Episode 2 Bluestone 42

This programme contains very strong language.

PLANES ROAR

What the hell do you want?

I can't concentrate if you're watching me. Go on. Go on. Piss off.

INSECT DRONES

Piss off!

-Everything all right there, boss?

-Yeah, it's fine!

Just talking to a lizard!

Um...what did you say, boss?

ON RADIO: I said I was just...

It doesn't matter.

-MILLSY:

-OK. Er...do you need me to prepare the hook and line?

Or...anything else?

Ah. Could you prepare a Caesar salad?

-Um...

-Actually, just radio the cookhouse

and tell them that, if they're planning tomato pasta bake

for a fifth day running, I'm bringing this bomb home for lunch.

-MILLSY:

-Yeah. Er, to be fair, boss,

yesterday was spicy tomato pasta, which isn't technically...

And my will to live is further reduced.

Good job I'm not in a life-threatening situation.

Oh, hang on.

-Wait. Who's that?

-What?

There's someone by the compound, inside the cordon there.

-Skip, the line.

-Yeah, hang on.

-Watch out, Skip.

-Yeah, in a minute.

-Step back!

-Yeah, all right, he's just... Uh!

Get down!

INSECT DRONES

-All right, Rocket?

-Just a plant.

You sure it wasnae a tripwire?

If it had been a tripwire, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now.

Oh.

Right.

Why not?

Because he'd be flying towards ye like flesh confetti.

Like flesh and bone confetti. Like flesh and...

-Yes, all right, Mac.

-Got you.

Too much, aye?

WOMAN SPEAKING ON RADIO

Right, let's give it ten and I'll go back.

So, Rocket, what was all that shouting about?

You dropped faster than your testicles will in a year or two.

It was nothing, boss.

-Nothing?

-He thought I'd found a tripwire.

-A tripwire?

-Yeah, but it was just a plant.

-A plant?

-Yeah, so it was all OK.

-So, it was all OK?

-This is entertaining.

And where was this plant that was all OK?

-MURMURS:

-Just in there.

There.

Are you sure, Lance Corporal? Cos that's off the path.

And stepping off the path would be the act of a...

colossal bell-end.

I thought I spotted movement in the compound over there.

Oh, so you tried to get a closer look by wandering off the path

like a dozy fucking pensioner.

But, like I said, it was just a plant, so...

Oh, and you discovered it wasn't a booby trap,

because an IED didn't blow both your legs off

and rip great fucking chunks out of the rest of the team!

-Sir.

-You know why they're called booby traps, Simon?

-Is it because...

-Shut up!

They're called booby traps because they get trodden on by tits

like you!

Really?

If you do not stay on the path,

you will get blown to shittington come!

And we will need two dozen body bags to ship you back to a fiancee

who is, bafflingly, in love with someone with fewer brain cells than bollocks!

Protocol would be a retraining exercise, boss.

Get your shit together, Lance Corporal,

and stop acting like a useless fucking geriatric!

Another mistake like this

could invoke considerably more than a gigantic bollocking!

-Could it invoke a retraining exercise?

-Millsy.

We have the training opportunities we need. We refer to them as "war".

Boss, I'd really love it if we could...

Millsy, I would really love it

if I got to eat foie gras and drink Sauternes

whilst shagging Mary the Padre.

-If you don't mind...

-Technically...

Technically, Millsy, we spend 80 hours a week

in close proximity to yellow lines.

I think the last fucking thing we need is a retraining exercise,

with you pointing at them like a knob-end.

OK?

Boss.

Right. Eyes peeled.

I'll be in the van. Bird, have we got any coffee?

-Er, something very similar, boss.

-What have we got, Bird?

If you use "chai" in the answer,

I'm going to go down there and blow myself up.

Um...well...

Beef bolognese with tomato pasta.

-Nice variation.

-Well, at least it's hot.

Reminds me of the time Rocket had the shits. That was hot.

I wouldn't have eaten that either! LAUGHTER

Nick, I'm eating.

You know what I miss? Fruitcake. Proper British fruitcake.

BLOWS RASPBERRY: That is a fucking boring food tae miss.

And do you eat it with a tartan rug over your knees, Grandad?

-LAUGHTER

-Fucking funny, everyone.

-I know.

Well, we've got the next best thing.

You say fruitcake, I say tropical fruit mix.

Tropical fruit mix? This is just peaches. That's not tropical and it's not a mix.

Have my golden-oats snack bar if you're desperate, boss.

As generous and unwelcome as that offer is, Millsy,

I just want a decent bloody meal for once, not...

Operational Ration Pack number 17.

19, boss. 19. 17 is sweet-and-sour chicken.

Thank you for your input.

PLANE ROARS OVERHEAD

-Oh, I just...I can't do it.

-Can I have yours?

-Really?

-Serious.

-Rocket joined for the food.

-Aye.

And the free uniform. And the gun.

They don't let you keep the gun afterwards.

Eh? Shite!

-You lying bastard.

-Ha-ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha!

Come on, Mary, admit it. That is horrible.

Well, we're hardly feasting on oysters and champagne,

at least there's plenty of it.

Again, when Rocket had the shits there was plenty...

-Nick.

-Sorry.

-Bird, you're still eating it. Why?

-Reminds me of home.

-Aw, really?

-Yeah.

My mum's a fucking awful cook. Why do you think I'm here?

Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.

Nah, it's nothing that can't be unfucked with a bit of ketchup.

She's sending me some in the post. If it ever gets here.

-When does it get here?

-Fuck knows.

My big brother says he's sending me some Mars bars.

-I've got to find decent food.

-Faruq keeps offering me quroot.

-You too, huh?

-You want quroot?

No, Faruq, because it tastes like

cottage cheese that's been pissed on. Do you have anything else?

You want good scoff, I get you good scoff.

You like fresh, juicy, ripe mangoes?

-Yes.

-Me too.

Sadly, they would be impossible to obtain.

But I see what I can do! Bye-bye!

Good.

Sir?

-Sir, could I have a word?

-Is it about the food?

Dreadful, isn't it? Still, what's the first rule?

If you want good food, don't join the Army.

Should've stuck to what we know and invaded France.

I bet Wellington had foie gras every bloody night.

We should invade France?

Napoleon's men lived off the land, of course.

Annoys the locals, but you do discover regional delicacies.

Like the Afghan tiger gecko.

-Come again?

-Lizards. Keep up.

The Afghan tiger gecko.

Highly endangered, on account of being absolutely delicious.

-Really?

-Mm.

Fresh. Creamy. Like oysters.

These days there's so few of them,

they're confined to just two valleys

about four miles east of Malgir.

Where we were this morning, sir.

Black. Yellowy stripes.

You haven't seen one, have you?

No, sir.

Not even a tiny one?

Probably just as well. They're on some UN list of protected yumminess.

Very bad form to catch them. Kill them.

Poach them gently in a good chenin blanc.

Sir.

You slept with that Padre yet?

-What?

-I'll take that as a no. Carry on.

-HE BURPS

-See yous later.

Bye, Rocket. Everything all right, Millsy?

Fine, Padre, yeah. Just fine.

Is Nick not keeping you busy?

No, no. Not today.

But it's OK. Just the way he is sometimes, you know?

How is that, then?

Oh, no, no, no. I'm not having a go.

Just saying I know we can all get a bit pointy when we're stressed.

But it's fine, it's fine.

Do you want me to talk to him?

I would love that. I would really, really love that.

What would be the best thing for me to say?

You...

Nothing.

No.

No, no, no, nothing. Nothing.

It's fine.

It's just sometimes I feel I could do a much better job if he just let me in on stuff.

I've had all this training, I know I could do my job a lot better if I could just use all of it and it's...

Actually, do you know what? Don't worry about it. It's fine.

-I should, er...

-Millsy.

I haven't known Nick for very long,

although I think I've kind of worked him out.

But he can be quite spiky, and actually...

No. No, no, no, no. Nick's amazing.

Really. Yeah, and he... and he likes you, he really likes you.

-I mean, he said...

-Millsy, can I stop you there?

Because we are here to do a job, so...

Nick and I will be keeping things strictly professional.

Of course.

Sorry.

It's OK.

-Actually, what did he say?

-Well...

No, forget it. Um...see you later, Millsy.

Yeah.

INSECTS CHIRPING

FILM MUSIC PLAYING

This is the most boring fucking film I've ever fucking seen.

-You're joking, right?

-MAC:

-Thin Red Line?

Thin Red Shite, more like.

-Does anyone care if I turn it off?

-Sooner the better.

What?! There's only an hour left!

-You've got to be fucking kidding me.

-Another hour?!

What is wrong with you people?

-The Daily Telegraph said...

-What a steaming pile of crap.

-Aye, crap.

-No.

No, The Thin Red Line is one of the greatest war films of all time.

-Back me up here, boss.

-What's that?

The Thin Red Line. A significant film.

It was certainly significant for me.

Whole bunch of us went to see it when we turned 18...

