Bluestone 42 (2013–…): Season 2, Episode 1 - Episode #2.2 - full transcript
What the...?
OK, Towerblock, I haven't seen
a device this clever since Iraq.
You ever had that warm fuzzy feeling
that someone's trying to kill 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.
- Gleaming.
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.
Nah, the ANA cordon will stop It.
Unless they've wandered off to get stalled.
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 shots!
- Boss, take cover!
- Jesus.
Stop! Stop!
Get out! Get out of the car!
Get out of the car!
Get out of the car.
Put your hands In the air.
Put your hands In the air! Faruq!
Tell him!
- He says he has no handbrake!
- What?!
No handbrake!
Everybody down!
Sh it.
Oh, dear.
Good work, Simon!
Ripped By mstoll
Towerblock, this is what we call
a bag of previously Interesting shit.
Did you get anything useful?
A stark demonstration of why Simon
will never get a job as a lollipop man.
C)h-
Bloody hell, you two! Pick up your kit
and move your arses.
Good idea. No, wait. Can't move.
Handbrake.
Pkkk-ow!
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.
And Nick's 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 up the arse,
and if that's not an education,
I don't know what is.
Well, 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.
- Mm.
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, er...not one of these.
- Ho-ho!
- Ah!
OK, Towerblock,
just to clarify it, are we suddenly
playing "my gun's cooler than your gun"?
Fair play, boss. That's a Glock 17.
Oh, you...you 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 gun confuse
your little Northern head?
The, um...the curly bit's
called the trigger.
- All the best people pass second time.
- No, they don't.
The best people pass first time.
Mm, because they're the best at It.
Right, well, 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 pistol
while your spotty Yorkshire friend
points at it, like a knob.
Wouldn't bother me.
I'd wade through shit for a Glock.
Course you would,
cos they're fucking mint.
But you'd best do the training,
cos the handling test
ain’t a walk In the park.
Yes, it is! In fact,
It's a walk In the park with a gun.
I am an ammunition technical officer.
I've had years of training
with ammunition,
and what are those things that fire it?
Oh, yeah. Guns.
I'm just saying, anyone can fail the test.
- And 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...
- Gentlemen!
The time has come
for the awarding of the award,
and, as we all know, Biffa the Chef
has held it for the last four months.
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.
Ugh.
I accept this award
on behalf of Bluestone 42!
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 fuck 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 fucking 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.
- Fuck 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.
- on.
- Taller, obviously.
- Right.
Desperate for promotion. Overlooked.
Do you know what he did?
He read this. The Alt Of War.
- Chinese military theory. Heard of it?
- No, sir.
Sun Ta-zu?
- Sun Tzu.
- Soon Soo.
- Sun Tzu.
- Sun Tzu.
Yes. Fifth century BC.
There. "The way to avoid what is
strong ls to strike at what ls 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.
- Hm.
Bone up on this, then report back
and tell me what you've learned.
Thinking like an officer
ls the first step to promotion.
My ex used to say,
"Dress for the job that you want", sir.
Aye.
Hm. Don't dress like an officer, or you'll
get arrested by the RMPs, all right?
- Sir.
- Carry on.
Oh. Speedy wee bastards.
- So, how did I get crabs?
- The usual way?
- Fucking?
- 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, boet. 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.
Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!
Crabs from my own da?
Don't worry, boet.
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 twins stow
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.
Well, 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 Glock.
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 weapon?
I thought they were only good
for Schnitzel and child abuse.
- Oh, that's a bit...
- What?
So, the test?
El'...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 weapon and make it safe.
This shouldn't take too long.
Captain Medhurst, you've made it ready,
not made it safe.
Shit, yeah, surly.
So, you have failed the test. Corporal
Bird, we need to go to the range.
OK, so, er...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!
- Ow.
- 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 attacked.
- So, retreat.
- Mm.
- But then attack here.
- No, retreat again.
The battle is fought
not in the field but in the mind.
Well, I'm fucked, then.
- All right, Bird?
- Yep.
Got the new Glock 9mm.
She is a beauty.
This must be how it feels
to have a hard-on.
Ha-ha-ha! 9mm!
Ha-ha! That's a tiny hard-on.
Guns are not the way to win a war.
Right. Yeah,
must mention that to the enemy.
Victorious warriors win first
and then go to battle.
Don't lose my place, please.
- Oh.
- Oh.
Sun Ta-zu.
Soon Soo. It's... You haven't heard of it?
Oh, what? So, you read this and then you
magically... "Pkk-sshh!" ...make corporal?
It's a classic about war 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
ls 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 got trashed on your watch
so you've got some explaining to do.
Dush! 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.
Well...
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, huh?
Thanks a bunch! What happened
to doctor-patient confidentiality?
I'm not a doctor.
Mac? Did you...
get crabs off your dad?
