Episode 3 Bluestone 42

This programme contains very strong language.

Let me get this right.

Celtic, SPL champions,

have got nae chance against Hibs, a bunch of fannies frae Edinburgh.

Piss off.

Eyes on!

You know Celtics are without Hooper?

-Whit?

-Thigh strain.

My nephew sent me text message. He is taxi driver in Hamilton.

-Your nephew lives in Scotland?

-He says it's a real dump.

HELICOPTER WHIRRING

CHATTER ON RADIO

Ugh. Have you set the suit to gas mark six, Millsy?

Er...what?

I'm implying the suit is an oven, Millsy. It's buggered.

Orders from the SAT. Wear the suit as often as practical. It's safer.

Oh, so, it's safer for me to pass out face first into a boatload of explosives?

I don't get it. I fixed this. And I put new batteries in. It should be working.

-No shit.

-You need bomb suit?

Yes, I do, Faruq. Although, ideally, not one made by the Soviets in 1981.

Oh.

-I have ordered a replacement, boss.

-Well, where is it?

-My request

-has been approved.

-So, some blanket stacker has a piece of paper,

saying that he approves of your piece of paper? Order...it...again.

And again. And again.

Until someone finally delivers it.

-Boss.

-OK. Now, my duties are running clear, Millsy.

Ah. Time to take me out of the oven.

-TV:

-Celtic obviously the favourites here, John...

COMMENTARY CONTINUES

Sit down! SHOUTING

COMMENTARY CONTINUES

I'll never forget the first time my dad took me to see Hibs at Easter Road. I was ten.

Best meat pie of my life.

Aye. Hibs should pack in the fitba and enter fuckin' MasterChef.

SOLDIERS: Aw...!

No football today.

SOLDIERS: Ah!

Record it and watch it tomorrow.

You're going to be busy with Captain Softly

preparing for a midnight raid on a bomb factory in Nowabad.

So, that should be exciting. Plans going up on the screen now.

Excellent.

Over to you, Recce Platoon Commander...Captain Softly.

-SCOTTISH ACCENT:

-Hello, cunts!

CHEERING

We've recced a compound in Nowabad

where those twisted fuckers make IEDs.

So we thought we'd pop back with our friends

and tear Terence Taliban a new one.

Now, there are two ways we can go in.

Option one, knock on the door and pretend to be Jehovah's Witnesses.

Or option two, blow the gates, pile in,

chuck a few grenades around, brass the fuckers up.

Hands up for option one?

Option two it is.

So, at 2300, transport will drop 1 Platoon and Bluestone 42 here.

Alpha and Bravo sections will secure the outer area,

shooting anything that moves,

while Captain Medhurst blows the gates to fuckington come.

Charlie section will secure the outer compound

then 2 Platoon will enter the building and clear it room by room.

Do not touch a fucking thing unless Bluestone 42 say you can.

Unless you fancy losing a fucking leg.

At which point your military career will be over.

Although on the plus side you might be able to start for Hibs.

-Oi!

-LAUGHTER

Any questions? Good.

We leave at 2100.

Colonel?

Thank you, Captain Softly.

So, go over the plan in your teams

and remember, what's the first rule of a daring midnight raid?

Surprise!

Ah...

So we detonate the explosive on the gates.

Cheers, Millsy.

We stay out of 2 Platoon's way. They pile through.

-Then we bimble in, take a shufty.

-We expecting much resistance?

About as much as I'd expect from Rocket's mum after a couple of lagers.

We're hoping to catch Terry Taliban in his pyjamas,

rather than having some friends around for a who's-got-the-biggest-gun party.

If you are feeling nervous, go and see the Padre.

Door's always open, guys, OK?

Post. Blueys for Mac and Rocket.

-That's a parcel for you.

-Thanks.

This one's from HQ. And a parcel for me.

-All right for some.

-No, not really. I think it's from my dad.

Yep. "Dear Mary,

"can never remember whether you love cashews or are very allergic."

-Very allergic, Dad.

-Coincidentally, I absolutely love cashews.

And I'm adorable and about to raid a bomb factory.

Every time I put one in my mouth, I shall think of you.

OK, everyone, listen up.

In other news, a new campaign has been launched

to release the Danish aid worker Astrid Nygaard...

-Gleaming!

-Ooh, yeah.

