The Wipers Times Page #3

hardly sedition, is it?

They also take their hats

off to the officer in charge

of the costume department

of the Poperinghe Fancies.

They are just a gang of backchat

comedians deliberately

undermining morale with this

impertinent, unpatriotic rag.

Could you think of anything more

likely to produce discontent amongst

the men?

Yes. Banning it.

Put your back into it, Henderson.

Sir.

Sergeant, we're running out of

timber.

Go see if you can borrow something

from the communications line.

Henderson. Barnes. You

work on the parapets.

Yes, sir.

Keep down, Barnesy, unless you want

sniper taking your head off.

Smith. Dodd. Start on the supports.

Do I have to work with Dodd, sir?

Yes, you do. Poor Dodd drew

the short straw.

Now get on with it, Smith.

What's the plan?

What I think we should do, Jack...

Up the cover price, get in some new

writers and cut down on the poetry.

You don't think you might be getting

rather obsessed with the paper?

Don't be ridiculous.

I'm a model commanding officer

executing my duties

in exemplary fashion.

What do you think of the poetry?

I think poetry's essential in the

modern battlefield. A bit like mud.

If only it were just mud.

Yes. Perhaps, better not

dwell on the... unmentionables.

Better left unsaid.

That's why I'd rather

think about the paper.

It's important to me

because it's not important.

Oh, dear. You're getting aphoristic.

Am I? Apologies.

So what are we thinking?

I think we should crack out

another couple of issues.

And if it keeps going this well,

try and sell it back home.

You're getting obsessed.

Listen. Listen, Fritz is in

fine voice.

What are they singing, sir?

Sounds like an hymn, sir.

It is.

It's called the Hymn Of Hate.

It goes something like this...

You we will hate with

a lasting hate.

We will never forego our hate.

Hate by water and hate by land.

Hate of the head

and hate of the hand.

Hate of the hammer,

hate of the crown.

Hate of 70 millions choking down.

We love as one. We hate as one.

We have one foe and one alone.

Eng-er-land.

Eng-er-land.

That's not very nice is it, sir?

Spot-on, Dodd.

We don't have any songs like that,

do we, sir?

No, we don't and if we did they'd

certainly be a lot funnier.

The Wipers Times should put that

right, sir.

Good idea, Dodd.

Since Dodd has joined

the editorial conference,

I propose we take his excellent

suggestion on board

and include something suitably

melodious in the issue.

What do you have in mind?

We all love the music hall, sir!

Ladies and gentlemen!

Welcome to the Cloth Hall at Ypres.

Best ventilated hall in the town.

Tonight, for your delectation,

we proudly present

positively the greatest

collection of performers ever

collected in one place at one time.

Yes, it's Mr Thomas Atkins And Co in

their stupendous new revue,

The Big Bangs Are Here.

Oooh!

With music by Mr R Tillery.

And not to mention

Mrs Miniworther,

who always meets with

a thunderous reception.

And not forgetting Bouncing Bertha,

who's only 17 inches high...

but is guaranteed to bring

the house down.

And, there's more, with Hind and

Berg, sword swallowers...

and nail eaters.

And introducing the world's favourite

comedian, Kaiser Bill...

and his little Willie.

That's the crown prince I'm talking

about.

Thank you. But I promised you a song

and a song you shall have.

A pleasing patriotic performance

from our very own privates -

The Atkins brothers -

Thomas and Tommy.

I heard the bugles calling

Join up, I felt I must

Now I wish I'd left them bugles go

on blowing till they bust.

Yes, this show is going to run,

and run and run and run...

Dodd, did you go swimming? Give its

a rest, Smithy I was switching

patrols.

As you were, Smith.

Great news, Fred, apparently the war

will be over within the week.

Says who?

Says Hilaire Belloc.

Didn't he say the war was going to

be over within the week last week?

I rather think he did.

And the week before.

Now you're just jealous cos we don't

have a war expert of our own.

Somebody who really knows what's

going on.

Yes, you're right. Perhaps we should

employ our own Hilary Belloc.

What about Belary Helloc?

I hear he's very well informed.

Really?

So what is Mr Helloc's latest

take on the war?

Good evening.

I'm the famous Belary Helloc

and tonight my subject is

"why we are going to win the war."

Everything points to a speedy

disintegration of the enemy.

So let's just have a

look at the figures.

There are 12 million

fighting men in Germany.

Of these,

nine million are already killed,

or are being killed as we speak.

Leaving just three million.

Of these 2,500,000

are temperamentally

unsuitable for fighting owing to

obesity, due to eating sausages.

This leaves us just 500,000

as the full German strength.

Now, of these, 497,250 are suffering

from incurable diseases.

And I think we know which ones.

Leaving just 2,750 men.

Of these,

2,150 are on the Eastern Front.

And of the remaining 600, we see

that 584 are generals and staff.

Thus we find, that

there are in fact just...

16 men on the Western Front.

Clearly not enough to resist one

final big push, or maybe two,

or three - four at the very most.

And that is why we are going

to win the war.

If we haven't already

by the time you've heard this.

Letters for you, sir.

Thank you, Henderson.

Thank you.

Ah, news from the home front.

Has my wife been raising money for

noble causes,

such as providing warm

woollens for war-worn Walloons?

Is mine selling flags for blue body

belts for bucolic Belgians?

Touche.

Always a bit of a mixed blessing,

isn't it, a letter from home?

A reminder of a land where gascons,

whizz-bangs and mein und verfers

are not allowed.

Good heavens - my wife has sent me

a clipping from the Tatler.

We've been mentioned in Dispatches!

What? Fame at last?

What did they say?

"We hear news from the front

of an amusing periodical designed

"to entertain the troops.

"It is entitled The Wipers Times

after the town of Ypres

"where its enterprising

creators are currently quartered.

"So, we salute the anonymous

wits of the 6th Division..."

We're the 24th Division.

Nincompoops.

Ah dear. Appears we're not to be

famous after all.

Oh, damn journalists,

can't they get anything right?

Is that a rhetorical question?

PHONE RINGS:

It's Lieutenant Colonel Howfield's

ADC, sir.

Little bobbing Bobby.

The one who has little red star

flashes on his jim-jams?

Captain, how can I help?

Of course. Yes.

Looking forward to it, sir.

Thank you, Smith. Sir.

Lieutenant Colonel Howfield

has granted us

the privilege of a full inspection.

When?

Now. Initiate "Operation Panic".

Where is that "tip me up" duckboard

when you need it?

We under attack, sir?

Quite the reverse. We've got an

inspection by the Divisional Staff,

which means for as long as they're

here, there won't be any action at all.

Not even our artillery would open

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes