Darling: Er, Sir . . .
Flashheart: Yes . . .
Darling: . . . Sir!
Flashheart: . . . Prat at the back!
Darling: I think we'd all be intrigued to know why you're the Twenty Minuters.
George: Oh, Mister Thicko. Imagine not knowing that.
Flashheart: Well, it's simple! The life expectancy for a new pilot is twenty minutes.
Darling: Ah . . .
[Darling sits.]
Edmund: Life expectancy . . . of twenty minutes . . .
Flashheart: That's right. on, chocks away, last one back's a homo! Hurray!
[Flashheart runs out of the room.]
Trainee Pilots: Hurray!
[Trainee Pilots run after Flashheart.]
Edmund: So, we off in ten minutes, we're in the air for twenty minutes, which means we should be dead by twenty five to ten.
George: Hairy blighters, Sir. This is a bit of a turn-up for the plus fours.
[Darling rises and moves to the door.]
Darling: I shouldn't about it too much, Blackadder. Flying's all about navigation. As long as you've got a good I'm sure you'll be fine.
[Darling sniggers as he opens the door to reveal Baldrick in flying gear. Baldrick enters. Darling leaves.]