All language subtitles for Piece of Cake - 01x01 - Part 1.DVDRip.English.orig

Where the hell are you, Starr? You're supposed
to be following me. What's the matter with
you?

I don't like people who dawdle!
Come on, tighten up!

Sorry, Red Leader, I'm afraid I'm a little ill.
I mean, I'm a little groggy.

It happens when you get blotto in the mess.

Close up, Starr.

Not up my bum!

Ever seen a tailplane chewed up by a
propeller?

- No, sir.
- It's a nasty sight!

And the prop's a nasty sight as well.
They fall off, you know!

They become ill, like you!

I've been checking the results of the pilots'
tests
on aircraft recognition.

Very depressing. Half of them are imbeciles.

Don't believe it.

They should know the difference
between ours and theirs.

It's different in the sky.

The old man's giving a bit of stick to young
Starr.

OFFICER: He got two out of ten in his test.

Odd, you being in the Air Force.

I think you should try flying.

It's unnatural.

It'd encourage the chaps if the new
Intelligence
Officer had actually been in an aeroplane.

RED LEADER: Let's get a decent landing.

Speed 1 60...and falling.

Undercarriage selector lever down...

now.

Your speed is 1 35 and falling.

Height 700. We're on our final approach.

Flaps down.

Get out! Get out!

I was always worried about that slit trench.

Bloody fools, incompetent idiots!

- I didn't mean there!
- We'll get a ladder!

You're on a bloody charge, all of you!
What are you? German spies?

Do you know how much a Spitfire costs?

OFFICER: He'll calm down.

Really?

Can I help you, sir?

How can you help? Just go away!

There's a ladder coming, sir.

Stuff your ladder!

Argh!

Are you all right, sir?

Excuse me, sir, if you don't mind.

Well, I'll be buggered!

CHAMBERLAIN ON RADIO:
I am speaking to you

from the Cabinet Room of 1 0 Downing
Street.

This morning, the British Ambassador in
Berlin
handed the German Government a final
note,

stating that,
unless we heard from them by 1 1 o'clock

that they were prepared at once
to withdraw their troops from Poland,

a state of war would exist between us.

I have to tell you now
that no such undertaking has been
received,

and that, consequently,
this country is at war with Germany.

You can imagine what a bitter blow it is to
me,

that all my long struggle
to win peace has failed.

Now, may God bless you all.

And may He defend the right.

For it is evil things
that we shall be fighting against:

brute force, bad faith, injustice,
oppression and persecution.

(Air raid siren)

OFFICER: It was a traffic accident,
rather than a flying accident.

I just thought I'd put you in the picture, sir.

Anyway, there's the question of a new CO.

How can I find a CO on a Sunday?
On this particular Sunday.

Yes, sir, I certainly do know there's a war on.

The worst time ever.The Luftwaffe
don't have these problems, apparently.

Well, they're Germans.

Who was that?
I was just talking to our Intelligence Officer,
sir.

Yes, sir, Mum's the word.

Yes, indeed, sir.
The whole squadron's on alert.

Goodbye, sir.

- Well?
- Oh, yes.

Senior pilot takes over.

Is young Fanny Barton good enough
to lead us into war?

First-class chap.
His people farm sheep in Australia.

- Bit dull, though, don't you think?
(Knock on door)

Oh, Fanny, we were just talking about you.
Come in.

You're going to be Acting CO for a while.

Oh, am I?

(Plane buzzes by)

I can hardly fill the shoes of
Squadron Leader Ramsey.

I don't know about that, but one of your first
tasks is to write to the old man's next of kin.

Well, I'm not very good at writing letters,
particularly that sort of thing.

Tell them he exhibited a complete
disregard for his own personal safety.

That's the formula, as I remember.

But he fell off his aeroplane!

We don't want to tell them that, do we, sir?

Fanny, he wouldn't give me the envelope.
Top secret. Needs your signature.

Thank you.

You all know what's happened.

It's a sad day for us, but an historic day as well.

Er...we seem to be missing some pilots.

They went to the pub, sir.

May I point out that this squadron
is on active service? We're on alert.

A and B flights are on a five-minute
stand-by.

Nobody goes to the pub.

Particularly this day. They heard the
Prime Minister's speech, didn't they?

That's why they went to the pub.

Well, somebody should've stopped them.

Now, as I was saying...

Hitler's got about, well, 2,000 bombers...

(Singing outside)

Come on, you chaps.
You should be up here at a briefing.

They didn't tell us!

I want you in here right away.

What have I done?

Flying Officer Stickwell, I'm your Acting CO
and I've given you an order.

That goes for the lot of you.

Look, I want to make this quite clear.

This is not a glorified playboy flying club.

Don't sit down when I'm talking to you!

We thought we were on release.

Well, you're wrong.
Hornet Squadron is available.

That means we've got to be ready
to take off in whatever time the Controller
says.

All right, sit down.

Incidentally, I wouldn't imagine the
Luftwaffe
is carousing in their local bierkeller.

And I'm sure the Polish Air Force
hasn't got time for a laugh or a joke.

They've a good reason for having a drink!

(Laughter)

Don't be so bloody stupid, Moggy.

Hasn't it sunk in yet? We're at war.

The games are finished.

And we may be into action
sooner than you think.

I have here some top secret documents.

Useful Polish terms and phrases
for British Air Crew.

(Muttering)

Each pilot must memorise
these phrases in 24 hours.

- OFFICER: Oh, Fanny.
- I thought that would get you going.

All right. That's all for the moment.

I don't know. I felt like a scoutmaster.

Nothing wrong with that.

Moggy has a bad influence on Sticky.

They're all the same. Let's face it, fighter pilots
are an odd lot. They're a bit mad, if you ask
me.

- Well, I'm not mad.
- Well, I wonder!

They've had a year practising for this war.
Now it's come, they're thrilled to bits.

- Thrilled?
- Bloody right.

They're just itching to be let loose
on some Jerry bomber.

They're not policemen or defenders.

Different attitude. They want to shoot some
sod.

I mean, they didn't join
the St John's Ambulance Corps, did they?

What about you, Uncle?
Were you a bit mad as well?

Well, I suppose I must have been.
I was bloody lucky, I can tell you that.

Well, not mad, sort of...eccentric.

But what I'm saying, Fanny, er...Keith,
is that when it comes to the push...

..you'll probably find you're a good deal
madder than you think.

Have you done your Polish tests?

- Lost mine.
-They're secret!

What are they going to do,
put me in the Tower of London?

I don't even want to speak to a Pole.

If they can't speak the King's English, sod 'em.

Let's have a look.

''Where is the pox hospital?''

- Doesn't say that, does it?
- Should.

Silly man, you haven't written your name on
it.

I'll get a colossal bollocking for that!

Anthony Eden?

Ready? Studying your Polish? Good.

Bomber Command dropped leaflets
on Hamburg and Bremen.

They should drop Moggy.

(Phone rings)

Ready Room.

On our way.

Let's try and get a Jerry bomber instead, eh?

Starting up.

Jester Red Leader. Red Three.

Close up.

RED LEADER:
Red Two, where the hell are you going?

Thought I'd catch last orders.

Sorry, Jester Leader.

Jester Red Leader, this is Cowslip.
Are you receiving me?

Receiving you, Cowslip.

This is Cowslip. Request your position,
Jester Red Leader.

This is Jester Red Leader.
Approximately over Foulness Point.

Angel Seven. Over, Cowslip.

Jester Red Leader, this is Cowslip.
1 0-plus bandits approaching Thames
Estuary.

Steer 1 -5-0, make Angels five. Over.

Understood, Cowslip.

Keep tight. They're aiming at London.

Bandits - 1 1 o'clock low, one mile, Red Leader.

- See 'em, Red Two.
- Crossing to starboard.

Gone into cloud.

Jester aircraft, safety catches off.

Attack! Attack!

(Machine-gun fire)

You got him, Fanny!

(Machine-gun fire)

Cheeky bugger. Messerschmitt!

(Machine-gun fire)

Damn good show, Fanny.

I think we acquitted ourselves rather well.

We got our first kill, do you realise that?
Hornet got our first kill.

Bloody incredible show!

