Carry On... Up the Khyber Page #9

Of course it isn't.

Chindi, what's the meaning of this?

I... I do not know, Your Excellency.

And I ordered sucking pig, didn't I?

I'm very sorry, Your Excellency.

Well, take it away, go on.

- You've got to get rid of that cook, dear.

- Oh, yes!

- Did you want to go somewhere, Mr Belcher?

- Mad!

That's the fakir's head! They've killed him!

Well, that's dashed unsporting.

- Unsporting?!

- Yes, it's the closed season for fakirs.

I don't believe it. I don't believe it.

No, it's true. Here.

Here we are. April 1 st to September 30th.

Of course. How silly of me. I should have known.

Some wine.

- How did they like that?

- They didn't like it. They're sending it back.

- You mean they're going on with the dinner?

- Yes, Highness.

Oh, no. This is ridiculous.

What must one do to arouse these idiots?

I do not know, Highness.

A thing like that leaves them unmoved,

but put the tea in the cup before the milk

and they go berserk!

It is like their Sir Francis Drake

finishing his bowls.

Oh, don't talk bowls to me!

Kill them! Kill them all!

- Attack! Attack! Kill! Kill!

- Kill!

You and the Princess plan to marry, Captain?

- That's right, sir.

- Oh, I do love a wedding.

Yeah, good show. Course,

I shall put the Residency at your disposal.

Well, that's er... jolly kind of you, sir.

- What's left of it.

- Pardon?

I said what's left of it.

Oh. Eh, oh, yes.

Major Shorthouse, make a note, will you?

- Have this room decorated.

- Yes, sir.

The termites, you know.

SIDNEY:
So, will your mothers and father

be coming, then?

More wine, Mr Belcher?

Chindi, get me some more Margaux.

This one's a bit off.

Ah! Ooh.

Oh, dear. Ha-ha-ha-ha!

I seem to have got a little plastered.

(All laugh)

Oh, the orchestra seems

to have stopped playing.

Ah.

Bravo! Encore!

# JOHANN STRAUSS: Blue Danube

The gates have gone! Attack!

Kill! Kill!

Well done, my beautiful warrior!

Come, we will put them to the sword!

(Battle rages outside)

(Pop!)

Cor blimey! You frightened the life out of me!

(Whistling)

I wonder if I might pop out, sir,

and see if anything's happening?

But you haven't had your pudding yet.

Oh, and it's strawberry mousse.

Oh. Well, in that case.

Mr Belcher? Mr...

Mr Belcher?

Mr Belcher?

Forgive me. I was er...

- I was adjusting my dicky.

- Oh.

Excuse me for butting in, sir.

That's all very well,

but we have got a door, you know.

- I'm sorry, sir, but this was rather urgent.

- All right, what is it?

- They've broken into the compound, sir.

- That's a dashed bad show!

Perhaps we ought to go out

and have a look, eh, Captain?

- Yes, sir.

- If the ladies'll excuse us.

Oh, yes, of course, dear, if it's important.

I'm sure Mr Belcher will keep you entertained.

Major Shorthouse, my revolver.

Of course, sir.

- Have you got yours, dear, just in case?

- Yes, dear.

Try and save the last bullet for Mr Belcher,

will you? After all, he is our guest.

Chindi, please.

(Battle rages on)

Don't worry, we'll save you

some strawberry mousse.

They like strawberry mousse.

Strawberry mousse!

# Strawberry mousse! Strawberry...

# Scots Wha'hae

Do you come here often?

(Gunshot)

- Ow!

- What did you do that for?

- I've just got a bullet in my sporran.

Have you? Get back and fight!

I think they may mean business this time.

Looks a bit like it, sir.

If er... you'll excuse me?

Certainly.

Permission to have a bash, sir?

- Yes, go on, enjoy yourself.

- Thank you.

(Blood-curdling scream)

Do you wish to see me?

Fall back to the Residency, men! Fall back!

Captain Keene. Your collar's undone.

Oh. Sorry, sir.

We're done for, sir.

There's too many of them.

Not yet. Line the men up down there.

Sir?

- Line them up! Facing the enemy.

- Yes, sir.

Dis...engage!

Form one straight line

facing the enemy!

Stop!

Regi, get the Raj.

Company... kilts... front!

Go on! There are no Devils in Skirts

to frighten you now!

Hands... raise!

ALL:
Aaaah!

Come back! Come back!

There's nothing to be afraid of!

Oh, I don't know, though.

- All right, Captain, dismiss the men.

- Thank you, sir.

- Carry on, Sergeant Major.

- Right, you dozy lot...

- Sidney, dear, are you all right?

- I'm top-hole, dear.

- I thought we'd have coffee in the lounge.

- Yes, why not?

Oh, dear.

That's all right. We'll clear it up in the morning.

Of course, they're all raving mad, you know.

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