- That is fucked 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.
- Oh, yeah, Padre,
actually, it's only fair.
- You've got to...award it back to Biffa.
- Really?
Oh, all right.
Ladles 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 Glock?
Nah, I'm going to keep the SIG. Who wants
an Austrian pistol, anyway, right?
I mean, 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 Glock?
- Nah.
Is that why you took the test
and failed it?
- Seriously?
- Classic!
- Thanks, Bird.
- Nah.
Skillies told me. It's a Leeds thing.
He scratches my back, I finger his sister.
Yeah, 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 in the test?
That was good.
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.
- on.
Had it in his pocket on D-Day, of course.
One of the first on Sword Beach.
Immense sentimental value.
Er...ha-ha. Mm.
Anyway, when you've finished with it...
Carry on.
Sh it.
Shitting...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 fucking D-Day.
Oh, I don't believe you.
All warfare is based on deception.
Shut the fuck up, Simon!
We need to fix it or replace it,
or the Colonel is going to kick us where
the Sun Tzu don't fucking shine!
Retreat from thy enemy
so that he, or she...
...may make the first mistake.
You borrowed it.
Your problem.
Fuck!
Tzu! Tzu! Tzu!
- Morning, Lamming.
- Morning, sir.
So, er...have you, er...got time
for a quick test at all today?
Er...you'd need to do
the training first, so...
OK, look.
Sony. My grandad died
of lung cancer last year.
So, if...if you don't mind,
I'll just, um...
We both know that's not
allowed in theatre, sir.
- I...I'm lactose intolerant.
- Course you are.
Have you seen Corporal Bird?
She wanted a new copy of Sun Tzu.
- She does? But...
- Mm. I have various editions.
Oh, she does. Ha-ha!
Clever girl. Er...I'll take all of them.
- All of them? OK.
- Mm.
Bird offered me $50.
- I'll give you 100.
- Really? Blimey.
Ah, 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. Hm.
Rocket!
Oh, shitting hell.
Shitting McShite-y shit balls!
Bollocks.
There's something not right about this.
DO you want me to get
that award back for Bluestone?
- Yeah. But it's just...
- Then stop being such a baby.
Not you as well?
What have you been doing?
Nothing.
Rocket...
It's the blast pants.
You have been busy, haven't you?
Shit! Cordon breach!
Again!
Diamond 21, this is Bluestone 42.
- Get down.
- Contact. We are engaging.
Wait out.
Thank fuck for that.
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. So 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?
Well, 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.
It's all right.
I'm sure she's incredibly surly,
even though she's not here
In person to apologise.
Ah, Corporal Bird, come in.
Sir.
I'm really surly.
- I take full responsibility.
- Oh.
These things happen.
We are in a war zone.
- What?
- But, sir,
I thought that copy belonged
to your grandfather.
You don't think I'd lend a priceless
tome [Ike that to clowns [Ike 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 that book
won't help me 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. No, I...
You both lost.
The only winner was...
The Taliban.
- No. Faruq.
- Faruq.
Wherever there is war, there will be
treasure for the unscrupulous.
Is that Sun Tzu, sir?
No idea. just made it up.
That shit writes itself.
Sir, have you actually read Sun Tzu?
No, 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.
All right, two devices.
One blown in sit...
The other pulled out of 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. GSOH. 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 sit...
- I wasn't thinking clearly.
- That's fine.
Anyway, and to make up for it...
♪ De-de-la, de-de-la, di-de-la-dah! ♪
Huh?
What this? It's a Glock.
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 that you could do it
with your eyes shut.
Oh, for the love of fuck!
Right, you come with me.
Clear. And now five rounds grouping.
Maybe lose the blindfold, yeah?
Sh it.
- Happy now?
- I never doubted you, boss.
Very impressive, sir.
After that showing, I'm happy for you
to pass. You can hang on to the Glock.
Ah, you're all right.
The SIG's 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.
What was that?
Ow!
Who's betting? Hey! Hey, you! Money!
- 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.
- Right, give me five bucks on Crabstick.
- Yeah, ten on Seabiscuit.
Yeah, I'll have five on Desert Itch.
Ladies and gentlemen!
The third race of the evening,
the Pubic Stakes!
Ready?
And they're off!
And it's Crabstick in the lead,
followed by Seabiscuit,
Desert Itch and Red Rum!
And Desert Itch is gaining!
And Red Rum has turned round
and ls heading back to the starting line!
And Seabiscuit is eating Red Rum!
Desert Itch is putting on a spurt!
But it's Crabstick!
And Crabstick has taken the Pubic Stakes!
Everybody, before the next race,
as the ranking officer here...
- Er...that's me, actually.
- Shh.
I call upon the Padre to re-award
the jockstrap of joy.
I would be delighted.
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!
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 ls going on In here.
- Your winnings, 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.
Ripped By mstoll
OK, Towerblock, I haven't seen
a device this clever since Iraq.
You ever had that warm fuzzy feeling
that someone's trying to kill 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.
- Gleaming.
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.
Nah, the ANA cordon will stop It.
Unless they've wandered off to get stalled.
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 shots!
- Boss, take cover!
- Jesus.
Stop! Stop!
Get out! Get out of the car!
Get out of the car!
Get out of the car.
Put your hands In the air.
Put your hands In the air! Faruq!
Tell him!
- He says he has no handbrake!
- What?!
No handbrake!
Everybody down!
Sh it.
Oh, dear.
Good work, Simon!
Ripped By mstoll
Towerblock, this is what we call
a bag of previously Interesting shit.
Did you get anything useful?
A stark demonstration of why Simon
will never get a job as a lollipop man.
C)h-
Bloody hell, you two! Pick up your kit
and move your arses.
Good idea. No, wait. Can't move.
Handbrake.
Pkkk-ow!
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.
And Nick's 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 up the arse,
and if that's not an education,
I don't know what is.
Well, 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.
- Mm.
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, er...not one of these.
- Ho-ho!
- Ah!
OK, Towerblock,
just to clarify it, are we suddenly
playing "my gun's cooler than your gun"?
Fair play, boss. That's a Glock 17.
Oh, you...you 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 gun confuse
your little Northern head?
The, um...the curly bit's
called the trigger.
- All the best people pass second time.
- No, they don't.
The best people pass first time.
Mm, because they're the best at It.
Right, well, 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 pistol
while your spotty Yorkshire friend
points at it, like a knob.
Wouldn't bother me.
I'd wade through shit for a Glock.
Course you would,
cos they're fucking mint.
But you'd best do the training,
cos the handling test
ain’t a walk In the park.
Yes, it is! In fact,
It's a walk In the park with a gun.
I am an ammunition technical officer.
I've had years of training
with ammunition,
and what are those things that fire it?
Oh, yeah. Guns.
I'm just saying, anyone can fail the test.
- And 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...
- Gentlemen!
The time has come
for the awarding of the award,
and, as we all know, Biffa the Chef
has held it for the last four months.
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.
Ugh.
I accept this award
on behalf of Bluestone 42!
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 fuck 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 fucking 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.
- Fuck 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.
- on.
- Taller, obviously.
- Right.
Desperate for promotion. Overlooked.
Do you know what he did?
He read this. The Alt Of War.
- Chinese military theory. Heard of it?
- No, sir.
Sun Ta-zu?
- Sun Tzu.
- Soon Soo.
- Sun Tzu.
- Sun Tzu.
Yes. Fifth century BC.
There. "The way to avoid what is
strong ls to strike at what ls 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.
- Hm.
Bone up on this, then report back
and tell me what you've learned.
Thinking like an officer
ls the first step to promotion.
My ex used to say,
"Dress for the job that you want", sir.
Aye.
Hm. Don't dress like an officer, or you'll
get arrested by the RMPs, all right?
- Sir.
- Carry on.
Oh. Speedy wee bastards.
- So, how did I get crabs?
- The usual way?
- Fucking?
- 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, boet. 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.
Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!
Crabs from my own da?
Don't worry, boet.
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 twins stow
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.
Well, 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 Glock.
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 weapon?
I thought they were only good
for Schnitzel and child abuse.
- Oh, that's a bit...
- What?
So, the test?
El'...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 weapon and make it safe.
This shouldn't take too long.
Captain Medhurst, you've made it ready,
not made it safe.
Shit, yeah, surly.
So, you have failed the test. Corporal
Bird, we need to go to the range.
OK, so, er...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!
- Ow.
- 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 attacked.
- So, retreat.
- Mm.
- But then attack here.
- No, retreat again.
The battle is fought
not in the field but in the mind.
Well, I'm fucked, then.
- All right, Bird?
- Yep.
Got the new Glock 9mm.
She is a beauty.
This must be how it feels
to have a hard-on.
Ha-ha-ha! 9mm!
Ha-ha! That's a tiny hard-on.
Guns are not the way to win a war.
Right. Yeah,
must mention that to the enemy.
Victorious warriors win first
and then go to battle.
Don't lose my place, please.
- Oh.
- Oh.
Sun Ta-zu.
Soon Soo. It's... You haven't heard of it?
Oh, what? So, you read this and then you
magically... "Pkk-sshh!" ...make corporal?
It's a classic about war 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
ls 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 got trashed on your watch
so you've got some explaining to do.
Dush! 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.
Well...
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, huh?
Thanks a bunch! What happened
to doctor-patient confidentiality?
I'm not a doctor.
Mac? Did you...
get crabs off your dad?
- That is fucked 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.
