodo: Oh yes I am!
Anthony: Hah! Got you!
Frodo: KILL HIM.
Anthony: Shite.
Ginger: Mother! You will be the death of us all. Except me, obviously. I'm going to be queen.
Elizabeth: You've had a vision haven't you?
Ginger: Yes. Well, that and google.
Elizabeth: And do we get a second series?
Ginger: Dream on.

Friday, 16 August 2013

Digression: The White Queen, Episode 7

Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee'll caper and he'll frolic
As if he had the cholic
He'll die an alcoholic
It's George of Clarence (boooooooo)

Edward: I'm pished again, an' me wife's havin' another thingy. Y'know. Baby. Hurrah! [falls off Jane Shore]
Stanley: Indeed sir.
Clarence: [Smoulders]
Margaret: Ma'am?
Stanley: Wassup Mags?
Margaret: Been sent on a fool's errand, but at least gives me an opportunity to measure the pillows in the royal nursery.You know, in case that should ever come in handy...
Stanley: Righty-ho.
Clarence: Look at you.
Edward: I know, gorgsheoush, aren't I? [falls off Jane Shore again]
Clarence: We didn't fight a war just so we could have a good time.
Edward: Oh yesh we did. [hic]
Clarence: Oh no we didn't.
Frodo: Oh for pity's sake, when did this turn into bad panto?
Omnes: Episode 1!
Clarence: Look, why don't we invade France? Then I can rule something instead of standing in a corner looking pissed-off all the time.
Edward: Good idea. Bugger off to Franshe then. [falls over]
Margaret: God? Me again. Please can you give me sign I was right to come here?
Flustered lady-in-waiting: Come quickly. The baby's stuck.
Margaret: Cheers God! [High-fives crucifix, jitterbugs down corridor]
Elizabeth: AAAAAAAAAARGH! [Plop]
Random lady-in-waiting: Oi! Beaufort! Hold this... [squelch]
Elizabeth: Why isn't he crying?
Margaret: Because I'm so good with kids? [Baby starts wailing in instinctive Yorkist terror]
Elizabeth: Oh thank you! Thank you *so* much! Thank you so, SO much, thank you -
Margaret: Hush, fool.
Frodo: Anne - now we've suddenly acquired a baby, I've brought someone to see you.
Anne: Oh no, not your mother!
Frodo: Worse. *Your* mother.
Anne: FROH-DOH!?!?!? What WERE you thinking?
Frodo: I was thinking I could briefly explain c15th inheritance law with an emphasis on why my brother George is a Bad Egg.
Anne: Whoopy-doo.
Countess: Set me free, why don't you, baby?
Anne: Oh for pity's sake mum - last time it was Gloria Gaynor, now you've turned into Diana Ross.
Countess: Your husband is trying to steal my fortune.
Anne: If memory serves me right, you were the one who left me on a battlefield with an incomprehensible French running gag.
Frodo: Yes, and you married her to a psychotic Lancastrian emu.
Anne: [whispers] It's e-MO, Frodo.
Frodo: That too. Always get those two mixed up. Although come to think of it a running gag about an enraged Lancastrian emu would be pretty funny too.
Countess: Been done. Can we get back to the point?
Frodo: Which is that you're actually safer here, oddly enough. Otherwise the king could have you declared dead.
Countess: Dead?
Frodo: It's a legal nicety by which your head is no longer considered legally part of your body.
Countess: Charming! Anne - won't you stand by me?
Anne: Now you're doing Ben E. King! What IS the matter with you? I'll stand by Frodo. At least he doesn't keep referencing Motown[1] lyrics.
Countess: Shite.
Clarence: ... and he thinks he's safe because he has sons. Princes. In the tower. And we're setting this up as some sort of Agatha Christie-style whodunnit where we all have a motive.
Isabelle: George? Are you talking to the baby or the viewers?
Clarence: What viewers?
Isabelle: Fair point.
Edward: Get the lads out!
Extras: OO-ARH!
Edward: We will invade thingy. Franshe.
[Edward falls over, Anthony Woodville strops off shaking his head, being the only one who's read up about the 1475 campaign on Wikipedia]
Elizabeth: What ARE you doing?