- I winged an ME 1 09.
- Hold on. I got him in the bum!

There were plenty of 'em, you know.

One of 'em even had a go at me.
Bloody cheek!

What happy warriors! Should I be dashing to
the
phone and telling Group about your exploits?

One Junkers 88 destroyed, another damaged

and we returned fire
to several Messerschmitts 1 09s.

- Outnumbered.
- Citations, Skull. Gongs for everybody.

Messerschmitts? Are you sure?

- We were there.
- I simply question the word ''Messerschmitt''.

Why?

As I'm sure you know,
the Messerschmitt has a range of 400 miles.

Thus it has an operational radius
of some 200 miles.

Are you with me?

You've got a beautiful speaking voice.

Thank you, Moggy.

Mathematics is not my forte, but, as we know,

the nearest German airfield
is at least 400 miles away.

How on earth were they going to get home?

They had extra long-range fuel tanks.

- Disposables.
SKULL: Unlikely.

Maybe they took off from an aircraft carrier.

The German Navy has no aircraft carriers.

Are you calling us liars?

My dear boy, would I imply such a thing?

Come on.

You probably didn't study this at Oxford,
Cambridge or Harrods or wherever it was.

- Good Lord!
- It's not bloody dry rot, you know.

Another two feet
and he'd have lost his left bollock!

Oh, dear. I will phone Group immediately.

-Tell them about the Junkers 88.
- Whatever you say.

Are we going to have you for the rest of the
war?

Unless I get a better offer from Göring,
old boy.

Damn fine show.

- Thanks, Uncle.
- Quite remarkable.

First scrap, a Hun down,
two possibles, no losses.

- Just shows we can do it.
- May I make a suggestion?

Perhaps a thrash tonight, make a fuss of them.

I've always said it... In fact, it was my CO in the
last do. ''War,'' he said, ''is all done by kindness.''

Probably right.

Have you got a couple of seconds?
Chap in my office - bit of a complaint.

- If you could just say hello.
- What's it all about?

Now, sir, this is Flight Lieutenant Barton.
He's our Acting CO.

There's one, there's another and that's the
third.

I beg your pardon?

There's a letter to the Secretary of State for Air,
one to my MP,

that's the National Farmers' Union.

I'm sorry,
I don't quite know what you're talking about.

That's the bloody problem!
You don't know, or you don't care.

They rob us blind, don't they, bloody RAF!

Roll on, Hitler, that's what I say.

Sir, if you could explain the nature
of your problem.

Four of them, in a car,
driving across my cornfield.

You ought to see the damage. Drunk.
I want them arrested!

They were fighting against Germans
half an hour ago.

-That's your problem, isn't it?
- Don't you realise there's a war on?

(Phone rings)

CO.

What spares?

What forms?

I don't know. You'd better come over here.

Well, I must say, Keith, they've got a nerve,
with their bloody cornfields.

Here are the Polish tests, incidentally.

I'm afraid they're not natural scholars.

-They haven't even tried.
(Knock on door)

Group not at all happy about those
long-range
Jerry fighters and the Junkers.

- I told you, we engaged several aircraft.
- Rather important.

Our side suffered losses in the engagement.

How many?

One pilot killed.

One Blenheim destroyed.

Several wounded.

Funny thing is,
no bombs were dropped on London,

no German aircraft were seen to fall
in the Thames Estuary area.

The spares depot is only 30 miles from here.

I've tried! No form, no spares.

We need a bloody form to get a form.

I know there's a bit of a flap on, but Group
needs
more information about your bombers.

I've told you everything about that.

For example, did you observe return fire
from the German gunners?

I don't know. No.

Possibly.

Notice the markings on the aircraft?

They were silhouettes.
How the hell could I notice that?

I'm sorry, Fanny, this is my job.

Look, can you help me?

I've got two Spits unserviceable.

I don't know!

MAN: Hornet Squadron?

BARTON:
It's like bloody Piccadilly Circus in here!

You're from the National Farmers' Union?

As it happens, I do farm.

In Herefordshire.

But I'm Squadron Leader Rex, your new CO.

I'm sorry, sir.

I happen to know Wing Commander Bristow
at the Spares Depot.

