Carry on England Page #7

I thought a spot of gun drill, sir.

All right. Let's shoot off.

(Both chuckle heartily)

(Laughs sarcastically)

You f...

Fall in at the gun emplacement!

Move yourselves!

BLOOMER:
Come on. Move yourselves!

Get them bodies moving!

13-13 Battery, at the double...

...stop for nothing, take posts!

Watch it! Aarrghh!

Better get him out of there, Sergeant Major.

Sir.

Steady, sir. Excuse the familiarity, sir.

(Back cricks)

Aahh! Ohhh!

Got yourself in a bit of a hole there, Melly.

Hole! Ha ha ha ha!

- Permission to carry on, sir.

- Please do.

MELLY:
You two men there.

- It doesn't need two men to lift one shell.

- You couldn't call us two men, sir.

More like one and a half.

- It doesn't need one and a half.

- These things is heavy, sir.

- A man could do himself a mischief.

- Rubbish!

Come on. Hand it to me.

- Over to you, Sergeant Major.

- Tiger, darling, let me.

Don't say darling in front of officers.

But I couldn't bear it if you strained something

before we'd even...

you know...

I do not know.

Well, let me teach you.

I find these things awfully exciting.

I don't know why.

- Take that thing out of there!

- She's rammed it up. Let it stay up.

In that case, sir, gun loaded, sir.

Bearing 270!

(Rhythmic honking)

Call Melly, will you?

Sir. Captain Melly!

Sir?

Surely, in the interests of efficiency,

you shouldn't have someone with... those...

doing... erm... that.

Do you know, sir, you're right.

Yes, well, I always try

and keep abreast of things.

Oh, droll, sir. Very droll.

- Hiscock?

- I beg your pardon.

Gunner Hiscock! Replace those...

...her, will you?

Yes.

Carry on, Sergeant.

- QE 30.

- Gun ready for firing, sir.

Right, stand by!

Fire!

(Phut)

Hardly went off with a bang, eh, Melly?

Carry out drill for misfire!

Breach jammed, sir.

Jammed? Get out of my way!

Put up a bit of a black there, Melly.

- Permission to take a shower.

- Where are you going to take them?

Not this shower, sir.

Hot shower.

Yes. Well, I must admit, you do look a bit grimy.

Carry on with the brigadier's inspection,

Sergeant Major.

Hah!

Shall we commence in the mess, sir?

Seem to be in it already.

Ha ha ha. Humpf!

It will start working soon.

He'll turn bright blue

as soon as he gets in the open air.

Hee-hee hee-hee!

If you could see your way clear, sir, to grant me

a transfer, I would be eternally grateful.

I would do anything, sir.

Any mission you care to suggest.

I could parachute into Germany. Kill Hitler.

Captain Melly resuming duty, sir.

- Melly?

- Sir?

Melly, last time I saw you, you were black.

Now you've turned blue.

Blue?

Blue. Mirror.

- Blue as a baboon's arse.

- Ha ha! Oh...

Permission to have another shower, sir.

- Granted.

- Carry on with the inspection, Sergeant Major.

Hah!

On the other hand, sir,

if you does not fancy me knocking off Hitler,

how about that fat slob of an Italian

ice cream merchant Musso-bloody-lini?

- Are you a coward, Sergeant Major?

- Me, sir?

You want to go gallivanting off,

trying to kill Hitler and Mussolini

and sneak out from under

this very tough job here?

Only a suggestion, sir.

Bloody ashamed, you should be. What's this?

Games room, sir.

What's the name of this game, Sergeant Major?

- Unarmed combat... sir.

- Oh?

What the sergeant major means, sir, is... Ahem!

...is that you can never be sure

when them Nazi paratroopers might land, sir.

And we must be ready for them.

By fighting with ladies?

Ah, sir, we heard... about them nuns, sir.

You know, sir. Them nuns when the Frogs

was done. With Tommy guns up their habits.

Those nuns, Sergeant Major,

were German soldiers in disguise.

What we was doing, sir,

was getting used to the feel

of fighting something in skirts.

Mm-hm. What do you say, Carstairs?

Mm-hm.

- Can you explain that, Sergeant?

- Well, sir. This is erm...

well, a mixed battery, sir.

And er... well, in a mixed battery, you have to er...

- Mix it.

- Mix it.

Carstairs, you fancy yourself

at unarmed combat, don't you?

I know a trick or two, sir.

- Go on, then. Choose your opponent.

- Thank you, sir.

You. That man there.

- Me, sir?

- No, no. No! Not you, Bombardier.

I never fight a man with his glasses on.

I'll take them off, sir.

No, no. It'll be too dangerous.

Thank you. Back into line.

Sir.

You. That man over there.

Me, sir?

Yes, you.

Sir, why don't you try one of our young ladies?

- Eh?

- Good idea. Why not try one of her ladies?

TILLY:
Just to show how far advanced

in the game we are, sir.

- Ladies, well...

- Jolly good idea. Go ahead.

- Ffoukes Sharpe!

- Pardon?

- Sir!

- Sir.

- If I was you, sir...

- Yes, Sergeant Major.

How you wish you were me.

- No, sir, I think I should warn you...

- Don't worry, I shan't hurt her.

(Stifled chuckle)

Right, Ffoukes Sharpe. En garde!

What are they afraid of, what?

Stand by, Sergeant!

Oooh! Aarrghh!

Thank you, madam.

I wasn't ready, sir.

Come along, Carstairs. I think we've both hung

around here long enough, don't you?

Ha ha.

Whoever perpetrated that blue joke

is going to suffer.

Suffer! I'll murder 'em!

I'll make dog meat of 'em.

I'll show them who's wearing

the trousers around here.

(High-pitched voice) Good afternoon, sir.

I say, sir. That ATS private's

wearing a moustache!

That's no ATS private, Carstairs. That's Melly!

(Air raid siren)

13-13 Battery, take post!

Action stations, Carstairs. Action stations!

Is this the real thing, Sergeant Major?

Yes, lovely boy.

It is you against the Hun this time!

Move yourselves! Move yourselves!

Come on! Come on!

BLOOMER:

Sixpence for every one you shoots down.

Two bob if it is a German!

Come on! Come on! Move yourselves!

Move yourselves! Come on! Come on!

Here, did you see that?

Leonard, you cannot expect a brigadier

to expose himself.

I think perhaps we should go now.

Get those bloody guns ready!

MELLY:
Put those gas masks on!

No.1 detachment, take post!

Right! Stand by!

With respect, sir. You is improperly dressed.

If it wasn't for you, Sergeant Major,

I wouldn't be in this shape.

- I reckon they're Fokkers.

- Have you got it up?

- I beg your pardon?

- The shell, man. The shell!

- That's rammed up all right, sir.

- Then fire it!

Fire!

SPITFIRE PILOT:
Bloody hell!

Don't shoot at him. Shoot at them!

You dozy idle fool!

220-35-29!

Fire!

Fire!

190-30-28!

Shorthouse!

Get that shell in the breach!

Oh, for heaven's sake!

- Get out!

- Fire!

- We've got him, Sergeant Major.

- Let's hope it's one of theirs.

- Aaaaaahh!

- Well done, lads! Again!

Fire!

It's a hit, sir. It's a hit!

- Well done, Tiger.

- Thank you, Smelly... sir.

Do it again! Do it again!

MELLY:
Fire!

It's another hit, sir!

Well done, Jock.

Do it again!

Right, stand back, you two!

That's it. Fire!

You've done it. You've done it, my lovely boys!

- We did it! We did it!

- Leonard, you did it.

- No, we did it, Till.

- We did?

Take that message back to Hitler!

Ahhh!

A- haaaa!

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