- Oh, yeah, Padre,
actually, it's only fair.
- You've got to...award it back to Biffa.
- Really?
Oh, all right.
Ladles 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 Glock?
Nah, I'm going to keep the SIG. Who wants
an Austrian pistol, anyway, right?
I mean, 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 Glock?
- Nah.
Is that why you took the test
and failed it?
- Seriously?
- Classic!
- Thanks, Bird.
- Nah.
Skillies told me. It's a Leeds thing.
He scratches my back, I finger his sister.
Yeah, 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 in the test?
That was good.
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.
- on.
Had it in his pocket on D-Day, of course.
One of the first on Sword Beach.
Immense sentimental value.
Er...ha-ha. Mm.
Anyway, when you've finished with it...
Carry on.
Sh it.
Shitting...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 fucking D-Day.
Oh, I don't believe you.
All warfare is based on deception.
Shut the fuck up, Simon!
We need to fix it or replace it,
or the Colonel is going to kick us where
the Sun Tzu don't fucking shine!
Retreat from thy enemy
so that he, or she...
...may make the first mistake.
You borrowed it.
Your problem.
Fuck!
Tzu! Tzu! Tzu!
- Morning, Lamming.
- Morning, sir.
So, er...have you, er...got time
for a quick test at all today?
Er...you'd need to do
the training first, so...
OK, look.
Sony. My grandad died
of lung cancer last year.
So, if...if you don't mind,
I'll just, um...
We both know that's not
allowed in theatre, sir.
- I...I'm lactose intolerant.
- Course you are.
Have you seen Corporal Bird?
She wanted a new copy of Sun Tzu.
- She does? But...
- Mm. I have various editions.
Oh, she does. Ha-ha!
Clever girl. Er...I'll take all of them.
- All of them? OK.
- Mm.
Bird offered me $50.
- I'll give you 100.
- Really? Blimey.
Ah, 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. Hm.
Rocket!
Oh, shitting hell.
Shitting McShite-y shit balls!
Bollocks.
There's something not right about this.
DO you want me to get
that award back for Bluestone?
- Yeah. But it's just...
- Then stop being such a baby.
Not you as well?
What have you been doing?
Nothing.
Rocket...
It's the blast pants.
You have been busy, haven't you?
Shit! Cordon breach!
Again!
Diamond 21, this is Bluestone 42.
- Get down.
- Contact. We are engaging.
Wait out.
Thank fuck for that.
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. So 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?
Well, 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.
It's all right.
I'm sure she's incredibly surly,
even though she's not here
In person to apologise.
Ah, Corporal Bird, come in.
Sir.
I'm really surly.
- I take full responsibility.
- Oh.
These things happen.
We are in a war zone.
- What?
- But, sir,
I thought that copy belonged
to your grandfather.
You don't think I'd lend a priceless
tome [Ike that to clowns [Ike 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 that book
won't help me 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. No, I...
You both lost.
The only winner was...
The Taliban.
- No. Faruq.
- Faruq.
Wherever there is war, there will be
treasure for the unscrupulous.
Is that Sun Tzu, sir?
No idea. just made it up.
That shit writes itself.
Sir, have you actually read Sun Tzu?
No, 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.
All right, two devices.
One blown in sit...
The other pulled out of 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. GSOH. 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 sit...
- I wasn't thinking clearly.
- That's fine.
Anyway, and to make up for it...
♪ De-de-la, de-de-la, di-de-la-dah! ♪
Huh?
What this? It's a Glock.
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 that you could do it
with your eyes shut.
Oh, for the love of fuck!
Right, you come with me.
Clear. And now five rounds grouping.
Maybe lose the blindfold, yeah?
Sh it.
- Happy now?
- I never doubted you, boss.
Very impressive, sir.
After that showing, I'm happy for you
to pass. You can hang on to the Glock.
Ah, you're all right.
The SIG's 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.
What was that?
Ow!
Who's betting? Hey! Hey, you! Money!
- 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.
- Right, give me five bucks on Crabstick.
- Yeah, ten on Seabiscuit.
Yeah, I'll have five on Desert Itch.
Ladies and gentlemen!
The third race of the evening,
the Pubic Stakes!
Ready?
And they're off!
And it's Crabstick in the lead,
followed by Seabiscuit,
Desert Itch and Red Rum!
And Desert Itch is gaining!
And Red Rum has turned round
and ls heading back to the starting line!
And Seabiscuit is eating Red Rum!
Desert Itch is putting on a spurt!
But it's Crabstick!
And Crabstick has taken the Pubic Stakes!
Everybody, before the next race,
as the ranking officer here...
- Er...that's me, actually.
- Shh.
I call upon the Padre to re-award
the jockstrap of joy.
I would be delighted.
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!
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 ls going on In here.
- Your winnings, 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.
Ripped By mstoll