Edward: You know. Ladsh night out. 'Ave a few bevvies, start a war.
Elizabeth: And consider the geopolitical realities of making George regent of France.
Edward: What'sh that noishe? [hic]
Elizabeth: Margaret Beaufort's ears flapping.
French lookout: English ships sir! Added by CGI!
[King of France shakes head sadly and wanders off]
Margaret [typing e-mail]: Dear Jasper and Henry (TUDOR, THAT IS), having a rotten time, hope the invasion fails, weather continues fine, hate this baby. May murder him one day. Love and kisses, Mum.
Anne: How's *your* son of York?
Isabelle: Still Mr Grumpyboots. Still, when I have a son everything's gonna be alright.
Anne: Ah well, I suppose Bob Marley is am improvement on Motown...
Elizabeth: What are you two talking about? Any news from France?
Isabelle: George writes that he hopes I'll bear a son. Then Anne and I will have one each.
Elizabeth: My mother had 14 so NA-NA-NEE-NA-NA!
Anne and Isabelle, in unison: Shite.
Elizabeth: Margaret, you're the one with the flappy ears and the VOD remote control, what did they say?
Isabelle: She cursed me! She's a witch! That storm was her fault! If I have another girl it will be her fault!
Anne: So what you're saying is that witchcraft is the only rational explanation for storms around the British Isles and girls being born? Duh!
Isabelle: Look, if your husband can rule the North from 100 miles away in Warwick, ANYTHING's possible!
George: Let's get stuck in!
Edward: Louis is prepared to make us an offer. Let's talk.
George: We came here to make me regent!
Edward: Oh no we didn't!
George: Oh yes we did!
Frodo: Please, not this again...
Frodo [typing e-mail]: Dear Anne, It appears Edward is only in France for the Duty Free. George is furious. It is all, as your family would put it, shite. Love and slightly lopsided hugs, Frodo.
Anne: Look what Edward's sent!
Frodo: Gold. He tries to buy me off. And it's not even made into a ring. From now on it's every man for himself.
Anne: And his wife?
[Frodo stalks off grimly without replying] 
Anne: Shite.
Countess: Richard is going to divorce you.
Anne: But he luuuuuuuuuuurves me.
Countess: Look, when a man loves a woman...
Anne: Percy Sledge, yeah [1]. What's your point?
Countess: Leave him. It'll be you and me and all our fortune.
Anne: But I lurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrve him.
Countess: Shite.
Stanley: My Lords, Ladies and Gentleman - please raise your glasses, even though they haven't been introduced yet, to the King and Queen. And make sure your mobile phones are switched to silent. In the unlikely event of a sudden loss of castle pressure, oxygen masks will drop from the roof...
[Clarence knocks glass over and stormed out]
Edward: I'll get mother to talk to him.
Elizabeth: You might as well send him more money for wine.
Edward: So it's mumsy or malmsey? See what I did there?
[Elizabeth storms out in a huff]
Edward: Shite.
Clarence: Look. That witch has poisoned my 18-year old arthritic dog.
Frodo: Obviously. What other possible cause could there be? Duh.
Isabelle [typing e-mail]: Yo Anne - The Queen is trying to poison us. George has hired someone he got through www.welldodgysorcerers.com to protect us. What could possibly go wrong? Apart from all of us dying? Love and portentous coughing, Izzy.
Anne: How is she?
Clarence: Dead.
Anne: As Margaret of Clouseau once put it "Eau beur heur heur..."
Clarence: I did quite fancy her, you know.
Countess: Is it true?
Anne: Yes. How can you be so calm?
Countess: Take a good look at my face. You'll see my smile looks out of place; if you were closer it's easy to trace the tracks of my tears.
Anne: Smokey Robinson and the Miracles, yeah.[2]
Clarence: Damn and blast you, Edward. With a special side order of more damn. And a flagon of blast. And an assortment for damn-and-blast flavoured chocolates for your witchy wife. [storms out]
Elizabeth: ED-WAAAAAAAAARD! Your brother is accusing me of being a witch.If you don't do something, I will.
Edward: Such as?
Elizabeth: I'll put a curse on him.
Edward: And how will that help to allay suspicion of witchcraft?
Elizabeth: Oh.
Elizabeth: Oi! Nevill! Over here.
Anne: Your grace?
Elizabeth: Did George say I murdered Izzy?
Anne: Erm, well...
Margaret: So that's a yes.
Stanley: All going splendidly, eh old girl?
Margaret: A young woman has died. I'm so pious I can't show any pleasure.
Stanley: So who did kill her?
Margaret: Probably that bloke from welldodgysorcerers.com. Apparently he gave her a protecting potion made of a mixture of lead, arsenic, hemlock and bacardi breezer.
Stanley: Most probably the bacardi that did her in then.
Edward: Stanley - you have clearance to arrest Clarence.
Stanley: Righty-ho!
Stanley: Bugger. Missed him. Still, got the well dodgy sorcerer. Guards - hand him over to the Trade Description Hangman!
Masked actor: Come ye and praise him, our glorious King/He's done it through witchcraft and Frodo's gold ring/A drunk and a shagger, what man wanteth more?/He still at the top and he's bonking Jane Shore!
Elizabeth: ED-WAAAAAAAAAAAARD! Where did you hire these guys?
Edward: I thought you hired them.
Elizabeth: Let's have a look at the programme - "The Duke of Clarence's Theatre Company". Oh.
Anne (in gazelle mask): Richard?
Clarence (in bull mask): Actually it's me.
Anne: You shouldn't be here.
Clarence: Well, neither should barrel dude.
Man in lion mask: Eve-nen!
Edward: He's gone mad. Frodo- get him.
Frodo: He's right about the spaulder bit though.
Elizabeth: FROH-DOH!
Frodo: Going after him now. Look, this is me running...
Clarence (behind bars): ED-WAAAAAAARD!?
Elizabeth: You *have* to get rid of him.
Edward: OK, I'll prosecute him for treason.
Duchess: Oh my poor Georgy-Porgy.
Anne: FROH-DOH? This is the Queen's doing.
Frodo: We are the three sons of York. How can one woman get between us?
Anne: Well if you form an equilateral triangle, and the woman stands in the middle, then...
Duchess: Hush, fool.
Elizabeth: Margaret, have you ever known loss?
Margaret: Are you kidding? I've buried two husbands. One of them wasn't even dead.Or at least it was hard to tell the difference....
Elizabeth: How about if George says he's really, *really* sorry and promises not to do it again, will you let him off?
Edward: Can't.
Duchess: Must.
Edward: Shan't.
Duchess: Shite.
Edward: Look - as a special concession he can choose how to die.
Duchess: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! But he's my ickle-wickle poosie-kins.
Edward: Tough.
Anthony: He's going to be drowned in a barrel of malmsey.
Elizabeth: He's doing it to punish us. That was Edward's duty-free.
Stanley: Good news - Edward's going to let Henry Tudor be Earl of Richmond again.
Margaret: Whoopy-doo! Do they fear he will be a rival?
Stanley: Well if he is someone will have to get rid of the King, the two princes, Frodo and *his* son.
Margaret: [Scribbles in notebook] .... and Edward of Middleham, so called because they live at Warwick castle. Cheers!
[1] The Armed Man is fully aware that neither Ben E. King nor Gloria Gaynor nor Percy Sledge were Motown artists. But compared to c15th people having c19th glassware and drainpipes, c18th trousers, c20th zips and c14th pointy helmets this is considered a minor liberty.
[2] Now they *were* hard-core Motown.

Monday, 22 July 2013

Digression: The White Queen, Episode 6

Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee never seems to look back
Although he has a crookback
His tragic hairstyle's hooked back
It's Frodo/Richard Threeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Anne Neville: I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I'm so, so, so....
Edward: OK, we're cool.
Anne: Margaret of Clouseau made me do it.
Edward: You can live with Izzy.
Anne: And Mummy?
Edward: In a nunnery.
Izzy: OK, you can be my personal slave.
Anne: Shite.
George: And I'm you're guardian.
Anne: No way.
George: Way!
Anne: Shite.
George: You're just like your father. He used to end every scene by saying that.
Anne: They're controlling me.
Izzy: We're both pawns.
Anne: And Mummy?
Izzy: We're all pawns...
Anne: BITCH! [strips off kirtle and shift, tears Izzy's clothes off and grapples her into conveniently-placed vat of jelly for a prolonged wrestling match (the last bit only available in the US version)]
Izzy: Go to your room, pawn.
Anne: Shite.
Margaret Beaufort: Please God! Give me a sign that you still want Henry - that's HENRY TUDOR - to become King...
Sir Reginald: My Lady! Your mother is dying!
Margaret: YO! Cheers God! [dances Macarena in front of chapel altar]
Margaret: Are you dying mother?
Lady B: Yes.
Margaret: Whoopy-doo.
Lady B: It was all for the best, you know...
Margaret: Whatever.
Elizabeth: Oochy-coochy ickle-wickle princey-poo...
Edward: He'll soon be in Ludlow.
Elizabeth: In Wales?
Edward: No darling, Ludlow is in Shropshire. Let me draw you a map...
Elizabeth: But he's my sweetie-weetie poopsikins.
Edward: Tough.
Elizabeth: Mummy mummy, the texture of my marital relationship is sub-optimal.
Jacquetta: Let me pour some wine into a futuristic glass and look wise, while noting you're clearly pregnant.
Elizabeth: Mother! How could you possibly know?
Jacquetta: Wikipedia, fool.
Elizabeth: I'd better go and tell Edward... [trundles off to royal bedroom]
Jane Shore: Feel the texture of THIS relationship, big boy!
Elizabeth: Shite.
Margaret [typing an e-mail: Dear Jasper, Hubby and Mummy are dead. I'm all yours.
Anne: I want to see mummy. Can I borrow a horse?
George: Um, all down at the horse garage having radial hooves fitted.
Anne: Shite.
Servant: A letter for you, lady pawn. In anachronistic handwriting.
Anne: Mummy....
Frodo: I've taken the ring to Mordor and now I can take a fuller part in the plot. Anne? Meet me after supper in the garden?
Anne: 'K. Whatever.
Jacquetta: I'm dying.
Elizabeth: How can you be sure?
Jacquetta: I googled it.
Elizabeth: Does that mean from the next episode we won't have to endure all the repetitive google gags?
Jacquetta: I fear so.
Elizabeth: Whoopy-doo!
Elizabeth: Why is everyone looking at me in close-up and slow-mo?
[Jane Shore takes to dance floor and launches into "I'm too sexy for my kirtle" routine. Meanwhile, outside...]
Frodo: Anne?
Anne: Frodo?
Frodo: I think so, but in this lighting it's hard to tell.
Anne: Why haven't you come to see me before?
Frodo: George said you were grieving for emo-boy.
Anne: No way.
Frodo: But I can help you.
Anne: Why?
Frodo: Because you're kind of hot. And now available. But pretend to be nice to George. He's a flatterable idiot.
Anne: Righty-ho!
Elizabeth: Mummy? Still dying?
Jacquetta: Yes dear, but allow me to make some heavy-handed prophecies based on what I've found in google.
Jasper [typing e-mail]: I'm having too much fun in Brittany. Stayin' ere, like.
Margaret: Shite. Reginald?
Sir Reggie: Crikey!
Margaret: Sign me up for hotyorkistdates.com
Sir Reggie: What shall I put on your profile? Can you sing? Limbo dance? Juggle?
Margaret: I have Saints' knees.
Sir Reggie: Eauw, gross.
Anne: George? Izzy? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry...
George: OK, you can go out now.
Anne: Whoopy-doo!
Elizabeth: Anthony? Will you look after my boy?
Anthony: Right up until Frodo has my head chopped off, yes.
Elizabeth. Oh.
Anne: What did that man want?
Frodo: He was showing me Margaret Beaufort's profile on barkingmadreligiousbigotdating.com
Anne: And?
Frodo: She's incredibly wealthy.
Anne: Men. You're all scum. And pigs. I don't need no man. I is an inde-PEN-dent woman!
Frodo: But -
Anne: Goodbye, piggy scummy gold-digging man-scum-pig.
Frodo: Shite. See you later maybe?
Anne: OK.
Anne: How do I get married?
George: I thought you were still a widow.
