Jackboots on Whitehall Page #2

- Morning paper, sir?

- Ah, thank you.

What's this? Invasion looms?

Hitler will invade today?

Blast!

So much for an early retirement.

'Ere, are you Mr Winston Churchill?

Hmm? What?

Why, yes, I am.

Is that your cat? He looks like Hitler.

What? Pinkypoo?

Stuff and nonsense.

And what the bloody hell

is going on up there?

Who the devil are you?

Joseph Kaplinsky,

Polish Electrical Services.

I make better telegraph lines for you.

You can't just go putting up new telegraph

lines wherever you damn well please!

This is a listed road, man.

Bah, I don't know why Hitler

bothered with you Polish lot.

Les Anglais...

- There's a foreigner down on the beach.

- How can you tell, Albert?

He's funny-looking,

and he's up to something.

Oh, let's have a look.

It's just a fisherman, Albert.

You can never be too careful these days.

Albert, if the NaZis invade,

do you really think they'll do it

in a little boat like that?

Well, I'm going to keep an eye on him.

- # Just as the sun was rising

- Huh?

# I heard a maiden sing

- # In the valley below

- Huh.

# Oh, don't des... #

Ooh, good morrow, kind sir.

Alors.

Ja, that's it! Keep drilling!

London can't be far now!

How's that foreigner getting on

down there, Albert?

He's getting on all right,

by the looks of things.

Another cup of tea, Christopher?

- No, thanks.

- You all right, my lad?

'Ere, I know what's wrong.

He's all loved up with that vicar's daughter.

Ah, leave it out.

Can't join the army, can't join the navy,

can't even get in the blinkin' Home Guard.

Sorry, Chris, but you know

the army's rules about hands.

Yeah, fingers too big

to fit in the trigger guard.

Now that's just nonsense.

They're a fine set of paws

you got there, lad,

don't let anybody tell you no different.

How the hell can I fight a NaZi invasion

with a pitchfork and a tractor?

Invasion?

Nah, there won't be no invasion, lad.

Yeah, they won't get past us.

There's absolutely nothing

we ain't thought of.

English Chronicle! English Chronicle!

Invasion looms! Read all about it!

- English Chronicle!

- Oh, God, another day at the office.

Drives me up the bleedin' wall.

Veg! Get your lovely veg!

'Ere y'are, darlin', you need your greens.

Dutch tulips!

Get 'em while they're good!

Get your veg! Come on!

Oh, I say, what is that noise?

What's that?

What the?

What's this? Some kind of earthquake?

I say, Pomfrey, do you hear what I hear?

What the dickens?

Holy sh*t.

Jesus Christ!

F***in' Ada!

Look! Nelson's Column.

Herr Himmler, success.

We are in London.

Ahhh, excellent!

Right through Ze Northern Line.

They'll be having delays on Zat

for Ze next hundred years!

Kill Zem! Kill Zem all!

God's teeth!

Feuer!

Do not run,

Ze German army is your friend,

Ugh, look at all them NaZis.

Hey, don't worry, kid. I'm an American.

Old Billy Fiske is gonna go get

some payback. Yeah!

My flowers!

My beautiful flowers!

Buggers are here! Tunnelled right up

into our back entrance.

What? Retirement shall have to wait.

It is time for action.

Sir, no, your place is here. We can't risk

losing you. You must stay in the bunker.

We have no army left. Who else

is going to defend Downing Street?

We still have Major Rupee

and his brave Punjabi guards.

I guarantee they will stand and fight.

Brave men of the Punjab,

we are the last of the remaining Empire,

the only soldiers England has left.

Their army has surrendered, helpless,

on the shores of Dunkirk.

So now this honour

has been bestowed on us -

us, the men of the Raj.

And when the time comes

we will all do our duty for England

and protect Churchill Sahib

at all costs!

Whoo-ee!

What in the name of?

Bloody 'ell, it's Billy Fiske!

Well, if it ain't Major Rupee

and his pack of Injuns.

You mean to tell me that out of

the whole bloody Royal Air Force

the only pilot to survive

the Battle of Britain was...

An American! That's right, hot dog.

Mornin', boys.

I suppose you have come to pay me

that 50 American dollars you owe me?

Nope. Wallet got shot

out of my pants this morning.

Your 50 bucks is somewhere

over France now, buddy.

I might have known!

That is the last time I play poker with

some half-wit, two-bit crop-duster pilot.

Oh, yeah? Pal, half the Soviet army

is around that corner.

You mean German.

They're gonna roll their tanks up this street

like sh*t through a goose,

so quit your jabbering and saddle up.

- Lock and load, guys!

- Make ready, men!

Hey, pal, time to take a hike.

No, no! I nearly finished!

CraZy-ass Polack.

OK, Rupe, let's light the candles.

Corporal, light the invasion beacon!

They are on their way.

Yes, Major. Light the beacon!

It's the beacon at Whitehall!

Light the beacon!

What's that?

Blimey.

It's the beacon at Crystal Palace!

Fire the beacon, lads! It's the invasion!

The beacon at Croydon's been lit, sir!

Father, look! It's the invasion beacon

at Maidstone.

They've come.

It's the invasion. Look!

Light the beacon, Albert.

Back to the village, lads.

There ain't much time.

Sacr bleu!

Take up your positions, men!

Come on, you guys, get that MG movin'.

We've got ourselves a war to win!

All right, commie a**holes,

it's time to hammer down the sickle.

Got it, I've got it.

Quiet, quiet, it's the news.

This is the BBC Home Service,

Here is the news at 12 o'clock,

The German army has invaded London,

I repeat, The German army

has invaded London,

London! I don't believe it.

Why can't they stay in their own country?

The Prime Minister will now make a speech

from the Cabinet War Rooms

in Downing Street,

My dear countrymen,

my dear friends.

Never in the field of human conflict

was so much

buggered up by so few for so many.

This isl...

What's wrong with it?

Germany calling,

Germany calling,

Hello, Englanders!

Zis is Ze voice of Ze NaZis!

Ze whole of Ze BBC are now dead.

We have successfully invaded

your capital city of London,

und are ready to capture

your beloved prime minister,

Herr Winston Churchill,

from Downing Strasse - oh, ja -

who we have a very special message for.

Do not hide. We will find you.

You are as good as captured...

fat boy.

No one can escape Ze Third Reich!

...that is all I have to say

on the matter,

Apart from my elite Punjabi guards,

we have absolutely no military defence

whatsoever,

Therefore I ask any of you

who are in any way able to come to our aid,

- to do so immediately,

- We're buggered.

When I give the order,

we should retreat to...

Where should we retreat to, Monty?

How the hell should I know?

Retreat to, er...

Retreat to...

...Scot Land.

The Land of the Scots?!

But, sir, the... the Scots are hordes

of murderous blood-drinking savages.

Retreat to Scot Land.

Head north to Hadrian's Wall.

Good luck, and God save us all.

Should we go to Scot Land?

Scot Land?

Hadrian's Wall?

Surrender seems to be our only option.

You hear that?

They're talking about surrender.

I've never been to London. Where is it?

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