We were at Cranwell.

Why don't you buzz off with a
1 5-hundredweight
truck and I'll phone him?

That's the stuff.

This is erm...?

Gullett, sir.

And what do they call you?

- Harry, sir.
- Jolly good.

Well, Harry, if you'd do the honours.

What else?

We've collected
our Anglo-Polish phrase papers.

Polish?

Whatever will they do next?

(Champagne cork pops)

Not Polish, anyway. Swedish, I fancy.

God morgon.

Yes, that's Swedish.

I wish you'd told me.

If the Air Ministry can invade Sweden,
what about shooting down Blenheims?

Technical fault, apparently.

We scrambled some Blenheims
to intercept Jerry over The Channel.

False alarm.

None of the beastly Huns about.

Coming back, our Blenheims show up
on our tracking screens.

Looks like a raid.

We scramble and there we are.

The old Blenheims look remarkably
like a Junkers 88.

No, no, no, sir, we met Junkers.

And we were shot at.

They thought you were Messerschmitts.

What?

The Spitfire does look like an ME 1 09
from some angles.

You're bloody knowledgeable all of a sudden!

REX: I've talked to the CO concerned.

One Blenheim destroyed, one pilot killed.

Some smart bod wrote down the letters
of the attacking aircraft.

If you could broach the other bottle
of champagne, Harry.

HARRY: Yes, sir.

REX: Nobody's fault.

Your letters?

I'd er... I'd better get on.

When you get back,

could you get your chaps to obliterate
the identification letters on our aircraft?

- Why, sir?
- We don't want to get caught again, do we?

(Clicks heels)

(Champagne cork pops)
REX: Thank you, Harry.

Yes, sir.

It will happen again.

UNCLE: Happened all the time in the last
do.

Everything happens so quickly in the air.

(Dog yelps at the door)
- Oh, could you?

This is Reilly, our new squadron mascot.

300 hours airborne.

Good thing to do.

Hop into an aircraft and nip over to Manston...

and, I suppose...apologise.

Apologise? They'll shoot me.

Nonsense. The CO's a charming man.

What can I say?

Blips on the screen.

You were lucky, they weren't.

Off you go.

But, Christ, a man died.

I'm sure many more will.

Off you go.

And don't take all bloody day.
We're off to France tomorrow.

Go!

We may never see him again.

The Manston CO's a tartar. He was furious.

Ah.

Quite right, too.

Could you show me to my quarters?
I really must have a bath.

(Reilly barks)

Moggy!

Well, gentlemen, we're going to France.
Over that way.

I'm sure you're expert navigators,
so there's no excuse for missing Le Touquet.

A lively little place with an adequate casino
and
excellent restaurant mentioned in your
Michelin.

As skipper of the crew,
I should explain three things.

- Get off!
- As you were.

Nobody kicks Reilly, who is your mascot.

- He peed on me, sir.
(Laughter)

He thought you were a lamppost.

(Laughter)

As I was saying, the French think
they invented flying, wine and sex.

A quick course in aircraft recognition
might come in handy.

They have some very strange aeroplanes.

No matter how tempting they may be,
please, please, don't shoot them down.

They're on our side.

As for wine, the French are appalling
alcoholics.

If somebody offers you a drink, take it.
You'll be doing him a favour.

Sex. The ladies are staggeringly attractive.

You are officers and gentlemen.

If you must fornicate,
at least take off your shoes and socks.

(Laughter)
- No questions, I hope.

Good.

Keep it tight, keep it tidy.

Off we go.

- Reilly!
(Reilly barks)

Bit of a bright spark, isn't he?

I think we're going to enjoy this war.

A few errands, Uncle,
when you've settled your bits and pieces.

I want you to telephone Harrods
and order some goodies.

French beer's like camel piss.

Hundreds of bottles of Whitbread, some
decent
farmhouse cheddar and lots of sausages.

- I like a good sausage.
- How shall I pay, sir?

Put it on my account. They'll deliver.

Now, my motor car. Some type from the
Service
Corps will ferry the beast across the water.

- Is that possible, sir?
- Why ever not?

Chum of mine at the War Office
is taking care of things. Keys.

And, of course, Reilly.

He usually drives with me, but anything
above 4,000 feet, he gets a trifle distraught.

No scraps.
Good marrowbone from the cookhouse.

And Barton, sir?

Barton?

- Is it a good 'un, Flight?
- Prize of the collection, sir.

Jolly good.

God, I hope he won't pine.

- Will he be all right flying?
-Veteran, apparently.

- Will I be all right?
- Why not?

Bombay freighter. Bit slow. Brute to fly.

Is it safe?

Really, Skull,
wouldn't you have been happier in the Army?

Hornet Squadron, we're in it together.

Squadron into vic, into vic.

Hornet Leader. Two vics astern.

Two vics astern.

(Engines roar)

(Band plays military march)

Bonjour. Squadron Leader Rex.

Our town is your town.

I'm Lieutenant Jacques Rocard.
This is Captain Martineau, your liaison officer.

But, unfortunately, he doesn't speak English.

Oh, dear.

Would you like to say a few words
to the people?

Ah, yes. Yes.

Monsieur le maire, mes amis...

mon français...épouvantable.

Au nom de Squadron Hornet,
je dis merci beaucoup.

Maintenant, parlons de la guerre.

Nous sommes hit Monsieur Hitler for six!

I didn't realise French was just like English!

Nous allons faire passer un mauvais quart
d'heure à Hermann Göring et sa Luftwaffe.

Vive la France! Vive la Squadron Hornet!
Liberté, égalité, fraternité.

Vive la France!

Merci beaucoup.

(Cheering)

Don't know about you, mon maire, but a
morceau of your local brew might not be
amiss.

Brew? What is that?

Poco vino. Un peu de champagne, yes?

- Certainly!
- Merci.

A charming speech, Squadron Leader.

Yes, well, off the cuff, you know.

-Terrific stuff, sir.
- I thought so.

Your friend, the Captain...bit of a character?

A very good hero. An ace during the last war.

Looks like Basil Rathbone
playing Adolphe Menjou.

I don't understand that.

Not important.

What happened to the rest of him?

He had a big plane and a small bridge.

Flew under a bridge?

Not far. Thionville.

Some said it couldn't be done.
So far the result is: pilots one, the bridge
three.

And erm...Basil Rathbone?

An honourable draw. Pilots are crazy.

I was impressed by your air display.

Piece of cake.

Morceau de gateau.

Mmm. Sounds nicer in French.

# Chagrin d'amour

# Dure toute la vie

♪ J'ai tout quitté

♪ Pour l'ingrate Sylvie

♪ Elle me quitte et prend un autre amant

♪ Plaisir d'amour

# Ne dure qu'un moment

♪ Chagrin d'amour

♪ Dure toute la vie

(Cheering)

Silence! Silence! Je voudrais que les pilots
anglais chantent pour vous.

MAN: Bravo!

Everybody, silence!

Come on, chaps! Squadron song. Here we go.

♪ Our name is Hornet Squadron,
no bloody good are we

♪ We cannot shoot, we cannot fight,
nor march like infantry

♪ But when it comes to pay parade,
we shout with all our might

♪ Per Ardua Ad Astra

♪ Up yours, Jack, we're all right

Conga!

♪ Da da-da da, hey

ALL: # La la la la-la-la-la

♪ La la la-la

♪ La la la-la, hey

♪ La la la la la la-la

♪ La la la la la la-la

♪ La la la-la, oi!

♪ La la la-la, hey!

REX: Navigating, Uncle?

UNCLE: Absolutely. Just over the brow.

Good gracious!

REX: Some Jewish banker. Left in a hurry.
Not bad, eh, Uncle?

UNCLE: Are we allowed to do this, sir -
picking out our own billet?'

I don't see why not.
They're going to move us, anyway.

In fact, the German border's only 40 miles
away.

Big library, squash court.

- Do you play, Uncle?
- Not all that well.

There's a tennis court.

Golf course?

No, afraid not.

Swimming pool somewhere.

Would you take a look at the hangar,
Marriott, there's a good chap?

Yes, of course, sir.

Marriott's an odd one. The sort of chap you
meet
from the AA when you've a puncture.