Anne: Hypothetically.
Izzy: What's going on?
George: OK, nunnery it is. You're needed in an abbey...
Anne: Isabelle! ISABELLE? Is a bell needed in an abbey? See what I did there?
Isabelle: Hmph.
Anne: Shite.
Sir Reggie: Got your matches here from turncoatselfinterestnoblemandating.com Well, one match. Lord Stanley.
Margaret: Him? You have to be kidding.
Sir Reggie: No, it would have advantages. He's being played by Rupert Graves, for one thing.
Margaret: Interesting. Wheel him in....
George: Frodo - let me give you some unsolicited advice while I drink malmsey from an anachronistic piece of glassware in yet another heavy-handed piece of foreshadowing.
Frodo: What?
George: Stay away from Anne.
Frodo: You're not the boss of me. You don't own me. I hate you. I'm going to my room.
George: Watch it, she's already been married to one emo.
Elizabeth: Wassup? Anyone seen Edward?
George: He's with Jane Shore.
Elizabeth: Shite.
Anne: Minion - get this to Frodo. He's an old mate.
Minion: But -
Anne: We're not paying you to speak. Just do it.
[Frodo and Anne blunder around the darkened and strangely deserted castle, avoiding non-existent kitchen staff and invisible guards]
Anne: Frodo?
Frodo: Anne?
Anne: They're going to put me in a nunnery.
Frodo: If you do, it'll be hard to kick the habit.
Frodo: Sorry.
Anne: Margaret of Clouseau always taught me "Zere weel be tahms wheun yeu aff'ter deur wheurt eez rahght feur yeur"
Frodo: And what happened to her?
Anne: She lost the war, her husband and son were killed, and she got locked up.
Frodo: So solid-gold life advice there then. Will you marry me?
Anne: You will get my fortune.
Frodo: Yes, but you'll be a duchess and equal to Izzy. And I love you. I have always loved you.
Anne: Whoopy doo. Alright then.
Stanley: Lady Beaufort?
Margaret: Phwoarr! I mean, er, Lord Stanley?
Stanley: I agree with everything you are ever going to say, preemptively.
Margaret: And you'll get me back into court?
Stanley: As good as done.
Margaret: And my son?
Stanley: Henry VII? Yes, I googled him. You know I always like to end up on the winning side...
Margaret: Whoopy-doo!
George: He's bloody married Anne! And I'm her guardian.
Edward: You didn't ask me if you could marry Izzy.
George: Yes, but that's different. I was a traitor at the time.
Frodo: Can I marry Anne?
George: There you go again.
Messenger: Your grace - you must come at once. There's another gory birth scene coming up.
Edward: Shite.
Omnes: Eauw, gross.
Anne: Frodo darling! You know my previous sexual experience was rubbish, with a selfish Lancastrian emo.
Frodo: You can go on top if it helps to prove the point.
Anne: Whoopy doo!
Stanley: Well, erm, good night wife.
Margaret: But -
Stanley: I know you wish to live like a nun, so -
Margaret: Not necessarily. I'm quite up for it now.
Stanley: I shall leave you.
Margaret. Shite.
Izzy: I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry. I'm...
Anne: It's OK. Frodo is to be Lord of the North so we're going to live in Warwick Castle.
Izzy: Warwick is nowhere NEAR the North. Let me draw you a map...
Elizabeth: My mother and baby are dead, and you've been shagging that slapper Jane Shore, so I'm going to give you the very hard time you so richly deserve.
Edward: Would it help if I spouted a few Jeremy Kyle Show-style platitudes, while not wearing a shirt?
Elizabeth: No.
Edward: Bugger.
Stanley: Well, here we are at court, with its inaccurate banners, pointy-headed guards and donkey rides for out-of-focus children, stepping out of our bizarre wicker carriage into a yard full of Yorkists.
Margaret: Cheers. What could possibly go wrong?

Wednesday, 17 July 2013

Digression: The White Queen, Episode 5

Heeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrr father's plotting crossed her
Her devil husband cost her
She'll end up Mrs Gloucester
It's Little Anni-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Warwick: Where's George?
Isabelle: Changed sides again. You should know all about that.
Warwick: Shite.