Now, remember we have talked about appropriate responses to this.

She is a Taliban hostage. There's a time and a place.

-Is there a photie?

-Hell, yeah! And it's another hot one.

-Ah, gies it.

-They're just very concerned for her wellbeing.

I'm sure they'd be just as concerned if she wasn't...quite pretty.

No, no. Sorry, no, no, that's mine. That's mine.

What the fuck is this?

"A Foot in Death's Door, A Memoir by Lance Corporal Simon Lansley."

Yeah, OK. OK! I wrote a memoir.

ALL: Ooh!

All right! Let's get all the jokes out of the way.

Don't have time, Simon. Could take all day.

-There's the first.

-"From a young age, I'd always wanted to be a soldier.

"Focused, trained, uninformed."

Uniformed. That should say uniformed.

-"The Corporal protested angrily."

-Piss off, Mac!

He barked, still annoyed at his rubbish spelling.

Guys, leave him alone. What did they say?

"Thank you for sending us A Foot In Death's Door, which we enjoyed reading.

"Unfortunate...unfortunately we didn't..."

Find it quite distinctive enough to stand out in a competitive market.

It's a standard rejection. I used to work in publishing before I was a Padre.

At least I got off my arse and tried to get a book deal.

-I tried to get a book deal once.

-Yeah? What happened?

-I got a book deal.

-What?

-Did you?

Yeah, spent the advance, forgot to write the book.

-Millsy, do you want to write a book?

-When do you need it by, boss?

-No offence, Nick, but how did you get a book deal?

-Er...he has been in the papers.

But mainly cos that journo at the Express

-is obsessed with him.

-HQ keep feeding her stories, so...

Yeah, you know, the double-page spread, Nick "Ten bombs in one day" Medhurst.

-Which is factually accurate.

-You know what's next?

Ten bombs in one day. Ten times in one night.

-OTHERS: Wa-hey!

-Yeah, OK, look. I'm...I'm definitely

not going to sleep with her again, OK?

Not that I ever have.

Not...ten times, anyway.

Although, obviously, I could have managed that.

-If I'd wanted to.

-For heaven's sake!

Which is all in the past.

So, let's prepare for tonight's raid, then. Good meeting, everyone!

Mary! Look, I didn't want to sleep with that journalist.

Oh, she forced you? Nick, it's fine. Do what you like.

You seem to think of me as some sort of unfettered Lothario.

Oh, do I? Thanks for the briefing, Captain.

If I was, I'd be sleeping with Bird.

And you. And Millsy too, probably,

who I'm sure would be... very accommodating.

I am surprised you haven't already slept with Bird.

You've slept with Bird.

Well, we were training. We got it out of the way so we could be friends.

And I am more than happy to get it out of the way with you

so that we can have the friendship that you seem to crave.

Crave? That's a bit strong. Tolerate, maybe.

-What?

-A quick word with the Padre, in private?

Fine. I can tell when I'm not wanted.

Oh, I don't think that's true.

I didn't know you were in publishing. Would you have a quick look at my book for me?

All you need to know is that it's not just about the book. You need a hook.

A hook?

Like Abu Hamza?

No, as in something particular about you.

Like, um...like Nick is "the ten bombs guy".

-Ah.

-And it's also about the look.

So, if you have a hook and a good look, you've got a book.

A hook, a look and a book.

Have a quick read of it anyway, will you, Padre? Cheers.

-All set for tonight?

-Yup. Think so. Yup.

Er...what did you order those for?

Well, he told me to keep ordering it, so...

No, that's an old-style suit. No air con.

Standard issue for Northern Ireland.

Capable of withstanding petrol bombs and permanent drizzle.

I'm going to get creased again. I filled out the form on the computer.

Er...! Rule one. Don't fill out the form.

Call them up and say you're with Counter-IED.

-They'll tell you to fill in a form.

-Right, so I fill out the form.

Er...! You've already forgot rule one, don't fill out the form.

All right. Don't get cross.

Rule two, get cross, and then ask for their name.

-That usually shits them up.

-All right.

-Rule two, get cross, get their name. Rule three?

-Put the kettle on.

-What, after I get their name?

-No. Now. Milk.

One sugar.

Oh. Aha! I get it.

New bomb suits?

Well, old bomb suits. New old bomb suits. They're not required.

