02x04 - Series 2, Episode 4
Posted: 03/21/14 22:05
What the...?
OK, Towerblock, I haven't seen a device this clever since Iraq.
You ever had that warm fuzzy feeling that someone is trying to k*ll you?
Well, I've been to watch Leeds United away at Old Trafford, so... yeah.
Helpful(!)
Grab an evidence bag. We're taking this one home.
God, my balls are itchy.
I've got serious itchy balls.
Stop talking about your balls.
Those balls are going to win him an award.
By lunchtime I'll officially be the filthiest bastard on the base.
The Jockstrap of Joy will be mines. Wee men.
And Bluestone 42 can celebrate a big win for my balls.
Do you not listen to a word I say? Not really, no.
Eh?
Roger that. Boss, car approaching from the south.
It's coming in quite fast.
(Horn toots)
The ANA cordon will stop it.
Unless they've wandered off to get stoned.
Who puts a bare-wire loop trigger inside the plastic?
That's through the cordon. Boss! Boss!
Boss!
Oh, bloody hell, not now.
He's not slowing down. Firing warning sh*ts!
Boss, take cover! Jesus.
Stop. Stop!
Get out! Get out of the car!
Get out of the car!
(He shouts in native language)
Get out of the car. Put your hands in the air.
(Man shouts)
Hands in the air! Faruq, tell him.
(Man shouts)
He says he has no handbrake! What?!
No handbrake!
Everybody down!
Shit.
Oh, dear.
Good work, Simon.
Towerblock, this is what we call a bag of previously interesting shit.
Did you get anything interesting?
A stark demonstration of why Simon will never get a job as a lollipop man.
Bloody hell, you two. Pick up your kit and move your arses.
Good idea. No, wait. Can't move.
Handbrake.
(He laughs)
(He makes sound of expl*si*n)
If I was a full corporal, I wouldn't have to put up with this shit.
So an extra stripe on your rank slide will stop you from being an ineffectual Essex twat?
Bloody hell, Bird.
Nick is clearly never going to recommend me for promotion.
No?
I should talk to the Colonel. Maybe he's spotted my potential.
I could ask him how he got so far in the Army.
Ten years being done up the arse at boarding school. That's not true.
It's five years of being done up the arse, five years of doing other people at the arse.
And if that's not an education, I don't know what is.
Maybe he enjoys his job. And works hard.
"Pleasure in the job puts perfection in the work."
Aristotle. You what?
Yes, I thought that would be lost on you.
I read it. In a book.
Oh, they're like films, but quieter.
They're written down.
Still using the old Sig Sauer, then? Yup. Nothing wrong with a Sig.
Except it's not one of these.
(All exclaim)
OK, Towerblock, just to clarify it, are we suddenly playing "my g*n's cooler than your g*n"?
Fair play, boss. That's a GL*CK 17.
Oh, you've failed the weapons handling test for it. What?
I haven't taken the test. Because you thought you'd fail it or...?
Me, fail it? I failed it first time. Really?
Aw, did the little g*n confuse your little Northern head?
The curly bit's called the trigger.
All the best people pass second time. No, they don't.
The best people pass first time because they are the best at it.
Right, if you're up to the test, there's a skillies on base right now.
How do you know that? He's another Leeds boy.
People's Republic of Yorkshire.
You do an hour's training and take the test.
I am not spending an hour staring at a p*stol while your spotty Yorkshire friend points at it, like a knob.
Wouldn't bother me. I'd wade through shit for a GL*CK.
Course you would. Cos they're f*cking mint.
But you'd best do the training cos... handling test ain't a walk in the park. Yes, it is!
In fact, it's a walk in the park with a g*n.
I am an amm*nit*on technical officer.
I've had years of training with amm*nit*on and what are those things that fire it? Oh, yeah, g*ns!
I'm just saying, anyone can fail the test. I'm saying that you failed it.
And I'm saying you could as well.
And I'm saying that I wouldn't if I took it, which I won't. All right?
Is it really a padre's job, giving out an award to the filthiest soldier on the base?
Filthiest bastard on the base.
It's a tradition started by the base's first padre and proudly continued by every padre since.
Right... And I'm giving it to Mac for...?
Shagging twins.
And their mum.
On leave. On a Megabus.
Oh, really! I...
Gentleman, the time has come for the awarding of the award.
As we all know, Biffa the chef has held it for the last four months.
(They whoop)
But who will the Padre award it to now?
Mary.
Right. By the power vested in me by Jesus...
I hereby award the Jockstrap of Joy to... Private Kevin McDowell.
(They whoop)
I accept this award on behalf of Bluestone 42.
(They whoop)
I am so proud! I think I'm going...
