Carry on England Page #4

Ear muffs? Trophy of war?

Captured from one of them German ATS

during the retreat from Dunkirk, sir.

It says "Made in England".

Atishoo!

Who's that sneezing up in the loft?

- Him, sir.

- It couldn't have been. I've seen you talking.

- Yeah.

- He was talking and then... then he sneezed, sir.

I didn't see him.

No, sir. I would never sneeze

in the presence of an officer.

So, he sort of...

He threw his sneeze up... up into the loft.

- Didn't you, Ready?

- Yes, Sergeant.

- Are you a ventriloquist?

- Oh, no, sir. Church of England.

Do you pursue the ventriloquial art?

- In an amateurish sort of way, yes, sir.

- Do it again.

Er... again.

You mean, you want me to...

throw my voice and sneeze up in the loft again?

- Sir!

- Yes.

- Atishoo!

- I saw your lips move!

- I didn't.

- I did distinctly.

I should give it up, if I were you.

You're not very good at it.

The state of this hut's not very good either.

In fact, it's horrible.

In the time it takes me to shower,

you shower will clean this place up.

I want this floor polished from wall to wall.

Under the beds. Round the stove.

Polish it everywhere!

I want it so that I can see my face in it.

You heard what the officer said! Get on with it!

No. No. No. Something has got to be done.

- I know what he wants.

- What does he want?

He wants us to polish the floor, sarge.

Phoooorrr!

He's in it again.

You...

You... you... aarrgghhhhh!

What has happened?

He went through so fast,

I think he might have been taken short again.

Yes. A nasty friction burn you've got there.

What have you been doing? Arsing about?

A drop of calamine

will soon get to the bottom of this one.

- I will cancel the route march, sir.

- You'll do no such thing!

- No choice, sir. Your uniforms is at the cleaners.

- I know that. Arrghh!

You cannot go on a route march in your

underpants and with a burnt bum to boot.

Get me a battledress, Sergeant Major,

from battalion stores, you fool.

I've already rung the stores

and there's nothing in your size, sir.

This is a bit near the ground, Melly.

Get me a battledress, Sergeant Major.

I don't care how, but get it!

Sir.

What does he expect me to do? Knit him one?

The short arse...

That's it. Short arse.

Little Gunner Shorthouse. Hee-hee hee-hee!

My best battledress, Sergeant Major?

Do not bandy words with me, lovely boy.

Or I will raise my right leg six inches

from the ground,

place my No.10 firmly on the top of your head,

and press you straight through the floorboards!

Nice.

Best walking-out battledress, short arse, please.

What if he wants to go walking out,

Sergeant Major?

Then he will just have to stay in!

Oh, flippin' heck.

Only one man round here allowed to use bad

language, Gunner, and you is looking at him.

Get it out, lovely boy. Get it out.

- Pardon?

- The battledress. Get it out!

Sergeant Major.

I do not know about walking out in it.

It looks like you've been sleeping out in it.

Press it like it's never been worn,

stick three pips on,

bring it over the battery office in ten min-u-ets!

By the way, the whole of the mixed section

will parade at 0900 hours.

You is going walkies.

OFFICERS:
Walkies?

- A route march! Hee-hee hee-hee.

I is looking forward to seeing you off

on them 12 foot-blistering miles.

I cannot wait to wish you luck,

as you wave me goodbye. Hee-hee hee-hee.

12 miles!

So you see, Tilly, I wanted to ask your advice.

I mean, you being a woman and all that.

- Oh, so you've noticed.

- Yes.

- A couple of times.

- Not now, Leonard.

We're on duty.

You see, the little perisher

is going to wear this on the march.

- Him?

- No, no. Not him. Him.

- Captain flippin' S Melly.

- Oh, Smelly himself.

So, with all your knowledge

of erm... sewing and that,

what can we do to sabotage

Shorty's walking-outs?

I don't want anybody sabotaging my walking-out.

A- a-a-a-a!

It's either your walking-outs or our feet.

Well, Till?

(Sighs) I don't know.

I just don't know.

- Built to withstand all the rigours of wars, these.

- But what are we going to do?

Wait a minute...

I'm waiting.

Anti-gas bleach.

- Anti-gas bleach.

- Anti-gas bleach?

Oh, Leonard. Get me some.

Ready, get me some.

- Have you got a match?

- Yeah. Your...

This'll make him hop a bit.

(Able chuckles)

Parade!

Right heel!

(Squeaking)

Parade, ready for route march, sir!

Thank you, Sergeant Major.

Mixed section, move to the left in column abrupt!

Left turn!

By the left, quick march!

Mixed section, halt!

(Squeaking)

What the devil do you think you're doing,

Sergeant Major?

Seeing you off, sir.

Somebody has to hold the fort.

A fort with only a wooden gun...

...doesn't need holding. Fall in at the rear.

With respect, sir.

I cannot do route marches with my feet.

Well, you certainly can't do one without them.

Hee-hee hee-hee.

- Fall in.

- Sir!

(Squeaking)

Mixed section and Sergeant Major...

...quick march!

(Laughter)

(Peals of laughter)

You seems to have come apart at the seams,

sir.

Mixed section, halt!

(Squeaking)

Left turn!

- Sergeant Major!

- Sir!

- Put them all on a charge...

- Hah!

- Every man, jack and woman of 'em!

- Sir!

You is all on a charge!

Er, what is the charge, sir?

Laughing...

on duty!

Left, right! Left, right! Left, right! Left!

Defaulters, halt!

Hats off!

- March them in, Sergeant Major.

- One at a time, sir?

They're all on the same charge.

I'll see them all together.

Sir! Defaulters, opposite sex first.

Single file. Double march!

Left, right! Left, right! Move yourselves!

Left, right! Left, right! Mark time!

Left, right. Left, right. Move yourselves!

Left, right! Left, right!

Halt!

Where are you, sir?

(Gasps) Over here, Sergeant Major.

Can't see you, sir. Raise your hand, sir.

Will you kindly remove your?

I can't. I'm squashed.

Take a deep breath, Ffoukes... Ffoukes Sharpe.

Oh, never mind where I am, Sergeant Major.

Read the charge.

Hargh! Defaulters did, whilst on duty,

indulge in unauthorised laughter

in contravention of King's regulations

and War Office instructions, sir.

(Muffled reply)

I'm sorry, sir. We couldn't er...

We couldn't quite catch that.

Will you kindly remove those things from my?

I said you're all confined to camp for two weeks.

Carry on, Sergeant Major!

Sir! About turn!

Double march! Left, right! Left, right!

Move yourselves! Move yourselves!

Sergeant Major. Shut the door.

That'll teach 'em.

What are you shaking your head for?

- They will not mind being confined to camp, sir.

- Nonsense.

Every soldier minds being confined to camp.

Not when half of 'em is women, sir.

- They is happy here.

- Happy?

It has always been my proud boast, sir,

in all my time as a sergeant major,

in all my camps there has never been

a single sign of happiness... till now.

Why, man? Why?

- This lot have got everything they want here, sir.

- Such as?

A bit of this. A bit of that. A lot of that, actually.

A lot of what?

You know, sir. That.

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