I mean, we do require some suits, but those aren't the suits you're looking for.

Are you trying to do a Jedi mind trick on me?

Oh. Ha!

Listen, Bird,

how am I going to prove to Mary that I'm not only interested in one thing?

-Stop trying to have sex with her.

-Yeah, but if I do that,

-how am I going to get to have sex with her?

-Mm, the eternal conundrum.

Oof.

OK, guys! So, you know how Nick is the "ten bombs guy", right?

Well, Mary says I need a hook.

Er...for my book.

A short punchy description about me.

So...?

-I do not think this will end well.

-No.

How about Lance Corporal Lansley, "not officer material"...

OTHERS SNORT "Sandhurst."

That wasn't Sandhurst, actually.

That was Captain Glover in my regiment said that about me.

That's all right, then.

Lance Corporal Lansley, five foot seven!

CHUCKLES

Lance Corporal Lansley, first-class fuckwit.

-LAUGHTER

-I don't know why I said anything.

I was quite surprised.

CRUNCHING

CLICK

WHISPERS

Honey! I'm home!

GUNSHOTS

GUNFIRE

PANTING

GUNFIRE

PANTING

GUNFIRE

SHOUTS

I've got this! You crack on!

GUNFIRE

-Rocket, get a medic!

-Yeah.

Mac, watch the door.

Thank God.

-Are you Astrid Nygaard?

-No, I'm the Little fucking Mermaid.

-What?

-Yes, I'm Astrid Nygaard!

-What?

-Medic coming.

-Is she the Danish bird?

-Aye.

SHOUTING OUTSIDE Fucking hell! She is hot.

Super-fucking-hot. I mean, she is gorgeous.

Thank you very much.

-You speak English?

-Of course!

Shit. Oh! If you know the results of Hibs-Celtic, don't tell us!

Let's go. I found the hostage, everyone!

I found the hostage! Medic!

Simon! What the hell were you doing

-racing off like a lunatic when... Hello.

-It's you!

From the newspaper. Ten bombs in a day.

-Just doing my job.

-So brave!

And even taller than I thought.

Medic! Where's this medic?

It's good to meet you, Captain.

-Call me Nick.

-All right.

-Come this way, please.

-Oh.

-You're going to be fine, just fine.

-Thank you.

What? Look, I have other interests, OK?

Yeah, but one main one.

Well done, everyone!

Really good job, every...

Move out.

MARY: Well done. Oh, well done.

I hear it was a success. Well done, guys. Where's the hostage?

-I don't know. Why are you asking me?

-I thought that you...

Look, I'm not going to sleep with her, OK? Jesus!

Blimey.

HELICOPTER WHIRRING

-SIGHS:

-Huh!

Hi, Nick.

Oh.

Hello.

I wanted to, um...thank you properly for rescuing me.

Actually, er... Simon rescued you, so...

Yes, but I did not have his picture on my office wall.

Well, as Simon's commanding officer, I...

..suppose it was me, in a way,

that...rescued you.

Yes.

Cashew nut?

You're not as sexually confident as I expected, Nick.

Er...bloody am, actually. It's...

Hey.

OK.

PANTING AND GRUNTING

Sorry. Er...fiddly.

Um...help yourself to a nut.

-SHE CHUCKLES

-Somebody likes you. Who sent these?

Oh, they're from...

Actually, they're from the Padre.

-Best Padre ever.

-Yeah.

Um...

Sorry, maybe this isn't a good idea.

You're kidding, right?

We're only interested in one thing, aren't we?

Actually, I'm not...actually.

Good. Sure, you're deep and meaningful.

Now can you please have sex with me?

You have got to be fucking joking. This is your only chance.

-I know. Tomorrow you'll be gone, and...

-No, tomorrow I'll be famous.

Hot hostage who got rescued? I'll be on chat shows.

Denmark only has one chat show, but I will be on it. A lot.

Sorry.

My mother was right. British guys are fucking weird.

-Come on, then.

-Nick?

A word, please.

I'm very disappointed in you.

Astrid was in a really vulnerable position

and to take advantage of that is just... Well, it's wrong, actually.

Bit sexist to assume it was Nick who took advantage of her.

Well, was Nick emotionally vulnerable after being kidnapped by the Taliban?

-Not really.

-He could hardly say no, could he?

