All language subtitles for 25-2 Maresrttt

FPS 25

(UPBEAT MUSIC)

(HORN HONKS)

Here you are, guv'nor, mascot.

Just what you need, ain't it,
with you going into the RAF?

Lucky charm. See, they all have 'em.
You ask any of them glamour boys.

Never have a bash at old Jerry
without one.

Hey, you, mister. Now, if I was you,
I'd have this monkey.

It's got a coloured behind, see,

and every time
the flipping Luftwaffe come at you,

all you got to do is turn it round
this way, say, "Kiss my..."

(AIR-RAID SIREN HOWLS)
(PLANES DRONE)

(AIR-RAID SIREN HOWLS)

Oh, come on. I've got all kinds
of interesting novelties here.

No, really,
they're very amusing little things.

I mean.. Hello, officer.

Obstructing the pavement
again, Pope?

Who, me?
Come on. Pack it up.

I'm just giving the lads a couple
of laughs, keeping up their morale.

I ain't even selling the things.
Here you are, mate, present for you.

OK, Pope! I said pack it up!

Anything to say
before I pass sentence?

Well, yes, since you asked me,
I have, missus.

This is helping Hitler.
That's what it is.

I beg your pardon? This ain't like
the other times I've been nicked.

On this occasion,
I'd just put me suitcase down

while I waited for the queue
to ease off so I can nip in

and put me moniker on the King and
Country forms they was handing out.

And then to me amazement, I'm pinched
before I can even take the oath.

Do you mean to say
you were endeavouring to enlist

when you were taken
in charge?

Yeah. You've got it, milady.
If I might make a comment, Your...

Oh, but this is
quite outrageous, officer,

losing his place
in the enlistment queue?

The defendant is given an absolute
discharge with four shillings cost.

Give him the money, Mr Clerk. I see
fine things ahead of you, young man.

Great things.

Officer, take this
fine-spirited fellow in hand

and give him
every possible assistance.

Thanks, officer,
you can leave me on me own now.

MAN: Left, left.
Left, right, left.

Left, left. Left, right, left.

Left, right, left, right,
left, right, left.

Left, left. Left...

Left, right, left, right, left!

Now down and across the bayonet!

What are you doing with that bayonet
tied up in that sack?

(MAN SHOUTS)

Look, as senior man
in this tent,

I insist on reorganising
the accommodation in here.

It's perfectly simple.
There are 10 of us.

So we divide the cubic capacity
into 10 equal parts.

How'd I get into this? That's what
I've been asking for two weeks now.

There I was
minding me own business.

All of a sudden,
I'm being shanghaied into the RAF.

It's a press-gang. That's what it is.
It's a press-gang.

As I was saying,
if we all cooperate as a team,

each man keeping
to his own allocated...

How long am I in for?
That's the rub.

I mean, you get slung inside,
the judge, he tells you.

Six months, a year, even,
but he tells you. Not in this lark.

I mean, supposing
Hitler don't win the war after all.

Might be stuck for years and years.
Now, look here, Pope.

I've had my eye on you
for the past week or two.

It's manifestly plain
you're the type of defeatist

that's liable to spread
alarm and despondency.

Why don't you give your jaw a rest?
MAN: Outside!

Hey, wait. Hey, wait.
Half a tick.

We don't have to go.
Nobody'll miss us in that shower.

Let's lie low and skip it.
Well, they don't count us, do they?

But hang it all! That's mutiny.

Look, as senior man,
I order everyone to go.

Oh, get lost, Clarence. Get lost.

Get outside!

Come on, look lively about it!
That man in the back! Move yourself!

(SINGS) # ..through the trees

# You know... #

It was a pay parade.

Eh?

No, wait.
It's too late, Popey.

You've had it for a fortnight.

Why didn't somebody tell me?

I can let you have a pound.

Well, do you reckon that'll do you
till next payday?

Well... Thanks. That's...
decent of you, mate. Ta.

It was that other bloke's fault -
he'd like to see me starve

so as he can get more of
that cubic capacity of his in here.

Well, I don't know.
I reckon it's a good idea.

No, I mean, about all us fellas
sharing and all.

You...

But, then, you don't like it here
at all, do you?

I've made up me mind, mate.
You're in, you're in.

There's nothing to do but relax and
swim with the tide, like they say.

Only thing is, how does a bloke
make a living in this outfit?

Well, they give you regular grub
and a place to sleep.

Chased from apex to breakfast time
for two and thruppence a day

and you call that living?

Why, that's slavery, mate,
ruddy slavery.

MAN: Members of number two squad,
four flight,

collective postings
to number six, ITW,

Dukes Meadow,
for aircrew training.

Number six ITW! Boy, oh, boy!
That's a training wing, isn't it?

Sure thing, and then straight off
to operational centre

and then...
(IMITATES GUNFIRE)

Gorblimey.

Ever see anybody in such a tearing
hurry to get to the undertaker's?

..number three squad,
number three...

Hold up. That's us.

..to non-effective pool
recruits training centre...

Non-effective - that's us.
And it's here, right here in town.

Well, is that good, Popey?
Well, it's non.

That means it's gotta
be something peaceful

like putting up blackout curtains
or running errands, maybe.

'Ere, let's get out of here
before they get tabs on us.

You don't know how lucky we are.
You think so, Popey?

Well, think of what happened
to them other poor blighters.

You know where they could be headed?
The boat, overseas.

At least this way, mate,
we've got a chance

to see the end
of this flipping duration.

Here we are.
Get your skates on.

(BELL DINGS)

Here, mate, mate.

What's all the panic?
Have you just been drafted to pool?

Yeah, me and him, from
recruit centre, reporting for duty.

Duty? Here? How long you been in?
About a month.

Hey, uh, what's the layout?
Here, um, have a fag.

Will you stop pushing?

It's Chiefy.
He's dishing out 295s.

295s? What are them?
Leave passes.

It's the same every morning
directly after parade.

What, do you have parades here?
Well, not exactly parades.

Will you stop pushing?

Not exactly parades.
Sort of roll calls.

They can't check on you
'cause there's too many of us.

Be the same tomorrow morning.
Be a load more here tomorrow.

Ain't there no-one in charge
of this here pool?

Yeah, Chiefy's in charge, but
he's expecting his ticket, you see,

so he don't give a monkey's
slap or tickle what happens to us.

Real snide's holiday, this one,
I'll tell you that.

Hey, Chiefy,
we're living in digs, like.

(ALL TALK AT ONCE)

Enough! Keep in line! Or I'll slap
you on a charge, the lot of you.

You see if I don't.

'Ere! Don't he ever turn them down?
No, he went barmy months ago.

Now, listen to me, all of you.
Bombed out, Chiefy.

Wife and kids got nowhere to go,
only mother-in-law.

Letter here
from the chief clerk, Chiefy.

Wife's conscripted
to make camouflage netting.

Can you beat that?
And me serving King and Country.

Wife's expecting twins, Chiefy.
She's got to have 'em at home.

No room at the hospital.
Now, look.

Give me a break
or I'll shut the office for a week.

(PHONE RINGS)
And can't anyone answer that phone?

(SPEAKS INAUDIBLY)

Pipe down, will ya?

It's SHQ on the line, sir.
SHQ?

'Ere, Pedlar, shut that door,
and don't let anybody else in.

Get me?
Sure. Sure, Popey.

Yes, sir?

On the dot, sir. Certainly, sir.

Yes, sir. Right away, sir.
Right, sir!

SHQ want 12 airmen to scrub down
the main equipment store.

OK, first 12.
Give us your passes.

And when you're finished, come back
and collect them at 1600 hours sharp.

We can check on them
from 295s, Chiefy.

Right, Pedlar,
let this lot out and stand outside.

Don't let anyone else in
till I say so.

Don't worry about Pedlar, Chiefy.
He don't really hurt no-one.

He's gentle as a baby, really.

Lummy, they're trespassing
on your good nature.

Blimey, they're enough
to drive anyone barmy,

the lazy lot of so-and-sos.

Yeah, but don't you worry. Me and
Pedlar... He's my oppo out there.

We're gonna fix all that for you.
You just leave it to us.

Hello.
Is this your tea jug, Chiefy?

Well, it's about NAAFI time,
ain't it?

Right, first bloke back with
that filled gets his pass signed.

Well, that's
absolutely bloody marvellous.

Why have I never thought
of that dodge?

I haven't had hot tea in that jug
for weeks.

Hey, Chiefy, why don't you
come and bed down in here?

There's a comfortable chair,
nice view of the sea.

I'll get a notice
put on that door -

"Positively no admittance
except through my clerk."

Uh, if you could just
give me the gen.

You know, just a rough outline,
of course. Yeah?

(CASH REGISTER DINGS)

Hi, Popey.
Where was you?

I've been looking for you.
Washing up the landlady's dishes.

She can't employ an airman
as an unpaid skivvy.

No, it was real good fun, Popey.

Besides, I thought
you'd still be talking with Chiefy.

No, no, me and him
came to terms quick.

That's what
I want to tell you.

We have fallen slap on our feet,
Pedlar, old son.

This pool is a proper little goldmine
if we work it right.

What sort of jobs?
You couldn't buy 'em for 10 quid.

I'm gonna be the chief clerk

and you're gonna be
the chief chucker-outer.

Chips. We're gonna give the sarge
a hand with these deadbeats.

That sounds real good, Popey.

Chiefy, I thought he looked
a nice sort of bloke. Him?

He didn't spend
two years in Singapore

trading with the wogs
for nothing.

We've got to split
everything with him, 50/50.

He wouldn't take a button less.
50/50? Of what?

Here, well, look.
I've been making out a price list.

Here you are. Look.
Seven days leave, five bob.

Weekend pass, half a dollar.
Excuse-duty chit...

Well, that ought to be
worth the same,

but there's no knowing yet
what to charge

until we work it over
for a bit.

Ought to be half-a-dozen fiddles
waiting to be played in this place.

And to think, I was standing outside
that recruiting depot for a year.

Only one thing, Popey.
Only what? Go on.

Aren't we gonna fight anybody?
Fight? Who?

Some of them Germans, maybe.

Do you think
we'll ever get a chance to?

What was you doing, mate,
when they nabbed you?

It's something you never told me.
I wasn't nabbed, Popey.

I volunteered.

You...

OK. Look.

Only do me a favour.

Don't go listening to any more
of them propaganda news bulletins.

And if you buy a paper,
well, look at the comics.

Anything you want to know,
just ask me, OK?

Sure.

Sure, Popey.

(CASH REGISTER DINGS)

Mail.

Has Pope's char gone in yet?
Yes, sir, just stick it in.

OK, mates. You look like
deserving cases to me.

I'll, um, have a word with Chiefy.
Would you really? Thanks, Popey.

Uh, we'd appreciate
your gratitude, chums.

Ta, Popey.

(SEAGULLS CRY)
(SNORES)

Chiefy. Chiefy.

Two cases here, Chiefy.
Gotta be booked out today.

Sign right there, Chiefy.
Don't wake yourself up.

No.

Oh, I must give up these naps
in the morning.

Makes it so hard to go to sleep
in the afternoon.

Thanks, Chiefy.

MAN: I've got to see him, lads.
(MEN ARGUE)

Can I take another post...
Simmer down, Jock. Simmer down.

It's OK, Trinidad.
Right, sir.

Come in, Jock.
It's about your posting, you say?

Aye. I made a dozen applications
about it, as you well know.

I cannae sleep.
Me mother's ailing.

And there's a business
to keep an eye on too.

Half a tick, chum.
Today's mail's only just come in.

I ain't had a chance
to look at it yet.

And I've told you before.

Hard-hearted lot of perishers
down at records, they are.

Keep you waiting, they do. Maybe
that new list of postings is in.

Hello, Jock. This could be it.

What do you know?
A whole block of postings.

MacTaggart. J. MacTaggart.

Uh, yeah.

"The following postings
are to..."

Here we are. MacTaggart, J.

Cornwall.

Cornwall, you say?
Sorry, mate.

RAF Station Dyce would have been
right on your doorstep, eh?

Aye, it would, that, in Aberdeen.

I'd set my heart
on a station over the border.

Yeah, well, that's war for you, Jock.
It's us little guys what suffer.

Aye.
No, it doesn't make sense.

A bloke from Cornwall being
posted to Dyce and you to Cornwall.

It's bloody mismanagement,
that's what it is.

Well, what am I to do?
I'll have a word with Chiefy, Jock.

You come back tomorrow.
Thanks, mate.

Oh, struth, bad luck! I'm only just
beginning to use me noodle!

Can you really fix it with Chiefy?
Well, don't you see?

It's like having
tomorrow's race results.

30 blokes posted in one day and
only us knows where they're going.

'Ere, sling over those cards.

We'll check these postings
against their home addresses.

There's bound to be
some more compassionates here.

I don't get it exactly.
Later, mate. Later.

I'll draw you a picture.

Hey, what shall we say?

10 bob within 50 miles,
a quid within the county,

and for finding yourself

round the jolly old 'orner,
like Jock, two quid.

Well, do you reckon
that's right, Popey?

Well, what do you think
we ought to charge?

No, I mean, do you reckon it's right
we should take money

for giving out leave passes
and suchlike?

I've been thinking about,
well, if it's honest or not.

Honest?!

I'll tell you a fact, Pedlar.

It don't matter what you do. It's
only honest if you make money at it.

They're all on the fiddle.

Manufacturers
after the government contracts.

That flipping landlady of ours
pinching rations.

And all them officers after
promotions they ain't deserving.

And it's all done
down in some cellar.

Well, that ain't my way, mate.
It never has been, never will be.

I'm out in the open, I am,
fair and square and...

I know that. I've known that since
the first time I saw you, Popey.

Yeah, well, don't get the idea that
I'm criticising anybody. I'm not.

It's the way things is.

Everybody in this world is watching
out for themself, that's all. See?

I see what you mean, Popey.

I think.
Well, OK, then.

Let's begin with the 'A's.

Alcock, 925.
Home address, Liverpool.

Posted to...posted to...

..RAF Station Speke.

'Ere, where the hell's Speke?
Speke?

I'll have a dekko in the Green Book.
Uh, Speke.

Here we are.
Spalding, Sparkwell, Speke.

It's another bullseye.
It's right on the doorstep again.

Oh, we'll tell him
he's going to Dover.

What do you know, Jock?

It's a bit tricky, but I think
I've got it fixed for you.

Is it worth two quid?

Two pounds? Pounds, you say?

Oh, blimey, mate,
don't look as if I was asking for 50.

You wouldn't be satisfied
with 30 shillings?

No more than you'd be satisfied
with a posting to Cairo.

Well, I'll no pay till I see the
posting in black and white, man.

Well, of course, Jock.
This is COD.

Aye. If I get the posting,
you get your �2.

(UPBEAT MUSIC)

Who are you?

Um... Pope's the name, Sarge,
Chiefy's clerk.

What can I do for you, Sarge?

Don't use that slovenly word
when you're addressing me.

I'm Sergeant, not Sarge.

As of tomorrow, I'm taking over
from Flight Sergeant Huxtable.

Now, what's all this nonsense? How
can he keep track of men like that?

What happened
to loose-leaf ledger?

And why isn't this
under lock and key? Hm?

RAF book of units.
Suppose I was an enemy agent.

(PHONE RINGS)

Well, go on, man, answer it.
There's a war on.

Yes. Sergeant.

Hello?

Orderly room.

Where is it you're posted to, Popey?
Heathfield. Big camp down south.

Maybe if you talked with
the new sarge like you know how.

Waste of breath. He thinks he's the
whole bleeding Air Ministry, he do.

'Ere, Pedlar.
Yeah?

Do you want to come along?
How?

I've got an extra posting. Chiefy
said, "This is me last official act."

For 10 bob, he gave me two
for the price of one.

Oh, sure thing, Popey.

I might have got you a posting
near your home, but, uh,

I didn't know
where you lived.

Doesn't matter.
Heathfield will suit me fine.

Get your skates on.
We'll get the first train out.

Hey, where is your home town anyway?
Oh, nowhere special.

What, your folks separated
or something?

Oh, no. My mother weren't fond
of staying put, that's all.

She likes to wander
with the horses and cows

and forage in the countryside
for grub,

just stopping near a fair,
telling fortunes and...

Oh! You're a Gypsy?

Well, why didn't you tell me?

There's a little goldmine
in that fortune-telling.

I can't do that, Popey.
That's only for womenfolk.

Uh. Come on.

Here you are.

(SOLDIERS CHANT)

(PLANE DRONES)

They issue you
with a private porter?

No, Corp, but I sprained
both me ankles on the assault course

at recruit centre.

My oppo is giving me a hand.
I'm his oppo.

Why don't you have a go
at cleaning his buttons?

I will, Corp,
soon as we get settled in.

From Blackrock. Aircraft hands.
General duties.

That's what they say, Corp.
Sarge!

You remember that application
we put in for 12 dogsbodies

the day war was declared?

Yeah, well, they're still
sending 'em. There's two more here.

That makes 96.
What shall I do with 'em?

Butcher's. They need two bods
for the meat detail.

Butcher's.
Out the door, first right.

OK, lads. When you've finished
loading, make your deliveries.

Then come back here
and load up again. Right?

(BOTH SCAT)

Hey, there's the butcher.
Pull up there.

You wait here.

(TYRES SQUEAL)
(VEHICLE DOOR CLOSES)

(DOG BARKS)

Good morning, miss. Boss about?
Dad isn't here at the moment.

Oh, it's Dad, eh?
Don't blame him for not being about.

Guess there ain't many customers
for marble. (LAUGHS)

Oh. Our ration's on Saturday. When
the coupons are gone, we just sit.

Who are you?

Well, some people call me Horace,
but I might be Father Christmas

if you tell me
where your dad is, glamour.

Oh. He's in the pub next door,
drowning his sorrows.

You can't miss him.
He's still in his apron.

Thanks, glam.
'Ere, nice hairstyle you've got.

Reminds me of Veronica Lake.
Ooh! You really think so?

Yeah. No kidding.

Hey, Pedlar!

Two beers.

Morning, Mr Cooksley.
Gonna have one on the RAF?

Well, surely, son, since you
asked me. How come you know my name?

A mate of mine up at the camp
told me to look out for you.

We're in the same line of business,
you might say.

You a butcher by trade?
Not yet, but I'm gonna be.

Soon as me whole remustering
comes through.

Meanwhile, I just handle the stuff.
Handle the stuff?

Yeah, we deliver to
the outlying camps, all six of 'em.

Through here
three times a week.

Well, here's to the
bloody-handed trade, Mr Cooksley.

These two RAF boys, Mum,
they were asking for Dad.

Whatever would they want
with your dad?

Do you think they've come
to ask us to supply meat

to one of the camps, Mum?

Good gracious, no.
Whatever gave you that idea?

I wonder what they've got
tucked away in there.

Lovely, ain't it?

I was just thinking, well,
what nourishing meals it means

for you young men.

Ah, but it ain't that way at all,
Mrs Cooksley.

It ought to be, but it ain't. Where
do you reckon half this meat ends up?

The officers mess. No, sir.
If it did, they'd be more human.

The swill man has it.
Oh!

Really?

What, is it tainted?
Lummy, no!

It's as fresh and beautiful

as the colour
on your daughter's cheeks there.

Tainted? Do it look tainted?

No, it doesn't, does it, Arthur?

I've seen nothing like it
for months.

Why do they have to
feed it to pigs?

Answer that one and they'll make you
prime minister, Mr Cooksley.

Waste. Lack of planning.
That's what it is.

Some of these places we go, the pigs
are so fat, they can't get about.

Still, that's Whitehall for you.
Uh, we're behind schedule, Popey.

What's the quickest way
to Little Barn Mead,

where they train
the flight mechs?

Oh, that way. You have to turn
and go back to the crossroads.

Just as I thought, Pedlar.
We'll have to reverse.

Do you mind if we
back into your yard, sir?

No, not at all, no.
Come on, help yourself. This way.

Watch it.
(LAUGHS)

OK, Pedlar.
So long, Mr Cooksley, ma'am.

So long, son.
Take her away, Pedlar!

Don't forget you're
coming to see us on Wednesday!

Goodbye!

'Bye.

Hey!

Hey!

You dropped a lovely side of beef.

Well, would you believe that?
Whatever shall we do with it?

Well, they'll be
looking in again, Dad.

Yes, that's right. In the meantime,
we must treasure it, Iris.

Close the gates
and open up the cold storage.

Yes, Dad. Yep.
Give us a hand, Mother.

It only goes to show, Mr Cooksley,
you can't judge all civvies alike.

Take a bloke like yourself. Business
clean whittled away by rationing.

But you don't bear us service blokes
no grudge, do you?

No. Not in the slightest, Horace.
You're the sort of people I go for.

Down-to-earth.
Yes.

(COW MOOS)

There you go.
Hello, Mrs Williams.

Oh, yes, I know what you wanted.
I got, uh...

I've just got a little something
here for you.

There we are.

A nice tender rabbit.
You'll enjoy that.

Hello, Mrs Watson.

Here. That Cooksley.
Give me another sad story tonight.

Yeah?
Yeah.

But in future, if he ain't
more prompt in his payments,

I've got a good mind
to charge him interest.

She's a real nice girl,
you know, Popey.

Yeah, come on.
I'm freezing to death.

Let's go to the NAAFI,
get a cup of char.

Oh, you're catching a cold?
Maybe it's pu-monia.

It's real nippy tonight.

You shouldn't have
gone out walking with Iris.

Walking? "Where can we be private?"
I asked her.

So where does she take me?
Her old man's cold-storage room.

Come on.

Late tonight, aren't they?
Mmm.

It's wonderful
how they've took to one another.

How long is it now? Four months?
You'd hardly believe it, would you?

No, ma'am, you wouldn't.
You know what I feel?

I feel you're just like
two of the family, as you might say.

Aren't they back yet?
No, dear, but don't worry.

Well, one of us has got to worry.
Now, don't be tiresome, Arthur.

Sometimes you sound
just like a Victorian papa.

After all,
they are walking out regular.

They stand still some of the time.
That's obvious.

Really, Arthur!

It isn't as if Horace
was somebody she picked up.

(IRIS LAUGHS)
There. I think I hear them.

Evening, all,
Mr Cooksley, Mrs Cooksley.

Special delivery for you. How's that
for a nice cut off the old joint?

No sense in giving
the customers prime

every day of the week,
is there?

Never mind about
the cuts off the joint, Horace.

You and me have got something
in particular to say to each other.

We have?

Well, it can wait till next
Wednesday, can't it, Mr Cooksley?

We'll get booked if we don't get back
to camp. Get your skates on, Pedlar.

You leave your skates
where they are. Olga.

Well... Come on, Iris.

Your father and Horace
want to have a little talk.

Well, if it's about...
Now, upstairs with you.

Come on. Go on.
Do as your father says.

Well, it's me they're talking about.
Shh! Upstairs.

Right. Sit down, both of you.

Let's get back
to cuts off the joint.

It seems to me you've been helping
yourself pretty freely, Horace.

Now, I don't want to get off
on the wrong foot.

There's nowt done
that's can't be mended.

But for all that,
I think it's gone far enough.

So I'll come
straight to the point.

Are you a married man, Horace?

Married? Well... Course not.

What give you that idea?
Well, you're behaving like one.

Mr Cooksley,
you are talking about me and Iris?

I'm not talking about
the birth rate in general, Horace.

For a minute, I thought somebody
had rumbled the meat lark.

Well, then Mr Cooksley,
if you're hinting

at me and Iris getting spliced,
then you've jumped the gun.

I've jumped the gun?

Iris and me
was discussing it tonight.

How would next Saturday do you?

You mean you and Iris?

Nothing grand, mind you,
just you, the missus

and Pedlar
standing in for me.

Oh, my boy!
I've been wrong about you.

(LAUGHS) After the war, I'll
take you in the business with me.

Bless my soul!

If Iris presents us with a boy...

Oh, well, we can go into that
on Wednesday, Mr Cooksley.

Me and Pedlar
have gotta beat it.

If we show up after 2359 hours,

I'll be doing me honeymooning
in the guardroom.

Come on, Pedlar.

See you Wednesday, Pop.

Righto, son!

Bye-bye!
Goodbye.

Mother! Hey! Mother!

I'm real happy for you, Popey.
Now you're jumping the gun, mate.

I ain't out of this yet.
Get weaving.

When we get back to camp,
drop me off at the main orderly room

and I'll pick up
a couple of blind postings.

Let me think. Saturday today.
Saturday. Clear by Sunday.

Out of it by Monday.
A quid each for the postings.

30 bob for the corporal to list the
nominal roll with our names on it.

Aren't you gonna get married?
Pedlar, sometimes you frighten me.

Well, she's a nice girl, Popey.
Rah, too nice for me, mate.

Besides, I ain't aiming
to settle down.

Never?
Maybe, one day.

If I find meself
a steady little goldmine, yeah.

And let this
be a lesson to you.

Never mix business with pleasure.
You understand?

I understand, Popey.

(JAUNTY MUSIC PLAYS)

There ain't any postings. We've
drawn a blank. There ain't any.

Not at SHQ nor any of the wings.
I've been everywhere.

'Ere, turn that
bleeding uproar off, can't ya?

And draw the blinds on her
while you're at it.

How can I think
with her staring down at me?

Well, you'd better
eat something, Popey.

When you eat something,
you always think of something.

I can't eat. I can't eat.
I'm too churned up.

Saturday, I said, didn't I?
Well, that's a week from today.

We don't look in on Wednesday, he'll
smell a rat and come looking for us.

That gives us four days.
After that, I'm hooked and dried.

Eat something, Popey.
Stop getting at me, will ya?

Clear out and let me think.

Sure, Popey.

I'll take a walk.
Yeah, yeah.

(DOOR OPENS)
(METAL RATTLES)

Tea's up, Popey.
Eh?

Oh, yeah. Ta, Pedlar.

