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!
-----------------------------------
Stanley: HIS GRACE KING EDWARD.
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.
[Pause]
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.
----------------------------------------
Elizabeth: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!
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?

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?!
----------------------------------------
Anne: BLEEEEUUUUUURGH!
Margaret of Clouseau: Yeur eur a WEAKLEURNG!
Anne: Can't help it your BLEEEEUUUUUUURGH!
M of C: Jeurst lahke yeur seesteur.
Anne: But - BLEEEEUUUUUUURGH!
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?

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?
--------------------------------
Margaret: OH MY GOD! HENRY (That's HENRY TUDOR!) YOUR HEAD'S BEEN CUT OFF!
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.
Margaret: YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS.
--------------------------------
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.
Margaret: THAT WAS THE WRONG LORD WELLES! LOOK HIM UP ON WIKIPEDIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!!!
[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!

Digression: The White Queen, Episode 3

Sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee's dark and mean and witchy
Her rayon kirtle's itchy
About the Queen she's bitchy
It's Margaret Beaufort, EEK!

Edward: Warwick, seriously, WTF dude?
Warwick: Dam the Rivers.
Edward: No way. Where's my queen?
Warwick: Wouldn't you like to know?
-------------
Isabelle: What's going on?
Warwick: How do you feel about being the queen of King George I?
Isabelle: According to Wikipedia he's not going to be around until 1714.
Warwick: Silence pawn!
-------------
Margaret: Everyone should have their heads chopped off. Why, I'd do it myself.
Stafford: Steady on old girl! Not a very ladylike idea!
Margaret: It's not my idea. It's God's...
Stafford: Oh shite not this again...
Margaret: And God also wants Henry Tudor (that's HENRY TUDOR, redirects to HENRY VII) to become King.
-------------
Edward: OI! GEORGE! DOUBLET OFF?! IN THE CARPARK?!
George: Aren't you confusing me with Richard?
-------------
Isabelle: There are too many queens! And suddenly we care about the costumes being correct. I mean, only a queen can wear this kind of zip. I'm confused!
Anne: Let me try it on! *I'm* going to be queen!
The Countess of Warwick: No you're not.
Anne: Am too! You can google it later!
----------------
MPs: Order! Rubbish! Where's the free ale? There'll never be a King George or I'm a German!
[Warwick glares, checks Wikipedia]
----------------
Edward: Yo! Wife!
Elizabeth: Kill Warwick.
Edward: Can't.
Elizabeth: Must.
Edward: Shan't.
Frodo: Are we in Mordor yet?
----------------
Isabelle: I don't want to be here.
Anne: It'll be fine. She hasn't got anything against us.
Jacquetta: CURSE YOU IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HISTORICALLY SUSPECT!
Anne: Uh-oh.
----------------
Elizabeth: I know you don't like me.
[Warwick raises eyebrow]
Elizabeth: And looking at your doublet I can see why your castle has no curtains...
----------------
Jacquetta: Choose your nylon monofilament line...
Elizabeth: It's a baby spoon! Will it grow up into an adult spoon?
Jacquetta: Hush, fool. And help me conjure up a storm.
----------------
Jasper: There's a ruck kicking off!
Margaret: Yo! Husband, get stuck in.
Stafford: Oh God not this again...
----------------
Margaret: Welles, you must lead God's army.
Welles: Oh lor! Oh crikey! But I've got homework to do!
----------------
Omnes [kneeling]: Oh God, please help us...
God: ONE AT A TIME, FOR *MY* SAKE!
----------------
Welles: Oh crikey! Oh lor! Oh your majesty! Oh -
Edward: Traitor [prepares to stab him]
Welles: But I'm the other Lord Welles! Look it up on Wikipediaaaaaaargh!
---------------
Warwick: Right. Change of plan. Everybody on the boat...
Isabelle: But I'm 14 months pregnant!
Warwick: ON. THE. BOAT.
Isabelle: Boo hoo blubber panic...
Anne: But we've got the best cabin. [ship does somersault]
Isabelle: I'm giving birth!
Sailor: Ooh arrr, splice the mainbrace, low'r a tops'l, and don't skimp on ackerat dialaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargue!
Isabelle: Turn the ship's wheel!
Sailor: 'Aven't bin invented yet.
Isabelle: Bugger.
----------------
Margaret: Henry? HENRY TUDOR, that is?
Henry: My lady?
Margaret: I'm your mother.
Henry: Really?
Margaret: Yes, definitely. I googled it.
Henry: Shite.
----------------
Countess of Warwick: Anne! Get up there and get that baby out.
Anne: Eauw, gross.

Doublets

In the early middle ages pretty much everyone wore long flowing outer garments which fell from the shoulder and were belted or girdled in at waist level. Then in the c14th plate armour started to be worn, and under plate armour long flowing garments are uncomfortable and an encumbrance. Knights started to wear arming doublets - which are basically close-fitting quilted and padded linen or canvas jackets, sometimes with chain mail patches where the joins in plate armour would be and bunches of points (laces with copper-alloy tips called aglets or ailettes sewn on) attached at strategic spots for lacing items of plate armour on.

Illustration from "How a man schall be armyd at his ese when he schal fighte on foote" (c1450); has a very rare depiction of an arming doublet with mail gussets.

This started a fashion for close-fitting clothes which revolutionized fashion, both male and female. So doublets, originally a military garment, became generally fashionable. Among their particular military features were the use of laces for fastening (have you tried wearing buttons under armour?), the padding of upper body and, especially, 'puff' shoulders (which help to spread the weight of body and shoulder armour and still allow free movement), short standing collars (because who wants armour digging into the neck?) and eyelets around the bottom for lacing joined hose to (I'll come onto hose in more detail in the next posting). Doublets have to be tailor-made (anything advertised as a ready-to-wear doublet is guaranteed to be an ill-fitting 'Hollywood horror'). There are almost no straight lines in a doublet pattern, btw - *every* piece has to curve to allow for a proper fit. Compared to modern clothes, they are cut incredibly high under the arms (again, because a plate-armour cuirass is useless unless it protects the armpit, a favourite 'soft target' area, especially for poll weapons (which confusingly are mounted on poles; 'poll' refers to the head of such a weapon, but I digress...).

Detail from a Hans Memling altarpiece showing St John; the foreground figure shows the tight fit of the doublet; note points holding hose up, the back one of which is unlaced to allow bending over with greater freedom.

Also, a doublet is not a quick and simple thing to put on, especially if already laced to the hose, but they feel surprisingly comfortable to wear and do, let's face it, look good. Wool was the usual material, pad- or herringbone- stitched to an interlining of canvas or a padding of soft blanket-type wool; although silk, linen and canvas are historically defensible. Leather doublets are favoured by some modern film and theatre costume designers (the RSC seems to have an inexhaustible supply) but personally I wouldn't like to try fighting in one of those under armour for several hours on a hot day. Pictorial evidence for doublets is relatively scarce because most men chose to be painted wearing either a richer gown or armour over the top. As a general rule, the later in the c15th you get, the shorter the doublet and the more visible the hose.

Man being stripped of his gown by robbers, showing the doublet beneath. An Italian illustration of the 1430s, compare the length of the doublet with the later Memling painting above.

Digression: The White Queen, Episode 2

Theeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeir father's title's Rivers Their mother gives you shivers
When Warwick's near he quivers
The Woodville fam-i-leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Elizabeth: Argh! Scary coronation!
Clarence: Gosh! Top totty! Just making the point Dickon and I are nice guys, what?
Rivers: You can follow me, Warwick.
[Warwick gives look; scene shifts to abbey full of pointy-headed guards and people in rayon fantasy costumes]
Elizabeth: I am QUEEN! Why are only the extras wearing hats?
Archbishop: Here - have a crown.
Elizabeth: That's better.

Neville girls: Oh look! 'Tis the King's brothers George of Clarence and Frodo of Gloucester. Who fell off a horse.
Frodo: Yes I did. Anne, I have the hots for you as attested by scores of romantic novelists. But before we inevitably get married I have to take this ring to Mordor.
Anne: Whatever.

Edward: Bravo George! You caught an eagle! You can be Earl of Richmond instead of that mad Beaufort woman's kid.

The Wicked Margaret Beaufort of the West: HUSBAND! Get my boy his title back THIS INSTANT! And then find my witchy hat. It seems to have gone missing.
Stafford: Um, er, have a biscuit?

Warwick: I am the most powerful man in ENGLAND!
Neville girls: Then how come we can't afford carpets and wall-hangings?
Warwick: Silence, pawns.

Isabelle: Anne - now that we're alone, let me tell you the whole background to the story, using those Indonesian shadow puppet techniques I learnt on my gap year. And see? Edward the Prince of Wales is the son of THE DEVIL. And after the end of the episode everyone's going to go on Wikipedia and find out you have to marry him, so ya-boo sucks.
Anne: Gross! I'd rather marry a hunchbacked carpark attendant from Leicester!
Isabelle: Er, yeah. About that...

Margaret Beaufort (kneeling): Please O Lord make my son Henry Tudor, that's HENRY TUDOR if anyone isn't paying attention and wants to look on Wikipedia later, king. And can I have a swift one with Jasper? Pretty please? I mean, WOOF!

[Some years later... Elizabeth is wandering down a corridor with a fresh bevy of York/Woodville children, the eldest of whom is singing "I'm going to be the mother of Henery the Eight, I am/You can all google it later/You can, you caaaaaaaaaaaaan"]

Messenger: Warwick is revolting!
Elizabeth: Tell me about it! Still, no need for anyone to lose their head.
Messenger. Er, yeah. About that...