All language subtitles for Privates On Parade (1983) DVDRip x264-HANDJOB

High fashion on the equator.

Three years after
the Japs went home...

with their tails
between their legs...

life in Singapore
is getting back to normal.

The dictators of fashion
in faraway Paris...

have achieved what
the Japanese never could--

willing and eager surrender
to their new order.

Everywhere,
hems are coming down.

Skirts may be fuller
on dry land...

but these modern mermaids
are certainly set...

on hiding nothing
from the tropic sun.

Did I say "nothing"?

In clothes like these,
it's easy to take the plunge.

It's a far cry
from the bathing suits...

they're wearing
a few miles north of here...

where young British soldiers
who thought the war was over...

now find themselves
in the Malayan jungle...

rounding up the Reds.

The Communists call
these servicemen “running dogs."

running dogs.

Well, be that as it may...

these dogs won't
be running far...

until they've seen off
the intruder...

and Malaya is once more
free to devote itself...

Anyone home?

Looking for something, soldier?

- New arrival, sir.
- At the transit camp?

No. New arrival for SADUSEA,
come to get cleared.

Where's your chitty?

I'm one of yours.
Drummond's the name.

I'll clear you.

Then you'll need the stores.

So, you're in
the intelligence, eh?

Just clerical.
Routine security stuff.

Security needs smartening up,
in my opinion.

Excuse me.

Where did you
fucking come from?

India, Sarge.
Been a year in Calcutta.

I don't mean where'd you
fucking come from in India.

What you doing creeping in here
like a fucking mouse?

I come get
my arrival chitty cleared.

Private Flowers.

Intelligence?

You'll be all right here.

It's all fucking
long words here.

La-de fucking da.
And fucking elocution.

Fucking Einsteins here.

Are they?

Right.
Let's get you kitted out.

I've got
the tropical kit already.

Special fucking kit,
I mean, for SADUSEA.

Stripes, sergeant's.

Khaki drill. Pairs--one.

You mean I'm a sergeant?
Just like that?

Temporary acting, unpaid.

Just so we can use the messes
when we go on tour.

I've only got
two stripes by rights...

so don't call me
fucking Sergeant.

Right-o. Corporal?

No, no, no. It's all
first names around here.

You better call me Len...

and I'll call you
fucking Einstein...

- All right?
- All right.

Shoes, black patent,
dancing, tap.

Type--Astaire, Fred.
Pairs--one.

Shadow, eye. Jars--one.

Puffs, powder.
Other ranks. One.

Sticks, grease paint.

Sundry--six. Later on,
you might get a pair of tights.

Fishnet, black. Sergeant's.

Or a brassiere, sequined.

- Inflatable. Other ranks.
- What for?

There ain't enough tarts
to go around...

so the men
to get up in frocks.

I don't fancy that.

Don't worry.
It may never happen.

You can come here as
a concert fucking pianist...

end up shoveling shit.
Look at me--

jack of fucking all trades...

and I've come in
as an accordionist.

Right.

Now, you'll be attached
to Captain Dennis.

He'll decide
what you'll be doing.

Hello, soldier. We meet again.

What you after now?

Sorry, sir. I'm looking
for the garrison theater.

Drummond.

- I'll show you.
- Thank you, sir.

Call me Reg.
That's the way around here.

What's-his-name
in the stores told me. Len.

Poor Len Bonny. He's puggled.

- Is he?
- Round the bend.

Wouldn't you be? Being posted
from Iceland to Singapore...

from jackets, fleece-lined,
to nets, mosquito.

Mr. Drummond!

We've more to discuss, I think.

I'm just escorting
this young soldier...

to the garrison theater.

Are you Captain Dennis, sir?

Good God, I should
bloody well hope not.

1,2,3,4..

5,6,7,8.

Again.

With me.

Get ready. Here we go.
Side, behind...

Sorry.

There you are! Look, girls.

Leonora has finally
condescended to join us...

and Miss Morgan.

Sorry I'm late, Terri.

Don't blame me, Terri.
You told me...

to get these umbrellas
from the fucking stores.

You dare speak
to an officer like that...

and I'll scream the place down.

Give them out this instant.

Who's your friend?

Private Flowers, sir.

I'm going to be attached
to your section.

Sounds heaven.

Sweetie, I can hardly wait
to attach you to my section...

but just for now,
I should drop...

that expensive-looking
handbag...

and find yourself
somewhere to sit.

Then tonight
at the dress rehearsal...

you'll be twirling
your umbrella...

along with the rest of us.

So sit down there, dear,
and vada with care.

Now, are you ready, Sparks?

Yes, Terri! I am ready!

And are you ready,
boys in the band?

Yes, Terri.
We're all ready.

And are you ready,
members of the company?

Yes, Terri.
We're all ready.

Then...

Lights!

Action!

Music.

Flight Sergeant
Kevin Cartwright.

Navigator bomb aimer,
Royal Air Force.

Sergeant Charles Bishop.

Nursing orderly,
Royal Army Medical Corps.

Sergeant Len Bonny.

Royal Electrical
and Mechanical Engineers.

Leading aircraftsman
Eric Young-Love.

Balloon operator,
Royal Air Force.

Lieutenant Sylvia Morgan
of no fixed abode.

Acting Sergeant
Steven Flowers.

Intelligence Corps.

Well done, dear.

And Acting Captain
Terri Dennis, MC.

Master of ceremonies.

Of no particular service,
yet at the service of you all.

What shall we do for
an opening number?

Waltzes are schmaltz

And we're sick of the Rumba

Crests of the wave
are too hackneyed by far

What about letting them
know who we are?

We're SADUSEA

And on the other hand,
we're glad to see

You've come along tonight
to join our laughter

To see our dance

To feel a touch of magic
and a breath of romance

We've taken pains

To see our show's
the sort that entertains

And now there's nothing
very much remaining

Except for naming the company

We're SADUSEA

We're S-A-D-U-S-E-A

Song And Dance Unit
Southeast Asia

- What can we do--
- Not yet, dear.

Twat.

What can we do
for the rest of the chorus?

They know who we are,
so they know what to call us

We're ready and steady
and raring to go

Hey, what about saying
the name of the show?

It's Jamboree

We're bringing you
a Jungle Jamboree

We got together in this
equatorial latitude

To chase your blues away
and change your attitude

So now you see

We've got the kind
of personality

To make you come with us
upon a spree

Or a potpourri,
or a jubilee

So one, two, three

For $-A-D-U-S-E-A

And a jingle-jangle
Jungle Jamboree

Thank you, dear.

Applause, applause, applause.

How can they do it
for the money? And break.

Terri, I'd rather not say that.

- Say what?
-"Of no fixed abode."”

It doesn't sound at all nice.

It only means you're not
in any of the services.

It makes me sound
not entirely respectable.

Why don't you say what I say?

"Of no service in particular,
yet of service to you all.”

- That's even worse.
- And it's all right for me?

You're a man.

Any more insubordination...

and I shall have you
all on the carpet.

Where is Young-Love?

I'm sorry.
That's my quick change.

What were you doing
in the opening number?

I'll get it right, honestly.

Even Leonora got her brolly
in the right place.

And I didn't come here
as a dancer.

I come as a fucking
accordionist.

A mite more
concentration, Erica...

or you'll find yourself
back in the WAFS.

- None of that.
- What?

That Erica stuff.

My name's Eric
or Young or Love...

or Young-Love hyphenated.
There's nothing camp about me.

The lady doth protest too much.

Watch it, Bishop,
or you know what you'll get!

- What?
- A bunch of fives!

Don't get into a panty, Love.

You know how it aggravates
your prickly heat.

I told you before.
I'm not a homosexual!

Don't worry, luv.
It doesn't show from out front.

Attention!

You're a bloody nana,
I know that!

All right, Carter,
I've got your number!

You're going on the right way
for a bunch of fives!

If Young-Love came
to visit you in hospital...

he'd bring you
a bunch of fives.

All right, matey,
you've had your chips.

What? Threaten me and
I'll boot you in the marbles.

Company!
Commanding officer on parade...

Attention!

Stand at ease!

Stand easy.

Pick them up.

I'm afraid there's a huddle
of transit camp personnel...

at every door in the hall.

Right, you men, clear off!

Most of them seem to find
your sketch amusing...

so I suppose you know
what you're up to.

This is not a sketch, Major.
It's more of a drama.

A drama? Oh, dear.
It's missing the mark.

I think Captain Dennis means...

there's been a slight
difference of opinion.

1 didn't think
it would be like this.

I'm not used to working
with amateurs.

Jessica Christ!

Mr. Dennis!
Even being an artiste...

cannot justify
casual blasphemy!

Especially from someone
expected to set his men...

an example of respect
for their God and king.

Let none of us forget
that we are here...

on God's work.

And we defend a righteous flag.

I daresay, one or two of you
are saying to yourselves...

"Lord love a duck.
The governor must be barmy."

No, sir, certainly not.

"We're only
peacetime conscripts...

“counting the days
till we get that boat...

"back to dear Old Blighty."

That would be bad thinking.

Not many miles from here...

there's a whale
of a war beginning.

I know they're trying
to call it an "emergency"...

but that's just
softly, softly officialese.

Make no mistake about it.

It's the start
of World War III!

"Strike a light!"
I hear you say.

"What kind of a war is that
when it's at home?"

Well, I'll tell you.

A holy war between us,
the legions of light...

and them, the forces
of Communistic darkness.

Perhaps if there'd been
less blasphemy, less luxury...

we should not now be
abandoning our empire.

For was it not
blasphemy and luxury...

that finally forced the Romans
to abandon their empire?

Yes, sir.

And was it not
luxury and blasphemy...

that led to
the Russian Revolution?

Sir.

And what about the fall
of France in 19407

- Sir!
- Sergeant Bonny?

- Luxury and blasphemy, sir.
- Well done.

Now, what does
blasphemy lead to?

Fall of France, sir.

And?

The Russian Revolution, sir.

Correct. For without
the Living Word of God...

what are we?

At best, unwelcome guests.

At worst,
unscrupulous invaders.

- That's all.
- Attention!

Carry on...practicing.

- Sergeant major.
- Sir.

Right. Get fell in
for the fucking ballet.

Well said, sir.

You don't think I went too far?

With Captain Dennis?
Not a bit, sir.

Get back!

To tell you the truth,
I wasn't too sure what he said.

He speaks a rum sort of
lingo of his own...

but I thought
he referred to Our Lord...

by the name of Jessica.

I fear so, sir.

Any idea why?

Passes for wit, I understand...

amongst people
of his persuasion.

- You mean theatricals.
- A certain type of theatrical.

They have a habit of giving
everybody women's names.

Do they?

For example, Corporal Bonny--

his name's Leonard,
so they call him Leonora.

My name's Reginald,
so they call me Regina.

Shouldn't have much luck
with mine. It's Giles.

Yes, sir.
He calls you Gillian.

Does he?

Queer behavior.

How do you explain it?

It's probably from
wearing so much drag, sir.

- So much what?
- Women's dresses.

I look to you to advise me.
I know nothing of shows.

Last one I saw was 1935.

Puerile drivel.

I once saw half a film
and walked out.

I can't imagine why anyone
would waste their time...

when they might be
learning to tell...

one constellation
from another...

one bird from another.

Half of them don't know
a wren from a tit.

You were in India, weren't you?

Till we had to leave, yes, sir.

We didn't have to.
We lost faith.

And look at
the poor devils now...

killing each other
by the million.

They don't know
any different, sir.

- They need a firm hand.
- Right.

This is a new age of darkness--

the Gospel
according to St. Marx.

Shady joint.

Street of sin.

Silk and stockings.

Old Berlin.

Ich liebe dich

Auf wiedersehen

Damen und herren

Ist Marlene

In a sleazy cabaret

Where the clients were so pally

Once I sang ze night away

Zat's become ze Karl Marx Alley

Danke schon, comrades

Danke schon

Once I sat across a chair

Drinking schnapps
from dirty glasses

Now it's
Friedrich Engels Square

Strictly for
the working classes

Danke schon for nothing,
comrades

Danke schon

I can't run on heels like zis

So, come on, boys,
one last kiss

Danke schon fur nicht,
kameraden

Danke schon

Auf wiedersehen

Ich liebe dich

Come in if you're pretty.

Quite right.
Pretty as a picture.

You told me to come in
after the rehearsal...

and you'd clear my chitty.

Sometimes I go too far.

But I'll come back later
if you haven't time.

Come in. Shut the door.

I'm quick as mustard
when I'm roused.

Drinky?

Pour me another gin, dear,
and have one for yourself.

Stephanie, is it?

Stephanie Flowers.

I hope you will, dear.

Will what?

Flower into something
rich and strange.

I shouldn't think so.

Why else have you come
to SADUSEA?

I did some amateur dramatics
at home in Swindon...

and I wouldn't mind
being a playwright.

As you can see, dear,
we're not doing plays.

We're doing shows.

But you'll be useful doing
a little bit of this and that.

I don't expect to be offered
any big parts right away.

Few of us are that lucky, dear.

What we need is somebody
on the technical side...

to arrange things
when we're on tour--

fix the meals,
sleeping accommodation...

make sure we've always
got a practical piano.

That kind of thing.
Could you cope?

Could I handle
the business end?

You come right out with it,
don't you?

You flatter yourself.

Nobody's that irresistible.

I was only getting
out of your way.

Come on, Ada, you thought
I was after your nuts.

That's better.

You've got a nice smile.
Use it more often.

I expect you're down at
Racecourse Road every night...

spending all your pay
on Chinese tarts.

I should find that such
a squalid transaction...

putting love
on a commercial basis.

Have you read the play
"Mrs. Warren's Profession"?

That Bernadette Shaw.
What a chatterbox.

Nags away from asshole
to breakfast time...

and never sees what's
staring her in the face.

She never even
lost her maidenhead...

until she was fifty-eight
or something.

Are you a virgin, sweetie?

Me? Oh, no.

Not really.

You can talk
to your Auntie, dear.

Have another Gordon's.

I know what it's like
when you're young--

all those pressures
to be butch.

I went through all of that.

My father thought
the ultimate in masculinity...

was to stick your chopper
into anything that wore a skirt.

I thought to myself, Ada,
that's strictly not for you.

Well, it is for me...

if only I knew how
to go about it.

You asking me, ducky?

I gather you're supposed
to titillate the clitoris.

Yes, but where is it?

Search me.

Look, just don't fall in love.

Then you won't get hurt.

I learned that when
my husband's cruiser...

was sunk by a U-boat
with all hands lost.

His next of kin
were informed, of course...

his wife and his mother.

How did I learn about it?

Months later from
a sailor in a queer bar.

What do you make of the show?

I think it might
go down quite well.

Well, I'm afraid I get
a bit puffed these days.

Too many Churchmans.

Too many choppers.

I'm not used to all this gin.

Sometime tonight.
You tell him.

I'm ready to take on
the entire Pacific fleet.

Where's the Lagonda?

Isn't Sylvia going with you?

She won't.
She's looking for you.

But how does she expect
to get into town?

In your Jeep, I suppose.

Raffles Hotel.
Drive like the wind.

And now there's nothing
very much remaining

Except for naming the company

We're SADUSEA

We're S-A-D-U-S-E-A

Song And Dance Unit Southeast--

Hello, soldier.

How'd you make out?

Not too bad, thanks.

Think you're going
to like it here?

The Queen's own,
the Middlesex Regiment.

Think you're gonna stay?

Hope so. Got through
the show all right...

with a bit of help
from Miss Morgan.

Sylvia held your hand?

I knew straightaway
you took a shine to her.

She's a fantastic dancer.

Moves like a dream.
It's the Indian blood.

Her dad was British--
corporal, Welsh Fusiliers--

nonconformist passion
and Asian sensuality.

Very short fuse.

She's certainly attractive.

I could see
you were interested.

What?

There you are.
I've been looking everywhere.

You promised me
we'd have a téte-a-téte.

I'm a bit tied up
at the moment.

Terri's gone tearing off
to see our boys in blue.

I told him to.
I wanted you to drive me home.

Not tonight, my dear.
I'm on duty.

Young Steven here
will drive you home, won't you?

I must speak to you alone.

I take it you can drive.

Learned in a course in India.

Army makes a man of you, eh?
Here's the keys.

Reg, it's a matter
of the utmost urgency.

I'll be in town tomorrow.
I'll drop in then.

Go home with Steven here.
Be nice to him.

Entertain him.
You'll find a lot in common.

He's not one of
your hairy-ass squaddies.

He's in Intelligence.
Jeep's outside.

Well, if you're fit.

What was that?

Heaven only knows.
Probably the Communists...

making a nuisance
of themselves.

That's a rubber plantation,
isn't it?

Good grief. I don't know.

Can I offer you a nightcap?

A tiger. Gin and it.

I'd better go.
Reg only detailed me...

to drive you home,
not hang about.

Reg didn't mean for you
to rush off.

How do you know?
He might not like it.

He's got other fish to fry.

Those damn awful trishaws.

I'll put a record on.

There's plenty
of English music.

What's he like?
He seems all right.

Terri? He's probably
the only man...

in my whole life
to be kind without...

wanting something in return.

I meant Reg, actually.

We met in Calcutta.

I was dancing in a club,
mostly for Americans.

I was in Calcutta, too.
Why didn't you stay?

After the British quit?

With all those Hindu
and Muslim savages...

killing each other
by the million?

Mummy and I were Chapel.

It's right we gave it back
to the people it belonged to.

Same with Malaya or Singapore.

Indeed. What's going
to happen to me then?

I move on to Hong Kong?

Well, I think
the Communists are right.

You saw that
rubber plantation tonight.

Do you think that's right?

For heaven's sake,
let's not talk politics.

Let me show you
the rest of my flat.

Just this bedroom.

And the ablutions.

“Not wanted on voyage"?

It's ready for when I visit
my granny in Wales.

I'd better go.

There seems to have been
a misunderstanding.

Everything all right, sir?

Yes, Mr. Drummond.
Fine, thank you.

Only I heard
some bumps and groaning.

Just doing my physical jerks.

Can't be too careful, sir.

- What?
- Can't be too careful, sir.

Absolutely, Mr. Drummond.

Well done.

"Dear everyone at 56...

"as you can see
by the top of this letter...

"your errant son and heir...

"is now to be addressed
as Sergeant Flowers.

"This I take to be
a long-overdue recognition...

"of my innate genius.

“Tell Heather I've only been
here a few hours so far...

"but have
already encountered...

"more eccentric bohemians
than you'd meet...

"in a lifetime in Swindon."

You wanted the lotion, dear.

Ta very much, Charlie.

Good night.

Any trouble with doby itch
or athlete's foot...

go to Charles--
he's a male nurse.

He looks a bit
of a bum-boy to me.

He's raving,
but faithful to poor old Len.

Is Len a bum-boy, too?
He doesn't look it.

He's easy--
got a wife in Blighton...

but likes to be looked after.
Don't we all?

Well, not by a bloke.

That the girl you're writing to?

Yeah. She's still at school.

So is mine.

All love and kisses
and current affairs.

Never had a white bint.
Started over here.

Plenty of chinks,
one or two Malays...

the odd wog, and a few
Anglos like old Sylvia.

What's she like--Sylvia?

- How do you mean?
- Well, you know.

I didn't say her.
I said Anglos like her.

No, she's Reggie's bint.

Anyone who tried...

he'd have their guts
for garters.

I'll tell you something, though.

First night I get home...

my girl won't touch the ground.

My dearest,
I'm writing once again

From the still
of my lonely room

And dreaming of the moment when

We stand as bride and groom

For though today
you're, oh, so far away

I imagine all we'll do

And say

When the shadows creep

Over fields of sheep

With a love that's deep

You and I will go to sleep

Doing all those little things

We used to do

We'll be true until

In a church that's still

I shall know the thrill

Of whispering, "I will"

Then we'll do
those little things

We used to do

Remember December

The Christmases past

The mistletoe where we kissed

The carols, the tree

Your presents to me

The stuffing we couldn't resist

On a day newborn

In a field of corn

There's an April morn

When we'll welcome in the dawn

Doing all those little things

That we used to do

Before

But we'll do them

Forevermore

On a day newborn

In a field of

Right, another round
of tigers, Johnny.

There's an April morn

When we'll welcome in the--

Well, what do you think?

About what?

The jacket. Harris tweed.

My Chinese tailor
ran it up for me.

Isn't it a bit warm
for Singapore?

It's for when I get home,
squire.

What are you doing?

I'm working out a movement
so that I can show off...

my Swiss watch,
my silver cigarette case...

my Ronson lighter and
Parker pen all in one go.

It looked to me like some
curious tropical variant...

of St. Vitus dance.

-"Made in British"?
- What?

It's Hong Kong imitation.

Lonson lighter, Hallie tweed,
you great nana.

Watch it, or I'll give
you a bunch of fives!

Have a swallow of that.

Commanding officer on parade!
Attention!

Come on, Young-Love,
leave your ablutions.

Carry on, Sergeant Major.

Last night's guard detail,
one pace forward, march!

That's you. Go on.

Name, rank, number.

2231747, Acting Sergeant
Young-Love, sir.

Now, I understand
you volunteered...

for a permanent Saturday
night guard duty...

at the transit camp.

- Yes, sir, always very keen--
- Never mind that now.

Do you remember my staff car
leaving the camp last night?

About 2400 hours, sir.
Yes, sir.

You acknowledged the salute
in the back seat, sir.

- No.
- I thought you did, sir.

I wasn't in the back seat.
I wasn't in the car at all.

Your driver
certainly was, sir.

That wasn't my driver.
That was a Chinese communist.

Sir?

He was stealing my car,
together, it appears...

with a quantity of rifles,
stens, grenades...

and ammunition from the armory.

I recognized your car, sir.

I was sure it was your driver.

Because he was a Chinaman, sir?

They don't all look the same!

Can I offer you a drink, Major?

A lemonade. Chop chop.

You were telling me
why you volunteered for guard.

- Keeps me out of trouble, sir.
- Not on this occasion.

It stops me
from spending my money.

I'm saving up
for my marriage to Susan.

I always keep myself very busy.
I volunteer for everything--

firefighter,
clerk to the Padre.

- Assistant dog shooter.
- Dog shooter?

I can corroborate that, sir.

Helps keep down the rabid curs
we get around this camp.

A member of
the anti-malarial squad...

magician, cookhouse wallah--

- Magician?
- In the show, sir.

He makes cars disappear.

You wouldn't think it quite
so funny if they lined you...

and your wife and children
up against a wall...

and sprayed you
with machine-gun fire!

That's already happening,
do you know that?

And not just
to British planters--

to Indian managers,
Chinese traders...

Malayan farmers.
Anyone's fair game.

Thanks, boy.

Now, though I myself
am a life abstainer...

I never object to moderate
drinking in others...

so take a beer, stand easy...

and let us pledge ourselves
to a common task--

to the defeat of communism
in Malaya and Singapore...

And, indeed, the whole
of Southeast Asia command...

and the victory
of Christian enlightenment.

To the defeat of communism...

in Malaya and Singapore
and, indeed...

the whole of Southeast Asia
command and...

And the victory...

And the victory
of Christian enlightenment.

Cheers.

Excellent lemonade.

Well done, boy.
Carry on, Sergeant Major.

Sir. Attention.

Do I smell women's perfume?

There's a distinct
suggestion of it, yes, sir.

I hope you're not allowing
women in these quarters.

Strictly out of bounds.

I don't believe
it's women, sir.

It's mine, sir. I wear it.

Bless my soul. Whatever for?

My part in the shows--
female impersonation.

We all do, sir.

Because there aren't
enough girls in the troop.

- Sir.
- I see.

You're the new man, aren't you?

Settling in, finding your feet?

Jolly good.

Now, I know all about that
and wearing drag--

That's women's clothes,
Bonny...

and that's the sort of
keenness we like to see...

but no perfume on guard duty,
no drag on sentry guard, huh?

Properly dressed,
fixed bayonets.

Carry on, Sergeant Major.

Stand at ease!

Stand easy.

In a field of--

Care for a drink? A game?

Well, I really should be--

Come on, you and I
haven't had a chat lately...

and as your senior NCO...

I feel your welfare
is my concern.

Lee, two gins, plenty big.

So, you've been getting to know
Miss Morgan, have you?

Oh, no, not really.

1 got detailed to drive
her home on a few occasions.

Yes, I know. By me.

Now, look, Steve,
she's not taboo, you know.

I want you to take care of her.

- Do you?
- My service.

One-love.

Yes, we got very close
in India.

I helped her
and her widowed mother out.

Sad story.

They were grateful, but, well--

She told me a lot about you.

How you used to be
in the Metropolitan Police.

Did she?

1 didn't tell him anything.

I honestly didn't, Reg.

I swear it on the Bible.

He says you did.

He was in Intelligence.
He's not a total zombie.

How could you hit me
when you know my condition?

I've told you
how to manage that.

You're not a kid anymore.
You're pushing thirty.

You've got the money.
You know you have.

I'm stretched to the limit.
Debts on every side.

Take it from
your export company.

What export company's that?

That's the kind
of careless talk...

I'm on about. Got it?

Your own problem's
enough for you.

Stick to that.

I've told you the answer.

Be nice to the boy.

Long time since we had
a night in town.

Where you off to, Len?

Going to the flick at the cafe.

The one with Alan Ladd?

- It's my choice this time.
- Oliver fuckin' Twist.

Best of British luck, eh?

I'm off down Racecourse Road...

see my little Lily,
get stuck in.

- Why don't you come, Eric?
- No fear, my old matey.

My bit of kiver's
waiting for me...

back in Wimbledon.
I'll be laughing then.

Not unless
you know what to do.

A bit of practice do no harm.

How would you fancy
a touch of black velvet?

Old Sylvia, now,
she's a good sort--clever, too.

Used to work in a cabaret
in Calcutta for the Yanks.

Blow smoke rings and all,
can't she?

You're pathetic,
with your tatty fantasies.

You ought to teach
your Susan that.

Watch it.
- What?

Go down well in Wimbledon.

Young Conservatives'
garden party.

Talk as dirty as you like
about half-caste tarts...

but start on Susan
and see what you get.

Sylvia's not a tart.
She's a very sweet girl.

There was a dusky Eurasian maid

In old Karachi
she plied her trade

And in Calcutta and in Madras

And by special request
up the Khyber Pass

Black velvet was full of joy

For every British soldier boy

She guaranteed to please

And the most that it cost you

Was five rupees

There came a soldier boy
fully grown

Who till that moment
had held his own

She took the soldier boy
well in hand

And showed him the way
to the promised land

Excuse me, Mr. Dennis, sir.

This hotel is out of bounds
to other ranks.

How dare you? I'm a resident.

Only officers and civilians.

But these gallant lads...

are risking their lives
to defend the flag...

and they aren't even
allowed to have a drink?

Not in here, sir.

Now I know why Noel Coward
called this place...

a second-rate city
for third-rate people.

Cut out the bullshit, Sergeant.
I've got wounded men on board.

Which way to sick bay?

Security's been tightened up--

Get this barrier up at once,
or I'll have you on a charge.

What's the trouble, Sergeant?

Good Lord!
It's Giles Flack, isn't it?

Henry! Bless my--Come through.

Where did we last meet,
Bangalore?

- Are you stationed here?
- On the mainland.

Part of my men were ambushed
delivering arms.

The C.T. got the lot.

Hold on, you men. Nearly there.

Escort these men
to the sick bay.

Straightaway, sir!
Lend me your Jeep, Captain.

- What?
- Follow me!

Thanks for your help, Giles.

This your new command?

My dear fellow.
Hadn't you heard?

I oversee a very special unit.

They didn't want
to waste an officer...

with my knowledge
in the jungle--

ll should think not.

So they gave me command
of a unique operation...

covering the whole
of Southeast Asia.

Covering with what?
I'll tell you.

- Song and--
- Major, dear.

This is too much.

A whole squad
of your gallant lads...

are doing physical jerks
on the barracks square...

right next to the theater.
My dear, the din!

The stamping of their boots,
the banging of their butts...

the petulant shrieks
of the corporals.

And the first night
of Jungle Jamboree...

is only two days away.

How can we possibly
rehearse?

We are artistes,
not foundry workers.

Got to rush, Giles.
Thanks for your help.

No more of it.
Do you hear me, Reg?

I agree, so long
as I thought it was...

a way to raise the ante...

it was just
a harmless fiddle.

But now I see our lads
are getting it.

We are not dealing
in nylons, Sholto.

Guns tend to go off...

and bullets
tend to hurt people.

I'm not arguing.

You are not
in a position to, sir.

I shall pay my debts
some other way.

Look, one more job,
and then the payoff.

Thanks, boy.

Happy days.

Since the Commie offensive
has hotted up...

we've suffered a bewildering
series of losses, Major.

- Losses of arms?
- And ammunition.

You don't mean
raids on the armory.

I'd like to see them try.
No. It's mostly upcountry.

The convoys are ambushed.

We can't even deliver a popgun
without their knowing it.

- Inside information?
- There's no other way.

Our own chaps?

No. They're not really
bright enough, sir.

- It's mostly Chinese civilians.
- They must be stopped.

We're trying, but they crawl
out of the woodwork.

It's clerks
in the orderly room...

mess boys listening
to careless talk.

Indians, Eurasians.

I don't think
the wogs are in it, Major.

- It's mostly the chinks.
- Mind your head, sir.

So you were saying...
a secret operation?

The front-line units
are completely starved...

of arms and ammo--nothing's
getting through at all.

The supply lines are
tantamount to a farce.

It's the third World War.
I know that. Yes? So?

Well, we need a cover,
a convoy...

with a pucker pretext
to move from place to place...

all perfectly aboveboard.

Something that's been
going on for years.

- As ordinary as a milk round.
- A milk round?

- In the jungle?
- Anything spring to mind, sir?

By jove, it's perfect!

The Trojan horse!

But surely
these concert parties...

don't go right into
the jungle, do they?

Not up till now, sir.

It's mostly
the coastal areas, isn't it?

There.
And the Cameron Highlands.

What if I draw up
an additional itinerary...

for this northern area
here, sir--

Our forward units,
are bloody desperate...

if you'll excuse my French.

Our weapon would be surprise.

And the laughable nature
of our cover.

Our wooden horse
set to music, eh?

We'll be off
the beaten track.

Excuse me, sir.
The colonel--he's on his way.

Excuse me.

Good evening, Giles.

Good evening, Colonel.
Would you care to...?

What sort of a show
have we got tonight?

Song and dance, Colonel.
A few skits.

It's a good turnout.

Thank you, Colonel.

Well, dear hearts...

At last.

The world premiere
of Jungle Jamboree...

in our very own bijou theater.

Make the most of it, luv.

From now on, it's all
drill holes and canteens.

All the more reason to put on
the performance of a lifetime.

Let's show them
what theater really means.

Fred Astaire?

The American.

I've just had an inspiration

The solution's clear to me

Take it as an invitation

And a smart RSVP

Nothing is so fine
and so divine

As being able to say yes

But until
she's heard the question

How can any lady acquiesce?

Come

I want you to lead me a dance

Why don't you give
our rhythm a chance?

Your dancing shoes
only need a shine

Then they'll be ready
to step out with mine

We'll dance

As long as the orchestra plays

High stepping

To the end of our days

We'll show the others

What love's all about

It's better far
than sitting this life out

It's better far
than sitting this life--

I'm your partner

I'll be your wife

Better far than sitting
this life out

More!

More!

More!

More!

Good question.

Why did we lose the peace?

Any idea, sir?

Luxury and blasphemy, sir.

What?

Yes. Well done.
That's on the money.

Thank you, sir.

Now, pretty soon,
you'll be touring upcountry.

Perhaps one or two of you
are saying to yourselves...

"Half a mo.
What's the old man's game...

"sending us
concert party blighters...

"off into Commie bandit
territory?"

And that would be
good thinking.

You must be able
to defend yourselves...

in case of ambush.

Right, Sergeant Major?

So, during
the next two weeks...

I'll be putting you through
a refresher course...

in basic training--
small arms drill...

grenade throwing,
unarmed combat...

jungle tactics.

This concerns you,
Mr. Dennis...

and you, Miss Morgan.

Major, there's nothing
in my contract...

about defending myself.

I signed on for sun and fun.

Never a mention
of God or Georgina VI.

In London, where they
made your contract...

they don't even know
the third World War's begun...

but you're under my command.

Your lives are in my care...

and when you reach
the mainland...

you'll be in a theater of war!

Carry on, Sergeant Major.

Sir! Company, attention!

Squad!

By the left!

Quick! March!

Squad halt!

Stand still. Eyes front.

Squad will advance.

Right turn!

Bishop, where are you going?

Get back! Get back!

Stand up straight.

Stand at ease!

Pick it up, Erica.

Don't laugh! Shut up, boy!
Stand still!

Squad...

attention!

Slope arms!

Straighten them up.

Dressing...right.

Dress!

Move to the right in threes!

Right turn! By the left!

Quick! March!

Left, left, left!

Come see the privates on parade

You'll say how proudly
they're displayed

And when we hear the music
of a military band

You'll be amazed

How smartly
we can take a stand

For when
the bugle sounds attack

Up goes the good old
Union Jack

You may as well surrender

When you hear our battle cry

There'll be no more escaping

When we raise
our weapons high

And in
the victory cavalcade

You'll see
the privates on parade

Stand at ease.

More to your liking, Cartwright?

What, sir?

More like being a soldier?

Could do with a bit
more jungle training...

and not so much bull.

All in good time.

We don't hold with bull
in the RAF.

You were air crew, weren't you?

Navigator bomb aimer.

I joined underage
to get a crack at jerry.

Did you? Stand easy.

Thank you, sir.

Soon as I passed
flight sergeant...

ready to go on ops,
old Adolf packs it in.

Right, I thought to meself...

see if we can't chalk up
a few nips.

No sooner reached the lung,
Tojo says...

he don't want to play no more.

My story, too.
All ready to invade Malaya.

Two big bangs, all over.

Velly solly. No fight now.

Yellow men go back
to Land of Lising Sun.

I put in for my release.

"You want a navigator bomb aimer
drive a lorry for three years?"

A few weeks sooner,
ll could have bombed Dresden.

Jesus Christ Almighty.

We are the CRV brigade

We're marching on a new crusade

You'll need a piece of 4x2

To get a really good
pull-through

The enemy's resisting

And the trumpet sounds advance

They'd best lay down their arms

Because
they haven't got a chance

Faced with a cocksure cannonade

Of the privates on parade

Help!

Help bloody Bishop!

That's more like it!

Start moving. Move it!

Bishop, are you doing?

Ah, Bonny.

Now, as you know,
you're in line...

for an extra stripe--
substantive sergeant.

I've never gone in
for promotion, sir.

But leadership
sometimes calls...

for special qualities
of diplomacy, tact.

Suppose you're faced
with a tricky situation.