She'd been imprisoned for two months.

She must have been desperate. No offence.

He could have exercised some self-control.

Why do you care? Oh! Do you want to sleep with Nick?

I'm the Padre. It would be totally preposterous.

-Do you want to sleep with him?

-No.

-I have a duty of care to Astrid.

-You're jealous.

-No, I'm not.

-Are so.

I'm not going to resort to, "No, you're not, yes, you are" with you.

-Yeah, you are.

-No, I'm not.

-See?

-Look. This isn't really your business, so...

-Fine.

-Fine.

-I didn't sleep with her.

-BOTH: What?

-I saw her leaving your quarters.

-She was up for it.

-I said no.

-Bollocks.

Nick, it's not the sex that I disapprove of. It's the lying.

-A minute ago it was the sex.

-Yeah, it is the sex too.

But lying is cowardly and it's wrong.

I'm not impressed, Nick. Badly done.

-Ooh! Hey, Mary! Did you hear?

-Oh, yes, I did, Simon.

Well done. You've got your hook.

Yeah. I'm the hot-Danish-aid-worker-rescuing lance corporal guy. Bang, bang!

-Sorry.

-Snappy.

-Oh, dear.

-I don't understand.

9381.

9...831. Oh, no.

Rule four, attention to detail.

Rule five, put the kettle on again.

-Ooh, nice one.

-No. Piss off, Bird!

And you, Simon. I'm tired of being pushed around.

This is good, Millsy. Rule two, get cross.

Now, get on the phone to the QM and imagine the guy on the other end

just nicked all the A's from your Scrabble set.

All nine of them?

Well, who would do that?

BEEPING

Hello?

Hi. Yeah.

Yeah, I'm really pissed off!

Yeah. Lives are at stake here!

I want action and I want it now.

Yeah, yeah, sure, I'll hold.

That's good, Simon, but braver.

-Yeah?

-Braver.

Braver! Ignore that.

Just keep looking at me, smile and look brave.

Like you're going to kill me. You're going to kill me! Grr!

Yeah, now left a bit. That is good, Simon.

Keep looking at me.

Yeah, that is good. That is good, Simon.

-Yeah?

-Brilliant.

Chin up.

Oh, that is... Phew.

-A few more.

-You've got to have the shot by now.

Come on! Come on, it's boiling!

-OK, we're done.

-Right.

They're in there. Oh, yes.

Yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes.

-They're basically all the same after that.

-Cool.

Could you pick out the best one and just mock it up for me?

-With pleasure.

-Bird, you are the best!

Ho-ho! Hook! Tick! Look! Tick! I am sorted.

Bird? Is he coming back?

Why? Are you avoiding him?

-I've just spent the morning trying to read his book.

-And?

It's very detailed. It gives a really strong sense of who Simon is.

Ooh, that bad?

Yeah, it's a bad book. Mm-hm. It's an anti-book.

But it doesn't matter, does it?

Because he's already got the hook and the look.

Yeah, it's not like he's gonna want any kind of validation

from an authority figure.

Oh, no.

Do I have to tell the truth?

Hang on, what was it you said about lying? Oh, yeah, that it's cowardly and wrong.

Yes. Very good.

-But he's not going to make you swear on the Bible, is he?

-We're off.

-Transport in ten.

-Yeah, hang on.

-Come on, Bird! Move your arse!

Shit. I think I've broken Millsy.

Right.

Time to take a dekko at the bomb.

Boss, there's a new suit.

MAN SPEAKING ON RADIO

Well, it appears to have a very effective cloaking device.

Look, that'll be it now.

So, a point's a point.

Just stop fucking gloating about the fucking fitba!

-It's not like Hibs won!

-Nil-nil.

-Respectable result...for Celtic.

-We didnae have

our best striker. And that sending off...

OK, you two, settle this when you get back. Play tiddlywinks or something.

As long as Mac gets one less wink.

-It was never a red card!

-Eyes on!

I'm impressed. Still not going to wear it.

-But nice work, Millsy.

-Boss, just wear the fucking suit.

For me?

-Fine.

-Yes!

-KNOCKS

-Hello?

-Oh, hello.

-You're still with us.

-Yes, transport problems.

Listen, I... I need to talk to you about Nick.

Yes, I thought this might happen.

