I Am Weasel Puns

Blackadder (Rowan Atkinson): I have come up with a plan so cunning you could stick a tail on it and call it a weasel.

Baldrick (Tony Robinson): Morning, Mr. B.

Blackadder (Rowan Atkinson): Leave me alone, Baldrick. If I wanted to talk to a vegetable, I would have bought one at the market.

[Referring to a suicide pill they have both been given, after being captured by French revolutionaries]

Baldrick (Tony Robinson): I’m glad to say you won’t be needing that pill, Mr. B.

Blackadder (Rowan Atkinson): Am I jumping the gun, Baldrick, or are the words “I have a cunning plan” marching with ill-deserved confidence in the direction of this conversation?

Baldrick (Tony Robinson): They certainly are.

Blackadder (Rowan Atkinson): Well, forgive me if I don’t do a cartwheel of joy; your record in this department is hardly 100%. So what is it?

Baldrick (Tony Robinson): We do nothing …

Blackadder (Rowan Atkinson): Yup, it’s another world-beater.

Baldrick (Tony Robinson): No, wait. We do nothing … until our heads have actually been cut off.

Blackadder (Rowan Atkinson): And then we … spring into action?

Blackadder (Rowan Atkinson): [to Baldrick] Unless I think of something, tomorrow we go to meet our Maker: in my case God, in your case God knows.

Baldrick (Tony Robinson): Sounds like a bag of grapefruits to me, Mr B.

Blackadder (Rowan Atkinson): The phrase, Baldrick, is “a case of sour grapes” – and yes it bloody well is.

Mrs. Miggins: The Scarlet Pimpernel, Mr. Blackadder! He’s so exciting, don’t you think?

Blackadder (Rowan Atkinson): Actually, I think he’s the most over-rated human being since Judas Iscariot won the AD31 Best Disciple Competition.

http://bestcleanfunnyjokes.com/funny-quotes-from-blackadder-the-third/

I just came back from a holiday back to the UK to visit friends and family (am an expat).

While we were there we went to a nice community festival, with some great beers. An American friend of a friend proudly proclaimed that he’d bought a pint of red stout.

Looking up at the board, and seeing the name of the beer, my eyes lit up: a golden opportunity had just presented itself.

‘Nah mate, that’s not red stout, it’s called Red Stoat. You do know what a stoat is, right?

[confusion]

‘Well, it’s a little rodent, a bit like a weasel. You know how you can tell the difference between a stoat and a weasel?’

‘Er..’

‘Well’, I says, ‘a weasel is weasily identifiable, and a stoat is stoatally different.’

Cue a puzzled look on the guys face, and a moment’s silence, broken by me and my friend pissing ourselves laughing, not at the joke of course, but at his reaction.

So this was all very well and good, just another in the litany of bad jokes that floats in my wake, and I thought the story ended there.

Karma, however, had other plans…

A few days later, we’re up in the Lake District, walking back to the hotel after a pub dinner. As we’re walking down the road, we see a small carnivorous rodent dragging the recently deceased body of a rabbit back to its home. It was either a stoat, or a weasel, but you know what? I honestly had no way to tell which…