Warwick: Listen up court - the York Brothers have reformed and are on tour in the North with a new album, called "Invasion". Everybody ready?
Jasper: Ffuc aye. But I'm waiting for barely comprehensible orders from Margaret of Clouseau. And someone tidy should look after the King, look you. Somerset?
Somerset: Ooh ar, praaperjaarb, combine 'arvester.
Warwick: Shite.
Anne: Why are we walking across a windswept golf links? Shouldn't we be getting on a proper ship in a proper harbour?
Countess of Warwick: Have you any idea what that would cost the production? Golf links it is.
Anne: But Mummy, what if it all goes, you know, a bit shite?
Countess: Trust your father. I always have, and it's got me where I am today.
Anne: Standing in a gale having sand blown into your eyes?
Countess: Hush, fool.
Elizabeth: Argh! Scary church!
Edward: Well hell-LOH!
Elizabeth: How did you get here?
Edward: Warwick's rubbish, and the producer has run out of money to pay for any more pointy-headed guards.
Elizabeth: Whoopy-doo!
Margaret Beaufort: What's going on?
Stafford: Going to war.
Margaret Beaufort: Fantastic! You fight for God!
Stafford: Erm, actually I'm fighting for the other side.
Margaret Beaufort: WHAT?
Stafford: The King's a nutter, Margaret of Clouseau is a tyrant and their son is an emo.
Margaret Beaufort: But what of my son? Haven't you looked him up on Wikipedia? HUSBAND?!
Margaret of Clouseau: Yeur eur a WEAKLEURNG!
Anne: Can't help it your BLEEEEUUUUUUURGH!
M of C: Jeurst lahke yeur seesteur.
M of C: She weurz seeck in episeurde three...
Jacquetta: Edward will fight Warwick at Barnet.
Elizabeth: How can you be sure?
Jacquetta: I googled it. Let us raise a fog to conceal the lack of extras in the battle scene.
Elizabeth: Fog. Sure. After all, what explanation could there possibly be for fog in England other than witchcraft?
Edward: Alright chaps - there's only ten of us, we're in a thick fog, we've left our helmets off, and we only have three spaulders between us. What could possibly go wrong? [Walks into tree]
Warwick: We can't afford a horse, so I'll make a rousing speech about how I don't need one.
Pointy-headed extras: Whatever...
Warwick: Edward. We meet again.
Edward: Yes. Only this time, barrel dude from episode one is standing behind you. And this time, he's got a sword.
Barrel dude: Mar-nen! [SCHMLMPF]
Warwick: Shite. [Dies]
Anne: Where's the harbour?
Margaret of Clouseau: Teur expenseeve. Ah weell be carried. Yeur can walk, weakleurng.
Anne: Oh, cheers.
Somerset: Oo ar, Yer Grace, all gaarn a bit shite.
Margaret of Clouseau: Ah kneurw. And 'ow come yeu're weurnded? Yeur weur neurt even AT Beaurnet! Ah geurgled eet!
Somerset: Caarn't aaarve too many characters, people would be conFUSED!
Margaret of Clouseau: Feur eurneurf.
Countess of Warwick: And my husband?
Somerset. Dead, oi'm 'fraid, m'lady.
Anne: Seriously?
Somerset: A glorious death, hacked down from behind by barrel dude in an unconvincing fog.
Anne: But he's the Kingmaker...
Margaret of Clouseau: Neurt eurny meure.
Margaret Beaufort: How come these people are suddenly wearing hats? And why are they removing them?
Flunky: Your husband is badly hurt.
Margaret Beaufort: Serves him right.
Margaret of Clouseau: Wheur is Zhaspeur?
Somerset: Oo ar, Wales.
Margaret of Clouseau: Leurt eurs geur theur. Vieur Gleurcester.
Messenger: Yorkist, oo ar.
Margaret of Clouseau: Then Teurwkesbeury.
Somerset: Righty ho. I'll fire up they combine-aarvester!
Margaret of Clouseau: Bergeur eurf, weakleurng.
Anne: No. I need to show a sliver of Nevilly determination just to make me seem a bit more interesting.
Margaret of Clouseau: Wheurteurveur.
Margaret Beaufort: It's been days since the battle. How come all these badly wounded men are still twitching and haven't been stripped yet?
Stafford: No idea. I'm lying perfectly still doing nothing.
Margaret Beaufort: No change there then.
Edward: Alas, poor Warwick...
George: Rip his sodding head off. Bastard.
Frodo: He was a great man. Let's be nice to his corpse...
Edward: Take our son to Belgium. He'll be safe there.
Elizabeth: It'll be fine. The princes will be safe in the tower, and you will die in my bed.
Edward: Promises promises!
Anne: Just how far is it to Tewkesbury?
Margaret of Clouseau: Weakleurng. Yeur ave teur leeve lahke zis when yeur eur a beurg, sceury queurn, lahke meur.
Anne: Doesn't it bother you everyone hates you?
Margaret of Clouseau: Zey jeurst deur neurt eurndeursteurnd me.
Anne: I wonder why...
Elizabeth: What's that noise?
Anthony: It's that Bastard of Fauconberg...
Elizabeth: Let's mount a daring night attack.
Anthony: Why didn't I think of that?
Elizabeth: If this is a night action, how come it's happening in broad daylight?
Messenger: Sorry Your Grace, it's all gone a bit even more shite.
Margaret of Clouseau: Leurt eurs reun aweur...
Anne: Shan't.
Margaret of Clouseau: Meurst.
Anne: WON'T.
Margaret of Clouseau: Wheurteurveur.
Frodo: Widow Anne?
Anne: Oh. That was sensitively done...
Frodo: You! Evil queen! Get on that horse.
Margaret of Clouseau: Weurn't. Eaurnyweur, jeurn mee...
Frodo: Shan't.
Margaret of Clouseau: Eaur beaur heaur heaur - ah canneurt be writteurn eurt! Ah 'ave eurnly been een teur episeurdes an ah steell ave seur meurch ceurmic peurteurntieurl...
Margaret: Jasper's taking Henry - that's HENRY TUDOR - on a "Club 14-85" holiday on the continent.
Stafford: [Gurgle, splutter]
Jasper: All gone shite, like. Off now.
Margaret Beaufort: But God...
Jasper: God was not at Tewkesbury.
Margaret Beaufort: Not even in the beer tent? That's where you normally find the big beardies at Tewkesbury.
Frodo: Well, that's enough of the old queen. We'll lock her up.
Anne: And me?
Frodo: Hmmm...
Anne: Am I not a traitor?
Frodo: Yes, but you're kind of hot....
Jacquetta: Girls, please put your hands together foooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooor - THE YORK BROTHERS!
[The three of them stride in to much applause, while Clarence launches into "I like big butts of Malmsey and I cannot swim..."]
Edward: Thank you ladies and gentleman. And now, our latest hit...
Elizabeth: What's that?
Edward: Henry VI. Come on...
Frodo: Hey! I never knew it was this easy to smother someone with a pillow. I wonder if this new-found knowledge is ever going to come in handy?

Thursday, 11 July 2013

Digression: The White Queen, Episode 4

Theeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeir dad is mean and brawny,
Their daughters' roles are pawny,
Their dialogue is corny,
The Neville fam-i-leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Elizabeth: That child. That poor child. That poor, poor child. That poor, poor, poor...
Jacquetta: Hush, fool. It's all Warwick's fault.
Elizabeth: Fair enough. What's for lunch?
Henry: 'Tis but a scratch.
Warwick: Pawn number 2, you will marry Emo Devil-Prince.
George: And how will that help make me king?
Warwick. Change of plan....
Omnes: Seriously, WTF?
Warwick: Pawn - get a new outfit. We're off to see Psychofrog and Devilboy.
Messenger: The castle is being invaded by a Herbert.
Herbert: Give me Jasper.
Stafford: Not here mate.
Herbert: And the castle.
Stafford: Righty-ho.
Warwick: Your grace...
Queen Margaret of Clouseau: Yeur canneurt be serieuse! Yeur 'ave reum in yor 'art teur chahnzh sahdes?
Warwick: Pardon?
QM of C: Ah eursked if yeur 'ave reum in yor 'art teur chahnzh sahdes?