Sadly, Nick is only interested in one thing.

So, why won't he sleep with me?

What? You didn't?

He said it wasn't a good idea. Bullshit! It was a great idea.

-Was it? Really?

-I haven't had sex in two months!

No, well, the thing about Nick is, he...

Oh, I see. Oh, you and him, you're fucking?

Oh, no. No, no, no, no.

Can you imagine?

-I'm not...

-So, what's his problem?

OK, I'm stuck here for another 18 hours,

so you can tell Nick from me that he should...pull out his finger.

-Right. I'll pass that on.

-Great.

Or not.

It's a tricky one, Millsy.

I think we're gonna need to break out the old flying scalpel.

And how's the suit for you there, boss?

I'm only wearing it for you, Millsy.

Personally, I think my bum looks big in it, but...

-MILLSY: Shit!

-Hello, Diamond 21!

This is Bluestone 42. Contact IED. Wait out!

-Boss!

-Everyone all right?

Yeah.

GROANS

Boss!

Oh.

Ow! Fuck!

-Boss, are you all right?

-Millsy?

Check my balls.

-What?

-Check my balls.

Everybody, help!

Millsy's totally touching my balls!

LAUGHTER

-I'm glad you're OK, boss.

-Oh, God.

Make me a brew and ask me again.

Make it yourself! I've been on the phone all day

-trying to get the bloody suit that just literally saved your arse!

-Yeah.

Yeah, when you put it like that...

..we probably should get Bird to make it.

It's OK, boss, it's my job. I know how you like it.

-Lance Corporal Lansley, can I have a word?

-Sir?

Congratulations on your rescue of that Danish girl. Very good. Very good indeed.

-Just doing my job, sir.

-Yeah.

-We're going to say that Nick did it.

-Sir?

We're going to say that Nick rescued the hostage.

Yeah, the PR monkeys want to throw this to that woman

at the Express he shagged.

CHUCKLES

Good for the team.

You know the best soldiers are the ones that go unnoticed.

Like waiters.

Till they kick the doors down and shoot everyone.

Unlike waiters.

You follow?

I think so, sir.

Good man. Carry on.

Jesus... Padre?

Oh, Simon. Yes. I heard about that IED. Is Nick OK?

-Cos I should probably go...

-He's fine. Nick's always fine.

-Well, he might be...

-We're all fine!

If you could just let me know about the book.

And don't beat around the bush. I've been shot at. I can take it.

Well...well, it's certainly...

Bird said this might happen.

Tell me the truth. It's terrible, isn't it?

Yes, Simon.

Truly terrible.

I didn't expect you to agree with me!

You're supposed to say, "No, Simon, it's not terrible!"

Bloody hell, Padre! You're supposed to be keeping up morale!

Simon, but it's fine, because you've still got your hook.

No, I've lost my hook. They're going to say that Nick rescued Astrid.

Oh, shit.

-Sorry.

-All I have is my look.

Thanks, Padre.

Fucking hell.

Nick, can I come in? I owe you an apology.

Stay there.

It's fine, really. See you later.

No, no, it's not fine, because I didn't trust you and I should have.

Hi, Mary! Thanks for passing on my message.

Best Padre ever.

He really pulled out his finger.

I was just...debriefing her.

-Oh! That reminds me.

-Oh...

Nick, I really wanted to believe that you were better than this.

Yeah, but you didn't, did you?

So I thought I might as well just go ahead

and do all the things you accused me of.

And some other things that Astrid thought of.

Right!

Boss, game on! We're playing a decider. Hibs-Celtic.

Full-contact power football extreme!

-WHISTLE BLOWS

-Gentlemen!

Lady. Welcome to the inaugural game of power football extreme!

CHEERING

Hibs versus Celtics!

Celtic will kick off.

WHISTLE BLOWS

SHOUTING

# Deep in the castle and back from the wars

# Back with my lady and the fire burned tall

# "Hurrah!" went the men down below

# All outside was the rain and snow

# Hear their shout, hear their roar

# They've probably all had a barrel and much much more

# Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah, yeah... #

Come on!

# Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah, yeah

# Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah

# Yeah, yeah, yeah

# Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah, yeah... #

WHISTLE BLOWS # Over the hills went the swords

# Of a thousand men... #

GROWLING

SNIGGERS

Ref!

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd