All language subtitles for 66 - Allo Allo S7e05 - The Gestapo Ruins A Picnic

At last everything is back
to normal here in Nouvion,

or as normal as possible.

I and my wife, Edith,
have returned safely

from our trip to London,

where we had fled
to avoid being shot

by the communist resistance,

who were cross
that I was to be given

a collaboration medal
by the Germans.

Fortunately for us,

the Germans decided
not to give me the medal,

so my life is not in danger.

I did not enjoy
my short time in england.

I still have indigestion
from the terrible food,

plus several pairs of y-fronts,

from the marks and Spencers

which I soon found
are a size too small.

But then I should not
be surprised.

My wife chose them
and she has always

underestimated my requirements.

O-O-Oh,

Rene, I have not yet
had a proper chance

to welcome you back.

This would be a good moment.

Oh, Rene, I was so
worried about you

on your dangerous trip
to england.

I look into your eyes,

and I see how much
you have suffered from the journey.

It was traveling
in those tight y-fronts,

but I am recovering.

Oh, Rene,

my love for you is like a fever.

Can you not feel

I have gone limp all over?

I hope it is nothing contagious.

Rene!

What are you doing

holding that servant girl
in your arms?

You stupid woman!

Can you not see this poor child

is suffering from delayed shock?

She thought she had
lost you forever.

Me?

Yes, you.

You are like a mother to her.

She models herself on you.

If she had stringier hair,

she would do it like yours.

And now you are back,

she is overcome
with emotion and relief.

Oh, this is true.

Oh, how thoughtless I am.

Go up and lie down on my bed,

and put a drop
of my Cologne on your brow.

Oh, thank you, mamma,

I mean madam Edith.

Oh, Rene, forgive me.

I am not myself today.

My bunion is giving me gyp.

It always happens
when I am under a strain.

Oh, Rene, hold me.

Hobble here for a hug, come on.

Rene,

I have good news.

Officer Crabtree has
found the British airmen.

They were hiding in a pigsty.

What about the smell?

I expect the pigs
got used to it.

Listen very carefully,

I shall say this only once.

We have a new plan to get
the British airmen back to england.

Oh, not another one?

We are going to build a raft

for them to sail
across the channel.

For a raft you need
the trunks of trees.

The woods are out of bounds.

And anyone seen walking around

with a chopper over his shoulder

would arouse suspicion.

This is true.

We shall not go to the woods.

Already my resistance girls

have sawn halfway through
six telegraph Poles.

When it is dark, we will go out

and pull them down,
and build the raft.

And coincidentally,

severely damage
German communication lines.

Ooh, I have a twinge
in my bunion.

Her bunion does
not like this plan.

Good moaning.

I thought you were bringing
the British airmen?

I am chocking to see
if the kissed is kloor.

I see that we are aloon.

You have not left
them in the open

outside my cafe, have you?

Do not wirry, Ronnie.

I have brute them
from the pogstee

in a wooden coat
pulled by a dinkey.

Wooden cart, donkey.

I got that.

They are disgeesed
as socks of potootoes.

Oh, that is a good disguise.

We always need potootoos,

I mean potatoes.

Get them in.

Come in here, chaps.

I meant carry them in,

sacks of potatoes do not usually

stroll in here to be peeled.

- Hello.
- Hello.

Ooh, what a pong!

They still have a lot
of pogstee on them.

They cannot stay here
in that condition.

Look at the mess
they are making.

Ask the girls to boil some water

and get the strongest
disinfectant they can find.

To wash the floor?

No, to wash the airmen.

What are they going on about?

I have no idea.

They are going
to give you a bath, chaps,

to get all that piggy stuff off.

Oh, splendid!

Bags, I the end
without the taps.

You'll have to be quick.

Herr Flick?

Herr Flick, I'm here.

Can you hear me?

Ah, Helga.

It was not very clever of you

to choose the mating call
of a wild goose

in your secret message to me

to signal your arrival.

Wild geese have been
mating all day.

Our knees are raw
from scrabbling

up this rough monastery wall.

Forgive me, herr Flick,

I didn't know it was
the mating season.

Next time,

consult your girl guide diary.

Come, Von smallhausen,

we must leave

this monastic existence behind.

Do you want a hand, herr Flick?

No, avert your eyes.

Quick, where is
the getaway vehicle?

I could not get a car,
so I brought this instead.

This is most unsatisfactory.

The gestapo are not
used to escaping

on a three-wheeled tandem.

We will be the laughingstock

of the whole German army.

Oh, herr Flick,

what terrible hardships

you must have suffered in there.

We have suffered
many deprivations.

We were only allowed

to keep our bare necessities.

We nearly lost those
a couple of times.

That was because
of your poor needlework.

Go and sit on the tricycle.

May I welcome you back
with a kiss?

Very well,

but make it a quick one.

We may be missed.

We are playing hooky
from jam making.

What shame! What infamy!

A member of our holy order

consorting with a woman.

You will be scourged
for this, brother Otto.

Oh, not the scourging!

To our getaway tricycle,
and quickly.

Come back, you sinners!

You must be punished for this!

Not on your Nelly!

If we soak much longer in here,

I am going to shrivel up.

Have you seen the soap?

It was here a second ago.

If you hadn't
insisted on putting

baking powder in
to make some bubbles,

we would be able to see it.

Ah! Got it.

I don't think so, old chap.

Well, what have I got then?

Oh, the loofah.

It's not very
private in here, is it?

It would be a lot less private

without this baking powder.

Rene has given me orders

to get you clean.

Here. I hear the English

hate to take a bath.

You take the one
with the spotty back,

and I'll take the one
with the boil on his bum.

What did she say?

I think they're
going to scrub the floor.

Funny time to do it.

Yeah. Ooh, ah! Get off!

I think we would
have been better off

in the pigsty, carstairs.

Oh, I don't know.

Look at this poster
I found in the main square.

It is an absolute disgrace!

Yes, the writing is rather bad.

Quite indistinct in places.

I'm not talking
about the handwriting,

look at the content!

Dash it, these are
my tank driving spectacles.

You'd better read it, Gruber.

Just a moment,
while I make a note.

Colonel to retake
tank driving test

as soon as possible.

Carry on, Gruber.

"The resistance calls
on all loyal citizens

to hamper the efforts
of the accursed boche..."

"... and make the life of
the occupying army in Nouvion

as uncomfortable as possible."

What cheek.

Put itching powder
in their washing,

water in their petrol,

garlic in their strudel,

and tin tacks on the roads,

and whenever possible,

drop a brick on their heads."

And I thought they all loved me.

"Comrades, we must show
that fat pig of a colonel..."

excuse me, colonel,

but I am only
reading what it says.

Continue.

"... And that poncing,
little tank driving,

twit of a sidekick..."

whoever that may be.

Is you.

There are lots of tanks!

Read on and stop arguing.

"... And finally,
we must also show

that over-medaled
Italian chicken

that we mean business."

That means you.

Look, I am seething with anger.

See my mustache? It bristles.

Every medallion on my chest

was won with a brave deed.

Have you finished?

No, I stamp my foot.

I hurt my leg.

This rubbish clearly undermines

the efforts
of the occupying forces.

There is even
a scurrilous cartoon of me

on the reverse side.

No, I think
you are mistaken, general.

It's a lady in suspenders
with a spiked helmet.

The caption, read the caption.

"Von kinkyhoffen."

It's outrageous.

Did you wish
to say something, captain bertorelli?

No.

Then shut up!

We must beat the resistance

at their own game.

We shall revive
the local newspaper

that we closed at the beginning

of the occupation,

and use it for our own
propaganda purposes.

Excellent idea, general.

Ah, but it must not be
too obviously propaganda.

We need a frenchman
to edit the paper.

That will give it credence

in the eyes of the villagers.

Another good idea.

Any suggestions?

Well, there's Rene
from the cafe.

Ah, the fellow who almost got

the collaboration medal.

Excellent, Gruber.

Do you have his confidence?

We do hobnob from time to time.

Really?

Contact him immediately.

- Heil Hitler.
- Heil Hitler.

Heil Mussolini.

Don't be silly.

Von kinkyhoffen.

It's a wonderful likeness.

Regarding the poster,

anyone caught laughing at it

will be shot.

When have you ever seen me

in suspenders
with a spiked helmet?

I think the last time was
at the staff college dance.

Your health
and efficiency magazine

has just arrived, herr Flick.

A special issue
with a centerfold pullout

of a rhine maiden unadorned.

Shall I pull it out, herr Flick?

You will pull it out

at your peril, Von smallhausen.

Only senior gestapo officers

with iron control

are allowed to gaze

at unadorned rhine maidens.

Extremely average.

Nevertheless,

I must telephone

for the rhine maiden calendar.

She will be bigger in that.

I can hear nothing.

We are severed
from the outside world.

That is because we have
not paid the bill,

and the petty cash box is empty.

How can this be?

I think you took the last of it

to buy that silk underwear
for Helga, herr Flick.

You were not supposed
to know about that.

My lips are sealed, I promise.

We must ring Berlin
and ask my godfather,

Heinrich himmler,

to send more money immediately.

But how can you ring him
if the phone is cut off?

We shall use our special gestapo

phone tapping equipment
in this cupboard,

and tap into the line
outside the village.

You have an answer
for everything, herr Flick.

Of course.

It was not possibly a good idea

to buy Helga
that silk underwear,

herr Flick.

Rayon would have been cheaper.

You said your lips were sealed.

You have broken your promise.

Pass the first aid box.

Compress your mouth.

Step forward.

There.

That will teach you
to keep your word.

Do not remove it, understand?

I said, "do you understand?"

Yes, herr Flick.

Do not remove it.
Replaster yourself.

That is better.

Now, Rene, those are my orders.

How do you feel

about running a newspaper?

Worried, which is not unusual.

Mimi, more wine.

When I was young,

I was a reporter on a paper.

I could give him
valuable assistance.

Ah, now that is a good idea.

Maybe you should be the editor?

No, no, Rene, it is your job,

I insist.

Now, we have to decide

what we are going
to put in the paper.

Of course, the main story

is how we are winning the war.

What a load of cobblers.

I am not familiar
with this expression.

She agrees,
but with slight reservations.

Now, to be a good editor,