Warwick: Oh, room. Er, yes.
QM of C: That iz wheurt ah 'ave bin saying, yeur feurl. Sweur on theess eurnconvinving preup.
Warwick: Yeah, OK. Whatever.
M of C: Let me see de geurl.
[Grabs Anne and conducts detailed anatomical, dental and gynaecological examination (the last bit only available in the US version)]
QM of C: She weell deur. Now inveurde Engleurnd.
Warwick: Me and whose army?
QM of C: Yeur 'ave preumised. Deur eet!
Warwick: Shite.
Edward: I'm just going to explain the whole plot again in case anyone missed an episode.
Frodo of Gloucester: Poor Anne. Poor, poor Anne. Poor, poor, poor...
Edward: Hush, fool. We all know you fancy her.
Jacquetta: I know - let's go and see Duchess The Fly and explain the entire plot again!
Elizabeth: Whoopy-doo.
Herbert: Oh, and your son.
Margaret: NO.
Herbert: Your kinsman Lord Welles rebelled.
[Stafford drags her away, praying]
Edward: Elizabeth - I'm off to defeat Warwick and Margaret of Clouseau. Stay safe, and go and give birth to your princes, in the Tower. I'm sure nothing could possibly go wrong with that. Right Richard?
Frodo of Gloucester: Oh, absolutely. Princes. In Tower. Damn good idea. What could possibly go wrong?
Elizabeth: Edward darling, wouldn't you be safer wearing two spaulders?
Edward: Bye.
Anne: Help! I need Izzy!
Countess of Warwick: Gone.
Anne: Can't!
Countess: Must.
Anne: Nooooooooooooooooo!
Countess: It was like that when I married your father. First I was alone, I was petrified; thought I could never live with him by my side, but then...
Anne: Oh for God's sake Mum, when did you turn into Gloria Gaynor?
Countess: Count your blessings. It could be Dionne Warwick the Kingmaker...
Elizabeth: So, how's it all going?
Chorus of young Woodvilles: Warwick's invaded, Edward's run away to Belgium, and Mum's been arraigned as a witch.
Elizabeth: Bugger.
Warwick: M'lud, this woman is a WITCH!
[Muttering in court]
Warwick: Call a random actor to give testimony! Now, Mr Random of Mummerset, do you know this woman?
RA: Oo ar yer worship, scrumpy, peaseblossom!
Warwick: Oh God this is going to be as bad as Margaret of Clouseau.... Anyway, were you at the secret illegal wedding of this woman's daughter with Edward, formerly my best mate?
RA: Oo ar indeed yer worship, prarperjaaaarb, fetlocks!
Warwick: And what did you find?
RA: Oo ar, well, 'twas these 'ere lead 25mm figgers...
Jacquetta: That can't possibly represent Edward, he's wearing two spaulders!
[Gasps in court]
Jacquetta: And I wish to call a character witness.
Warwick: Whom?
Jacquetta: Inspector Margaret of Clouseau!
Warwick: Shite.
The Other Margaret: Henry! HENRY TUDOR! What happened?
Henry: We got ambushed.
Margaret: Still, glad you all kept your heads.
Henry: Er, yeah, about that... Anyway, I WILL be King of England. For I am HENRY TUDOR
Margaret: Oh darling! You googled yourself!
Anne: You look just like the one out of Twilight.
Devilboy: R-Patz?
Anne: No, the bint who looks like grumpycat. Anyway, what do I do now?
Devilboy: You don't need to do anything. You just have to lie there and hate it to make a dramatic contrast between me and Frodo later on.
Anne: Righty-ho.
Henry VI: Lobster lobster. Am I a saint yet?
Bishop: My grandson made this crown in nursery. Lovely, isn't it?
Henry VI: There are lobsters everywhere...
Margaret B: Here's HENRY TUDOR.
Henry VI: He's a lobster. He's out of water. Let me pour some over him...
Elizabeth: I've given birth to a prince. In the Tower. This can only end well!
Jacquetta: Yes darling.
Elizabeth: Mother? How did you escape the witchcraft rap?
Jacquetta: I flew out on my broomstick after turning the jury to mice.
Elizabeth: Really?
Jacquetta: Duh!