Here and now--
see how you'd cope.

Imagine here's a platoon
of squaddies lined up...

and you've just received
news from home...

that one man's mother
has unexpectedly died.

How do you break it to him?

What's his name, sir?

It doesn't matter!

Charlie Farnsbarns!

Come along, Bonny.

Thinking on your feet--

and all the qualities
of leadership.

Squad, attention.

Private Farnsbarns,
one pace forward, march.

Son, pay attention.
Your mother's dead.

Hell's bells, man.

You'll have him in sick bay
suffering from shock.

Think of something more subtle,
more roundabout.

Squad. All those men going
to visit their mothers...

next time
they're home on leave..

One pace forward, march.

Where the fuck are you going,
Farnsbarns?

And when
we're standing on parade

Each with his rifle and grenade

You'll hear the sergeant cry

Presenting arms to the right.

And all the girls declare

They've never seen such a sight.

To know that God is on our side

Makes every private
swell with pride

We'll press upon our enemy

Until he's in a funk

And show him it's no easy thing

Resisting British spunk

He'll feel
the forceful fusillade

Of the privates on parade

On parade

Parade

The half-caste girl.

- Eurasian, sir.
- Handsome?

1 think so, sir, yes.

Women of mixed blood
often are...early on.

The snag is they tend
to put on weight.

- How old is she?
-28.

That almost certainly
means 30...

so when you're 30,
she'll be 40.

Think on that.

They find it difficult
settling in the U.K...

what with
the climate and food.

She's very British, sir.

Her dad was in
the Welsh Fusiliers.

Welsh and Indian?
Combustible mixture.

I shouldn't be marrying her.

I've already asked her, sir,
and been accepted.

She's after a free trip home.

It's quite a consideration.

On the other hand,
they don't take an engagement...

as seriously as English girls.

Why don't you mull it over
for a few weeks?

See a bit less of her.

Yes, sir.

That was the military police.

They're on to us, Reg.

Just simmer down.

We could get shot for this.

I shan't go alone.
I'll take you with me.

So understand, no more!

This is the payoff.
Turn right.

- Where are we going?
- The rendezvous.

The Jungle Jamboree.

Sergeant Major Drummond,
our comrade in arms...

was not, by his own
rueful admission...

a God-fearing man.

Indeed, fear
was not in his nature.

But in his care
for you young soldiers...

he retained many qualities...

from his previous service
as a London bobby--

not least,
his devotion to duty...

which led to his savage murder.

For he and Captain Savory
were on a hush-hush mission...

at the moment of their deaths.

More I cannot say.

It is not meet that I should.

But I will ask you...

to let this atrocity
awaken you to our danger.

Like the Britisher
in 1941, '42...

playing cricket on a lawn
beside a gothic cathedral.

If you said to them...

"You should be arming
yourselves.

"“The yellow men
are on the way."

They'd have answered...

"My dear chap, Britannia
rules the waves, remember?

"If their tin-pot ships try
to sail into Singapore...

"our great guns will
pick them off like pigeons.”

Well, as you know...

our friends from Tokyo
came the other way--

down through the mainland
riding bikes--

across the causeway,
ting-a-ling--

Velly solly.
No more clicket allowed.

It's not funny, Sergeant!

Let us give thanks to God
for this ghastly warning.

Heaven be praised...

we've heard
the bicycle bells in time.

Look here.

Makes no odds that
this is a song and dance unit.

Never send to know
for whom the bells toll.

They toll for thee.

Me.

All of us.

Mrs. Drummond?

Your husband's death
was not in vain.

I'll ensure that.

You have my word.

All right, Terri.
That's the fucking lot.

Then let's get this show
on the road, dears.

The major wanted us
to wait for him.

He wants to say a few words.

Let us know when she doesn't.

Company, attention!

- Sergeant.
- Sir.

- Stow that kit.
- Sir.

- Yours, sir?
- Yes. I'm coming, too.

My place is with you.

I daresay one or two of you
are saying to yourselves...

"Stone the crows! What use
is the old man gonna be?

"He's got a tin ear
and two left feet."

- Fair comment.
- Thank you, sir.

But the tricky situation
on the mainland means...

you need someone with you
who knows his jungle warfare.

Sir.

Carry on, Sergeant Major.

Sir! All aboard!

- Good luck, everybody.
- Sergeant Major Flowers.

I must say. The way some people
will creep and crawl...

just for a little tiara
on their bangle.

Are we all ready?

Yes!

Are we all steady?

Yes!

Then lights!

Action!

Music!

We're SADUSEA

And on the other hand
we're glad to see

You've come along tonight
to join our laughter

To see our dance

It's Jamboree

We're bringing you
a Jungle Jamboree

We've got together

In this equatorial latitude

Excuse me.

Quick, Erica.
You're almost on.

What's the matter
with the Erica stuff?

Just move it!

All right, chiefie.
Keep your hair on.

Listen, miss.

Will you take a message
to Major Flack for me?

No more matinees.

Wearing heavy frocks
in this heat...

shall have me
under the doctor.

Why don't you tell him?

You're the only one
she listens to.

What do you get up to?
People are beginning to talk.

What are you on about?

I'll tell you what I'm on about.

Ever since
you got that tiara...

Sylvia never sees you.

You know Sylvia?

The one with the bun
in the oven you put there?

The one you're going to marry
and take home to England?

He said I should see a bit less
of her for a while.

Now just you listen to me, Ada.

Speak to that girl.
Tell her you love her.

But ll don't know whether--

Set her mind at rest.

Yes?

Twist.

Fucking bastard.

Handsome.

That's my lot, I reckon.

I'll lend you some.

Thanks, Charlie.

Hey, Young-Love.

I forgot to give you this.

Come for you this morning.

Thanks, chiefie.

It's a New Malden postmark,
but it's not Susan's writing.

No.

I should open it for
a pukka deco--judi judi.

- What's that mean?
- It's Hindustani.

You can't even speak
the King's English.

I can speak the King's
fucking English...

better than
any cockney fucker.

Not without f-ing
every other word.

Right.

Time for another five minutes
with the swear box...

and I'm the referee.

If I say it's swearing,
it is.

Done this fucking once today.

- One.
- Fuck it.

- Two.
- Deal the cards.

We don't have to fucking talk.

- Three.
- How do you stand him?

I love him, that's how.

Who's it from, then?

- Susan?
- My mate Roy Lawrence.

- Twist.
- Tap dancer, wasn't he?

I asked him to deliver
the silk and lace...

for Susan's wedding dress.

Didn't he manage, then?

Yes. He managed, all right.

She's going
to marry him instead.

"Neither of us meant
this to happen...

"but we couldn't
help ourselves.

"When you come home,
1 will explain everything."

He'll bloody well explain
everything at the double...

before he gets a bunch of fives
where it hurts him most!

He'll dance to a different tune,
believe me!

I'd been keeping myself for her.

We were tennis partners.

She assisted with the magic.

Women.

Fuck 'em.

- Sergeant Bonny.
- Sir.

What are you up to?

Stock-taking, sir.
Checking the stores.

Got to get the frocks
all darned and ironed.

That part's my trade.
I know it backwards.

Do you, indeed?

Yes, sir. Backwards.
"Skirts, khaki.

"Type--Sisters, Andrews.

"Officer's--one.
Sergeant's--two."

Yes. I see what you mean.

And now I find
there's been a slip-up.

No one's inventoried
all these fuckers.

Boxes of ammo
by the looks of it.

Nobody's going to, either.

Cover them up, will you?

There's a good fellow.

Not a word to a soul.

Is that clear?

Sir?

Mum's the word.

What?

Look at him. Look!

All right, everyone.

The tour of the main towns
is now over...

and the time has come...

to bring a bit
of song and dance...

to those chaps who
suddenly find themselves...

chasing Communistic bandits
in the ooloo.

The ooloo.

That's the jungle.

My contract says nothing
about the ooloo.

I thought we were doing
the number one tour...

sticking to the main roads.

Sergeant, at last
the real show has begun.

Have you ever been-a

Down in Argentina?

Have you ever known
that special thrill?

How'd you like to mail a

Card from Venezuela?

You could find romance
in old Brazil

And in Valparaiso

Girls will roll their eyes so

That you could not tear
yourself away

Chile, nice vicuna

Underneath the moon-a

The Latin American way

The Latin American way

He was born in Oklahoma

Where the cowboys are

Traded in his saddle
for an armored car

He's got a new corral today

He rides a range
that's far away

And the whole Pacific knows

Out of all the G.I. Joes

He's the pistol-packin'
deputy of Okinawa

From the Wild West
to the Mystic East

He's traveled far

Since the day he handed in
his sheriff's star

He's still the fastest
on the draw

And in the jungle,
he's the law

The yellow folk all understand

He will always get his man

They call him pistol-packin®
deputy of Okinawa

O-k-i-n-a-w-a

Okinawa

And now a short interval...

so you can join your friends
for a choc ice.

Major.

This really is too much.

What are we doing here?

It's all part of the battle
for their minds.

We must be losing.

Rather have one of these jollies
beside me in the ooloo...

than half
the brigade of guards.

No accounting for tastes?

Marvelous trackers.

Deadly with a blowpipe.

Are they?

Hello! How are you?
Enjoying yourselves?

Jolly good.

Mr. Dennis, have no fears.

When we arrive
at Kampong Malam...

our next and final
posting of the tour...

you'll find a very
substantial body of men...

eagerly awaiting
what we've brought them.

- Are you the entertainers?
- Right. Yes.

We've been expecting you.

Where are you off to now?

Had a terrorist sighting
in the neighborhood.

It's too good a chance to miss.

Fine, you take a shufti.

We'll rig the stage and
do the show when you get back.

- Say, 1900 hours?
- Right, sir.

You boys aren't leaving
just as Auntie's arrived?

There's a war on, Mr. Dennis.

Which is why I'm here--
to entertain the boys.

Plenty of personnel
left in camp, Captain?

Yes, sir.

There'll be about 20 in all,
officers and ORs...

and we'll
try to get back as well.

I hope so, dear,
after we've come all this way.

I'd like a word with you,
please, Captain.

You look madly butch
in the little gaiters.

Right, Sergeant, lead off!

Love the blowpipe.

Very you.

Who does your hair?

In there.

Come along.

Come and spend a week-a

Down in Costa Rica

Come and lose
your heart in Vera Cruz

Think how you could brag you are

In lovely Nicaragua

That's the way
we chase away the blues

Down in old Havana

Everything's manana

No one work,
and everybody play

How could you resist a

Weekend with Batista?

The Latin American way

Thank you so much.

Sorry, Mr. Dennis.
Our chaps will be back soon.

Well, honestly.

They're enjoying it
in their own way.

They'll understand
the conjuring.

Terri Dennis
thanks Gillian Flack...

for a most enjoyable engagement
in Tampon Kotex.

With many happy memories
of the star dressing room.

And the lovely audience
of brave little gurkhas.

Oh, don't.

It's like staring
at a pound of prunes.

You know what they say?

They never take out their kukris
without drawing blood.

I've always wanted
to put that to the test.

Not another double entendre.

Hello, Charlotte.

Don't you ever tire
of changing he to she...

or calling men
by women's names?

My dear, is it your time
of the month?

Most men like women,
and most women like men.

We should behave ourselves
more than normal people.

At your age,
you should be settling down.

There.

Of course, you're safe
in the arms of Jessica.

I'm sorry.
Did it sound like that?

My Salvationist background.

Just wait till
your release comes up.

Then it's back
to England, 1948...

a far cry from
the Fleet Club, ducky.

I'm not going back.

Len's a regular.

I'm signing on
to stay with him.

What about his wife?

She's not bothered.

There's plenty of what
she wants at Aldershot.

Len's a lucky man.

I'm lucky, too.

Now, we've been far
from Sunnyside Lane

You've never heard us complain

And now that we're due in

Out of the rain

We'll never leave it again

And once we've left
those cloudy skies

You'll hear us saying,
"Howdy, guys"

Once Mr. Blues is on the run

You'll hear us greeting Mr. Sun

Oh

We've been content

Though we've never had a cent

Because I've had you

And you've had me

And every trouble and care

Seems so much less hard to bear

'Cause we both have been

Each other's company

Through all the storm clouds,
we've been true

To one another, just we two

But now the rainbow's
in the blue

The sun will soon be
shining through

And though we've
too often strayed

From the bright side
to the shade

Together we shall
nevermore roam

From the heart
of home sweet home

Carry on.

Halt. Who comes near?

- Friend.
- Pass.

And now, deception
with a difference...

brought to you by
Love the Magician...

or for those of you
with a little Spanish...

El Amor Brujo.

Well, here she is, then.

Mean, moody, magnificent
Erica Young-Love.

This is known
as the Russian shuffle.

The Russian shuffle,
because as you can see...

all the cards are rushin'
from one hand to the other.

As a matter of fact,
this isn't my usual line at all.

I'm an operatic tenor.
I was trained abroad.

The neighbors made a collection.

- Too much talk.
- Sir!

Get on with it, man.

My assistant Dolores.

My assistant Dolores.

Didn't you see it?

Tons of bloody ammo, man.

Magazines, grenades, clips.
The lot.

We must have been carrying it
all the way from Singapore.

No wonder we had to push
that truck up to the Camerons.

As you see,
nothing in the cylinder.

Completely empty.

Rather like a girl in
a short skirt on a windy day.

Now you see it, now you don't.

No smut, thank you.

No, sir.

I shall give it two taps
with my magic wand.

Two taps.
One hot. One cold.

Presto! Sim sala bim!

There seems to be
a slight technical hitch.

Jessica.

I'll go take a look
at the generator.

Soon have it mended.

Carry on conjuring.

I should perhaps explain
that at this moment...

I'm producing a variety
of colored handkerchiefs...

from the inside of
the apparently empty cylinder.

And there they are!

All tied to--

Eric!

Erica?

Erica, what are you doing?

He's fallen off
the back of the stage.

Good heavens.

The major's orders
were to carry on.

- Get off! What's next?
- The interruptions.

We can't do them
without some light.

Use these torches.

You're not just
a pretty face, are you?

