02x05 - The Double Deuce

[bunniefuu]

ARCHER:
Woodhouse. What the hell is this?

- I believe it's squash, sir.
- L... What are you shoveling it into?

The wee baby Seamus.
Miss Trinette said you'd agreed to it...

...while she's in Atlantic City.

- What?
- For the Pimps and Ho's Ball...

...I believe she said.

Didn't seem the sort of place
one takes a baby.

- You're in huge trouble.
- Yes, sir.

And now I have to spend
my first Friday off in forever...

- Yes, sir.
...devising bizarre punishment for you.

WOODHOUSE: Yes, sir.
- So don't be surprised...

...if you end up eating a whole bunch
of spider webs. Right? Heh.

Now shut up and read me the paper.

Very good, sir. Let's see what we have...
Oh, good Lord!

[GLASS SHATTERING]
[SEAMUS CRYING]

- Oh, for... What the shit, Woodhouse?
- L...

Hey, stop crying. How do you...?

What do you do?
How do you make him not...? Here. God!

You like that? It's a Bloody Mary.

Or is it a Bloody Caes...

Why are you sitting at my table?

The paper, sir. There's an item...

Oh, yeah? Did somebody finally
out the queen? Right?

This baby knows
what I'm talking about. Give me that.

"Sir Augustus Stilton,
World w*r I flying ace, blah, blah, blah...

...dies under mysterious circumstances."

And mystery solved, he was a thousand.

Stilton and I were squadron-mates.

- Oh, sorry, l...
- Twenty-Two Squadron, RFC.

Most decorated aerodrome...

...of the Great w*r.
- I don't care about the Great w*r.

But not much left
of the old Double Deuce anymore.

We're all dying off.

Yeah, not a huge surprise.

We're not dying of old age, sir.

Wait a second. "Sir Aldous Wensleydale,
foul play suspected.

Nigel Buxton, mysterious circumstances.

Edwin Glue-sester..."

- Gloucester.
- Whatever. "Foul play suspected."

And other mysterious circumstances.
Every one of these is like that.

All from the past six months.
What the hell?

Hell indeed, sir.

Because one at a time...

...the remaining survivors
of the old Double Deuce...

...are being m*rder*d.

Oh, my God.

Are we out of Bloody Marys?

Cannot picture you as a fighter pilot.

- Oh, no, sir, not a pilot. A batman.
- Uh...

- An officer's personal attendant.
- Oh.

In charge of keeping his kit in good order,
seeing to his personal needs...

So a servant.

Soldier-servant
was the official term, but...

Yeah. Way to advance.

But for the enlisted, being chosen
to bat for an officer was very desirable.

Especially when that officer
was Captain Reginald Thistleton.

THISTLETON: I say, Woodhouse.
WOODHOUSE: Yes, sir?

The Hun did a fair job
of stitching up the old kite this time, what?

- Thank God you're all right, sir.
- God and my twin Vickers, Woodhouse.

Caught old Jerry in a chandelle,
poor bastard went down like a quail.

- You scoundrel. Is that brandy?
- Thought you'd like a pick-me-up, sir.

Woodhouse, you're a rose among thorns.

Bagged your share today, Scripes?

SCRIPES:
Loads, thanks.

See you've already bagged yours.

- Eww. Creepy.
- Yes, Lieutenant Scripes abhorred...

...the way Reggie...
Captain Thistleton carried on with the men.

Yeah, didn't Oscar Wilde
get hard labor for that?

What are you talking about?

What are you talking about?

- The tontine.
- Oh.

WOODHOUSE:
France. Spring, 1917.

"Bloody April," they called it.

[GROANS]

WOODHOUSE:
Black days, they were.

We were losing two,
sometimes three pilots a week.

[PLAYING "DANNY BOY"]

Who was that?

Foxley, I think.

WOODHOUSE:
No one thought we'd live through the w*r...

...so Reggie came up with the idea.

A tontine, lads.

Each man pays in 50 pounds...

...and the last survivor
collects the capital and interest.

Oh, come on, lads, show some stones.

I'll show you my stones, sir.

- That's the spirit. Who else?
SOLDIER: Yeah. I'm in.

[ALL CLAMORING]

THISTLETON:
Come on, Johnny. Bob's your uncle.

So how much are we talking here?

Oh, nearly 1200 pounds.

What? Nobody is getting k*lled over
however much that is in real money.

No, but are you familiar
with the term "compound interest"?

I'm not an idiot, Woodhouse.

Unlike some people around here.

That's silvertip badger, kid.
You know how much this cost?

[SEAMUS CRYING]

No, don't. Hey, come on, don't...

Here. God. Baby.

But since I don't have a calculator...

