All language subtitles for Bluestone 42 s03e01.eng

You've got to feel sorry
for Sergeant Hogg.

Lost an eye, poor fucker.

But on the plus side,
half-price sunglasses.

And the Annual Wedge
fancy-dress ball,

he can always go dressed as a pirate.

Maybe he could get a bionic
eye, see through walls?

Oh, that'd be fucking mint!

Still, he's got his crown jewels.
What more does he want?

It may be your dream to have
more balls than eyes, Mac,

but maybe Sergeant Hogg would have...

EXPLOSION

'Bluestone 42.

'Bluestone 42, respond.'

COUGHING

MUFFLED: Skip? Skip?

Skip, you OK? Skip?

Zero Alpha this is... Oh,
shit. The antenna's fucked!

~ Skip? Skip?
~ UNMUFFLED: GET OFF ME!

You're bleeding, you fucking numpty!

Oh, God, I'm bleeding!
Man down! Man down!

Medic! Oh, I'm hurt.

Oh, actually... Actually,
it's not that bad.

Oh, it's... No, that's
stopped. I'll be fine.

I am fine.

Thanks for that reverse panic attack,
Simon. Is anyone else hurt?

~ Bird? Towerblock?
~ I'm OK. ~ Fine.

I'm fine. And I told you,
don't fucking call me Legs.

~ So what is your name?
~ It's Private Leggatt.

You're not helping yourself.
How are we in the cab?

~ All right.
~ Fine.

OK, so we're all OK.

No, we're not!

I've lost all my Haribo.

Bloody hell, Rocket!

'Hello, Bluestone 42.

'This is Zero, respond. Over.'

I'm fucking trying. Radio's fucked.

CHATTERING

OK, everyone, shut up! Breathe.

Legs, I want you to tell the
other vehicles we're all OK

but we're going to give
it a 30-minute soak.

Everyone's OK, 30-minute soak.

Guys, this is our lucky day.

~ Bollocks!
~ CHATTERING

No, no, listen. We all survived.
Now, that's lucky.

We have tweaked the nose of death

and we have lived to tell the tale.

Bollocks we have.

The mastiff's designed
with a V-shaped hull,

shock mounted seating...

You are not listening, Towerblock.

OK, the main thing is
no-one's really hurt

and we all got a lovely
burst of adrenaline.

Ooh, found one.

No, I haven't.

~ Ah!
~ THEY LAUGH

Towerblock, what the fuck?

It's just a game, boss.

~ What's it called, Punching
People In The Head? ~ You've heard of it?

You take it in turns to punch
each other in the head

when they're not expecting it.

I had the punch, I punched
Mac, now Mac has the punch.

~ Can I play?
~ Aye.

~ Ow!
~ HE LAUGHS ~ OK...

Stop it now.

And thank you, Towerblock, for
introducing my infantry escort

to this charming game, particularly
at this tactically low-risk moment.

OK, so, we had a close call
but, balls on the table...

~ Uh!
~ ... this was my fault. ~ Oh, come on, boss.

There's no way you
could have known...

No. We know this is a
blind spot, we should've

barma-ed the road but I'm going
to get us all back to base

like a bunch of fucking legends.

Ah! Got ye.

~ What?
~ Back to base like a bunch of fucking legends

and the padre will be all over you.

"Ooh, you're my hero.

"Come to my bosom. In fact,
come on my bosom. Oh!"

Oi! Mac, show some respect.
She's a major,

she's a padre, she's a decent woman.

Ah! So you've finally fucked her?

What?

~ No.
~ You gave her one. You feel bad about it,

so suddenly she's a decent woman.

Yeah, well, I haven't,
actually, so... I haven't.

Bird, has he fucked
the padre? Yes or no.

~ No.
~ There you go, fucked her, QED.

~ Did you really?
~ Oh, right, thanks a bunch, Bird.

I fucking said "no"!
He totally has though.

Holy shit, boss!

~ I hope this doesn't compromise
the pastoral care. ~ All right, enough.

MASTIFF CREAKS

And you know what? I could
do worse than Mary.

I HAVE done worse,
I've done a lot worse.

Not you, Bird.

I didn't mean to look at you when...

ANYWAY, we've got to get to safety.

I can't believe you, you know,
had sexual intercourse with her.

You know what?

I think that Mary
and I might actually

~ have a fucking future together.
~ I mean, this is huge.

That's what she said!

Er, it's not that huge.

Yes, all right. I said "enough"!

Right, now, because there
is a high chance of ambush,

we're going to do everything
in the right order, yeah?

So we don't all get,
you know, killed.

So, 30-minute soak,
relax, spin some dits.

Yes. Take a moment
to smell the roses...

whatever that smell is.

Yeah, and also let's not just
walk out into an ambush.

So, here's the plan.
What we're going to...

MASTIFF CREAKS

~ Shit!
~ Boss? Nick? Nick? Shit.

Nick! Nick!

~ Slap him, wake him up.
~ Shut up, Mac.

Thought you'd want to slap him after
what he said about the padre.

It's fucking serious.
OK. We need to move him,

get him into the recovery
position, check his airways.

~ Grab his legs, Simon.
~ Easy, easy, easy!

OK, there's a medic in the Jackal.

We search our way over...

Hang about, what happened to
wait here, 30-minute soak time?

He needs a medic, numbnuts.

He's breathing.

Oh, thank you, Dr Fuckwit MD.

~ Get those doors open now!
~ Don't!

Excuse me, I'm in charge here.

I'm just doing what the boss
said and I'm number two so...

Number two.

~ Number twos are jobbies.
~ I was Acting Sergeant

but turned down promotion to
stay with this bunch of twats.

That was quite touching, actually.

All right, then. Act like a
sergeant. Think about your men.

What happens when we get out there?

We could walk into an ambush.
Bang-bang, he's dead.

Bang-bang, HE'S dead.
People running for cover

and then what if there's secondary
devices? Boom! That's him.

Not so lucky now.

And then he wakes up because
he's only knocked out

and he's basically fine,

and these lot are all in body bags
cos you weren't thinking straight.

~ Want to know what I think?
~ No.

As the boss said,

the safest place to be is in
a heavily armoured metal box.

I've found one!

OK. OK, we stay put.

But he isn't "basically fine".
No ambush, no secondaries,

we get him to a hospital but half
an hour later than we could.

Too late, he's dead and we
spend years feeling like shit

because we didn't get
him a fucking medic.

So this is me thinking straight, OK?

We search our way over
to the other vehicle now.

Fine, fine, we'll do it
your way. Rocket, Simon,

hold me out the back.

Legs, tell the other vehicles
we need a medic now.

Oi! We need a medic.

By the way, my unit call me 50-cal.

Shut up, Legs.

~ Medic's here.
~ How's the ATO?

Passed out, breathing normally.

He's not bleeding.

With you ASAP. Rest of you OK?

I've sustained mild
injuries but I'm fine.

Quite lucky, actually.

Such tenderness, such care.

All right, Mac. I fucked
him once, ages ago

when we were drunk and we said
we'd never speak of it again.

How's that going?

I don't even fancy him.
HE MIMICS A KLAXON

I don't! HE MIMICS A KLAXON

Fuck off! I've seen far too much
of his bullshit to still fancy him.

"Still"? So you fancied him once?

Briefly. HE LAUGHS

~ Oi, you fuckwits, you nearly dropped
~ me then! Sorry.

~ And now you're not over him.
~ I am!

HE MIMICS A KLAXON I
fucking am, all right?

I don't think about him, I
don't care who he's shagging,

has shagged, wants to shag... I
simply don't care what he wants.

NICK GRUNTS

Nick?! Nick?!

You know what you should
do to get over him?

Before you go on, does this
involve me having a threesome

with you and Rocket's mum?

Mmm, ideally

but there's more than
one way to skin a cat...

as we found out when we
had all those feral cats.

All right, if I wasn't
over him - which I am -

what should I do? Which
I'm not going to do.

You make a list of
all his bad points.

Then whenever you start fancying
him again, just bring out the list.

Genius, I'd deffo do that
if I wasn't over him,

which I totally am.

And...

you could draw a cock and
balls on his forehead.

You cannae fancy someone with a
cock and balls on his forehead.

I'm totally doing that.

So, tell me what's happened.

An ammo box dropped on his head.

Probably a bit of concussion.

Oh, and Simon's gone mental, keeps
saying today's his lucky day.

Probably a bit of a cunt.

~ Blimey, best medic ever!
~ I'm not going to fuck you.

~ You two vallon round the vehicle.
~ OK. ~ On it.

He's been out for five minutes.

~ Five minutes?
~ What? What is it?

You didn't draw a cock
and balls on his head?

Well, I couldn't find a marker
pen amongst all this crap.

Bit of medical advice
- stop fucking singing

or I'll stab you in the larynx.

So, relief company's on their
way, still no secondaries.

Right. I'd best get some
evidence phots for the boss.

Oh, and, Bird, good
call with the medic,

you were probably right.

Probably right or was actually right?

Sound similar but
are quite different.

OK. I just thought your judgment
was off cos you and Nick have, er...

Oh, Jesus Christ! It was one fuck.

Which is precisely one more
fuck than the amount of fucks

I give about Nick Medhurst right now.

So will people please stop
fucking going on about it?!

Not over him.

Too right. Here, Simon,
pass us the forensic kit.

Sure thing, daddio!

~ Bloody hell, dickwad!
~ You are very welcome.

Fuck was that?

~ A punch.
~ It's no your go. ~ Oh.

Oh!

Fair play. And you
still owe me one so...

Oh, aye.

Oh!

It's no so good when
you're expecting it.

I wasn't expecting it.

But you just asked me to punch you.

Oh, aye.

So now you can punch me.

Brilliant!

No! You've got to do it
when I'm not expecting it.

Right. Are you expecting it now?

Aye!

Oh!

THEY GIGGLE

Oi! It's for Weapons Intelligence.

~ WISWO!
~ So you're saying we need to look intelligent?

No.

Oh, come on, Towerblock,
one for the album.

The day of destiny.

Nothing like a near miss to
put things in perspective.

A near miss, Simon, or a direct hit?

Help us put aside
our petty squabbles.

Right.

Oh. Oh, actually, yeah,
that's a good idea.

~ Yeah, forgive and forget.
~ Oh, he's getting it.

So you, for example, won't be

at all bothered that I
broke your iPod speakers.

~ What?
~ Yeah, I mean, on a day like today,

that just doesn't matter, does it?

Exactly. They're just speakers.

Big deal.

Sorry, how exactly
did you break them?

They just stopped working.

Sure, sure. Who cares?

They were quite robust those.

They're just some
high-street electronics

that you can replace for, what?
20 quid? Something like that.

They were ?39.99, but whatever.

Glad to see we're discussing
the retail price of things,

rather than, I don't know,

say, The Taliban, secondary
devices, general warry shit.

Sorry. Anyway, I don't think
there'll be any secondaries,

not today. Not now Lady Luck
is playing our favourite...

Bird, secondary.

Mark and avoid.

Sorry, Simon, you were saying?

~ Well, it's...
~ Bird, another one!

Two...

Of course there are secondaries,
Towerblock, this is Afghanistan

but we haven't been
ambushed, have we?

Nobody's shooting at us so...

~ BULLETS RICOCHET
~ Cover! ~ Get down!

Where the fuck are
they? Can anyone see?

They're bloody close.

Shit! They shot me
in the fucking head!

Technically, the helmet.

Lucky you, see?

Are you fucking mental?!

Not now, you fucking moron!

You said when you don't expect.

How many are there?

Half a dozen?

Eight?

Ten? Shit! Mac, rocket on me.

Enemies. Multiple ten, 150 metres.

RAPID FIRE!

~ Everything all right, loves?
~ Boss, get back inside!

No fucking heroics, Sir.

You need to be careful in case
there's a subcranial bleed.

I'm feeling both tickety and boo.

Yeah, that's the funny thing
about bleeding around the brain.

I had one recently. REME Sergeant
banged his head on a Jackal.

Out cold, came to,

lucid for about two hours
and then... he dropped dead.

SHE CHUCKLES

It's not VERY funny, is it?

Oh, you'll be fine... probably.

OK, we need to think about
an extraction plan, so...

INCOMING!

We've got minutes before they
get the aim right on those.

We are fucked!

Oh, fucking hell!

Man down! Medic!

Oh, shit!

Coming!

Don't operate any heavy machinery,
avoid stressful situations.

I'll do my best.

Private Sykes, down there.

~ We'll cover you.
~ OK. Oh, if I die,

~ make sure Captain Medhurst gets a scan.
~ What for?

Subcranial bleed. You don't want
him to drop dead over dinner.

Unless it's jelly. Boing!

I should go.

Covering fire!

Where did you get shot,
you useless prick?

Nice day for it.

Boss, get back in the
van! We've got this.

Really? Cos it looks like
a gale-force shit storm

~ that you totally haven't got.
~ Incoming!

~ Jesus!
~ Fuck me!

~ Taliban are moving.
~ They're trying to flank us.

Roger that.

What's that?

I'm getting a sort
of high-pitched whine.

~ What?
~ Eh? Boss, you're concussed.

No, I'm fine but I can
definitely hear something.

Bird! They're moving round the side.

Right, here's the plan -

we bugger the fuck off.

OK. We use the dead ground
to the north of that track,

keep our arses low, make our
way to those vehicles and...

Oh, fuck me!

OK, so let's not do that.

~ OK. New plan - we leave by that road.
~ Yeah, but it's riddled

~ with IEDs.
~ That's because it's the best route out.

We bring back Sykes, I
blow the devices in situ.

We get back to base like
fucking legends...

~ But you're...
~ .. and whatever Mac was imagining me doing with Mary,

I am totally doing with Mary.

Please tell me that is not
why you're going down there.

Of course not. Not entirely.

Towerblock, back me up!

He's in no state to start fucking
about with explosives.

You're right. She's right.

Look, Boss, we keep our position
here, the Apaches will be here soon.

And they will have a fantastic
view of a dead ATO, a dead bleep

and a dead... what does he do again?

You are fucked in the head, Boss!

I'm kidding, I'm fine.

No, you weren't! The medic
said you need a scan.

Oh, shit, I forgot my
pocket MRI. Right, PE7.

Whoa!

I just stood up too fast - I am fine.

Boss...?

We're going to run short on ammo
if this carries on much longer.

Try hitting them, Skip.

Thank you, McDowell(!)

It's OK, everyone, choppers are here!

NO ROTOR SOUND / ONLY GUNFIRE

No...

No, it was just that whining
noise again, it's gone.

Right - I'm going down.

You can't use a vallon, your
hearing's all over the place.

They do vibrate as well, you
know. I am as steady as a rock.

Enough twatting about now, Boss.
I'm coming down there with you.

~ One man risk.
~ No. This man, massive risk.

Two men, and we might just
get everyone out of here.

I do not need you!

I promise that I will not tell
the padre that you had help.

SHE SIGHS EXASPERATEDLY

All right, go get a
vallon and some PE7.

~ Happy?
~ No!

Good. Right, we need both
of those two back here now.

Rocket! Go and give the Medic
a hand bringing back Sykes.

Roger that.

They're moving again.

~ In three - one, two, three.
~ Go, go, go.

Right, we need a metric
fuck-ton of covering fire.

Boss, this is insane!

Your mum is... Zing!

Right. I made that list.

Aye?

He's arrogant, doesn't
listen, self-obsessed,

sexually incontinent, childish, petty

and he keeps making stupid
jokes about being concussed.

If your list is that long, I don't
think you're over him at all.

Bollocks! Oh, I'm not, am I?

He's a lanky, posh twat and
I'm not bloody over him.

Shit! Fuck!

Argh! Shitting fucking fuckballs!

Told you.

Right, Boss, you're up.

Right, what's your advice now, then?

Let me guess, punch him in the head?

No, violence never solves anything.

If he goes on about Mary, just
nod and smile and move on.

Uh-huh. Thanks for
the girlie chat, Mac.

No bother.

So much easier with men.

And a gun.

What am I doing again?

Oh, yeah - bombs.

Erm...

Just stay still, would you?

Huh.

Home time!

You fucking ARE concussed!

What? No, it's dodgy oysters.

What?

Shit, get in the mastiff!

All right, all right!

Right, order of march.
Mac, you go point.

Grab the vallon, search
beyond the devices.

Simon, go last man. Everyone squared?

Any questions?

Do I still have the punch?

Ah, look, the not-particularly-quick
Reaction Force is here.

Nick! Nick, are you all right?

Yeah, I'm fine, shut up.

GUNFIRE

Let's go, superstars!

Good work, Boss.

Genuinely can't remember what I did.

You will tell Mary what I did, right?

HELICOPTER ROTORS WHIRR

Ah, now I can hear Apaches.

Home, sweet home.

Hello, Captain. Wasn't
expecting you back so soon.

This won't be smoked for hours.

Is that ham? Out here?

Ham-style goat.

Mmm, tasty.

Erm, yeah! Very tasty.

Worth every penny.

~ Is the padre in?
~ I think so.

You need to see the medic.

Padre first.

Nick...

He needs to go to Bastion for a scan.

Ah! The eternal bond between the
ATO and his bleep. Touching(!)

Carry on.

Sir.

Yes! Better!

Oh...

So, Mary...

Now, this isn't going to sound
like me and I don't think

it's the concussion talking, and
I am definitely not ruling out

another fantastic fuck
on the desk, but...

I've realised something today.

You and me, we've got...

.. very little in common.

So you are...?

I'm the new padre, Keith Turnbull.

Is there anything I can help with?

Where's Mary... May...
Major Greenstock?

She requested a transfer. Urgently.

And now we know why.

Shit.

Really?

Bloody hell.

Here's your speakers. The light comes
on, but there's nothing doing.

~ Oh, yeah, sometimes the
volume resets to zero. ~ Eh?

MUSIC: Beautiful Day By U2

Hmm? See? Some days do just
work out for the best.

Here's to fate, destiny
and Lady Luck!

Jesus, ah!

Shit! Fucking hell!

It's just not your lucky
day, is it, Simon?

~ Yeah, well, you owe me ?39.99, Towerblock.
~ Nick!

They should be water resistant!

She's gone, Bird.

What?

Mary.

She's gone.

Really?

Shit, who am I going to
take the piss out of now?

Too soon?

I genuinely thought we could have...

Never mind.

Right, you. CAT scan.
Transport in ten.

Cheers. Hey, maybe Mary's
still at Bastion!

If I can find her, then...

Oh, Boss, if it wasn't for your
possible subcranial bleed,

I would punch you in the head.

~ What?!
~ Instead, I've got to do this.

Oof!

Stop going on about fucking Mary!

Yes, I know.

I've just had an idea
for a new game -

kicking people in the balls!

OK.

Oh!

Brilliant.

MAC LAUGHS

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