And now, may I crave
your attention, please...

for something
a little more serious?

Dramatic recitation
by Rudyard Kipling.

- Oh, Rudyard Kipling!
- Thank you, Ada.

"By the old
Moulmein pagoda...

"looking eastwards
to the sea...

“there's a Burma girl
a-sitting...

"and I know she thinks of me.

"For the wind
is in the palm trees"--

What's the matter with you?

I've been for a job
in the officer's mess.

Didn't you get it?

- No.
- Why not?

They wanted a girl
who'd been in a mess before.

Will you kindly leave the stage
and permit me to continue?

"For the wind is
in the palm trees...

"and the temple bells,
they say"--

- Where are you going?
- To milk a cow.

- In that wig?
- No. In this bucket.

- Who goes there?
- Major Flack.

- Ah, it's you, McGregor.
- Sir.

Trying to trace these cables
back to the generator.

Something's on the blink there.

"For the wind
is in the palm trees...

"and the temple bells,
they say"--

- Excuse me.
- What is it?

I'm off to buy my wife
a new brassiere.

- What bust?
- Nothing, it just wore out.

- I mean what size?
- Fourteen.

I take a seven bowler,
and that fits one of them.

Eureka.

1 will not countenance
another word.

It's fabulous!

"Come ye back to Mandalay!"

Where the flying fishes play

And the dawn comes up
like thunder

Out of China...

Charlie?

Charlie!

Once again, it falls to us...

to mourn the death
of our comrade in arms.

Sergeant Bonny
was one of the best.

Not perhaps bursting
with imagination...

but steady, loyal...

dependable.

Brought up in the slums
of Birmingham...

the darkness and filth
of the jungle...

held no terrors for him.

And if you'd praised him
for playing his part...

in the defense of freedom,
he might well have protested...

"Bless my soul, governor...

“that's a load of humbug,
and no error."

A particularly tragic aspect
of his death...

is that I'd recently arranged,
without his knowledge...

to have his wife posted
out here to join him.

This was to have been
a pleasant surprise...

on our return to Singapore.

Alas, this happy reunion
was not to be.

And as he went down,
he said...

"Death, where is thy sting?"

And as he went down deeper,
he said...

"Grave, where is thy victory?"

So he passed over...

and all the trumpets
sounded for him...

on the other side.

I won't have it.

Did you hear me?
I won't have it.

Neither will 1,
after the abortion.

It's not a laughing matter,
it's a baby.

What difference does it make?

With all that shooting,
it's a wonder I didn't miscarry.

It's a miracle.
That's the point.

This child's meant to be born.

As a love baby
to a black velvet girl...

with no visible means
of support, no husband.

I'll make him marry you.

I'll speak to Gillian.

He's posted home.

You're all going home.

This is the way
they deal with it.

Always.

Steve's doing more
than most would do.

At least he's paying
for the operation.

How can you be so tolerant?
I'd want him dead.

He doesn't deserve to be
the father of your baby.

He's not.

Not what?

The father's dead.

Not Regina.

What else could I do?

Unpack your bag.
You're not going.

Leave it.
This is the last week it's safe.

Trust your Auntie, dear.

She knows.

Happy scenes at Singapore...

as another troopship
of time-expired men...

embarks for
Old Blighty's shores.

And amongst them,
a very special party...

homeward bound before
their numbers are up...

for as tension mounts
in strife-torn Malaya...

the singers and dancers
of SADUSEA...

have rung down
their final curtain.

The valiant survivors of
a brutal terrorist attack...

can go home knowing...

they've kept the Reds
off Asia's stage...

and told them
in no uncertain terms...

not to try an encore.

Charlie, we made it.

Thank you.

Some of us.

After a fashion.

I'm not sorry.

It was all
in a good cause, eh?

Help save a bit of the Empire.

Even though I'll never know
what it's like...

to have a white girl.

- All right, Sergeant?
- Sweet.

We kept the old flag flying, eh?

Keeping the old flag flying...

won't give you back
your balls...

or Len his life.

I reckon if
Len could speak to us now--

He can't, can he?

He never could.

Air craftsman Eric Young-Love...

lost an eye
in the terrorist attack...

but says the other
will be quite enough...

for him to see
the white cliffs of Dover...

and to recognize
his fiancée Susan...

who will be waiting
for him in Wimbledon.

What do you want
to tell them that for?

- What?
- She isn't, is she?

- What?
- Waiting for you.

She's engaged
to the other bloke.

She can ruddy well
get disengaged on the double.

If I know my Susan...

when she sees me
on Movietone News...

she'll show
old Lawrence the door.

We're going home as heroes.
Don't forget that.

Dear everyone at 56...

five weeks at sea,
and I'll be with you all...

by which time
my arm should be mended.

Give Helen my love...

and tell her, yes,
the army has made a man of me.

Partners in dance on stage...

and newlywed partners
in real life...

are Terri and Sylvia Dennis.

Proud mother-to-be,
Mrs. Dennis was born in India...

but is looking forward
to meeting her Welsh granny...

and having tea
in Lyon's Corner House.

It's a happy ending, too,
for Terri...

who said
he came to Malaya...

simply to give his all
for the boys in khaki...

jungle green, and blue.

Well, everyone--

Well, everyone, I'd like to take
this last opportunity...

of inviting you for tea...

should you ever find
yourselves in Berkshire.

Nothing very remarkable,
of course...

only a simple
17th-century mill house...

typical throughout the length
and breadth of England.

No very brilliant
company, either--

only my wife and the Labradors.

In other words, the ordinary,
everyday England...

we've been
striving to preserve.

Worth fighting for,
worth living for...

worth dying for.

Bon voyage, troopers
of a half-forgotten army.

You've earned it.

The people of Singapore
thank you, too...

for telling the Reds,
"You're not wanted here"...

and for helping this great
trading center...

live up to its own motto--
business as usual.

We're going back

To that homely little shack

On the sunny side of any street

We've been too long

From the laughter and the song

That we'll share
with all the folks

We're going to meet

So though we've traveled around

Now's the time to settle down

And when we're there
we'll nevermore roam

From the heart
of home sweet home

Come see the privates
on parade

You'll say how proudly
they're displayed

And when we hear the music
of a military band

You'll be amazed how smartly

We can take a stand

Oh, when the bugle
sounds attack

Up goes the good old
Union Jack

You may as well surrender

When you hear our battle cry

There'll be no more escaping

When we raise
our weapons high

And in the victory cavalcade

You see the privates on parade

Jessica Christ!

Captain Dennis!

A word in your ear.

Why soldiers generally refrain

From taking Jesus' name in vain

One day you'll need to call him

In the clamor of a war

And he will say, "Look here,
you often called on me before.

“I'm an extremely busy bloke.

"You shouldn't use
my name in joke."

And when
we're standing on parade

Each with his rifle and grenade

You'll hear the sergeant cry

Presenting arms to the right

And all the girls declare

They've never seen such a sight

To know that God is on our side

Makes every private
swell with pride

We'll press upon our enemy

Until he's in a funk

And show him it's no easy thing

Resisting British spunk

He'll feel
the forceful fusillade

Of the privates on parade

On parade

Parade