At 10 percent, by now, I'd say,
it's just a bit shy of a million dollars.

What? I would totally k*ll you for that.

Not me, but, you know, somebody would.
So how many of you old geezers are left?

Well, now that's Stilton's been k*lled,
it's just me, Scripes, and...

[DOORBELL RINGS]

And that will be Stinky.

Wha...? What will?

Cor, you done all right, then.

Oh, no, the flat belongs to Mr. Archer,
who is my...

None of my business.
Consenting adults and so on.

Hey, nobody is consenting to anything.

BISHOP:
None of my business.

You're gonna eat so many spider webs.

BISHOP:
That's what he said.

Scripes phones me at my niece's house
in Secaucus, New Jersey...

I live with my niece...

...in Secaucus, New Jersey.
- Riveting.

He says, "Ain't it awful about Stilton?"
And he wants to come pay us a visit.

Good Lord! What did you say?

Gave him your address.
Told the bastard we'd be waiting for him.

- Waiting for him? My God, he'll...
BISHOP: Never know what hit him.

We'll turn this fruity flat
into a k*lling field.

WOODHOUSE: But...
ARCHER: Seamus, no!

[SEAMUS CRYING]

No, no, no. Woodhouse, I can either do...
God, you are such a little brat. Here!

I can do baby,
or I can do geezer m*rder mystery...

...but I can't do both.

Well, Scripes is on his way here, so...

So, sir, perhaps your mother
could look after the wee baby Seamus?

Woodhouse. Yes.

MALORY: Nope.
ARCHER: Yes.

[SEAMUS CRYING]

- Mother, come on, you...
- You're off your nut...

...if you think I'm babysitting
this squalling little...

What the hell is wrong with him?

He might have a tiny hangover.

Wha...? You ass, you gave him liquor?

- No, I didn't give it to him, but...
- Ass.

ARCHER:
See? Look at him, he's crazy for it.

You only give them liquor
if they have croup.

Well, I'm sorry, Mr. Spock, l...

Or colic. Or the jimmy legs. Or...
Can't you just dump him on Woodhouse?

- No, because...
- That's what I always did.

I'm sure you did, but Woodhouse
is about to be m*rder*d, so...

So are you, if you piddle in here.

And that goes double
for number two, Mr. Man.

So you just hold it in.

Wow, a ton of stuff
just started to make sense to me.

[CRYING]

The secret is negative reinforcement.

Yeah, I'm just getting that.

About time. Ass.

Baby, you're pear-shaped.

[GLASS SHATTERING]

ARCHER:
Oh, what the hell? Hello?

Great, that was my second-favorite...

...lamp.
WOODHOUSE: Reloading.

No, you're not. Don't reload. Damn it.

[GLASS SHATTERING]

BISHOP: Ow.
- And my first-favorite lamp, fantastic.

Serves you right, sh**ting blind like that.
You could've k*lled me.

Yeah, and I'd be that much closer
to a million bucks.

You know, once, uh...

- What's up with your will these days?
CHERYL: Oh, my God.

Since when is this place a nursery?

Would you knock it off, Union Carbide?

And lay off the wee baby Seamus.

He's got it tough enough as it is.

What's that? That's a bumblebee.

You want a pretty bumblebee?

There you go.

[SEAMUS CRYING]

Oh, what's the matter? What happened?

Did somebody trick you? Hmm?

See? That's how the world works, dear...

...and I'm the only one you can trust.

Wow, a ton of stuff
just started making sense.

CHERYL: No way.
- Why not?

Mr. Archer said Woodhouse
might make a million bucks off of his.

Shut up, liar. Of things impossible.

It's not... Cyril,
can you explain compound interest to her?

Oh, maybe if we had an infinite amount
of time. And she were someone else.

[MOCK-LAUGHS]

Wait a second, is that...?
You know tontines are illegal, right?

So is all kinds of shit.

But look, half the people that work here
are field agents...

Who get k*lled in the line of duty
all the time. And the control room...

Is basically just a great big
asbestos lawsuit waiting to happen.

Yeah, here's some more claims forms.

And how long you think
this one's gonna be around?

[GULPING]

Yeah. Yeah, count me in.

- No.
- Yes.

- No.
- We must fortify our position.

We need twin Vickers here by the bar,
a Lewis g*n by the sofa...

[IN BRITISH ACCENT]
Mustard gas. Zeppelins. No.

[IN NORMAL VOICE] Guy's a hundred, he'll
break both his hips pushing the doorbell.

I don't know, sir. Scripes
was the toughest man in the squadron.

Just the squadron,

[IN BRITISH ACCENT]
Or the entire pansy division? Ow!

- By God, you will show some respect.
- [IN NORMAL VOICE] Ow.

Do as you like with me, but I won't have
a swishy party-boy backchat a w*r hero.

- w*r hero?
- Oh, let's not...

ARCHER: Woodhouse?
- Damn right.

- Drag that up.

And if you won't tell him, Woodhouse,
I bloody well shall.

[SIGHS]

Alas, poor Reggie.

He was on his way back
from a routine patrol...

...on a Tuesday afternoon.

I'd written him a letter, you see,
so I was waiting out on the field.

And he was looking at me...
My God, I can still see him smile.

- When that Hun bastard dove in
from behind.

And then the sky just shattered.

[GRUNTS]

WOODHOUSE: God knows how,
but he kept the old kite from rolling over...

...and crash-landed
out in No Man's Land.

[PLANE CRASHING]

- And? Then what?
WOODHOUSE: Hmm?

Oh. Well, Reggie survived the crash
somehow.

[THISTLETON GROANS]

THISTLETON:
I survived the crash somehow.

WOODHOUSE:
So we could've sent a rescue party.

But with Reggie hors de combat,
Scripes had become acting commander.

And there shan't be any rescue party.

Captain Thistleton knew the risk
of what he was doing...

...and now it seems his chickens
have come home to roost. Bawk, bawk.

WOODHOUSE:
A response I found unsatisfactory.

[GRUNTING]

WOODHOUSE: I could hear Reggie out there
past the wire, screaming like a lamb.

[THISTLETON GROANS]

I'm coming for you, sir.

And there I found him, in the words
of Henley, "bloodied but unbowed."

Woodhouse, you came for me.

- Of course I did, sir. I'm a...
- f*g?

- Sir?
- Have you got one?

- Dying for a smoke.
- Yes, of course. Here we are.

- Cheers.
- Now, let me just light that for you.

Ooh. Sorry, sir.

- Just give that another go.
- Good man.

- Damn.
- Good God, man, are you hourly?

Sorry, sir. Here we go.

Woodhouse there's... God, that's bright.

There's something I've been wanting
to tell... You scoundrel.

- Is that brandy?
- Oh, no, sir. Just water.

Water? Never touch the stuff.
Fish **** in it.

But seriously, I've wanted to tell you this
for ages, but I never quite knew how.

- I'm listening, sir.
- Woodhouse...

[g*nsh*t]

Fish **** in it.

WOODHOUSE:
After that, it's all a bit fuzzy.

[WOODHOUSE SCREAMING]

[WOODHOUSE & SOLDIERS SCREAMING]

Reggie!

ARCHER: Then what?
- Then they gave me the VC and my papers.

Ahem. Medical discharge.

- Because of the scalps.
- For...

- The what?
- German scalps.

- What?
- He must have had 50 of them.

- That's a lot of scalps.
- Could've made a blanket.

[SIGHS]

And then I just sort of drifted about.

Spent God knows how many years
in the orient, on a merchant schooner.

Reggie!

Then I sort of washed up in Tangiers...

...where I won a bar in a dice game.

Oh, which is how I met your mother.

MALORY:
Don't sh**t!

Please, I just k*lled a man
and I think my water just broke.

So I could really, really use a drink.

Gave birth to you right there
on that greasy bar.

I cut the cord,
and I've been with your family ever since.

The... You...

- You saw Mother's vag*na?
WOODHOUSE: Hmm?

Oh, my God. Oh!

Oh, God!

Oh, I can't breathe.

- Ha. What an ass.
- Right?

ARCHER:
Mother? Mother?

- Where are you?
MALORY: Oh, for... In here, you half-wit!

[SEAMUS CRYING]

I had just gotten him to sleep.
Don't you know anything about babies?

I know you're not supposed to have them
on a greasy bar. In Tangiers.

Oh, my God.

And I know you're not supposed
to let Woodhouse see your lady parts.

That's why you're so upset?

Yes. Eww. Mother, he touches my food.

Sterling, he also... Give me that.

He also saved my life. And yours.

Between my narrow hips, your fat head,
and a city full of enemy spies...

...we both nearly died that night.

They'll come.
We should get you somewhere safe.

Oh, a few minutes more.

I just wanna look at him.

- Isn't he perfect?
- Aye. That he is.

Here, Miss, for the baby.

Oh, it's beautiful.

Clapped-out Arab whore traded it for a pint.
Said it was sterling.

Sterling. That's what I'll name him.

Oh, that's a fine name.
And could his middle name be Reginald?

[MALORY SIGHS]

No. A little too gay, but...

[SPEAKING IN FOREIGN LANGUAGE]

[BABY ARCHER CRYING]

But how would you like a job?

I think I would like it very much indeed,
ma'am.

- Oh, my God.
MALORY: And if that weren't enough...

...that very night, he traded his bar
for a boat and sailed us to Lisbon.

Got me to an OSS safe house,
sold the boat...

...used the money
to get you both home to the States...

...then raised you by himself
for five years.

Wha...? What?

WOODHOUSE:
You heard me, young man.

Your mum's got home from the w*r.
Give her a proper hello.

No. I don't have a mother.
And if I did, I'd hate her.

[SIGHS]

Wow, he did all that? For...

You. And you've treated him like a dog
ever since.

But you won't have him
to kick around forever...

Oh, shit. Woodhouse.

Oh, my God, he's gonna be m*rder*d.
I gotta go save him.

- Uh-uh-uh. Here.
- You want me to take a baby. To a m*rder.

Or wherever, just out of here.

I have no more love to give today.

Yeah, what is it, like, 2:30?

Wait, why did you have an eye patch?

Oh, who remembers?

Three-large 50,
three large a Benjamin, three-large...

Idiots doing idiot things
because they're idiots.

Ha-ha-ha. Yeah, we're the idiots. Says
the genius who got a hooker pregnant.

ARCHER: What?
- Nothing.

ARCHER: Cyril, what?
- Noth... Oh!

[CHUCKLES]

Cyril? You dead?

[CYRIL GROANS]

- Damn.
- Should I put him out of his misery?

- No. Do you, though.
- Yes.

No. Wait,
then I don't get the money, idiot.

WOODHOUSE:
You'll never take us alive, Scripes.

What do you mean, take you alive,
Woodhouse? I only came here...

What the bloody hell?

[GLASS SHATTERING]

BISHOP:
Ow.

I say, I'm dreadfully sorry about that,
old boy.

Bloody should be. Almost k*lled me.

Which again,
from the bottom of my heart...

...is the last thing on earth
I'd ever want to do.

I'd forgotten all
about that rubbish tontine.

But all the mysterious deaths...

SCRIPES: Well, I daresay,
there's not much mystery.

They're just desperate
to sell newspapers.

Gloucester fell off the roof
mucking about with the aerial.

Wens and Bux died in their sleep
at the pensioners' home.

And as for Stilton,
there's no nice way to put it.

- Auto-erotic asphyxiation.
- You're joking.

No, Stilton was always quite keen
on that. Remember?

Always looking for something sturdy
to loop his Sam Browne over?

I do seem to recall an awful lot
of loose doorknobs.

Plus, what he named his plane.

I always thought
that had something to do with the engine.

Well, here's to you, "Choke and Stroke."

SCRIPES & BISHOP:
To "Choke and Stroke."

And here's to the old Double Deuce.

God knows we had our differences,
but I'm just so glad to see you both.

But if you didn't come to k*ll us,
why bring that whacking great Webley?

It's Reggie's. I stole it from his effects.

I looked everywhere for that.

That's right. Damned wretched of me,
I know, but I just wanted a memento.

But Reggie would've wanted you to have it,
old boy.

I say, that's damned decent of you.

Cheers.

Took good care of her too.

See, look. No rust.
Even the barrel's clean.

ARCHER:
No!

[IN SLOW-MOTION]
Woodhouse!

SCRIPES [IN SLOW-MOTION]:
Oh, my God!

The baby!

WOODHOUSE [IN SLOW-MOTION]:
No!

[IN NORMAL VOICE]
I'm coming, Reggie!

[BODY THUDS]
[CAR HORNS HONKING]

[IN NORMAL VOICE] Whoo! Ha-ha!
What a move. Did you see that?

That was like Steve McQueen
and John Woo had a baby...

...and that baby was you, baby.
Yeah, pretty hot, huh?

[IN NORMAL VOICE]
Oh, my God. You... You...

No, don't thank me, thank the baby.

- You ass.
- What?

Unbelievably gigantic ass.

ARCHER: Hey.
- Scripes wasn't here to k*ll us.

He came to mourn our comrades-in-arms.

- Oh.
- "Oh."

That's all you have to say,
you great flapping twit?

- Hey, seriously, you...
- Corporal Bishop, the Webley.

The what? What's a Web...?

Thank you, Corporal Bishop.

The pleasure was all mine,
Lance Corporal Woodhouse.

Shame he'll send you packing
when he comes to.

Oh, I'll just yank his pants off...

...splash scotch
and women's underthings about...

...tell him he slipped and fell...

...chasing a terrified Asian prost*tute
out onto the patio.

It's not the first time I bashed his head in
and had to cover my tracks.

Happens three, four times a year. Right?

Well, guess you and me are the last two left
in the tontine, eh?

Yes, I guess we are.

Hard to believe, that.

Well, we were the two youngest...

No, no, not that.

The fact the government
let you two fruit-bats adopt a baby.

Uh...