- He's very good.
- I'm sure.

Do you think the chaps will like the billet?

What can I say? Enchanted?

But how, sir?

Our French aviator and Liaison Officer.
Requisitionable, apparently.

I hope they'll be grateful.

It's not a question of gratitude.
The squadron means a lot to me.

I hope for something special in the air
and on the ground.

- Rex.
- Sir.

I hope you approve, sir.The men seem to like
it.

I bloody well hope so, Rex.

Of course, we're not quite settled in yet,
but...er... Well, sir.

The Air Ministry would be astonished.

Why, sir?

Why?

Maybe not.

If you're going to have a war,
at least have a good one, eh?

This way, sir.

Gentlemen, Air Commodore Bletchley.

Flight Lieutenant Galloway, the grace.

For what we are about to receive,
may the Lord make us truly thankful. Amen.

ALL: Amen.

- Care for Chablis, sir?
-Yes. Yes.

(Rex bangs gavel)

Squadron, I have the honour
to introduce Air Commodore Bletchley,

who would like to say a few words
about the war.

Sir?

We at the Ministry want to put you in the
picture.

People say that an Englishman's word
is his bond.

And we gave that word to Poland.

So did France.

The Polish people have made an outstanding
contribution to 20th-century civilisation.

By siding with Poland against the -
well, let's call a spade a spade - the Hun,

a traditional enemy of ours,

we are standing for freedom,
democracy and justice.

And it will also be the path of glory
and eventual triumph.

REX: Hear, hear.

The Air Commodore has kindly offered
to answer any questions.

I think you've covered everything, sir.

No questions?

Who's going to win the Gold Cup, sir?

(Sniggering)

Not bloody Hitler!

Hear, hear, sir!

Well, I think we should start, don't you?

I was wondering, sir,

when Germany's defeated,
is it the Allies' intention to restore Poland?

- I should hope so.
- And all her boundaries?

Obviously.

But it was only a year ago the Poles
occupied the Teschen area of Czechoslovakia.

Will they keep that?

-The Poles?
- Yes.

I'm not an expert on Czechoslovakia.
All cobbled up by the politicos.

Bit of a potpourri.

I mean, the nation.

After the last show, they gave Czechoslovakia
three and a half million Germans. Quite
absurd!

Hitler more or less said that.

REX: Skull.

Flying Officer Skelton was a don, sir.

Cambridge, wasn't it?

BLETCHLEY: My boy's going there.

What will he read?

God knows. Hoping for a blue - cricket.

What was your speciality?

Radical thought in Elizabethan England.

Partly the influence of the Puritan sects
in the northern counties.

- Remarkable.
SKELTON: Yes.

One hardly knew where to begin.

Nothing about Poles and Czechoslovakians?

I simply asked the Commodore
to clarify these murky matters.

How's your sole, sir?

First class.

And, of course,
the Russians have also invaded Poland.

- We're not fighting about boundaries.
- Aren't we?

Not completely, anyway.

This war is about...well...decency.

And the Poles.

Wonderful musicians.

The Poles.

Of course. Chopin...

and the others.

Very decent people.

- Beethoven.
BLETCHLEY: What?

Ah, yes, I heard what you said.

Well, just remember this.

Poles don't beat up...

- well, Jews.
- Oh, but they do.

- Nonsense!
- Quite regularly.

With every sign of keen enjoyment.

- Rubbish!
- Hear, hear, sir.

I'll say this, Flying Officer Skelton.
I've been in this service for 25 years.

I'll give you some advice.
Never, never, never talk politics in the mess.

I'll have some of that Chablis.

Do you get to do much flying these days, sir?

I miss that.

On your own.

Ever flown a Sopwith Pup?

I'm talking about the last show.

Swoop down on Flanders and you'd think
of those buggers in the mud and the
trenches.

Barbed wire.

And there you were...free as a bird.

Don't mind telling you, I miss that.

I hope you have the same pleasure.

I do, sir.

Oh, yes, sir.

I'm afraid I get vertigo.

What are you looking at, Moggy?

Old Adolphe Menjou.

Alias Long John Silver.

Do you believe all that nonsense?
Flying under bridges?