-Thank you.

-...and I have never been more bored.

I was so bored, I thought I'd died, gone to hell, and got bored.

OTHERS CHUCKLE

Least you were lucky enough to see it on the big screen.

-Not really.

-Mm. I was too young to go and see it at the cinema.

-Eh? You're older than him.

-No, I'm not.

-Ah, ye are!

-No, I'm not.

-How old do you think I am?

-36?

-I was going to say about 42.

-Oh, aye.

I'm 28!

-OTHERS LAUGH

-28!

What, seriously?

You make it sound like I'm past it.

-You lot think I'm past it.

-Nobody thinks you're past it, Simon.

You called me a dozy fucking pensioner.

Did I? Yeah, I probably did.

-GUFFAWING

-You called me Grandad.

-You were having a wet dream about fruitcake.

-I like...cake!

-OK?

-Somebody say something about cake?

You do make that noise when ye sit down.

What noise?

BOTH: Oh!

Pfff! I don't make that noise. Pfff!

-And you go "Pfff!" when you're annoyed.

-Pfff!

-Pfff!

-Pfff!

-OTHERS:

-Pfff! Pfff! Pfff! Pfff!

Fuck off!

PLANE ROARS OVERHEAD

Can we just please watch the rest of the film?

-Nah. Let's watch Heartbreak Ridge.

-Aye! The Ridge!

Oh, no, no! It's too late to start another film!

-LAUGHTER

-"Oh, it's too late!"

-Oh, is it getting late, Grandad?

-SHOUTING:

-May I remind you,

we all have to be up at 0630?

-LAUGHTER

-You are so old!

Quack, quack!

Sod off. I'm going to bed.

-HE GRUNTS

-Ha-ha-ha-ha!

Millsy will bring you some hot milk.

-Actually, we're out of milk.

-Millsy, I was... Forget it.

I think I'll turn in as well.

-Good night, guys.

-Nick?

-Can I have a word? In private?

-At this hour?

Intriguing. Yes, please.

Ah, biscuits, brown.

My favourite.

-In the absence of all other biscuits.

-Hm.

-Yeah, I'm out of wafers, pink.

-BOTH CHUCKLE

-So...

-So, I wanted to talk to you about Millsy.

Oh. Look...

When I was in training, I got used as target practice for golf balls,

so the occasional game of dartboard runaround is really...

And this isn't about that, is it?

-I think he feels like a spare part.

-Yeah.

A spare part who doesn't spend his time inches away from something

that will probably, at some point, blow him to pieces.

I'm not sure if I've told you this, but my job is almost unimaginably dangerous.

It has come up once or twice, yes,

but all I'm saying is, why don't you...let him in?

Ah, yes. Let him in.

I forgot chapter 76 of the ATO training manual,

"When relating to your number two, always ensure that you...let him in."

He's a young man who wants to do a good job. So, give him...

His...his head?

Actually, that is what bomb disposal experts need. Head.

Oh, yes. Clever.

Millsy mentioned something about a retraining exercise.

-HE SIGHS

-Why don't you talk to him about it?

For me?

So, team, time for a retraining exercise.

-Aw...!

-Bollocks.

-I thought you got us here to dish out post.

-Hasn't arrived.

-Shite.

I was expecting my Mars bars so I only had the one breakfast.

Millsy will help us understand the importance of staying in the marked areas,

by going through yesterday's incident.

-Really?

-Do we have to?

Let's get it over with.

-Millsy.

-Thanks, boss.

OK.

It was nearly 0900.

The mist had cleared,

and a light wind from the south stirred the leaves in the trees.

Cautiously, a small brave detachment...

Millsy, what are you doing?

Boss?

Either I've stumbled into Poetry Corner or you, Millsy, are talking like a cunt.

OTHERS SNORT

-Which is it?

-Poetry Corner, boss?

No.

Oh. Sorry.

So, I've recreated where everyone was standing

when the suspected secondary was spotted.

If you'd like to follow me.

Oh, dear.

-LINDA LAUGHS

-You've drawn pictures of us. Sweet!

What the fuck is that?

OTHERS LAUGH

I don't smoke a pipe!

All right. Just a bit of artistic licence.

-OTHERS CHUCKLE

-I'm 28!

Sorry. OK.

So, Simon was standing here.

The yellow line was here,

and in trying to see an enemy over there,

he overstepped the line...here.

This is excellent, Millsy. Do go on.

Really?

Yeah.

OK. Thanks, boss.

So, I'd like everyone to break up into pairs.

