Who Came Up With Baldrick'S Cunning Plan?

Baldrick's so-called 'cunning plans' in 'Blackadder' are legendary for their spectacular failure rate, and that's what makes them so hilarious. Take the time he tried to disguise himself as a hedgehog to sneak past enemy lines—only to get mistaken for an actual hedgehog and tossed into a bush by a confused soldier. Or when he suggested selling Edmund's 'very own poo' as fertilizer, which somehow led to them being chased by an angry mob waving pitchforks. The brilliance lies in how each plan starts with absurd overconfidence ('I have a cunning plan, my lord!') and unravels into chaos, usually because Baldrick's logic is... let's say, unique. Like when he thought the best way to avoid execution was to dig a tunnel upward from the dungeon. Classic. What's funniest is how these disasters often drag Blackadder down with him. Edmund usually sees the flaws immediately ('Baldrick, your brain is like the fourpenny piece—small, dull, and not really worth bothering with'), but gets entangled anyway. The backfires aren't just slapstick—they expose the sheer desperation of their schemes. My favorite? The 'turnip-powered time machine' debacle. It sums up Baldrick perfectly: a mix of childlike hope and catastrophic ignorance, leaving everyone worse off than before.

Baldrick's 'cunning plans' in 'Blackadder' are legendary because they perfectly encapsulate the show's razor-sharp satire. The plans are always hilariously terrible—ridiculously convoluted or blindingly obvious failures, like hiding in a turnip crate or declaring 'let’s not and say we did.' What makes them iconic is how they highlight Baldrick’s endearing incompetence and the sheer absurdity of the situations. The contrast between his earnest delivery and the utter stupidity of the idea is comedy gold. It’s not just the plans themselves but the timing, Rowan Atkinson’s exasperated reactions, and the historical irony that make them unforgettable. Every time Baldrick whispers 'I have a cunning plan,' you know it’ll be gloriously dumb, and that predictability is part of the charm. Another layer is how these plans parody real historical blunders and human folly. The writers took universal truths about greed, laziness, and shortsightedness, cranked them up to eleven, and wrapped them in a smelly, grubby package named Baldrick. The plans also serve as punchlines to entire episodes, tying together the show’s clever wordplay and situational humor. Even decades later, fans quote them because they’re timeless—everyone’s met a Baldrick, or worse, been one. The legacy isn’t just in the laughs but in how they’ve become shorthand for any doomed scheme.

Baldrick's so-called 'cunning plans' are one of the most hilarious running gags in 'Blackadder.' He usually unveils them at the absolute worst moment—when everyone’s already neck-deep in disaster. Take the third season, for example: in the episode 'Dish and Dishonesty,' he waits until Edmund’s political scheme is collapsing like a soggy crumpet before suggesting something utterly daft, like turning a satsuma into a sovereign. The timing is always impeccable in its absurdity. What makes it funnier is how seriously Baldrick delivers these plans, as if he’s cracked the code of the universe. They’re never actually cunning, just bizarrely creative. Like in 'Blackadder Goes Forth,' where his grand strategy to escape the trenches involves hiding inside a giant turnip. The reveal is always a brilliant punchline to the episode’s mounting chaos, and it never gets old.

Blackadder's dim-witted sidekick Baldrick and his infamous 'cunning plans' are practically a running joke in the series. Every time he claims to have a brilliant scheme, it’s either hilariously absurd or doomed to fail spectacularly. Like that time he suggested they disguise themselves as turnips to escape execution—only for Blackadder to point out that turnips don’t usually wear boots. The beauty of it is how earnestly Baldrick believes in his own genius, even when his ideas involve selling Blackadder’s aunt as a slave or hiding in a giant hamster wheel. It’s less about the plan’s success and more about the sheer audacity of his incompetence. That said, there’s a twisted charm in how his 'plans' often accidentally highlight the absurdity of their situations. In 'Blackadder Goes Forth,' his suggestion to avoid the trenches by 'running away very fast' ironically mirrors the futility of war. The show’s writers use Baldrick’s failures to underscore darker themes, like class disparity or the brutality of history. So while his plans never work, they’re weirdly successful as comedic devices—and that’s the real point.

Baldrick's 'cunning plans' in 'Blackadder' are legendary for their sheer absurdity and utter lack of actual cunning. Every time he announces he has one, you know it’s going to be something hilariously terrible—like using a turnip as a secret weapon or trying to disguise himself as a tree. The joke is that Baldrick thinks he’s a genius, but his ideas are so stupid they loop back around to being brilliant in their own way. My favorite might be the time he suggested they 'hide in the one place no one would ever look—behind the haystack.' It’s the kind of logic that makes you groan and laugh at the same time. What’s fascinating is how these plans reflect the show’s satire. 'Blackadder' thrives on mocking incompetence, and Baldrick is the perfect foil to Edmund’s sarcastic scheming. His plans are so bad they often accidentally save the day, which just adds to the chaos. The writers nailed the balance between making him endearingly dim and frustratingly dense. Even after all these years, I still quote his 'I have a cunning plan' line with friends—it’s that iconic.

I like to break villains' plans down like a mechanic takes apart an engine — you look for the key components and the way each part reinforces the others. A truly effective threat starts with a clear objective: what does the villain actually want? Once that’s nailed down, every tactical choice is meant to lower resistance, raise pressure, or alter incentives for everyone involved. If the goal is destabilization, the plan’s success isn’t measured by casualties alone but by how it erodes trust in institutions. If the objective is control, then access points — insiders, infrastructure, and public opinion — become the levers. Think about 'Death Note' and how the threat isn’t just supernatural power; it’s the moral calculus it forces onto law enforcement and the public. The plan becomes effective because it changes what people are willing to do. What really makes those pieces click for me is the layering and contingencies. The most dangerous plots don’t hinge on a single gambit; they anticipate interference and set traps for those who might try to stop them. Information asymmetry is huge here — the villain knows things the heroes don’t, or controls the narrative in ways that make resistance costly or illegitimate. Logistics matter too: secure funding, plausible deniability, and fall guys create buffers. I’ll point to 'The Dark Knight' as a textbook case of how chaos and moral dilemmas are weaponized: the threat isn’t just the bombs, it’s forcing people to choose between equally terrible options. A modular approach — several smaller operations that feed into the larger goal — lets the villain pivot when one piece fails. On top of strategy, the psychological dimension makes a plan resonate and feel threatening. A slow-burn erosion of trust can be more terrifying than an immediate attack because it steals certainties: who to trust, what institutions mean, and whether sacrifice even matters. Effective threats often exploit everyday systems — banking, media, law — because breaking the ordinary is how you make the extraordinary believable. When a plot combines plausible logistics, contingency planning, and an ability to manipulate perception, it feels airtight. I can’t help admiring that craft, even if it gives me the creeps; there’s a perverse respect for a plan that makes sense from a villain’s point of view.

You’ll want to press the Hamburger Menu (☰) button at the top-left of the screen. From here, scroll down until you see Ribbons — they’re under the Collectables subheading.