The Frogs are terrible liars.

Cocky sod.

I'd like to see this bridge.

I flew under some power cables once...
in a Tiger Moth.

You could fly the Queen Mary sideways
under power cables!

It was bloody hairy.

Pathetic Scotch dwarf.

Goodnight. I suppose we soldier on.

I was going to ask you about that, sir,
soldiering on.

-The war, you mean?
- Mm.

All that stuff about gallant Poland.

Well, Poland's down the drain.

Question is, will Jerry have a go at France?

Waiting game. Be prepared, Rex.

We've got the Maginot line,
so we don't want to be...well, aggressive.

Thank you, sir.

Thank you, sir.

Uncle.

Got a replacement for Barton.

Good. Decent chap?

Pilot Officer Christopher Hart.
The chap's from America.

They've sent me an American?

What is this, the bloody Foreign Legion?

He's probably got some connection
with our country.

How do you know?

They're not even in the war,
they're not even friendly.

Half of them are Germans.

I didn't know that, sir.

Well, it's true.

Bloody Yanks. They're awful.

Did you see that film AYank Goes To Oxford?

Robert Taylor, smoking a cigar,
running the half-mile, winning the boat race.

I won't have him!

-Very experienced pilot.
- Is he?

7 4 Squadron. Hurricanes and Spits.

Bully for him!

Highly commended by
Air Commodore Bletchley. Knows his family.

I think it's probably a publicity stunt.

You don't need publicity for a war.

We're not at the bloody Palladium.

Come on, Reilly.

(Reilly barks)

REX:Tighten up, Hornet aircraft.

Red Section, attack.

(Imitates machine gun)

Don't upset the French railways.

Rat-bloody-tat!

Red Leader from Red Two, I've got a hot
engine.

Check oil temperature, Red Two.

I've got boiling oil, Leader.

OK, Red Two, you'd better buzz off home.

(Switches radio to music station)

(Radio) # THE INKSPOTS: Whispering Grass

# Why do you whisper, green grass?

♪ Why tell the trees what ain't so?

♪ Whispering grass

♪ The trees don't have to know

♪ No, no

# Why tell them all the...

(Yells triumphantly)

Early.

I hope the others
haven't gone sightseeing in Germany.

- Is that illegal?
- Of course.

Some MP suggested the RAF should bomb
the forests near the Ruhr.

Sir Kingsley Wood, our Secretary for Air
answered this by saying,

''Do you realise this is private property?''

Yes, well, I suppose it is.

Afternoon, sir.

- Nice big pint, Harry.
- Bit early.

Good day, sir?

Yes. Pretty good.

Hot engine.

Can't grumble, though.

Hope you don't mind, sir,
but any influence with the old man?

- Why?
- His dog, sir. You an animal lover?

- Not a lot.
- That bleeding Reilly.

He's a menace. Pissed on my leg,
if you'll excuse my French.

Having a go at everybody.

(Erupts with laughter)

It's only the lower ranks, you know.

Well, they always say that, sir.

We're always being pissed on
from a great height.

(Door opens)

Still...it pays good, though.

Oh, yes, sir.

Can't grumble.

Hello. I'm Christopher Hart.
I've been posted here.

As what? Skiing instructor?

(Laughs) Flying, as well.

I just saw some idiot fly under a bridge.

- Did you?
- Yes.

Almost buzzed my taxi.

That wasn't you, was it?
You seem to be the only pilot around.

They're practising.

So it really was you. Pretty damn good.

- Maybe magnificent.
- Really?

You're not supposed to do that sort of thing,
are you?

Cattermole. They call me Moggy.

For some reason.

- American?
- Yep.

Drink?

Love one.

About the bridge...
If you could keep it under your hat.

Sure.

How come you joined the RAF?

I guess it was for the polo.

We don't play po...

I get it. What would you like?

I don't know. Half a bottle of Krug?
Is that a bit presumptuous?

I'm a simple peasant myself.

Ah, you'll grow out of it. A pint of bitter, old
bean.

Pint, Harry.

(Aircraft engines)
- Here they come.

Any action?

Not here, old boy. It's illegal in this war.