-PHONE RINGS

-Ask 'em when the post is getting here.

Everyone, break up into pairs and make a list of potential hazards.

-Thank you.

-Pairs, gay. Lists...gay.

I cannae make a list. I've no' got a pen.

Sorry, Millsy. No time for getting into pairs. We've got to go.

Are you serious? What is it?

Well, something's holding up the post truck

and I don't want to lapse into jargon here, but I think it's what we call a bomb.

Hey! We do those, don't we? Let's go.

It says here you find them in rocky areas.

-Rocky areas, marshy areas...

-PLANES ROAR

...other areas, all over the shop!

Well, thank you very much, David Attenborough.

You like David Attenborough?

I can get DVD of Frozen Planet.

-20 dollars. It is agreed.

-No, Faruq, I...

-What?

-The kit's ready, boss.

Is there anything else here you'd like me to do?

Not really.

We've got to wait 20 minutes for the search team to finish anyway.

Why don't you go over there

and run through that retraining exercise again?

-Again, boss?

-Mm.

-You mean finish it?

-Yeah.

Crack on.

Faruq and I will be...here...

talking.

Right. Um...this exercise ideally should involve you, boss.

-Mm-hm.

-It could. It...doesn't have to.

You... You won't be needed for this, boss. I'll take it from here.

Bluestone 42, back in your pairs.

-Oh, no!

-Really?

Did something move? Down there?

I don't know. I can't see anything.

-Does it really taste that good?

-Oh, yes.

Especially with some quroot.

Yeah, because you know how much I love that salty, salty yoghurt.

Ah, but with the lizard... Ooh, it is amazing.

The salt, it brings out the flavour of the meat.

It tastes like...panda.

I thought it tasted more like oysters. Sorry, you've eaten panda?

Sure you don't want to make up a three, boss?

Ah, Bird.

-Cordon secure?

-It is, boss.

-We've considered the risk of RCs?

-We have.

We've also considered the risk of you not clearing the road for the post truck,

cos you're too busy searching for lizards.

Lizards? Huh!

-We're not searching for lizards.

-Ooh, there's one.

Is there? Where?

Ah, she is smart lady.

But that is why we don't teach them to read.

-Fuck you!

-HE SNORTS

MAN SPEAKING ON RADIO

Hello, little fella!

Hello! Look at you, stripy!

Come on, now. Shoo.

Shoo. Go on, go.

Off you pop.

Wait! I see someone. Over there.

You sure, Skip? Your eyes aren't whit they used to be.

Not now, Mac! Yeah, he's back.

-Right, everyone. Cover!

-Oh, ha-ha!

-I'm no' falling for that one again.

-GUNFIRE

Shite!

Charlie 1, this is Bluestone 42. Contact. Wait out.

Contact right! Bluestone 42!

One hostile, corner of the compound, 200 metres!

I see him.

GUNSHOTS

Bloody hell, Skip.

That was some fucking shot, eh?

-Well, it's what we train for.

-Someone give that man a cigarette!

-I don't smoke.

-Yes,

I know, I mean, well done, basically.

I think we can officially say that you...are not past it.

Yes! Thank you, boss.

All right, now keep those eyes peeled. Terry Taliban may have some friends.

Amazing what an early night can do for ye, eh, Granda?

-HE SMACKS LIPS

-Fuck off.

Eyes on.

OK, Millsy, just bagging up.

-ON RADIO: Why don't you get a brew on?

-Okey-dokey.

WHISPERS: OK.

Oh...

Millsy?

Get a visual on nearby reptile.

Reptile, boss? Like a lizard?

-Yeah. MILLSY:

-Oh, right.

I...I saw one of those earlier. Yeah, it was by the kit.

It was black with all these yellowy stripes. I just shooed it away.

What? No!

Shit! Millsy.

-I really wanted that lizard.

-All right.

You didn't tell me, boss, I didn't know.

No. No, I don't suppose I did.

I suppose I should have let you in.

OK.

OK, look, um...do you think you could shoot this one?

It's, er...

It's posing a threat.

-I thought you were finished, boss?

-It's a distraction, Millsy.

-And therefore a threat.

-All right.

But, um...aren't you a bit nearer?

Yeah, I'm also nearer 20 pounds of HME.

Can you just get Corporal Crackshot to have a pop at it?

But it's not harming anyone, boss. Poor little thing.

It's a fucking lizard, Millsy!

-Grow a pair.

-Boss.

Simon, the boss wants you to shoot that lizard.

He wants me to shoot a lizard? OK.

Just letting all units know

that Corporal Lansley is about to fire at a...UDR.

An unauthorised distracting reptile? I dunno!

-AMERICAN ACCENT:

-Hey, lizard. You wanna ask yourself one question.

Do I feel lucky?

Aye. I dae feel lucky.

Very lucky.

Cos the guy that's shooting at me is a dozy fucking pensioner.

-Ooh!

-I'll do it, Skip.

No, Rocket, it's all right. I've got this.

Lizard neutralised, boss.

INSECTS CHIRPING

Well, that looks filling.

Carry on.

How's the food, everyone? Still horrid?

Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!

Well, buck up. Post's here.

-THEY CHEER

-Finally, treats! Yum!

Here comes ketchup!

-There's one here for you, sir.

-Thanks.

For you, Bird.

Oh, my four-year-old's drawn me a picture.

Can anyone tell what it is?

If you have any thoughts, let me know, hm?

-Oh.

-"Dear Lynda.

"Your sister thought you might appreciate something girly."

What?

Mango and coconut body wash?

What a bitch! What am I supposed to do with this?

-Piss off!

-Ah, the young Scot's worst nightmare.

Soap and fruit in one.

-PARCEL RATTLES

-Chocolates?

Ho-ho-ho!

It's...Travel Scrabble. It's great!

VEHICLE DRAWS UP

I mean, shit. Shit.

Ohhh! She found them!

OTHERS LAUGHS

Past it! Past it! Pipe and slippers!

I do not smoke a pipe!

Ahhh!

Right, guys.

Yous can have some of my Mars bars.

Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!

Oh, that's fucking hilarious!

He said he was sending me Mars bars, and instead he sent me fake dog poo!

Brilliant!

-But we can't eat it, though, can we?

-What? The food here's fine.

I wanted some of your fucking Mars bars!

All right, Mac, you greedy bastard.

This is the worst Christmas ever.

All the presents are shite...

and it's no' even Christmas.

WOMAN SPEAKING ON RADIO

Is this all right?

Are those seriously the best flowers you could find?

I can try and find some others, but we are in the middle of...

No, don't worry. They'll do. What's left on the list?

I've ironed your camos...

So, all you've got to do is sweep the det, then you can go and play Scrabble.

Yes! All right, listen. I was thinking that we could set up a tournament and...

You wouldn't need to be involved. I'll... I'll see you later.

Now, promise me there's no quroot in this.

No, this is my wife's recipe.

Braised Afghan tiger gecko.

It is her signature dish.

As a girl, she used to trap them in her back garden.

That doesn't seem very sportsmanlike.

Well, in those days she did not have access to an SA80 rifle, eh?

Yeah, just the AK-47s from the mujaheddin?

Yes, very hard-wearing but not so accurate.

Excellent for crowds, but not for hunting.

-Right.

-Knock, knock.

-Who's there?

-Hi!

Oh, hi, Faruq.

-Millsy said you were looking for me?

-Yes, I am.

-Have a seat.

-Ooh, metal cutlery. Now, there's posh.

Well, we aim to please.

Thank you for talking to Millsy. He seems much happier.

He's running around like a lunatic, fetching and carrying.

Well, a woman's work is never done.

And, yes, I am implying that Millsy is a woman.

How demeaning for him. And how charming for me.

What is that amazing smell?

That'll be the oysters.

Oysters? Out here? Who do you have to sleep with to get them?

That's a question you should be asking yourself.

OK, so they're not technically oysters, but apparently they taste just like them.

-They look a bit...

-Just close your eyes

and open your mouth.

That's not the sort of advice I follow when you're around, Nick.

Oh, my...

Mmm.

-SHE SIGHS

-Mmm!

Mmm. Oh.

Mmm.

Mmm...

Mmmm!

Oh...

This is so yummy, I think I might cry.

Oh! Mmm! I don't know why people don't eat these all the time.

Because they're critically endangered, Padre.

What?

How's the lizard?

Lizard? This is... This is lizard, and it's critically endangered?

Yeah.

But what does that really mean?

-Less than 70 breeding pairs, apparently.

-SHE GASPS

-Ooh, is that spare?

-Not...really.

Oh. Yumbles! Mmm!

It's been too long.

What were you thinking?

-I think we both know the answer to that.

-Right!

-Get out.

-These are my quarters.

Your... Whatever. Yeah, fine. Well, I'm going.

What happened to "so yummy I think I...

"might cry"?

Sorry, sir, is there something in particular that you were after?

No, no, just a social visit.

-All OK? Excellent. Carry on.

-Well, that...

Perfect.

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