'Ere, Pedlar, what day is it?
Sunday.

Sunday? 'Ere, Pedlar. Uh...

Do you think if next Wednesday
I told that butcher

that there's a traffic jam
at the registry office -

you know, too many people
want to get spliced at once -

then perhaps I can keep him stalling,
eh, till the postings come in.

You don't have to worry no more.
It's all fixed.

Fixed?
The postings.

We've just got to see the MO
this morning

and we'll be out of here
by tonight.

I've already fixed the chits. Look.
Where are we supposed to be going?

Nice and far away.
It come to me last night.

So I went to the corporal
down at SHQ and volunteered.

You volunteered for what?
The boat!

The boat?!
Why, you bloody homicidal maniac!

You've signed our perishing death
warrants! That's what you've done.

But you said you wanted to get away.
Well, yeah, but not that way!

There hasn't been a volunteer
in this outfit

since they went up
after zeppelins!

They'll have our pictures in...
in all the papers.

They'll...drive us up
the bleeding gangplank with a band!

Oh, you...

Half the blokes posted overseas
don't get no further than Gib.

After that, they splash around
in the Bay of bloody Biscay.

And I can't swim. Can you swim?
No.

But they issue lifebelts.
I've seen it in the newspapers.

Everyone on board
gets a lifebelt.

Do you know what happens
if you do get there?

Well, they send you to places
where there's real live Japs,

with mouthfuls of teeth and real
live ammunition to use up on you!

'Ere, I'm wasting time.
I've got to get down to SHQ.

I've got to tell 'em
it was all a joke.

Yeah, at first they thought
that I was joking too.

Yeah, yeah, that's it. I've got...
I've got to cancel it out somehow.

I've got to laugh it off, maybe with
some palm oil or something.

Maybe they'll listen.

Maybe they'll all have
a bleeding good laugh! (LAUGHS)

(HORN HONKS)

SONG: # Wish me luck
as you wave me goodbye

# Not a tear but a cheer,
make it gay... #

It's OK, Popey.
We're together, ain't we?

You'd be happy
if we was in a coffin together.

Queuing up for a flipping U-boat.
29 and 30.

Right. Stand fast, the rest.

# Wish me luck
as you wave me goodbye. #

Squad, attention!

At ease!

(PLANE DRONES)

Cover! Take cover! It's a raid!

(AIR-RAID SIREN HOWLS)
Cover!

Come on!

I'll get your kitbag, Popey.
To hell with it.

The Jerries can have it.
Over there, quick, in the boozer.

We'll have a couple of pints
now we're here.

Might as well get
a final taste of it.

Here you are, Dusty.
See if you can do it again.

Ready, cobber? Right.
One, two, three, go!

(ALL SING) # Here's to Dusty
He's true blue

# He's a digger
through and through

# Drink it down, down,
down, down, down

# Drink it down, down, down,
down, down! #

Hey, half a tick, lads.
You call yourselves drinking men?

I've got a quid all round here
says my oppo

can leave him
with beer in his glass.

OTHERS: Oh!

Are you game, Dusty?
Yeah, fair dinkum.

But he's fresh and I'm loaded.

We oughta start from level pegs.

Hold up a moment.

(LAUGHTER)

'Ere, Kiwi,
you can be the stakeholder.

Money for old rope, this is.

(ALL TALK AT ONCE)

All set? Ready?

Right!

(ALL SING) # Here's to Dusty
He's true blue

# He's a digger
through and through

# Drink it down, down,
down, down, down

# Drink it down, down, down,
down, down! #

(ALL LAUGH AND CHEER)

Watch out!
(EXPLOSION)

(BUZZING)

Let's get out of here.

Hey.

Give us a hand with Dusty.
He's passed out.

This way. (BELL RINGS)
Everybody OK?

Popey? Popey!

Where are you?

Popey?
I'm here!

I thought we'd had it
that time.

They don't even give you time
to get on the ruddy boat.

Are you alright?
Yeah, sure, sure.

(ALL-CLEAR SIREN HOWLS)
Fancy pranging a boozer.

All that lovely beer
going to waste. Look.

Hey, what happened to all them
others? Them diggers? That barmaid?

Oh, they've all gone.
MAN: Come on, men, C Section!

Get moving! It's all over now!
Chiefy's rounding everybody up.

Come on, Popey, we've gotta go.
Come on! Smartly, now!

Yeah.

Wait. Half a tick.
Come behind the bar quick.

No, thanks, Popey.
I don't want any more to drink.

No, no. Come here quick.
What'd I tell ya?

Drop down out of sight.

Give me your identity card
and your disc.

We're gonna bury 'em.

Anybody there? Anybody inside?

(PEDLAR SINGS)

Who's there?

OK down there?

It's my mate.
Something's happened to him.

Has he said where he's hurt?
I'm not worried about his shirt.

'Ere, look at his mouth.

It keeps opening and closing,
but he don't say nothing.

(BLOWS WHISTLE)

Stretcher-bearers!

OK, son, take it easy.
We'll look after you. You'll be OK.

Huh?

Mind how you go, Lils.
Ooh! Take it easy, Charlie.

Over here. Burst eardrums and shock.
Better get 'em to Casualty.

Right.
Any dead?

No, love. Thank God.
I was only in here last night.

Ambulance!

Come on, son.
It's all that water.

We'll be drowned in here.
It's all that rushing water.

You lean on me.
It must be a burst main.

Steady there. Mind the glass.
Oh, yeah, I can pass.

It's me mate I'm worried about.
He can't even remember his own name.

We'll look after him.
That's it.

Come on, love.

Easy does it.

# Always together... #

Oh, morning, Doctor.
Nurse. Uh, Sister.

How are the ears?

Ears? Oh, they're a lot better,
thank you, Doctor.

The waterfall's stopped, but I can
still hear a pop-pop-pop noise.

What sort of a noise is it exactly?
Pardon?

What sort of
a pop-pop-pop noise is it?

Well, like a...
like a motorbike going uphill.

I see.

Anybody claimed them yet?
Not yet, Doctor.

They don't seem
to have any papers.

Probably got lost in the air raid.
(CLANG!)

But they should have had identity
discs. It's all rather a nuisance.

You'll be fine!

Well, my lad.

You and I are going to have
a little chinwag this morning, eh?

You're going to try and say
one word, hm?

Try and say one word?

Come on. One word. Try it.

Pope!

Splendid. He's an RC, eh?
No, he's C of E, guv'nor.

But he seems to be
getting his bearings a bit.

He offered me a fag
this morning.

And your hearing
seems to be improving rapidly.

Yeah, well,
I'm glad to say it is, Sister.

It comes and goes.
That time, it come.

Uh...better keep 'em quiet

till we can get 'em
to the RAF sick quarters.

Yes, Doctor.

Do you want me
to start singing again?

No! We're almost home. You want to
get us shunted off to the nuthouse?

148, Pope. 213, Pascoe.
Pope? Pascoe?

Oh, these are our two strays, Sarge.
Oh, yes.

You've been downgraded for
the time being for health reasons.

We have? Does that mean we're due
for home postings only, Sarge?

Your new identity cards.
Lose these and you'll be in trouble.

Where to, Sarge?
RAF Station Craddock Wood.

Craddock Wood.
Change at Smedley Junction.

Right, next.
(TRAIN WHISTLE BLOWS)

Blimey, it's alright for you.

You can take this sort of life.
You're used to it.

But am I sick of living
out of a perishing kitbag.

So if this new dump is OK, we'll get
properly dug in. That's the drill.

We square the four key fiddles -

cookhouse, orderly room,
MT and accounts.

just so as we can recuperate
for a bit, you know.

Sure, Popey. Anyhow, we've saved up
enough money, haven't we?

You asking for
a statement of accounts?

No. I don't worry nothing
about the money, Popey.

Well, why should you ask a question
like that, then, right slap bang?

MAN: All tickets, please.
Oh, struth.

Just as I was getting comfortable.
'Ere. You know the drill.

Prisoner and escort,
on his way to the glasshouse.

Got a bit restive in the Pullman. Had
to dot him and bring him back here.

Did you?

'Ere, that's
a pretty good dodge, that.

It takes 'em off-balance, like.

Now, you were putting in a moan
about money, weren't you?

You frightened I'm gonna
welsh on you or something?

No, honest, I weren't, Popey.

Just so long as things can stay as
they are. You know, the two of us.

Well, I just ain't had time
to make a check-up yet, see?

Oh, let's have a dekko.

Postie's fiddle - �28.10.

That was a good one, that was.

Meat. Hey, uh, this ain't
all profit, you understand.

I mean, in any business,
you've got crippling expenses.

Well, I reckon you have, Popey.
That little book cost two bob.

Then there's pencils, and for all
that squaring I had to do. Blimey!

I've been throwing money about
like it was confetti.

(MUTTERS)

(BIRDS COO)

(CLASSICAL MUSIC)

(COW MOOS)

(CHICKEN CLUCKS)

MAN: What you got there, then?
WOMAN: What's it look like?

Daisy chain.
Know what I'm gonna do with it?

No, what? Wrap it round your head.
That's what I'm gonna do with it.

No, no, give over, Molly.
No, I want to. Oh, go on.

Oh, no. Come on. Proper soppy. No.
(BOTH LAUGH)

(CLASSICAL MUSIC)

No, no, no, no.
Ladies and gentlemen, please.

This must be done with a great deal
more feeling and more passion.

Remember, we're in old Vienna.
He's bang-on, you know.

Yes! That's lovely.
Let's sing out now!

I say, Corporal,
I'm sorry to bother you again.

Could I have another of those
service memoranda books?

I used up the last on
St Paul's journeys in Asia Minor.

Cupboard, second shelf.
Help yourself.

Thank you. Thank you very much.

It's a pleasure.

Who's that, Corp? The padre?

No, that's the Adj.
He's studying to be a parson.

You don't want to worry about him.

Do you mind if I ask you
something personal, Corp?

Sure, go ahead.

You ever been stationed
at Black Rock or Heathfield?

(CHUCKLES) I see your point.

But they're not in our class,
definitely not.

That's your opinion.
It's a simple fact, son.

The CO's courting a rich widow
down at the big house.

He only looks in
Tuesdays and Thursdays.

The Adj...
Well, you've just seen him.

The sergeant's a snooker champion

and only leaves
the NAAFI once a week.

And on top of all that, there's two
judys to every erk on the strength.

Satisfied?
No parades?

We don't use the word 'parade'
around here, son.

It's considered dirty.

Ask him about the grub, Popey.
I'm getting hungry.

Ah, you've hit us
on a weak spot there.

Now, the grub used to be smashing
when we had one cook.

Now we've got two.

Taffy Tovey and his little piece
of home comfort.

I don't think
he's concentrating like he should.

I'm always meaning to have
a word with him about it,

but... (YAWNS)
..I never seem to get the time.

Brassed off.
That's what I am - brassed off.

Do you hear me, Dai?

Well, yes, it's a wonderful camp

for everyone else,
you men in particular.

No parades, nothing to do
but stroll in the woods.

What do I do from morning to night?

I cook, then I clean up,
then I start cooking again.

Oh, Evie, my love,
it's together we are, isn't it?

Aye, it's because
you're sure of me now

ever since you said
we'd slip off and get married.

Do you think I have
nothing better to do

than stand here,
washing up till Armistice Day?

No time off, no 48s, 14-hour days

and that toffee-nosed
Section Officer McNaughton

picking on me all the time.

Oh, Dai, darling, look at me.

Isn't there something else
we could do

besides making
a rice pudding together?

Oh, Evie, my love...
(MURMURS INDISTINCTLY)

Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh! Take it easy.

Out of bounds in the kitchen.
There's an order that says so.

You don't want to
take that line with us.

We're the answer
to the maiden's prayer.

Aircraft hands, general duties
are remastered cooks and butchers

and volunteering for the night shift.

How does that strike you, Taffy?
And you too, gorgeous.

You mean you've been sent here
to give us a helping hand?

Me and my oppo.

How about some bacon and eggs
while my mate takes over at the sink?

Well, go on, Pedlar. Give the lady
a hand with them crocks.

That's all for today.
Snack bar - same time tomorrow.

Hey, we ain't done bad
for a Saturday.

We stuck on thruppence for the apple
turnovers and tuppence for the peas.

Genius you are, Horace.
You'll make a fortune.

Hey, I was thinking,
with the hot weather approaching

why don't we put out a nice line
in ices and lemonades?

That's not a bad idea.

Look out! Section
Officer McNaughton.

(HECTIC MUSIC)

(STERNLY) Stand down for officer's
inspection. Cookhouse, attention!

As you were, cookhouse. Sergeant.
Ma'am!

Um, Sergeant.
Ma'am!

Uh, inspect the mess hall,

see if the tables have been
scrubbed as I instructed.

Yes, ma'am!

Oh!

Well, there is some improvement.

The first time I visited here
I was appalled, absolutely appalled.

Well, I may say, half-washed plates,

dirty utensils,
unemptied refuse bins.

The whole thing was a shambles.

I said, "As you were."

Where are tomorrow's menus?

Minced beef, potatoes,
cabbage... Cabbage?

Isn't it possible to vary
green vegetables once in a while?

Cheese?

There was green mould on the cheese

I sampled in here
the night before last.

Uh, the cheese store
was a bit damp, ma'am.

We moved it over close to the oven.

Tables scrubbed,

mess hall thoroughly
cleaned and scoured, ma'am.

Very good. Well, that's all for now.

But you must keep it up,
you understand?

Carry on, cookhouse.

No business she has in my kitchen.
Treat us like a servant, she is.

Don't upset yourself, darling.

Everybody knows
what an old so-and-so she is.

(JEEP ENGINE REVS AND FADES)

(SOFTLY) Oh, I've had
a basinful this morning.

Got a cup of char going?

If women are gonna
be officers like men

why don't they act like gentlemen?

Here, help yourself to sugar.

You don't have to look far
for her trouble.

She's frustrated.
You got something there.

If only she'd stop reading about it

in those soppy novels of hers
and try it.

-You know some...
-Hey, half a tick, half a tick.

Can a man get in on this?
Well, ask yourself.

She can't go out with an airman

and who's she got
in the officer's mess?

The CO's over 50
and chasing a rich widow.

And the Adjutant's
studying for the priesthood.

So just 'cause she sees
the rest of us having a good time...

Now, now, girls.
Fair play, fair play, if you please.

She's the only WAAF officer
on the camp, isn't she?

Well, that makes her
deserving of sympathy in my view.

Trying to do her job
and her in a bundle of nerves,

all high-strung and unhappy,
who'd want to be in her shoes?

Ask yourself that, why don't you?

Come on, Pedlar.
Let's get a whiff of air.

MAN: Left incline!

Company...HALT!

Fall out, SHQ sentry.

Company about turn!

And quick march!

Left, left,

left, right, left!

Left, left...
Sentry at SHQ?

I thought sentries
were only posted at...

Isn't that the man
from the cookhouse?

That's him, ma'am.

Does one usually present arms
to an officer of my rank?

This one's the keen type, ma'am.
He's volunteered to patrol all night.

All night? Sentries are relieved
every two hours, aren't they?

Oh, not him, ma'am.

That's nonsense.
Well, he volunteered, ma'am.

It ain't easy to know
what a Gypsy's thinking,

but he must have had some reason.

Gypsy, you say?
Yeah.

Could be the only real live one
in the RAF, ma'am.

Wishing you good night and an
uneventful spell of duty, ma'am.

(FOOTSTEPS CRUNCH OUTSIDE)

(SIGHS)

(FOOTSTEPS CONTINUE)

(TAPS ON WINDOW)

(KNOCK AT DOOR)

Did you want something, ma'am?

Uh, well, I thought you might
like some coffee, airman,

and perhaps a sandwich?

Thanks, ma'am.

(BELLS RING)

Do help yourself.

Thanks, ma'am.

I'm afraid that's all there is.

Oh, it's alright, ma'am.
I'm not all that hungry.

I dare say we can
get some more later on.

Anyone on duty in the cookhouse?

Oh, Popey will get some more
if you want, ma'am.

Oh, you mean the duty clerk?

That's Popey.
We've been together since the start.

Oh, yes, he told me you volunteered
to patrol all night.

Why did you do
a silly thing like that?

I reckon because
you were here, ma'am.

Because I was here?

And Popey thinks
you're smashing, ma'am.

And come to that,
so do I, ma'am - smashing.

Well, really, airman!

I know that's a proper
adjective these days,

but you make it sound
almost insolent.

No, no, do sit down.

What is your name?

Pascoe, ma'am.
Pedlar Pascoe, they call me.

Pedlar? Oh, that must
be a Romani name.

Did you know before the war

I always used to go to Exmoor
for my holidays.

There were always Gypsy
encampments there.

They looked so gay

with their painted caravans
and colourful costumes.

I think it's my favourite place.

Have you ever encamped there?

Well, ma'am,
if we're just going to talk

I'll get some more coffee
and sandwiches.

Oh, well, that's very kind of you.

Yes, I would like some more coffee,
then I think I'll hop into bed.

Yes, you do that, ma'am.

Well, we've had quite a pleasant
little chat, haven't we?

Yes, and we'll have another
when I get back.

(BELLS RING)

Oh, it smells real nice, ma'am.

It's lilac!
Mmm.

Where did you get it?

A tree behind the cookhouse.

I adore lilac.

When I was a child, we had a tree
behind the wall of our house.

It was in the Cotswolds.

The scent of lilac
always makes me think

of the colour of Cotswolds stones
and a sky that's wide and hot.

It really is the most
marvellous smell, isn't it?

Thank you very much
for bringing them for me.

Uh, you'd better hammer
the ends, ma'am.

When we sold flowers
we always hammered the ends.

Yes, I remember.

(THUDDING)

(GASPS)

Oh, that's awkward.
I've just spilled the coffee.

You don't have a torch, ma'am?

Uh, yes, I have somewhere.
I'll find it.

Oh, steady, ma'am. You alright?
You didn't scald yourself?

No, no, I'm perfectly alright.

It reminds me
of when we were children -

we'd deliberately put the lights out
just to frighten ourselves.

Now don't talk, ma'am. It spoils it.

What?

No.

No. No.

Airman, put me down.
Take off your boots.

Lemon?
Well, we ain't got no lemon.

It all seems to float about on top.

Well, maybe we need
some more tapioca.

Let's stick three
more handfuls in each bin

and I'll thicken it up
with the powdered egg.

That's it - all used up now.

Hey, the milk! We forgot the milk.

What's it say?
Uh, one and a half pints for four.

Four into 100 is 25... 37.5 pints.

But there's no room for
all that, Popey. It'll overflow.

Well, OK, OK. Pour some of
the water off and make room for it.

Blimey, this ain't
the Savoy Hotel, you know.

-(PEOPLE BANG AND YELL)
-Ohh!

Alright! Alright!

Don't be so greedy, the lot of you!

(ALL JOSTLE)

Help yourselves! We're shorthanded.

I don't seem to be able to get it
to go around the pan, Popey.

Oh, thickened up a bit, ain't it?

Uh, well, look.
OK, we'll just work it to and fro.

There, like a flippin' joystick.

There.

(BANGS PLATES)
Here we are, my lucky lads!

Tapioca and lashings of it,
fresh, hot and gooey.

Tapioca, mate.
There you are. Pass it along there.

There you are.
There's plenty for everyone.

Pass it along there.

Hey, Pedlar, dish it up.
Pedlar, come on!

This lady wants
to know where Dai is.

I've told her he's not here.
Well, where is he, then?!

He's off on a dirty
weekend with Evie.

Oy, missus,
civilians aren't allowed in here!

Who's Evie? And what's this about
my husband being away with her?

You're Dai's missus?!

Want to see
my marriage lines now, is it?

I'm wasting my time here.
I'll go and see the officer.

No, Mrs Tovey, don't do that!

You don't want to get
Dai into trouble, do you?

The fact is he shouldn't be off-duty.

Well, he ought to be here,

but he's doing this WAAF Evie
a good turn.

You see, it's like this, Mrs Tovey.

We had a girl working for us,
name of Evie,

and she was told yesterday that her
home had been wiped out by a bomb.

Liverpool, it was. Naturally,
she was pretty cut up about it.

Her mum, dad, little sister -
all gone.

She was dashing off home to find out

if there was any hope
for her kid brother.

He was the only one they managed
to fish out of the ruins.

Dai and me didn't like
to see her go off alone,

not in the state she was in,

so Dai said, "Horace, you take over
and I'll go along with her."

And you call that dirty?
Dirty, you said it was.

Well, that's just a sort of
wartime slang, ain't it, Pedlar?

I mean, when a man goes
to his missus for seven days

we say he's on passionate leave

and if he goes anywhere else -
anywhere, mind you -

we say he's on a dirty weekend.

There's nothing nasty about it.

And your old pot and pan
ain't that type anyway.

Hey? Excuse me, missus.
I've got a whole camp to feed.

Pedlar, bring over
more of that tapioca.

Tapioca again.
Makes you sick, doesn't it?

Hello, Horace!
We've had a smashing time.

Sorry we overstayed a bit,

but you know what it's like
when you go to a place like that.

The fairground was open and there
was dancing in the town ballroom.

But we brought you both
back some rock.

(COUGHS AND GAGS)

Oh! Oh!

Oh, what are they trying to do?!

We had a ball and you wouldn't...

Did I give you the rock to carry,
Dai, darling?

Who's this?

Gwynneth, my love,
what are you doing here?

Come to check up
on a dirty old man, I have,

him that I married now,
isn't it, Dai Tovey?

Married? You and my Dai?

Yes, he's my husband.

And now I suppose you're gonna
ask me to prove it like he did.

And so I will!

(ALL CLAMOUR)
Hey, you can't...

Pedlar!

(ALL JOSTLE AND YELL)

Ungrateful little so-and-sos
after all the hard work I've done!

(ALL CONTINUE YELLING)
Here, now!

Arggh!
The Adj is here!

Get out! Go on!

It's a madhouse in here! A madhouse!

(STAMMERS) Arrest that woman!

Arrest her, I say!

(TRAIN WHISTLE TOOTS)

It's so big, Popey.

I'd be scared of London
if you weren't along.

You've never been
to the smoke before?

Never.

And it were real nice of you,
taking me home on leave with you.

We all need a change, mate.
Service life ain't normal, you know?

Oh, it's good in some ways,
though, Popey, ain't it?

I mean, the way we sort of
watch out for one another,

like with you doing
all the thinking and me...

Well, I'll never understand
how you squared the cookhouse rumpus

and got us leave passes besides.

Well, didn't she tell you?
Who?

Section Officer McNaughton.

No, she didn't say a word.

She doesn't seem to want
to talk much at all anymore.

Struth, Pedlar! You don't
even know your own strength.

(SPEAKS INAUDIBLY)

Shh.

I ain't been home
in two years, Pedlar.

Hello, Dad. It's me - Horace!

This...this is my mate Pedlar.
We're on a 48.

Give over, Dad.
Ain't you forgotten all that yet?

Hi, Lil!

Oh, Horace.

Pedlar, this is me stepmother.
Lil, this is my oppo.

How about making a nice cuppa?

We could stay for an hour,
have a nice natter.

You spoke to your dad yet?

Come on. I'll nip back later.

'Bye, Dad.

Look after yourself, won't you?

Ta-ta, Lil.

Was it because you
brought me along, Popey?

Oh, nah, he still hates me.

See, I'm the first one of us Popes
that was ever in uniform

and what the old man
will never forgive

is I talked meself into it.

But one day he's gonna get
a good rollicking from me, he is.

Oh, Pedlar, I wish
my own mum was still alive.

I'd give her a bleeding
good rollicking too!

Come on.

(PEOPLE CHATTER)

This here dispute is getting serious.

Do you reckon we'll have a chance
to fight them, Popey?

I can see a red light
when it's winking at me, old son.

Inside a month we ain't safe,
even at Craddock Wood.

We've gotta get back to camp tonight,

have a quick heart-to-heart
with old Corporal Gittens

and if I lay out a quid, we ain't
gonna be on no Channel steamer.

Well, don't look so downhearted.

Can't you see what we're aiming
to do, Pedlar - get lost.

What did I tell you
about reading papers?

Don't you believe
in the war at all, Popey?

Sure, sure.

I feel sorry for the blokes
that are getting themselves killed.

But I look at it this way, Pedlar -

most of them didn't have
any say about it one way or another.

I reckon not.
Well, OK, then. Come on.

('THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER' PLAYS)

(DROLL MUSIC)

(AEROPLANE ENGINES DRONE OVERHEAD)

(MAN WHISTLES) Hey!

(AMERICAN ACCENT) Come here.

Take a peek in the parlour.

(MEN CHATTER ANIMATEDLY)

Interested in a little action, boys?

Giveaway rate of exchange today -
three and a half bucks.

Special concession to the RAF.

After all, we're in this war
together, you know.

Since when have the Yanks
made concessions?

Where's the RAF section?
The 'raff'? Oh, the R-A-F.

Yeah, that's up the road apiece.

What do you wanna go up there for?
That's our poor district.

The real dough is in here, boys.

Hey, did you hear
what happened yesterday?

One of your air marshals enlisted
on our side as a buck private.

The poor guy wanted a pay increase.

(SCOFFS) Come on.

See you around, kids.

Hey, if you're new to the game

we run night classes
for the natives.

Come anytime.
Just ask for me. Buzzer's the name.

Yanks and all their dollar-lolly.
Don't it turn your stomach?

Oh, cheerful, ain't it?

You sure this is the only
boozer around here?

Oh, yeah, I know this part
of the country, Popey.

Anyone home?! (KNOCKS)
MAN: Just a minute.

Alright, here I am.
Sorry I kept you waiting.

Didn't hear you.
Been out feeding my chickens.

Not that I got much
to give 'em, poor dears.

Don't know how they keep going.

20 of them, I got. But I think
I know the one what does it.

Now, then, what can I do for you?
Afternoon, guv. We'll have a pint.

Here? Oh, a pint. Yes.

He won't have no beer,
you know, Popey,

but it's good cider here,
real scrumpy.

That a fact, guv?
You got nothing but cider?

That's a fact, yes.
Cider? Yes, that's it.

I got cider alright. No beer.
Is that what you mean?

Them brewers, they stopped
sending it when the war started.

Oh, them brewers,
they're no good to me.

No wonder the Yanks don't come here.
The Yanks...

I'll be joining that craps game
meself just to pass the time.

Craps game? Can't say I have time
for them Yanks myself.

Too much hurry and scurry,
hustle and bustle.

Yeah, well, at least they show
some enterprise, guv.

Oh, I know. They built
that there camp in a week.

I reckon we could have
done it ourselves in six

without all that hurry and scurry,
hustle and bustle.

I don't know. Yanks.
Have that on the house.

Here's a cup of tea for you, boys.

There you are. Cheers.

Well, I suppose
you know what you're doing.

Oh, half a tick, Pedlar.
I've got to have a fag.

I ain't worked so hard
in all my life!

Sure, Popey, you take a rest.
I'll finish this load.

Here, Pedlar, I've been thinking.

You know, with a bit of capital
this place could be done up nice.

It won't make any difference
to them Yanks what it looks like.

Oh, no, I'm thinking about
when the war's over.

Cars are here to stay.
There's bound to be bags of tourists.

This could be something steady.
A life, maybe.

You mean the two of us...
We won't have to move about anymore?

Well, if a bloke's got
a steady little goldmine

there's no sense in moving, is there?

Anyhow, as soon as that other
merchandise arrives from London

we can open up shop.

(MEN JOSTLE AND CHATTER LOUDLY)

AMERICAN: Hustle there
sweetheart! Come on.

Two bob, please, dear. Thank you.

Come on, Ivy!
Alright!

Thank you. Next, please!

Was it lagers?
I haven't got any glasses.

Well, go and get some!
Alright.

Oh, get out of my way!

Excuse me, please.

Come on, boys.
Give us your glasses. Thank you.

(MEN PLAY UPBEAT TUNE)
Enjoying yourselves?

Thanking you.

Empty glasses, please. Excuse me.
(MAN SPEAKS INDISTINCTLY)

No more drinks without glasses.

I think we're breaking a law, Pedlar.

Hey?
Supply and demand.

WOMAN: Ohh!
MAN: Over here, baby.

WOMAN 2: Who's next?
MAN 2: Over here, doll!

Alright, alright!
I've only got one pair of hands!

MAN: Hey, what's going on?
Six bob! Ta.

MAN 2: What are you waiting for?

All the hustle and bustle...

MAN: Hey, quit shoving, will ya?

(ALL JOSTLE AND CHATTER)
(KNOCKING)

What's that?
(KNOCKING CONTINUES)

I reckon somebody
can't find the door, Popey.

Oh, struth. When these blokes talk
of getting blind, they mean it.

(KNOCKING CONTINUES)

Hey, what you doing?

And to think we're guests
in your country, Pope.

Since when has this place
been out of bounds?

Since I found out you don't have
a single chaperone in the joint,

and my poor boys thousands of miles
from their mothers.

OK, Buzzer, name it.

Are you offering me a bribe?

No, just cash.

Well, that's a little embarrassing.

I mean, how do you negotiate

when one of the parties
hasn't got a leg to stand on?

It'd be a little more sporting
if I made you a proposition.

Like what?

Like how are you cutting up
the gravy here with old grandad?

He took me for a partner, 50/50.

You don't say!

We got 50%, hey?

Now, let me see.

If I took 90% and gave you 10%

well, that would still make you
a true full-fledged junior partner.

Congratulations, Horace.

Listen, Buzzer, I'll grant you
this started as only another racket

and maybe I should have made a deal
with you in the first place,

but it ain't a racket anymore.

For the first time in me life I feel
as though I really done something.

I want to come back here
after the war.

Sure, kid, I understand.

So if I can raise enough capital...

Well, it was my idea
in the first place, wasn't it?!

It's always some
poor guy's idea to start with.

Take the Wright brothers -

how much dough you figure they made
out of the flying machine?

Oh, you ruddy thieving...
Oh, what's the beef?

I'm gonna be doing
all the work around here

while you two guys
will be chasing around

after them gorgeous French broads,
taking it easy.

French?
Well, I'm just guessing.

But I think it'll be France.

You two boys have been
regraded and posted.

You don't think I came down here
just for that, do you?

Better start packing your kitbag.
The transport leaves at reveille.

Bon voyage, boys.

(JEEP MOTOR STARTS AND REVS)

Yanks. There's Yanks for you.

It was our war to start with,
wasn't it? Ours and Jerry's.

What'd they have to
horn in on everything for?

(MORSE CODE BEEPING)

(KNOCKS)
MAN: Come in.

It's all been traced, sir -
soap, cigarettes, toilet paper.

In fact, every delivery that should
have been made by truck seven, sir.

Well, who the hell
was responsible for truck seven?

I've traced that too, sir.

LAC Pope 148
and LAC Pascoe 213, sir.

Well, flush 'em out, man.
Flush 'em out!

Yes, sir.

I think Sergeant Ellis can tell you
more about that than I can, sir.

It's all very disconcerting, sir.

I took the liberty of making out
an interim report of their movements

since they joined us
in October, sir.

First issued on 01/09/44.

Reported missing 03/09/44.

Located with a breakdown 05/09/44.

Reported missing on the 12/09/44...

Good God. They sound
an absolute shower!

Very bad types, sir. I remember
them from the pool at Black Rock.

Then why the devil haven't you
wheeled them in here before this?

They've always had
a cast-iron alibi, sir.

Alibi? What do you mean, alibi?

Well, one time they had a chit

to show they'd been commandeered
by the Ordnance Corps.

Another time when I thought
I had them on missing petrol

they actually produced
civilian witnesses

to vouch for a collision
with a bridge-building unit, sir.

Get me the service police
on the blower right away.

And you, Sergeant, let me have a look
at their service conduct sheets.

You already have them, sir,
in the file.

Hmm?

These 121s are blank,
absolutely blank.

What is that supposed to prove?

The really bad types always have
a clean service record, sir.

Good God, how?

They bribe somebody
in the orderly room, sir,

to replace the crime sheet as soon
as it shows an adverse entry.

They do?
Yes, sir.

Damn clever, eh? (CHUCKLES)

Sir.

(TRUCK HORN TOOTS)

(MEN SHOUT IN FRENCH)

Roll up! Roll up! Lucky lads.

(PEOPLE CHATTER EXCITEDLY IN FRENCH)

Ladies et messieurs...
Uh, dames and messieurs.

(PEOPLE CLAMOUR)

(SPEAKS IN BROKEN FRENCH)
Bonne marchandise!

Tres bon. Tres marche. Voila.

(SPEAKS IN BROKEN FRENCH)

American cigarette? Lucky Strike?

Well, not exactly, mate, but these
are OK if you smoke them outdoors.

They're tres marche - 200 francs.

200 francs?!

Hey, show them
the self-heating soup, Pedlar.

200.
Voila! Bonjour!

You give me 100 cigarettes
as well as soap and chocolate, no?

OK, I'm a sucker.
Give her the stuff, Pedlar.

Now, gather round, mes amis.
Gather round.

Gumboots, coffee, gasoline.

Comprendez? Petrol.
Anything you want.

Oh, you don't know yet,
but I'm here to diddle ya.

(ALL JOSTLE AND YELL)
Oh, yeah, is that gold? OK, yeah.

(ALL CLAMOUR)

Yeah, have it.
That's two coffee, yeah?

What? Les Americains -
they come an hour ago.

Les chapeaux blancs. Vous comprenez?

Chapeaux blancs?
Chapeaux blancs.

White hat?
Oui, oui.

Blimey, Snowdrops - the Yank Gestapo.

Allez, allez. Vamoose! Go on. Go!

ALL: Aww!

Hey, what's going on here?

Detail number 106, Flying Column,
attached to 2nd TAF.

You might call it the RAF
on a mercy mission, Corp.

Let her go, Pedlar.

(TRUCK ENGINE CHUGS)

(SINGS CHEERFULLY)

Here, Pedlar, we ought to change
more cash into jewellery.

I mean, the international
trade is tricky.

I can't sleep at night
just thinking about the inflation.

Something's happening,
you know, Popey.

We've been passing
companies of men for an hour

and tanks and armoured troops too.

I don't get it. Either
they're on a bum steer or we are.

Maybe it's the big New Year's shove.

I've been hearing how they was gonna
shove Jerry right out of France.

Well, I reckon they'd be shoving
in the other direction.

Maybe we're lost.

Another Snowdrop.
What's he after, I wonder.

You guys aiming on running
smack into the crowds?

No, we've got to dump some tyres
at an ammo dump called B-6.

Brother, you're way out of date.
There ain't no B-6.

The guys that was building it up
lit outta here yesterday.

Ain't you heard
about the breakthrough?

Well, sure. How far you blokes
push the Jerries?

Pushing them? Brother,
them krauts have started pushing us.

They're about a mile up the road.

There's only half a company
between them panzers

and this crazy man
standing right here.

Oh, stone the crows. Get out of here,
Pedlar. Go back the way we came.

You do like I say -
stay put, wait for me.

I gotta make a recce up the road,

collect some men,
get the hell out of here.

Now you stay put. That's an order.

How long are you likely to be, Sarge?

Time it takes to say,
"Hello! Goodbye!"

What do you think? I'm staying
around to celebrate New Year's?

(TRUCK DOOR SHUTS)

(RAPID GUNFIRE IN DISTANCE)

Hark at that. Just hark at it.

Panzers, he said. There must be half
the ruddy German army in there.

(GUNFIRE BECOMES LOUDER)

Here, Pedlar, can you turn
her around without ditching her?

I reckon we can get
the boards under.

Then get moving. We're getting
out of here while there's still time.

(GUNFIRE CONTINUES)

We...we can't do that, Popey.
We can't run off and leave them.

What?
No, we can't do it.

Are you barmy? Just because
a Yankee sergeant says so?

We ain't under Yank orders.
We got no rights to be here at all.

It don't matter, Popey.
We still can't do it.

We gotta wait here like he said
and you know it.

Alright, since you're so keen

on winning the flippin'
Victoria Cross...

MAN: Hey!

Hey, stop! Wait for us!
(GUNFIRE IN DISTANCE)

Hey, wait a moment!

We'll get this lot aboard,
then we're moving out

if I have to drive
the bloody thing meself.

Get aboard.
Jump in the back, all of ya.

Which is the fastest way
to the main highway?

Straight back the way we came in.
This all there is?

Yes. Back up this vehicle.

What about the Snowdrop?
Snowdrop?

The narc, the copper, the sergeant!

These are all that survived. Reverse
this vehicle at once, driver.

(STARTS ENGINE)

Hey, stop, stop!

(SPEAKS IN GERMAN)

(WHISPERS) He stowed aboard
with a load of bleeding Jerries.

Why, you murdering...

(POPE RETCHES)

Got every single one of them, Popey.

Shut up about it, won't you?

(FIRE CRACKLES SOFTLY)

Snowdrop's coffee.

Did...did they get him?

I'll hot it up, Popey.

We...we gotta
get out of here, Pedlar.

I reckon these woods
are swarming with Jerries.

I don't think
you're ready to walk yet.

Walk?
Yeah, that lorry's u/s.

Them bullets ripped open
the petrol tank.

What the hell can we do?

Like I said, we could
start walking back.

On that road?

If we ain't murdered, we'll get run
over by Hitler's flippin' staff car.

There's no other way, Popey.

And in that lorry
we got grub and guns.

There's plenty of guns and ammo.

You wait here. I'll go fetch them.

(FOOTSTEPS RECEDE)

(GUNSHOTS)

There's more of 'em.
We gotta pack it in, Pedlar.

I reckon not, and I don't think
they'd take us prisoner.

You mean they'd...

Especially after
what we did to them others.

Well, we've gotta chance it.

Wave a handkerchief or something,
show them we're packing it in.

Look, Popey, he's over there
by that clump of bushes.

You cover me while I get over there
where I can pop him.

Are you nuts?
Do you mean to fight the bleeders?

Two of us against
the whole ruddy army?

They'll serve us up
like a dog's di...

(GUNSHOT)

(GUNFIRE)

Can you see him, Pedlar?
Don't you move, Popey!

(GUNSHOT)

Don't move!

(GUNFIRE)

Back to the hut, Popey!

Quick!

(GUNSHOTS)

To get at us they'd have
to come out into the open.

I think that's why they
waited for us to come out.

What happens when it gets dark?

The minute it's dark enough, Pedlar,
we don't stand an earthly.

Without light, Popey,
we've got no reason to be happy.

Pedlar, you're a genius!

Now if you can give me
some cover, Popey...

You ready?
Right.

(FIRES)

(GUNSHOTS)

(SILENCE)

(INSECTS CHIRP)

For God's sake, burn!

It's done it, Pedlar!

Right. Now let them try
nipping across that little patch.

We'll have it looking like
a knacker's yard!

Will it burn all night, Pedlar?

With all them tyres
in the back it should.

But suppose it don't?

There's nothing more we can do.

Proper carry-on, isn't it?

It is that.

You've been a flippin'
good oppo, Pedlar.

(BIRDS CHIRP)

Any sign of them?

No sign at all.

Alright?

Pedlar, the lorry...
It's all burned out!

There ain't nothing left of it!
It's all burned to a cinder!

I can see that, Popey.

Do you know something?
Do you know what we've done?

The bag, the cash,
all them trinkets...

We've burned all our capital.

We're back where we started!
We're skint!

It's right, isn't it?
I never give it a thought.

Yeah, but we're still here.

Is that all you can say?
The work of three years?

It ain't even got any sentimental
value for you, you big stupid...

Shh!
(RUMBLING IN DISTANCE)

Tanks, troop carriers, heavy stuff.

Where, though? Which way?

It's coming this way alright,
about a mile away.

Maybe they've gone
round behind us in the night

and they're boxing us in.

We can't fight a whole panzer group
with popguns, can we?

Come on.

(ENGINES RUMBLE IN DISTANCE)

Don't fire or anything, Popey.
Just let them pass by.

What do you think?

It's Yan...it's Yanks, Pedlar.

I think it's Yanks,
a whole flippin' army of them!

Don't move, Popey.

What are we gonna do,
just...just let them go by?

One of them fellas
might be a bit nervous.

Hey, ya!

Hello there!

Hi, Yanks! OK?

OK?

MAN: A limey! What do ya know?
MAN 2: RAF.

MAN 3: Hey, what are you
doing way out here?

MAN 4: Alright, buddy, come on down!

MAN: Certainly didn't expect
to see one of them down here.

POPE: Strike me down. I never thought
I'd be glad to see a Yank! Ha-ha!

(ALL LAUGH)
Hi, Yanks!

Come on, buddy. Come on.

(TYPEWRITERS CLICK)

Excuse me, sir.
This has just come through.

It seems to have originated

from the American sector
in the Ardennes, sir.

"Reference 148 Pope, 213 Pascoe,

"Leading Aircraftsmen
at present attached

"to number 109
supply and transport column.

"For fighting unsupported
rear-guard action

"over a period of 18 hours,

"personally accounting for six
of the enemy with captured weapons,

"recommended by USA officer
of field rank

"for American decorations
for gallantry and initiative

"over and above the call of duty."

Isn't it wizard, sir?
Our bods! Really our bods!

(CHUCKLES) Well...

Well, what are you
going to do, Bingo?

I mean, there's this long list
of their deficiencies.

What do you think? Stick my neck out,
put up a black with the Yanks?

No, I'm going to chip in

with the biggest and brightest gong
we can rustle up, old man.

Now get me chairborne command -
awards and decorations.

(BAND PLAYS MILITARY FANFARE)

MAN: Company, present arms!

Company, order arms!

They could stick all their medals

if only we had what was
in that flippin' tool kit.

I don't worry about
the money, Popey.

You don't?
Well, it was half yours, wasn't it?

I was always meaning
to give you half, Pedlar.

Of course, there's no way
of proving it now,

but you gotta believe me, Pedlar.

I was always meaning
to give you half. I swear.

(BAND PLAYS FANFARE)

Well done.

Excuse me, sir.

Signal for Pope.
Alright.

Top priority from
Eisenhower's headquarters.

Well, go on.

BUZZER'S VOICE: Dear junior partner,

shocked to read you were trying
to win the war - stop.

Are you nuts - stop.

Peace can only kill business here

so I'm quitting
while still ahead - stop.

Good luck, love and kisses, Buzzer.

(AEROPLANE ENGINE DRONES OVERHEAD)

(SHEEP BLEAT)

All we need is a little attraction
to bring in the customers,

so as soon as my mate
Pedlar gets here

we'll search the neighbourhood
for some Roman ruins.

(MUTTERS) Roman ruins...

In fact, I know a bloke
in London who makes them.

And if we have to, we can dig up

'Cleopatra's Barge'
out of the backyard.

'Cleopatra's Barge'...
(HORN HONKS)

Hello! That's my oppo.

Hello, Popey!
Pedlar, old son! Ha-ha!

Oh, you...

Hello, Horace.

(LAUGHS)

Cor, love a duck!

(UPBEAT MILITARY MUSIC)

Captioned by Ai-Media

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