DO POP IN PUB. ALL ARE WELCOME

For Bj.



CAPTION: 'SOMEWHERE IN ENGLAND, 1944'

The squadron leader enters an RAF officers' mess and takes off his helmet.
Bovril Morning, Squadron Leader.
Squadron Leader What-ho, Squiffy.
Bovril How was it?
Squadron Leader Top-hole. Bally Jerry, pranged his kite right in the how's your father. Hairy blighter, dicky-birdied, feathered back on his Sammy, took a waspy, flipped over on his Betty Harper's and caught his can in the Bertie.
Bovril Er, I'm afraid I don't quite follow you, Squadron Leader.
Squadron Leader It's perfectly ordinary banter, Squiffy. Bally Jerry...pranged his kite right in the how's yer father...hairy blighter, dicky-birdied, feathered back on his Sammy, took a waspy, flipped over on his Betty Harper's and caught his can in the Bertie.
Bovril No, I'm just not understanding banter at all well today. Give us it slower.
Squadron Leader Banter's not the same if you say it slower, Squiffy.
Bovril Hold on then. (shouts) Wingco!
Wingco Yes!
Bovril Bend an ear to the Squadron Leader's banter for a sec, would you?
Wingco Can do.
Bovril Jolly good.
Wingco Fire away.
Squadron Leader (draws a deep breath and looks slightly uncertain, then starts even more deliberately than before) Bally Jerry...pranged his kite...right in how's yer father...hairy blighter...dicky-birdied...feathered back on his Sammy...took a waspy...flipped over on his Betty Harper's and caught his can in the Bertie...
Wingco ...No, don't understand that banter at all.
Squadron Leader Something up with my banter, chaps?
A siren goes. The door bursts open and an out-of-breath young pilot rushes in in his flying gear.
Pilot Bunch of monkeys on the ceiling, sir! Grab your egg and fours and let's get the bacon delivered!
General incomprehension. They look at each other.
Wingco Do you understand that?
Squadron Leader No, didn't get a word of it.
Wingco Sorry old man, we don't understand your banter.
Pilot You know...bally ten-penny ones dropping in the custard...(searching for words) un...Charlie Choppers chucking a handful...
Wingco No, no...sorry.
Bovril Say it a bit slower, old chap.
Pilot Slower banter, sir?
Wingco Ra-ther!
Pilot Um...sausage squad up the blue end?
Squadron Leader No, still don't get it.
Pilot Um...cabbage crates coming over the briny?
Squadron Leader No.
Others No, no....
Stock film of a German bombing raid.
Voice Over But by then it was too late. The first cabbage crates hit London on July the 7th. That was just the beginning.
Cut to a Whitehall war office conference room. A general is on the phone. Four other generals sit there.
General Five shillings a dozen? That's ordinary cabbages, is it? And what about the bombs?... Good Lord, they are expensive.
A corporal rushes in.
Corporal Sir!
General Yes, what is it?
Corporal News from the Western Front, sir.
General Yes ... ?
Corporal Big enemy attack at dawn, sir ...
General Yes ... ?
Corporal Well, the enemy were all wearing little silver halos, sir ... and ... they had fairy wands with big stars on the end ... and ...
General They what ... ?
Corporal .. and ... they had spiders in matchboxes, sir.
General (in disbelief) Good God! How did our chaps react?
Corporal Well, they were jolly interested, sir. Some of them ... I think it was the 4th Armoured Brigade, sir, they ... well, they went and had a look at the spiders, sir.
General Oh my God! All right, thank you, Shirley.
A girl emerges from under the table. She is a blonde WAAF.
Corporal Sir!
General (to a sergeant) Get me the Prime Minister. (the sergeant opens the door, Churchill stands outside) Not that quickly! (the sergeant shuts the door) Gentlemen, it's now quite apparent that the enemy are not only fighting this war on the cheap, but they're also not taking it seriously.
Ageing General Bastards ...
General First they drop cabbages instead of decent bombs ...
Corporal The crates were probably quite expensive, sir.
General Quiet, critic! And now they're doing very silly things in one of the most vital areas of the war!
Ageing General What are we going to do, Shirley?
General Well, we've got to act fast before it saps morale. We're going to show these Chinese ...
Captain Germans, sir.
General These Germans ... we're going to show them that no British soldier will descend to their level. Anyone found trivialising this war will face the supreme penalty that military law can provide. (he holds a heroic pose; there is a pause during which we expect to cut; we don't; suddenly he breaks out of the pose into informality) That was all right, I think?
Captain (getting out drinks) Seemed to go quite well.