Mac, did those twins give you crabs?
No. Pretty sure they did, mate. They definitely didn't.
If it isn't crabs, then it must be the Afghan tiger louse.
What the f*ck is that? Very much like your English louse but bigger.
They burrow into the skin of your johnson and lay their eggs.
Very itchy.
Shite! That's f*cking mint.
He's making it up. Just go and see the medic.
My cousin had the Afghan tiger louse. Three days later he was dead.
f*ck you! He trod on an IED while scratching his plums.
Very dangerous creatures.
I understand your predicament. Lance Corporal.
Let me tell you about a young second lieutenant I once knew rather well.
He was just like you. Oh. Taller, obviously. Right.
Desperate for promotion. Overlooked.
Do you know what he did?
He read this. The Art Of w*r.
Chinese military theory. Heard of it?
No, sir. Sun T-zu...
Sun Tzu. "Sooon Sooo..."
Sun Tzu. Sun Tzu. Yes.
Fifth century BC.
There. "The way to avoid what is strong is to strike at what is weak."
Oh. You see? Gold.
Anyway, this chap read it, and now he's a lieutenant colonel.
Ah.
You're saying this book could change my life? Well, a girl can dream.
Ha.
Bone up on this and then report back and tell me what you've learned.
Thinking like an officer is the first step to promotion.
My ex used to say, "Dress for the job that you want."
Eh?
Hmm. Don't dress like an officer, or you'll get arrested by the RMPs, all right?
Sir. Carry on.
Oh.
Sneaky wee b*stards.
So how did I get crabs? The usual way?
f*cking?
Don't tell anyone.
But I didn't get any on leave. What?
No twins? No mum? No Megabus? No, so it can't be crabs.
It must be the Afghan tiger louse. There's no such thing.
Faruq's just trying to shift off some weedkiller.
You don't want that on your cheesy Wotsits.
You've got crabs.
But how? Shared a towel recently? On leave?
Only with my da.
Oh, Jesus.
Crabs from my own da?! Don't worry but... at least you still keep the award.
It doesn't count if you do something filthy by accident. What?
And it does count if you lie?
I only made up the twin story to impress Rocket.
But then he put me up for the award. I've let down Bluestone 42.
I need to go and take a good long look at myself.
Shampoo your pubes with this while you're at it.
Very good. And assemble.
And present.
Congratulations, Corporal Bird. You've passed.
We should go down to the firing range.
Got time to whip through a quick test.
Thought I might try out the old GL*CK. Towerblock got to you, then?
Come on, Bird, you know me better than that. Yeah, I do.
Which is why I said, "Towerblock got to you, then."
Nice, eh? Who knew Austria could produce such a cool w*apon?
I thought they were only good for schnitzel and child abuse.
Oh, that's a bit... What?
So, the test?
Well, you've missed the training, so I can't really let you do the test, but... you seem to know what you're doing.
Seem to, and do.
So...shall we?
So, take the w*apon, and make it safe.
This shouldn't take too long.
Captain Medhurst, you've made it ready...not made it safe.
Shit, yeah, sorry.
So you've failed the test. Corporal Bird, we need to go to the range.
OK, so...made it safe, so next is load, fire.
See, I can do this with my eyes shut.
That won't be necessary, sir. Or safe.
Anyone can see that I am perfectly capable of... Ow!
(Bang)
Ooh.
Shall we go to the firing range to try it out? Uh-huh.
So the enemy is here and you're here. What do you do? Attack here.
No, retreat. There are roads which must not be followed, armies which must not be att*cked.
So, retreat, but then attack here.
No, retreat again.
The battle is fought not in the field but in the mind.
Well, I'm f*cked, then.
All right, Bird. Yep. Got the new GL*CK 9mm.
She is a beauty. This must be how it feels to have a hard-on.
(He laughs)
9mm!
That's a tiny hard-on.
g*ns are not the way to win a w*r.
Right, you must mention that to the enemy.
Victorious warriors win first, and then go to battle.
Don't lose my place, please.
Oh. Oh.
Sun T-zu. "Soon soo."
It's... You haven't heard of it?
Oh, what, so you read this and then you magically... make corporal?
It's a classic about w*r strategy, not your kind of thing... Bird.
Oh, what, cos Bird can't read a book that doesn't have pictures in it?
I'm not sure that your mind is receptive to that kind of thing.
Now we can both read it.
Oh, how did my unreceptive mind think of that? Amazing.
That book belongs to the Colonel.
Yeah?
Yeah.
Well, it's got trashed on your watch, so... you've got some explaining to do.
Do... She's just messing with my head.
Bird is the enemy. What about the Taliban?
The Taliban didn't call me an ineffectual Essex twat.
How do you know that? The Colonel wants me to defeat Bird.
That is how I impress him!
I think he's just going to be pissed off about his book.
Mac, really, at mealtimes... That does smell.
Yeah, the smell of victory.
After Victory has slept all night in his own piss.
Come on, Padre, he won it for Bluestone 42 and we're proud of our filthy little bastard.
Proud? No. We're appalled.
Oi, Mac. You know those crabs?
You need to call your dad and get his crabs seen to as well.
Thanks a bunch! What happened to doctor-patient confidentially?
I'm not a doctor.
Mac, did you... get crabs off your dad?
That is f*cked up. We shared a towel, all right?
You said there was no way you could have crabs, so how would you know that, unless...
You never shagged those twins.
Or their mum!
All right, Miss Marple, I didn't get laid on leave, OK?
You lied to me? Why, Mac? Why?
How the mighty have fallen.
Wait, so I am the only one here who has actually slept with twins?
I haven't.
Well, not at the same time.
Padre. Yeah, Padre, it's only fair.
You've got to award it back to Biffa.
Oh, all right.
Ladies and gentlemen, I hereby give this horrible award back to Biffa.
Cheers, Padre. Filthiest bastard on the base, eh? Come 'ead.
I will regain the Jockstrap for Bluestone 42. I swear it!
Don't feel obliged. So, boss, did you get that GL*CK?
No, I'm going to keep the Sig. It was an Austrian p*stol, anyway, right?
Tell me one good thing that's ever come out of Austria. Mozart.
Schwarzenegger. Smoked cheese.
Hitler. I rest my case.
IKEA.
So you didn't want a GL*CK? Nah.
Is that why you took the test and failed it? Seriously? Classic!
Thanks, Bird.
Skillies told me. It's a Leeds thing. He scratches my back, I finger his sister.
You should have done the training, boss. Lesson one.
"The curly bit is the trigger."
Yes, all right, thank you, everyone. Can we just drop it?
What, like you did the test?
(Laughter)
Corporal Bird. Don't get up.
Ploughing through Sun Tzu?
Er, yes, sir.
Important book... my grandfather used to say.
He gave me his copy. Oh.
Had it in his pocket on D-day, of course.
One of the first on Sword Beach.
Immense sentimental value.
(She laughs nervously)
Hmm.
Anyway, when you've finished with it...
Carry on.
Shit. sh1tting...shitty...shit.
Oi! Did you just hear that? No, I've literally just arrived.
This belonged to the Colonel's grandfather.
He had it on f*cking D-day.
Oh, I don't believe you.
All warfare is based on deception.
Shut the f*ck up, Simon! We need to fix it or replace it or the Colonel is going to kick us where the Sun Tzu don't f*cking shine!
Retreat from thy enemy so that he...or she... may make the first mistake.
You borrowed it.
Your problem.
f*ck!
So...
Sun Tzu!
Morning, Lamming. Morning, sir.
So, have you got time for a quick test at all today?
Er, you need to do the training first. OK, look...
Sorry, my grandad died of lung cancer last year, so, if you don't mind, I'll just...
We both know that's not allowed in theatre, sir.
I'm lactose intolerant. Of course you are!
Have you seen Corporal Bird? She wanted a new copy of Sun Tzu.
She does? But...
I have various editions.
Oh, she does.
Clever girl. I'll take all of them.
All of them? OK.
Bird offered me 50.
I'll give you 100. Really? Blimey.
I strike and my enemy is now weak.
Now I have all of your copies, she will have to give the Colonel his old one.
And my victory will be complete.
Eureka!
Rocket!
Rocket!
I've got it! I've got it! We know!
We want you to get rid of it!
It's been staring me in the face.
I know how to get the award back.
I'm a genius. I'm a genius!
I'm a genius!
Carry on.
Hmm.
Oh, sh1tting hell. sh1tting shiting...!
Balls!
Bollocks.
There's something not right about this.
Do you want me to get that award back for Bluestone? Yeah. But...
Then stop being such a baby.
Not you as well. What have you been doing?
Both: Nothing.
Rocket...
It's the blast pants.
You have been busy, haven't you?
(g*nshots)
Shit! Cordon breach!
Again!
Diamond 21, this is Bluestone 42. Contact.
We are engaging. Wait out.
Thank f*ck for that.
Are you OK, boss? Yeah. Thanks, Simon.
Never knew you cared. We all clear?
'Yeah, think so, boss.'
'OK, this cordon's looser than Rocket's mum. We need to work fast.
'Towerblock, get the hook and line ready.
'I want this one out intact.'
Er, boss, given the situation, don't you think we should just blow this and get out of here?
What situation would that be? The contact, the cordon. I just mean...
Your safety, like.
My safety depends on catching this bomber before he turns me into a new fragrance called Medhurst Mist, and that depends on getting those forensics back home.
So let's make a deal.
You get my kit and I'll do the dangerous bit, OK? Boss.
Here are some replacement copies for the valuable one that Bird ruined.
I'm sure she's incredibly sorry, even though she's not here in person to apologise.
Ah, Corporal Bird, come in.
Sir, I'm really sorry...
I take full responsibility. Oh.
These things happen. We are in a w*r zone. What?!
But, sir, I thought that copy belonged to your grandfather.
You don't think I'd lend a priceless tome like that to clowns like you?
No, I got that one off Faruq.
Always good to have some copies knocking about to keep ambitious lance corporals quiet for a few days.
What? So, sir, reading the book won't help me to become a corporal?
Well, let's see, shall we?
It seems like you two have had quite the battle. No. Not really. Who won?
Me. Me. No. No, I...
You both lost. The only winner...was...
The Taliban. No. Faruq.
Wherever there is w*r, there will be treasure for the unscrupulous.
Is that Sun Tzu, sir?
No idea. Just made it up. That shit just writes itself.
Sir, have you read Sun Tzu? No, of course not.
The copy my grandfather had was in Chinese or something.
Baffling.
But you said you read it when you were a second lieutenant. No.
That was a friend of mine who is now a lieutenant colonel, exactly as I said. Pay attention.
Carry on.
Right, two devices.
One blown in situ.
The other pulled out off the ground intact.
I wonder if you can tell which is which. Fair play, boss.
Both have the same wire, both horribly clever.
I reckon we've got someone new to the area. GS0H. Likes... making complicated bombs.
Dislikes...
ATOs like me.
We need to get these off to Weapons Intelligence. Yeah, if you would.
Sure. And, sir?
I'm sorry for suggesting we blow that in situ.
I wasn't thinking clearly. That's fine.
Anyway, and to make up for it... da-da-da-diddle-da-diddle-da-da!
Huh?
What this? It's a GL*CK.
Skillies weren't keen but I gave him a hand job behind the cookhouse.
I'm only kidding. And we just cuddled.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Why did you get it?
Cos you couldn't get one yourself.
No, I could get one myself. I failed the test on a technicality.
Technically, you dropped it on the floor.
I am perfectly capable of passing this test!
Well, if you say you can pass the test, boss, I believe you.
I have no doubt you can do it with your eyes shut.
Oh, for the love of f*ck, right, you come with me.
Clear. And now five-round grouping.
Maybe lose the blindfold, yeah?
(Applause)
Happy now? I never doubted you, boss. Very impressive, sir.
After that showing, I'm happy for you to pass.
You can hang onto the GL*CK. You're all right. The Sig is way better.
Two-stage trigger, smaller recoil. Better build quality.
Couldn't agree more. Got to love the Sig.
Just feels right in your hand, doesn't it? May I?
Carry on.
(Shouting)
What was that?
Ow!
(Shouting)
Who's betting? Hey, hey, you.
What is this? Crab racing. You're racing your genital lice?
Awesome! And Rocket's.
He's been breeding some real thoroughbreds. My God.
Every day you find new ways to disgust me.
Give me five bucks on Crab Stick. Ten on Seabiscuit.
I'll have five on Desert Itch.
Ladies and gentlemen, the third race of the evening, the Pubic Stakes!
(All whoop)
Ready?
And...they're off!
And it's Crab Stick in the lead.
Followed by Seabiscuit, Desert Itch and Red Rum!
And Desert Itch is gaining!
And Red Rum has turned round and is heading back to the starting line!
And Seabiscuit is eating Red Rum!
Desert Itch is putting on a spurt!
But it's Crab Stick!
And Crab Stick has taken the Pubic Stakes!
(They cheer)
Everybody, before the next race, as the ranking officer here...
That's me, actually. Shh.
..I call upon the Padre to re-award the Jockstrap of Joy.
I would be delighted.
(She clears throat)
Private McDowell, your antics have made me feel physically sick.
You are indeed one filthy bastard.
Yes!
However, it's one thing to catch crabs, it's quite another to voluntarily stable them in your blast pants.
I hereby award the Jockstrap of Joy to Rocket.
Oh, good!
(Cheering)
Aye, fair enough, fair enough.
Stop all this at once!
What's the first rule?
Don't race crabs!
I am shocked, SHOCKED, to find that crab racing is going on in here!
You're winning, sir. Oh, thank you very much.
Mac, Rocket, clean this up.
Faruq, you have done me proud.
I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Yes, all right, don't push it.
OK, Towerblock, I haven't seen a device this clever since Iraq.
You ever had that warm fuzzy feeling that someone is trying to k*ll you?
Well, I've been to watch Leeds United away at Old Trafford, so... yeah.
Helpful(!)
Grab an evidence bag. We're taking this one home.
God, my balls are itchy.
I've got serious itchy balls.
Stop talking about your balls.
Those balls are going to win him an award.
By lunchtime I'll officially be the filthiest bastard on the base.
The Jockstrap of Joy will be mines. Wee men.
And Bluestone 42 can celebrate a big win for my balls.
Do you not listen to a word I say? Not really, no.
Eh?
Roger that. Boss, car approaching from the south.
It's coming in quite fast.
(Horn toots)
The ANA cordon will stop it.
Unless they've wandered off to get stoned.
Who puts a bare-wire loop trigger inside the plastic?
That's through the cordon. Boss! Boss!
Boss!
Oh, bloody hell, not now.
He's not slowing down. Firing warning sh*ts!
Boss, take cover! Jesus.
Stop. Stop!
Get out! Get out of the car!
Get out of the car!
(He shouts in native language)
Get out of the car. Put your hands in the air.
(Man shouts)
Hands in the air! Faruq, tell him.
(Man shouts)
He says he has no handbrake! What?!
No handbrake!
Everybody down!
Shit.
Oh, dear.
Good work, Simon.
Towerblock, this is what we call a bag of previously interesting shit.
Did you get anything interesting?
A stark demonstration of why Simon will never get a job as a lollipop man.
Bloody hell, you two. Pick up your kit and move your arses.
Good idea. No, wait. Can't move.
Handbrake.
(He laughs)
(He makes sound of expl*si*n)
If I was a full corporal, I wouldn't have to put up with this shit.
So an extra stripe on your rank slide will stop you from being an ineffectual Essex twat?
Bloody hell, Bird.
Nick is clearly never going to recommend me for promotion.
No?
I should talk to the Colonel. Maybe he's spotted my potential.
I could ask him how he got so far in the Army.
Ten years being done up the arse at boarding school. That's not true.
It's five years of being done up the arse, five years of doing other people at the arse.
And if that's not an education, I don't know what is.
Maybe he enjoys his job. And works hard.
"Pleasure in the job puts perfection in the work."
Aristotle. You what?
Yes, I thought that would be lost on you.
I read it. In a book.
Oh, they're like films, but quieter.
They're written down.
Still using the old Sig Sauer, then? Yup. Nothing wrong with a Sig.
Except it's not one of these.
(All exclaim)
OK, Towerblock, just to clarify it, are we suddenly playing "my g*n's cooler than your g*n"?
Fair play, boss. That's a GL*CK 17.
Oh, you've failed the weapons handling test for it. What?
I haven't taken the test. Because you thought you'd fail it or...?
Me, fail it? I failed it first time. Really?
Aw, did the little g*n confuse your little Northern head?
The curly bit's called the trigger.
All the best people pass second time. No, they don't.
The best people pass first time because they are the best at it.
Right, if you're up to the test, there's a skillies on base right now.
How do you know that? He's another Leeds boy.
People's Republic of Yorkshire.
You do an hour's training and take the test.
I am not spending an hour staring at a p*stol while your spotty Yorkshire friend points at it, like a knob.
Wouldn't bother me. I'd wade through shit for a GL*CK.
Course you would. Cos they're f*cking mint.
But you'd best do the training cos... handling test ain't a walk in the park. Yes, it is!
In fact, it's a walk in the park with a g*n.
I am an amm*nit*on technical officer.
I've had years of training with amm*nit*on and what are those things that fire it? Oh, yeah, g*ns!
I'm just saying, anyone can fail the test. I'm saying that you failed it.
And I'm saying you could as well.
And I'm saying that I wouldn't if I took it, which I won't. All right?
Is it really a padre's job, giving out an award to the filthiest soldier on the base?
Filthiest bastard on the base.
It's a tradition started by the base's first padre and proudly continued by every padre since.
Right... And I'm giving it to Mac for...?
Shagging twins.
And their mum.
On leave. On a Megabus.
Oh, really! I...
Gentleman, the time has come for the awarding of the award.
As we all know, Biffa the chef has held it for the last four months.
(They whoop)
But who will the Padre award it to now?
Mary.
Right. By the power vested in me by Jesus...
I hereby award the Jockstrap of Joy to... Private Kevin McDowell.
(They whoop)
I accept this award on behalf of Bluestone 42.
(They whoop)
I am so proud! I think I'm going...
Mac, did those twins give you crabs?
No. Pretty sure they did, mate. They definitely didn't.
If it isn't crabs, then it must be the Afghan tiger louse.
What the f*ck is that? Very much like your English louse but bigger.
They burrow into the skin of your johnson and lay their eggs.
Very itchy.
Shite! That's f*cking mint.
He's making it up. Just go and see the medic.
My cousin had the Afghan tiger louse. Three days later he was dead.
f*ck you! He trod on an IED while scratching his plums.
Very dangerous creatures.
I understand your predicament. Lance Corporal.
Let me tell you about a young second lieutenant I once knew rather well.
He was just like you. Oh. Taller, obviously. Right.
Desperate for promotion. Overlooked.
Do you know what he did?
He read this. The Art Of w*r.
Chinese military theory. Heard of it?
No, sir. Sun T-zu...
Sun Tzu. "Sooon Sooo..."
Sun Tzu. Sun Tzu. Yes.
Fifth century BC.
There. "The way to avoid what is strong is to strike at what is weak."
Oh. You see? Gold.
Anyway, this chap read it, and now he's a lieutenant colonel.
Ah.
You're saying this book could change my life? Well, a girl can dream.
Ha.
Bone up on this and then report back and tell me what you've learned.
Thinking like an officer is the first step to promotion.
My ex used to say, "Dress for the job that you want."
Eh?
Hmm. Don't dress like an officer, or you'll get arrested by the RMPs, all right?
Sir. Carry on.
Oh.
Sneaky wee b*stards.
So how did I get crabs? The usual way?
f*cking?
Don't tell anyone.
But I didn't get any on leave. What?
No twins? No mum? No Megabus? No, so it can't be crabs.
It must be the Afghan tiger louse. There's no such thing.
Faruq's just trying to shift off some weedkiller.
You don't want that on your cheesy Wotsits.
You've got crabs.
But how? Shared a towel recently? On leave?
Only with my da.
Oh, Jesus.
Crabs from my own da?! Don't worry but... at least you still keep the award.
It doesn't count if you do something filthy by accident. What?
And it does count if you lie?
I only made up the twin story to impress Rocket.
But then he put me up for the award. I've let down Bluestone 42.
I need to go and take a good long look at myself.
Shampoo your pubes with this while you're at it.
Very good. And assemble.
And present.
Congratulations, Corporal Bird. You've passed.
We should go down to the firing range.
Got time to whip through a quick test.
Thought I might try out the old GL*CK. Towerblock got to you, then?
Come on, Bird, you know me better than that. Yeah, I do.
Which is why I said, "Towerblock got to you, then."
Nice, eh? Who knew Austria could produce such a cool w*apon?
I thought they were only good for schnitzel and child abuse.
Oh, that's a bit... What?
So, the test?
Well, you've missed the training, so I can't really let you do the test, but... you seem to know what you're doing.
Seem to, and do.
So...shall we?
So, take the w*apon, and make it safe.
This shouldn't take too long.
Captain Medhurst, you've made it ready...not made it safe.
Shit, yeah, sorry.
So you've failed the test. Corporal Bird, we need to go to the range.
OK, so...made it safe, so next is load, fire.
See, I can do this with my eyes shut.
That won't be necessary, sir. Or safe.
Anyone can see that I am perfectly capable of... Ow!
(Bang)
Ooh.
Shall we go to the firing range to try it out? Uh-huh.
So the enemy is here and you're here. What do you do? Attack here.
No, retreat. There are roads which must not be followed, armies which must not be att*cked.
So, retreat, but then attack here.
No, retreat again.
The battle is fought not in the field but in the mind.
Well, I'm f*cked, then.
All right, Bird. Yep. Got the new GL*CK 9mm.
She is a beauty. This must be how it feels to have a hard-on.
(He laughs)
9mm!
That's a tiny hard-on.
g*ns are not the way to win a w*r.
Right, you must mention that to the enemy.
Victorious warriors win first, and then go to battle.
Don't lose my place, please.
Oh. Oh.
Sun T-zu. "Soon soo."
It's... You haven't heard of it?
Oh, what, so you read this and then you magically... make corporal?
It's a classic about w*r strategy, not your kind of thing... Bird.
Oh, what, cos Bird can't read a book that doesn't have pictures in it?
I'm not sure that your mind is receptive to that kind of thing.
Now we can both read it.
Oh, how did my unreceptive mind think of that? Amazing.
That book belongs to the Colonel.
Yeah?
Yeah.
Well, it's got trashed on your watch, so... you've got some explaining to do.
Do... She's just messing with my head.
Bird is the enemy. What about the Taliban?
The Taliban didn't call me an ineffectual Essex twat.
How do you know that? The Colonel wants me to defeat Bird.
That is how I impress him!
I think he's just going to be pissed off about his book.
Mac, really, at mealtimes... That does smell.
Yeah, the smell of victory.
After Victory has slept all night in his own piss.
Come on, Padre, he won it for Bluestone 42 and we're proud of our filthy little bastard.
Proud? No. We're appalled.
Oi, Mac. You know those crabs?
You need to call your dad and get his crabs seen to as well.
Thanks a bunch! What happened to doctor-patient confidentially?
I'm not a doctor.
Mac, did you... get crabs off your dad?
That is f*cked up. We shared a towel, all right?
You said there was no way you could have crabs, so how would you know that, unless...
You never shagged those twins.
Or their mum!
All right, Miss Marple, I didn't get laid on leave, OK?
You lied to me? Why, Mac? Why?
How the mighty have fallen.
Wait, so I am the only one here who has actually slept with twins?
I haven't.
Well, not at the same time.
Padre. Yeah, Padre, it's only fair.
You've got to award it back to Biffa.
Oh, all right.
Ladies and gentlemen, I hereby give this horrible award back to Biffa.
Cheers, Padre. Filthiest bastard on the base, eh? Come 'ead.
I will regain the Jockstrap for Bluestone 42. I swear it!
Don't feel obliged. So, boss, did you get that GL*CK?
No, I'm going to keep the Sig. It was an Austrian p*stol, anyway, right?
Tell me one good thing that's ever come out of Austria. Mozart.
Schwarzenegger. Smoked cheese.
Hitler. I rest my case.
IKEA.
So you didn't want a GL*CK? Nah.
Is that why you took the test and failed it? Seriously? Classic!
Thanks, Bird.
Skillies told me. It's a Leeds thing. He scratches my back, I finger his sister.
You should have done the training, boss. Lesson one.
"The curly bit is the trigger."
Yes, all right, thank you, everyone. Can we just drop it?
What, like you did the test?
(Laughter)
Corporal Bird. Don't get up.
Ploughing through Sun Tzu?
Er, yes, sir.
Important book... my grandfather used to say.
He gave me his copy. Oh.
Had it in his pocket on D-day, of course.
One of the first on Sword Beach.
Immense sentimental value.
(She laughs nervously)
Hmm.
Anyway, when you've finished with it...
Carry on.
Shit. sh1tting...shitty...shit.
Oi! Did you just hear that? No, I've literally just arrived.
This belonged to the Colonel's grandfather.
He had it on f*cking D-day.
Oh, I don't believe you.
All warfare is based on deception.
Shut the f*ck up, Simon! We need to fix it or replace it or the Colonel is going to kick us where the Sun Tzu don't f*cking shine!
Retreat from thy enemy so that he...or she... may make the first mistake.
You borrowed it.
Your problem.
f*ck!
So...
Sun Tzu!
Morning, Lamming. Morning, sir.
So, have you got time for a quick test at all today?
Er, you need to do the training first. OK, look...
Sorry, my grandad died of lung cancer last year, so, if you don't mind, I'll just...
We both know that's not allowed in theatre, sir.
I'm lactose intolerant. Of course you are!
Have you seen Corporal Bird? She wanted a new copy of Sun Tzu.
She does? But...
I have various editions.
Oh, she does.
Clever girl. I'll take all of them.
All of them? OK.
Bird offered me 50.
I'll give you 100. Really? Blimey.
I strike and my enemy is now weak.
Now I have all of your copies, she will have to give the Colonel his old one.
And my victory will be complete.
Eureka!
Rocket!
Rocket!
I've got it! I've got it! We know!
We want you to get rid of it!
It's been staring me in the face.
I know how to get the award back.
I'm a genius. I'm a genius!
I'm a genius!
Carry on.
Hmm.
Oh, sh1tting hell. sh1tting shiting...!
Balls!
Bollocks.
There's something not right about this.
Do you want me to get that award back for Bluestone? Yeah. But...
Then stop being such a baby.
Not you as well. What have you been doing?
Both: Nothing.
Rocket...
It's the blast pants.
You have been busy, haven't you?
(g*nshots)
Shit! Cordon breach!
Again!
Diamond 21, this is Bluestone 42. Contact.
We are engaging. Wait out.
Thank f*ck for that.
Are you OK, boss? Yeah. Thanks, Simon.
Never knew you cared. We all clear?
'Yeah, think so, boss.'
'OK, this cordon's looser than Rocket's mum. We need to work fast.
'Towerblock, get the hook and line ready.
'I want this one out intact.'
Er, boss, given the situation, don't you think we should just blow this and get out of here?
What situation would that be? The contact, the cordon. I just mean...
Your safety, like.
My safety depends on catching this bomber before he turns me into a new fragrance called Medhurst Mist, and that depends on getting those forensics back home.
So let's make a deal.
You get my kit and I'll do the dangerous bit, OK? Boss.
Here are some replacement copies for the valuable one that Bird ruined.
I'm sure she's incredibly sorry, even though she's not here in person to apologise.
Ah, Corporal Bird, come in.
Sir, I'm really sorry...
I take full responsibility. Oh.
These things happen. We are in a w*r zone. What?!
But, sir, I thought that copy belonged to your grandfather.
You don't think I'd lend a priceless tome like that to clowns like you?
No, I got that one off Faruq.
Always good to have some copies knocking about to keep ambitious lance corporals quiet for a few days.
What? So, sir, reading the book won't help me to become a corporal?
Well, let's see, shall we?
It seems like you two have had quite the battle. No. Not really. Who won?
Me. Me. No. No, I...
You both lost. The only winner...was...
The Taliban. No. Faruq.
Wherever there is w*r, there will be treasure for the unscrupulous.
Is that Sun Tzu, sir?
No idea. Just made it up. That shit just writes itself.
Sir, have you read Sun Tzu? No, of course not.
The copy my grandfather had was in Chinese or something.
Baffling.
But you said you read it when you were a second lieutenant. No.
That was a friend of mine who is now a lieutenant colonel, exactly as I said. Pay attention.
Carry on.
Right, two devices.
One blown in situ.
The other pulled out off the ground intact.
I wonder if you can tell which is which. Fair play, boss.
Both have the same wire, both horribly clever.
I reckon we've got someone new to the area. GS0H. Likes... making complicated bombs.
Dislikes...
ATOs like me.
We need to get these off to Weapons Intelligence. Yeah, if you would.
Sure. And, sir?
I'm sorry for suggesting we blow that in situ.
I wasn't thinking clearly. That's fine.
Anyway, and to make up for it... da-da-da-diddle-da-diddle-da-da!
Huh?
What this? It's a GL*CK.
Skillies weren't keen but I gave him a hand job behind the cookhouse.
I'm only kidding. And we just cuddled.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Why did you get it?
Cos you couldn't get one yourself.
No, I could get one myself. I failed the test on a technicality.
Technically, you dropped it on the floor.
I am perfectly capable of passing this test!
Well, if you say you can pass the test, boss, I believe you.
I have no doubt you can do it with your eyes shut.
Oh, for the love of f*ck, right, you come with me.
Clear. And now five-round grouping.
Maybe lose the blindfold, yeah?
(Applause)
Happy now? I never doubted you, boss. Very impressive, sir.
After that showing, I'm happy for you to pass.
You can hang onto the GL*CK. You're all right. The Sig is way better.
Two-stage trigger, smaller recoil. Better build quality.
Couldn't agree more. Got to love the Sig.
Just feels right in your hand, doesn't it? May I?
Carry on.
(Shouting)
What was that?
Ow!
(Shouting)
Who's betting? Hey, hey, you.
What is this? Crab racing. You're racing your genital lice?
Awesome! And Rocket's.
He's been breeding some real thoroughbreds. My God.
Every day you find new ways to disgust me.
Give me five bucks on Crab Stick. Ten on Seabiscuit.
I'll have five on Desert Itch.
Ladies and gentlemen, the third race of the evening, the Pubic Stakes!
(All whoop)
Ready?
And...they're off!
And it's Crab Stick in the lead.
Followed by Seabiscuit, Desert Itch and Red Rum!
And Desert Itch is gaining!
And Red Rum has turned round and is heading back to the starting line!
And Seabiscuit is eating Red Rum!
Desert Itch is putting on a spurt!
But it's Crab Stick!
And Crab Stick has taken the Pubic Stakes!
(They cheer)
Everybody, before the next race, as the ranking officer here...
That's me, actually. Shh.
..I call upon the Padre to re-award the Jockstrap of Joy.
I would be delighted.
(She clears throat)
Private McDowell, your antics have made me feel physically sick.
You are indeed one filthy bastard.
Yes!
However, it's one thing to catch crabs, it's quite another to voluntarily stable them in your blast pants.
I hereby award the Jockstrap of Joy to Rocket.
Oh, good!
(Cheering)
Aye, fair enough, fair enough.
Stop all this at once!
What's the first rule?
Don't race crabs!
I am shocked, SHOCKED, to find that crab racing is going on in here!
You're winning, sir. Oh, thank you very much.
Mac, Rocket, clean this up.
Faruq, you have done me proud.
I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Yes, all right, don't push it.