Jackboots on Whitehall Page #4

Oh, she looks dirty.

Back in '79...

and there I was,

out of ammunition and surrounded.

FuZZies everywhere.

Oh, such bravery!

Look, everyone's here.

It's a miracle we all made it.

That's right, Christopher.

Dear, oh dear, oh dear,

oh dear, oh dear.

Mr Churchill?

A lost soul on the eve of battle.

Go and see if he's all right, lad.

Hello? Mr Churchill?

Hello?

Albert. Albert, look down there.

A basket.

- What is it, Tom?

- Albert, it's a baby.

There, there, young 'un, it's all right,

don't cry. Uncle Tom's here.

What is this thing?

It's only a baby, Vicar,

we found him in the reeds there.

Ah, that is no mortal child.

Look at the bastard's hands.

The sign of Lucifer.

Tie a stone round its neck,

and cast it back into the river.

Rid us of its evil!

I think I'll call him Christopher.

Do as you wish,

but be it on your eternal souls.

I shall not baptise that creature.

He is one of them!

- Them?

- Them. Them from the North.

Ah, Mr Churchill.

Old uniforms, sir.

Must be left over from years ago.

Aha, the old 42nd.

They were posted up here under

the command of the Duke of Wellington.

See to it that they are

distributed amongst the men.

Yes, sir.

- 'Ere, squire, look at my jacket.

- That won't fit you.

Nice, innit? Nice bit of fabric, that, yeah.

Hey, nice uniforms, guys!

Christopher,

I must thank you for saving my life.

You would make a fine soldier.

Well, the government don't think so.

They reckon my hands are too big.

And... well...

they are pretty big.

The government? I am the government.

And so, from this day on,

you are a soldier

in His Majesty's forces.

Oh, thank you, sir, thank you so much.

I won't let you down, I promise.

I'm counting on it.

The battle for London is over.

The battle for England is about to begin.

Mr Churchill!

Mr Churchill, Chris! Look at the sky!

Aha, aurora borealis. The northern lights.

Its name comes from

the Roman goddess of dawn.

Ancient Norse mythology suggests

that the light came from the Valkyries

riding through the sky,

collecting the dead from the battlefields,

but it's little more than

an atmospheric phenomenon,

though rather spectacular, I must say.

Isn't it beautiful, Chris?

Yes, it is.

But... tonight is not the night

for you two to be listening

to the ramblings of an old man.

Shall we go somewhere else?

You know, I've always loved you, Daisy.

Oh, my gosh.

Ho, ho, ho!

We brought Christmas early!

London is ours! Jawohl!

Ooh, ooh! Ohhh!

Goebbels, my Liebling!

Da-daaa!

Well, hello, boys. It's me!

Heil Hitler!

What do you think? Lovely fabric, isn't it?

Feel it, feel it.

You look fabulous, mein Fhrer.

I'm so sorry. If we'd only known

of your arrival.

Oh, you didn't think

I would miss Zis, did you?

A fancy-dress party

in the Palace of Buckingham?

Now tell me, Mr Himmy-Himmy-Himmler,

what have you all been up to?

Ooh, well, mein Fhrer,

since you have been in Paris,

a most excellent accomplishment

has been achieved.

Up until recently, mein Fhrer,

Ze Englander underground

was a complete and utter shambles.

More like a spaghetti than

a functional railway, mein Fhrer.

Zis better be going somewhere.

I got an early flight from Versailles for Zis.

You're going to love Zis.

Da-daaa!

We have brought efficiency

to Ze London Unterground!

All lines lead to der Vaterland.

I may have Ze body

of a weak und feeble NaZi,

but I do have a really big...

Luger!

We did not conquer Zis backward country

in order to bring it culture and discipline.

We came to capture

Herr Winston Churchill.

So why is that cage empty?

You let Churchill get away?

Of all Ze incompetent, idiotic...

Mobilise Ze army north.

Send Zem into damn

Scot Land if you have to.

Ah, yes, of course.

Of course.

Zat must be where Zey are hiding -

the Land of the Scots!

Zey know we would never try to attack

in fear of what lies beyond

Zat great Hadrian's Wall.

Scot Land, m-m-mein Fhrer?

B- b-but Ze stories!

Not even Ze Romans went beyond

Ze great Hadrian's Wall.

Who knows what evil lies up there?

Enough! You will attack Scot Land

und capture Herr Winston Churchill...

immediately!

I love you, Hans.

Sacr bleu!

Stone the bleedin' crows!

Awake, man-slobs. We have a war to win.

Huh?

Well, I drank four pints of sherry.

- Heh! It was a damn fine evening.

- Wakey-wakey, boys, rise and shine.

Stand to, men.

Eyes front!

Straighten up that line.

Good morning, Rupee.

Ah, Churchill Sahib.

Your men look magnificent.

Thank you, sir. All men present, correct,

and uniforms fitting perfectly.

- Morning, Prime Minister!

- And a good morning to you, too.

And a fine Highland morning it is too, sir.

Now, Rupee, how are things shaping up?

Ah, well, sir, every farmer

in England is here.

I bring my lads from Whitby,

North Yorkshire.

The men from Broad Oak, Herefordshire,

are ready, Prime Minister.

The Thornthwaite Cumberland boys.

Hooray!

Splendid, splendid.

It's not much, but they have a great heart.

The finest of our English agriculture.

The salt of our earth.

Just as Cromwell looked upon his

New Model Army at the field of Naseby

in 1645, eh, Rupee?

Er... yes, sir.

We also have an air force.

Billy Fiske has rustled up a biplane

and is giving basic flying lessons now.

All right, hot dog, listen up,

cos I'm only gonna tell you this once more.

You press that to start the engine,

you press that to fire your guns.

Engines... guns... right.

OK. Now take her up

and show me what you got.

Yeah, right. OK.

Third time lucky. Here we go.

And where the blaZes

do you think you have been?

- Father, I can explain.

- No need to explain, young lady!

I understand perfectly.

If you think that being in Scot Land

is a licence to get your fat hands

on my daughter,

you've got another thing coming, boy!

Oh, nuts!

He's doing it again!

Make it stop!

Hey!

Take your finger off the f***in' fire button!

Er...

Well, looks like he might need

a couple more lessons, sir.

Sh*t.

You stupid bastard!

Looks like I'm your air cover, Mr President.

Ain't no way I can teach

these douche bags how to fly.

- Dear, oh dear, oh dear.

- Mr Churchill!

The scouts have just returned, sir.

Reports are of NaZis, thousands of 'em,

coming from the South.

So, it begins.

We found this in the cave, sir.

And we managed to salvage these...

old flintlock muskets.

Exactly one gun per man.

Splendid. Let us prepare for battle.

Ready, aim, fire.

Yaaah!

Excellent.

Straighten up that line!

Yo, Rupee-doopee.

Never thought I'd see Red Injuns

this far from home.

And you tell me, Fiskie-whisky...

why did you travel 5,000 miles

to fight a war that the English ought

to be fighting for themselves, hmm?

Hey, look who's talking, pal.

Hmm, good point.

This is our last line of defence.

We will hold them from this wall

for as long as possible.

Gaston, Tom, Albert - artillery.

- Yes, sir.

- Oui, Monsieur Churchill.

- Rutty?

- Prime Minister.

You and Daisy are in command

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