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?

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